Show(tunes) time! (AM)

My mum introduced me to musicals when I was very young. It started when we would listen to her Barbara Streisand tapes in the car on the way to drop my brothers off at school. One of Mum's favourite cassettes included Babs' rendition of Somewhere from West Side Story and Papa, can you hear me? from Yentyl. I would listen to those songs and feel special feelings in my heart, feelings I didn't feel when we would listen to the Men At Work cassingle Elderbro sometimes made us play. Then I saw Annie and I guess it's safe to say that everything changed after that. I realised that the special feelings could last for 90+ minutes when you hear them in situ. And magically, the more you watch them the more you feel special. Unlike the work of M Night Shyamalan which is really only good for one watch. I watched Annie on a weekly basis for much of my childhood and as such it is is stuck in my head in a way that the prayers of the catholic mass are stuck in my head. Every time I walked past/down Fifth Avenue while we were in NYC I would think "We found Fifth Avenue! Number one Fifth Avenue!". And every time I saw the Chrysler Building I would think about what an asshole Miss Hannigan was.*

But Annie was just the start. From then on I gobbled  musicals up in a way that would make Pacman look like a fussy eater. I watched everything I could get my hands on. Everything. All the Disney musicals. All the old timey musicals. Movies with music and singing in them like Bugsy Malone and Labyrinth.  I even watched Yentyl, you guys.

But there was one truly great musical that I didn't get to see until I was about 20, and that's Singing' in the Rain. My Mum hates Gene Kelly, you see, and I thought Fred Astaire was a bit of a twerp so I figured I hated Gene Kelly too and I avoided Singing in the Rain. Then it was on the syllabus for 'Introduction to Hollywood Cinema A' which was the kind  of thing I studied at university. I saw it because I had to and I loved it so much. 

Seeing that movie was instrumental in me cutting the apron strings, as they say because I thought Gene Kelly was great and that maybe my Mum didn't know what she was talking about. Thinking about that just now makes me think I should not let on to KB how I feel about Bradley Cooper, so he can just make up his own mind.

But now I see that Singing in the Rain is coming to Melbourne and I'm kind of excited about taking my Mum to see it, so she can experience it without having to experience her Bradley Cooper.

*i trust you all know what I'm talking about.

Harry Potter TM* (PM)

There is no way that I am going to dissuade anyone from going to the Harry Potter World at Universal Studios. It's advertised on US TV all the time and I can't stop thinking about how great it would be to go, and how close we are to being able to go and yet won't be going. Appleheart keeps saying that he wishes we were here for the New York primaries in a couple of weeks and I nod and sigh and commiserate though really I am feeling sad about missing Harry Potter world. I can't tell him that though. He hasn't read Harry Potter and wouldn't understand. He thinks my sad face is because I want to be around for an important moment in history. He doesn't know it's because I want to drink butter beer. To his credit, he knows that the fact our son has the same initials as Harry Potter is more than mere coincidence, and accepted that with grace. I can't wait for that little guy to start reading Harry Potter. 

*I don't know how to get the little TM thing to happen. How does that happen?

A new look (PM)

Dolly really is a magnificent bitch, isn't she? Coincidentally, she was on the American Country Music Awards on TV last night signing a duet with Katy Perry but I couldn't bring myself to watch it. 

Which brings me to why this post is so late. I fully expected to be awake most of the night like I have been since we got over here. I was going to take some of that time to write a super post about how I want my look to be akin to Andy Warhol's renderings of Debbie Harry.

But you guys! Baby KB slept all night and so did I! And today has been a busy and exciting day that included going to MOMA and a play reading where TV and film's Laura Linney commented on how cute KB is. You're goddamned right he is Laura Linney! And you are ageing brilliantly! So please accept my apologies, readers. 

Positive things! (AM)

Hello from NYC you guys. We had quite  an unpleasant journey over but let's be honest, it wasn't MH370 and all air travel seems like a kind of miracle to me so  rather than complain I am going to write a post jam packed with positives! And when I say 'jam packed' I mean as many positives as I can fit in before KB exhausts the fun potential of rolling around on a hotel bed without pants.

First positive: plane food is really delicious  and I don't know why it has a bad rep. It's salty and mushy and there are lots of little components to it which means it's a fun time. Along with the movies, it's the highlight of any flight. 

Second positive: NYC food is really delicious! Last night we arrived at our hotel, dumped out bags and immediately went out for pizza at the first place we could find and it was totally delicious. Today I was reminded how thoroughly they stuff their sandwiches with delicious things. 

KB is learning about how delicious proper bagels are. 

Soon I hope to be reminded of how well they make cookies when I enjoy these bad boys for afternoon tea. 

One is peanut butter, the other is mint choc chip. 

Third positive: NYC is such an exciting place to be! Spring is really in the air so this morning, KB and I walked to Central Park and hung around pointing at dogs and squirrels. 

Fourth positive: I've developed a taste for shitty American coffee over the years, and now I have another person's needs to consider all the time, it really helps tide me over until I can go find a decent coffee for myself. 

