This is the snack above all snacks, behold it's chewiness.
I love rice krispy treats. I think they've made a comeback. They're sold in tons of delis and even Starbucks. Maybe we just didn't have enough of them in the south. I just had one to cap off my lunch and I think I just may forgo lunch next time and eat a treat instead.
yummy. Thank you Snap, Crackle & Pop.
This morning I was kind of in a fog. I got up 15 minutes late so my schedule was a bit out of wack. On the walk to the PATH this morning I was listening to a mix an Atlanta friend made for me, so needless to say I was in a much different place.
Just as I boarded the train, got out my book (I'm reading "e" by Matthew Beaumont again, world's best book for any ad agency person) and put my ipod away I hear, "World Trade Center train, watch out for the closing doors."
Oops. did I get on the wrong train?
Out comes the little subway map and I try to figure how to navigate the downtown subways to get me quickly to midtown. Shooooooot. Seems like it requires a lot of walking or train changing. At this point I was damning that extra 15 minutes of sleep. So as I figured two completely different routes of travel depending upon whether I walked East or West, the train pulled into the Christopher Street station.
Now I was really confused. The WTC train stops at Christopher? I didn't know that, but since I don't' know a lot of things I shrug it off and continue with my book. Two more stations stops come and go and I'm well into "REM" reading. --(I haven't thought of a proper acronym for this, but it's what happens in a deep-reading state. The world goes by around you and you can't glance off the page because you may just miss an important word, or the thought of interrupting your narrator seems alien to you.) At the 23rd Street station a funny thing happens. I finally hear the conductor as he announces "33rd Street Train."
but. I heard WTC?
As the 33rd bound NYC train from Hoboken pulled into it's final stop, I found myself a little upset. I wasn't going to have an adventure of getting to the office this morning, navigating random subways, unknown streets. The Christopher Columbus of downtown. Instead of the Americas, I found the N & R subways, right where they always are.
That's the thing about the city. There are so many places to get lost, good and bad. I've yet to explore the upper west side, battery park, harlem, brooklyn. I can't wait. Being a tourist in your home city is an importance I've always stressed. I'll try to keep everyone up to date on my Columbus-esque quests, pictures and all. I'm always up for a partner in crime, though you'll have to provide your own transportation. The Nina, Pinta & Santa Maria were sold to cover a broker's fee.
to quote Sesame Street. "8 is great." 8-0. Amazing showing by Rutgers last night against UCONN, bit of nail biter, but the defense, fantastic job.
today's weather? Let's just stay inside JWT it's blistering. The HVAC system apparently thinks we reside in Antarctica. It's 85 degrees in here, that's straight from camel's mouth. Too bad I don't store diet coke for later use.
Moving date is set for November 3rd, which is good because I only have 7 more trips on my PATH card. Here's the PATH station for those who haven't seen it.
nondescript, just your average subway, but I do some of my best thinking on the PATH. I'm hoping that The 4, 5 and 6 lines will bid me the same luck.
Today has been a bit strange, I think other people's moods rubbed off on me. I've been on cloud 9 since the apartment became official. Everyone knows a cloud 9 person. Usually "that girl" the one we'd usually make fun of in our own cynical little heads for just being to damn happy. That was me today until around noon. A slight headache set in and so did a bad mood, I blame osmosis.
In efforts to jog cloud 9, I'm going to spend most of the evening in Barnes & Noble. Mainly for work, but who can resist a bookstore? Time goes by at warp speed while I'm in them, I'm convinced.
***one of these days I will get around to taking my own pictures. I promise. You will all see my new hood & my favorite nyc spots. A small travel guide if you will.
Real McCoy, the champagne of diet beverages. I'm addicted. I'm on my 2nd 20 oz of the day. it's fizzy and delicious. I'm pretty sure it runs through my veins. Most humans are between 50 and 65% water. I think I'm 50% diet coke.
I just thought I'd share.
I'm short on ramblings today, Except for a shout out to the bride-to-be Carolyn. I'm sorry to miss your special day.
When I get married (once i find the groom) step aside Dom Perignon, we're toasting with DC.
