So Jonathan and I began our whirl-wind tour of the city this afternoon where he ran a business errand at the Harley-Davidson store. I felt like we were on a scavenger hunt. So exciting...
Plus, I feel like I was born to dress in biker gear (unfortunately I have no picture to validate this claim).
We met up with his lovely friends from Chautauqua, Hannah and Diana and proceeded around the corner to a hole-in-the-wall Irish pub (my favorite kind of hangout) for good old hamburgers. I was disappointed in my turkey burger sans cheese until I took a good look at Diana's $10 "Ceasar" salad and realized I had it pretty good. She basically ate lettuce and pre-packaged croutons. So sad.
Jonathan asked the bus-boy for spicy mustard and was rewarded with Tabasco sauce. Mustard, tabasco--same thing, sure.
Posing outside the pub (which we gathered from random signs placed on the walls that its going to close this weekend. And when I say close I mean forever.) We made it just in time.
We passed a sign for the US Open and Hannah took this opportunity to get a little mouth action going with Nadal. I looked in to getting tickets, but decided the $400 dollar ticket price was just ever so slightly out of my range.
Then off to the Moma we went. It was Friday, after 4, so admission was free (if you waited in a line that wrapped around the side of the building to 54th street--keep in mind that the Moma is on 53rd). Luckily, Diana's parents are members and the kind woman at the desk allowed us to use their privileges to bypass the line and get in in no time.
Now I've said again and again: live in NY as if you're a tourist. I now know I must amend this statement. Live in NY and enjoy the city as a tourist would, but use your New Yorker's sense that has come from years of living and learning the ins and outs of the city. And know this: TAKE THE PLUNGE AND BUY YOUR TICKET FOR THE MOMA AT A TIME WHEN YOU KNOW IT WON'T BE CROWDED. I almost lost my shit (pardon my French). I couldn't handle it. I felt like I was in stop and go walking traffic. I couldn't see a damn thing because their were so many tourists crawling along at a shockingly slow pace. Needless to say I didn't last long and my poor friends had to deal with my crankiness. Sometimes this city that I love so much can bring out the best in me. But more often than I'd like to admit, it brings out the worst.
With the tickets we just barely managed to get (thanks to Diana).
The effect of the print on this sign was what my brain felt like by the time I found the light and managed to get the heck out of that slow moving swarm of human bodies.
I didn't see a thing (okay, okay, this may be slight hyperbole--but that's the way it felt). People got so close to the works, yet art is meant to be viewed from a slight distance and if people respected that it would work out quite well for everyone because more people would be able to see one thing at one time. I know, I know, just give me a moment and then I'll climb down off of my soapbox.
I must say the architecture exhibit (3rd floor) was pretty great.
A $5 dollar shelter which can be provided to the homeless for no charge.
Yet, its really, truly a statement more than anything else, "This shelter should disappear like the problem should. In this case, the real designers are the policymakers."
It was just oh so much fun to touch.
After narrowly escaping a complete collapse of my nervous system, I instead turned to my drug of choice: Starbucks.
Note: I actually have a clean Starbucks cup next to my bed and on it I've listed in Sharpie all the things I could do with my money if I could kick this addiction. Clearly, you can see how well its working out for me.
Jonathan (who might be the only person who deserves the term "massage whore" more than me) coaxed Diana into giving him a shoulder rub right there in a public setting. I turned away and pretended not to know them
I didn't think it could get any worse until Hannah convinced Jon to hold up her mirror so she could apply her makeup right there at the table.
Outwardly I winced, but secretly I fell in love with all three of them for their quirky and quite practical actions.
We had meant to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge to Grimaldi's, but the threat of rain coupled with my rainy disposition (I think allergies have really taken their toll lately) convinced us to stay closer to home. So off we ventured to "Restaurant Row" where we took in the bellydancing, fine cuisine, and vocal stylings of gay, Portuguese lounge singer at Brazil, Brazil.
The girls were so good. They got up and danced their little hearts out.
And then we ate until we were out of our minds with the repercussions of overindulgence. I asked if it would be unladylike to lick the dish clean. This picture is the exact reason why my mom fears that I will never get past the point where a guy takes me to a nice restaurant. Well, that and sometimes I have trouble cutting steak--I tend to hack away at it. But my skirt steak was so good that no hacking went on tonight. That is until I almost took my knife to Jonathan when he revealed he'd been eating my medium-rare steak. What, I had been eating medium? The indignity of it all!
Hannah and I loved the dessert so much we got another one. I have to say it wasn't as good the second go round. The law of diminishing returns--when will I ever learn? And even worse, it still had the same calorie count. However, see that heart in the corner? The waiter put that on their for Hannah. He was flirting. He liked her. She liked him. Magic was in the air. And I was left with an ever-expanding waistline. The injustice of it all!
Love NY? I don't think so. Love some very cute Brazilian student moonlighting as a waiter? Yes, that's more like it.
She planned on giving him her number...
After all things were getting serious...notice the gentle, affectionate hand to shoulder archetypal pose.
Little did she know, he had the same plan...and he beat her to the punch!
What will happen tomorrow... only time will tell.
Oh yeah, I've decided to give up chocolate for a month. Until my birthday. That and Starbucks and shopping. And spending any kind of money. On anything. Except maybe food. Because I might need that.