I could go on and on by KB is getting wise to my scam. 

In summary: It is super great to be here. 

Delayed

Like so many before her, K is just trying to get to New York for a better life. For 10 days. But it appears the airline she chose to fly is trying to thwart her at every turn. Delay after delay. So although she was meant to leave on Tuesday morning, K is just in transit somewhere, dreaming of that better life. She advices me she should be able to post tomorrow.

Into the fog (PM)

Sheesh, according to BOM it’s only 14.7 degrees outside right now. That is not cool. Although, literally it is very cool. I wouldn’t know, I’m at work but it looks pretty miserable outside.

I always find myself a little anxious before any kind of travel, even the minor kind, and an overseas trip is attended by a lot more pretravel anxiety. Throw in a baby and some really cold weather – total fog wandering. When Baby was 8 months we went to USA. I’ve probably told you this before, but as we waited in the dark cold night of a February NYC, very underdressed for the weather an apparently homeless man saw my bundle of baby (the warmest dressed of the three of us) strapped to me in a BabyBjorn and said, “You got a baby in there? Get that baby inside!” Believe me, I wanted to! But the guy who was meant to meet us and let us in to the Air B’n’B apartment we’d booked wasn’t answering his phone. Eventually we ended up in the same place as that homeless guy, a McDonalds around the corner, and not long after that we were let into the apartment. Oh, God, I remember how happy I felt, being in a warm apartment, with a couch and TV and bed and kitchenette. It  made me the happiest girl in the world.

I guess what I’m saying is that there’ll be times when a stranger yells at you on the street as you stand cold and homeless and there’ll be times when you are ensconced in a warm happy home. You know, like life. But better. And sometimes maybe worse.

Haiku Thursday (PM)

Crab division

I

Just got to NY

As good as I remember

But I'll be home soon

II

In ten days or twelve

The space-time continuum

Is confusing me

Hump day (PM)

Oh, hi. Oh, what? You want a post from me? Sorry, I'm too busy sitting in a laneway looking at colourways for my new bespoke jumpsuit.

HAHA. Jokies, I'm sitting in windowless office wondering why people are so dumb. Ugh. Hump day.

Now, in defence of what K said that I said (and she was telling the truth - I'm pretty sure I said those things) it does kind of make sense to have the days you are in the office at th e top of your signature. Now that I am more mature and have a baby and a 3 at the start of my age, I have this information at the end of my signature (Please note I work on Mondays and Fridays). It comes after a whole bunch of other stuff including the office address that no one will ever need. Who is reading all the way down there? I always sign my name above the auto signature anyway.

Anyway, I decided that I should look for some amusing historical hump day emails too. All I found was one where I complained that in baby class they showed us a video in slow mo of a newborn baby searching for its mother's nipple (you do not need to see that in slow motion). And an email from K suggesting I may see James Franco when I went to NYC. I didn't. I did see a man that looked a lot like Lutz from 30 Rock.

But even in New York, middle-aged, plumpish, bald men are everywhere so although I like to think it was Lutz, it could have been anyone.

Happy hump day friends.

Things aren't going so well (PM)

Mate, things are even worse than you thought! That link to the Shake Shack posts didn't work! Apparently you tried to link to posts about Shake Shac, and of course no such thing exists! Don't worry, I fixed it.

But then it meant things got bad for me because I started wishing that:

a) I was in New York;
b) I was eating a Shake Shack 'shroom burger;
or at least c) I was eating a a Beatbox 'shroom burger.

Sure, Melbourne's north side is much closer than NYC so I guess it is not impossible for me to eat a Beatbox 'shroom burger, but I also wonder will it ever be as good as that first one I had at Golden Plains 10 beautiful days ago. That motherflipping burger was motherflipping perfection. PERFECTION! Shit. Good luck getting on with the day now that freaking burger is in my head!

Pigeon knows best

Mate, you have to listen to the pigeon, it knows what it's shitting about.

Look, NY is a great C. There is no denying it. In fact since the day you left I have been checking the internet pretty much daily to find a cheap flight so I could come and meet you. Then when I finally realised that was never going to happen I started thinking about ways I could move myself over there for a stint. So far I've got bupkis. So I know it's great over there.

But you know what? M-town is okay too.

There is delicious food here.


Some centrally located parks.


Awesome shops with great stuff.



Friends.

And comparatively few pigeons.

Farewell New York

Tomorrow I leave for home.
Goodbye delicious food.

Goodbye Central Park.

Goodbye awesome shops.

Goodbye friends.

I'm sad to be leaving, but the universe is telling me it's time to go, given that ANOTHER PIGEON SHAT ON ME TODAY.
Seriously pigeons, WTF.

It came from above

Yesterday we had a really lovely day.
We went to the natural history museum and saw awesome things like a blue whale and this bear:

Then we lay around central park eating shake shack burgers and napping.