I've found a southern oasis on the east side, and it's a hop skip and a jump from my new place, Rodeo Bar. It's a honky tonk Texan sort of place. I'm still not sure if Texas is considered "the South," but they have what looks to be a bus or truck parked in the bar, which reminds me of The Supper Club at Auburn, which always spells good times.
From the pictures, it may not be as dive-y as I like, but if they have a cold PBR in a can I'm there. Classy, who me?
So needless to say, I'm psyched about the bar. That among other things. I couldn't fall asleep last night because I was decorating in my head and trying to figure out ways to lug IKEA shelving from NJ back to NYC. Also, the NY Marathon is Nov 6th. In the 22 years I lived in NJ I've only watched it on television. So I plan to take a break from unpacking to head up to Harlem and cheer the runners on.
well. back to daydream-decorating.
That's the current population of New York City.
As of 11/4, you can add one more to that. South gramercy/east village... watch out. here I come.
I just may have found a place to live. Pending a credit check and application, I'll know by this evening or tomorrow morning whether I have a NYC street to call home.
fingers crossed everyone.
That's the Atlanta Journal Constitution for all the non-southerners, or those who don't work in print advertising.
I miss the daily weather blurb. For those who know me, know I'm a freak about weather. Addicted to the Weather Channel (32 in ATL 62 in NJ), strong feelings for the Doppler, fan of NOAA--but most of all the AJC front page one liner that dictates the daily weather. At BBDO we received 10 copies of the AJC every day in the Studio. I'd like to equate their arrival to the first present on Christmas morning, but that's a little far fetched, so let's say the first bite of turkey on Thanksgiving. yumm...
So, not sure what I'm referring to? I'll give you an example. Here is an example that one of my fav BBDO co workers cut out and stuck to my name tag. It's still in my office. And I still think it's great.
So, new plan. Every time I create a new post, try to add the weather and my own weathe r line in there. For those of you in Atlanta still, send me the the AJC blurb when you think of it. The newspapers are in the Studio table, to the left of the Jason's Deli Spread...
Today's weather? --no blush needed, we've got a windy day.
to New Jersey.
All I have to say, is the south taught me a few good lessons.
This is my brain on advertising...
I need it to be 7:30 pm. Yes that's right, 7:30 pm not 5:00pm. So i can go home.
any questions?
I just have to share this with everyone. It's my new obsession.
It is just so good. I'm a big fan of Vinegars instead of salad dressing, I'd rather the extra calories be in more cheese. So this lovely little bottle is displayed on my desk, and every day I pour it over my salad.
Oh, you want the ingredients? Okay. Arugula, cucumbers, tomatoes, chic peas, ditalini pasta (occasionally), feta or gorganzola, and fat free croutons. Yum. so good. Top it with the white balsamic and it's delish. The white is not as bitter as normal balsamic, it's got a smoother taste without being sweet.
My mom found it at Wegmans but I think Whole Foods, Harry's in a hurry, etc. would carry it as well. Or Publix. And don't get me started on Publix. I miss it.
Okay, I'll be the first to admit my inability to fold newspaper on a crowded train. I consistently end up poking my fellow commuters in the eye. I suck at it, I know. So quit your dirty sneers and sighs and just deal with the paper crinkling until I can comfortably situate my paper.
And I'm sorry, can you really hear the crinkling? Your ipod is jacked up a volume equivalent to a jet engine. Death metal is not a genre I'm particularly fond of at 7:55 am. So please. enough already.
When I'm not wrestling with today's Metro NY, I'm people watching. The morning trains are an excellent place for this. You can just go from person to person -she got no sleep last night, woke up late and had to run to the train with wet hair. That one over there? She's super happy about something. That guy looks like my 2nd grade teacher, mind you Mrs. Reed is a woman. The boy in the corner keeps smacking his mom, seems as if she is too tired to disicipline him so I shoot him a dirty look. Not my place of course, but fun. I want his coat, her shoes and that man's laptop. It's a pretty interesting ride when I'm not the one who woke up late and is wishing the train moved at warp speed. (only happened once...)
Let me tell you, as much as I love driving, I don't miss it. I take the subways to be my personal chauffeurs, if personal means the #6 jam packed with people. But you know what, it moves. The connector (75/85) did not move. The only thing that did move was my steering wheel from me banging it.
subways, good times.
a great piece of advice gained from a mentor of mine.
I sure could've used her eye for color this morning, but in the end her student's knowledge paid off...I was right. Must've had one helluva' teacher. The file needs to be rebuilt (again). Let's hope the third time's the charm. Look for the work in December magazines. Don't worry, I'll post the media list so you can all run out and hang my ad on your fridges, or cubes.
So think of me in the press room on Thursday around lunch time. I'll be the one wearing sneakers turning the sheet to read it they way I prefer, much to the pressman's chagrin.
PS kids... the K means black.
It's fall.
I deem the scent of the season to be the blissful aroma of a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte. It's heaven in a cup.
It's been nearly six weeks since I left the great state of Georgia, and let me tell you, I miss it. I miss the first fall SEC game when the temperature dips low enough for an orange & blue long sleeve; when sunny yet, cool weather pairs perfectly with a beer buzz and a Beam miniature.
I miss my Ponce apartment- with it's perfect location and hotel character. And in two weeks, I'll miss trick-or-treating with Shortstack, leaving him to his parents just as the sugar high kicks in.
The air is crisp when the wind blows between skyscrapers, brisk enough to dry out my contacts provoking me to do that strange open mouthed blinky face that only lens wearers can relate to. Which reminds me, I need to order another pair.
I'm getting nostalgic again, partly because this damn phantom apartment hasn't surfaced yet and I'm missing what I hear to be a great soccer season for the BBDO Atlanta team.
Put one in thet net for me guys.
rain boots. Wellies to be exact.
I'm on a quest, a rain boot quest. (think The Legend of Zelda, circa 1987) Since half my DNA comes from my 6'3" father, I ended up moderately tall, with long: arms, legs, fingers and toes.. Yep. feet too. I'm sure my feet are exactly what you want to read about right now, but I think they're somewhat pretty, with a nice blue flower tattoo on my right toe. I'm getting off subject.
I need rain boots. Clomping through the rain on the way home yesterday was only made interesting by way of the new Ray Lamontagne album playing through my pod. I kept catching myself grinning ear to ear ---that's when you know an album is really good, when it catches you completely off guard. So off guard I didn't realize how soaked brown faux-suede flats actually were. So in a roundabout way, good music leads to soaked feet and why I need rain boots.
Wellies, how I adore you. I want a pair in every color.
I've never really needed rain boots before, since Atlanta is a driving city and in college, class felt optional in the rain. But since my feet are my only mode of transportation outside the subway and busses I think I'll treat them to a dry environment on a rainy day.
watch out puddles. Here I come
I got hit on last night outside of the 34th St subway entrance.
He asked me when I was getting married, and complimented me on my ring. I then explained to him engagement rings go on the left ring finger, not the right.
He's a producer/photographer who started his own comapny is and is currently shooting a music video as well as stills for the event. He thinks we should stay in touch, maybe work together in the future, coffee possibly?
He gave me his card. It was a poor stock, at best a 60 pound cover. My guess is he purchased and designed them from an online vendor.
Poor kid, couldn't have been a day over 18.
hey, it's a start.
NYC 1 Atlanta 0 
She sold...
I'm not really sure if she is actually a she, since I never named the car, but in sticking with the timeless tradition of referring to cars as female. She's gone daddy gone.
Oh the good times we had little Focus, I shall miss thee. That car put up with my driving for 6 years, 5 months and 29 days. She's been mangled, bumped, bruised and attacked by a mysterious shopping cart in a Buford, GA Publix. But all in all, she delivered me home in one piece.
Lots of road trip miles on that car. She's been all over Georgia and New Jersey, survived trips to Alabama, Florida and DC and is fluent in the roads of the Northeast. I'll miss road trips the most; that and singing as loud as I can with the windows rolled down, diet coke in hand on an open road.
Selling the car was a good decision, but sad at the same time.
I'll miss the ol' girl.
Automatically you know what I'm referring to. Since tomorrow is another day in the world of JWT, I thought I'd bring up a spot that uses what I like to call the "Beetlejuice School of Advertising," sans Michael Keaton.
It's like studying for an upcoming vocabulary test, memorizing flash cards. Say it enough times in a row and they're bound to remember it, but remember it how?
The annoying 30 second spot probably cost under 10k to produce, but in it's own special way, it's brilliant. No one will actually buy the product for it's headache-relieving qualities, they'll buy it for the same reason my guy pals bought Axe body spray; to spray it on their unsuspecting friends making a mockery of the musky smelling cologne. And if a consumer does buy it hoping it will relieve their a.m hangover or child-screaming induced splitting headache, maybe the less intelligent was the desired demographic.
So a big bravo for the Art Director and Copy Writer. They may not win an ADDY for this one, but they will go down in some pop culture history book of fad products or an upcoming VH1 "I love the 2000's"- 2006 edition.
I've started to measure my time at home in waking hours. Yesterday, I clocked in 3. From 7-8 am I showered and got ready for work. From 9-11 pm I ate the remaining crumbs from my dinner on the subway, a lemon poppy muffin, and caught up with my roomie before hitting the futon -exhausted- at 11 pm.
Today's looking like the same.
Really, where does the time go? I've been Northbound for nearly a month. I've seen a few old friends and archived countless personal emails into a "to respond to folder."
When will Father Time look my way.
I'm extremely impatient when it comes to comfort levels, we all are. Without sounding too Darwinian, I'm still adapting to my surroundings. I'm in constant search of the best deli on Lexington, cheap shoes in Midtown and an apartment in the East Village. If anyone knows the location of the above three, I'm all ears.
Although the journey is half the battle, I'm up to cutting some corners if it will make my commute shorter and my waking hour count a little higher.
Whoever thought an out of registration tabloid sized GoPhone ad would drum up nostalgic thoughts? On the train this morning I look over at a fellow commuter reading AM New York, almost finished with an article on the left page. He finishes the blurb, glances to the right-hand-read ad and quickly turns the page. In a matter of 2 seconds, I can tell he does not feel the same connection to PMS 165 that I do. 
At work yesterday I heard a fellow Producer say “you don’t realize how difficult orange is to print until you’ve printed it.”
Apparently you don’t how hard it is to leave, until you’ve left it.
Orange aside, I love the rainbow of colors new york offers.
and yes… I still am apartmentless and blistered. Not bitter, blistered.
It truly puzzles me why brokers don’t call me back. If someone was about to give me 15% of their annual rent I’d be damned sure to return their call and ready and willing to to accept their money on a sterling silver tray.
“I’m sorry we can’t find you anything, the market is so saturated at the moment…”
sponges are saturated, the lower east side, not so much. 
New York City is full of revolving doors. I am ready for someone to revolve out of their building so I can revolve in. C’mon people. It’s a buyer’s market. Go buy a place, or better yet, buy 2 and I’ll rent one from you.
–Stabilized of course, and under market value.
Today’s goal: call the brokers, their brothers, their mother-in-laws, anyone who can make sure to call me back and show me a place that's move in ready, not on the 5th floor with enough to fit my couch and bed. (granite counter tops, Viking appliances, elevator, balcony -optional of course...)
Not too bad, right?
So I left the comfort of Atlanta and moved back to Jersey for a job in nyc and have the blisters to prove it. I exhale when the PATH makes its first stop into the Christopher St. station, 100 feet below the city I am at ease.
So now life is a series of acronyms symbolizing routes. I take the PATH to the N,R to 7th and 42nd, the S over to Grand Central. The 4,5,6 will get me over to the LES (lower east side) an area that I’m told I’ll love, but according to brokers, can’t afford. They just don’t have hope, and that’s the difference between them and me. I do.
Hope comes on the side of a coffee cup these days. Before moving, a Peachtree St Starbucks gave me a taste of life along side my grande non fat sugar free vanilla latte. It’s a quote from Augusten Burrough, author of Running with Scissors.
“I used to feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people and then me, on the outside. Because how do you meet a new person? I was very stumped by this for many years. And then I realized, you just say, “Hi.” They may ignore you. Or you may marry them. And that possibility is worth one word.”
And that gives me more hope.
So here’s to adapting to a new city, finding apartment and trying to keep a stern expression when dealing with brokers.
As for the blisters? I just hope to find a new pair of shoes.