It was a beautiful warm day and felt like the the laziest and loveliest afternoon I have had in a long time, which is really something considering I just returned from Mexico.
However, this beautiful day was almost totally ruined by a squirrel.
First let me say that I love squirrels and I am very excited to see them dashing about the place with their cute faces and fuzzy tails. So normally the sight of a squirrel would just add joy to my day, not terror and despair as happened yesterday.

There we were, wandering around the park after our burgers and naps, just casually ambling along the path in the dappled shade. KJ was telling a story about something funny that happened at work and I was giggling away thinking about how friggen nice everything was when very suddenly, a squirrel dropped out of the sky, whooshed right past our faces and landed with a splat on the path in front of us.
We stopped dead in our tracks, staring at the squirrel and wondering what the fuck had just happened. It seemed to have fallen in a vertical line, as if a trapdoor had opened beneath it, and made a sound like a water balloon hitting concrete when it hit the ground.
It lay on the ground, badly contorted but still moving in a way that said to me I have done myself some severe spinal damage but I am not dead, but I am probably in quite a lot of pain, and maybe I will die.
I really could not believe my eyes. First of all, why did the squirrel fall out of the tree??? Squirrels are tree dwellers, right? They need to be all over that shit. And why did it land on it's back, and not on its paws, like a cat would? Why squirrel, why?
Of course, I didn't have time to ponder these questions because of the obvious pain of the squirrel, which by this time had stopped moving and was just lying there. It was obvious that one of us would have to poke the squirrel and see whether it was dead, and if still alive, one of us would have to put it out of its misery. It was also obvious that neither of us were going to do that and the best thing would be to get out of there as soon as possible before someone came along and thought that we were somehow responsible for this animal's misery, which I was kind of how I was feeling. I put one tentative foot forward to make good my escape when just as suddenly as the squirrel had fallen, it jumped to its feet and ran off in to the bushes.
WTF?!?!
After the relief of not having to perform a mercy kill subsided, I started to feel like I had been Punk'd. I still feel weird about it in fact. And like maybe I can't trust squirrels any more.

Public holidays in NYC

It is both Fleet Week and the memorial day public holiday in NYC. The city is chocker block with sailor types, people trying to flirt with sailor types and regular folks just wandering around. Due to our shyness/laziness, KJ and I fall in to the latter category. While wandering today, we saw:
This Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, who I like to call Silky:

This Beagle, who I like to call JP:

Famous Australian novelist Peter Carey, who I like to call Peter Carey:

And these cuties on the 4 train to Brooklyn:

We saw lots of other things too, but these ones are my favorites.
I wish I didn't have to come home on Friday.

Reflections on shit

Well, well, well. I see that you snuck those jalapeno chips into the back of the photo, perhaps hoping that I would not notice that you had bought the ONE BRAND I (implicitly) TOLD YOU NOT TO! I see how much you listen to me. What's next mate? All those other things I told you not to do?!? Like, some things I have no doubt recommended against!?

What did you think of them, anyway? Was I too harsh on them? Did you like their dirty flavour?

It's funny you got shat on by a pigeon. I mean, obviously it is funny, right? Am I right? But also funny because LB just got shat on by a bird the other day! SHIT TWINS!!! I can't remember the details really. I feel like we were sitting somewhere. In a park? And it shat on his leg. I know this is not much of a story, but if I could remember more about it I bet it would be HILARIOUS! So please feel free to laugh, y'all.

Do you think that listening to 'Empire State of Mind' in NYC is the same as wearing an 'I heart NY' t-shirt?

Reflections on pigeon shit

A pigeon shat on me today. It was very surprising. It was also weird because just the other day I had been thinking about the fact that birds never shit on me. The reason I was thinking that was because in NYC, you can't walk five paces without seeing a pigeon or a sparrow. Looking at all these birdies everywhere made think about how lucky I have been, to avoid the falling shit of a bird. It would be so gross and embarrassing! I thought to myself. Boy am I a lucky girl! I also thought

It happened when I was walking down west 58th street, feeling good about myself for making the effort to go west side*. It took me a little while to realise what had happened. It hit me on my right shoulder, and splashed on to both my bag, (which I was carrying on my right shoulder) and my hand (which was holding the strap of my bag). As expected, it was gross and embarrassing. The grossest bit was the fact that it was really, really warm. I just had no idea that it would be that warm. It was also brown. Not brown and white, like you imagine bird shit to be. Just plain brown. Again, I had no idea it would be just brown.
I found the experience a little distressing, and as a result I inadvertently walked around the same block twice. But on the second trip, a car drove past with the song this song blaring and it really turned my mood around. I found a nice looking sushi place and bought all of this:

Now I'm back at the hotel, eating those jalapeno chips and watching the series finale of The Office.

I heart NY.

* I was also feeling good about myself because a man who was trying to sell me something in Central Park told me that I had the face of an actress. Even though he was trying to sell me something, I was feeling good because he kept it general, which allowed me to imagine that he meant this:

rather than:

Morton's Steakhouse

I love adorable waitstaff. They are the best. In fact, people who are reading this right now, if you work in a restaurant and you see me coming, just be a little bit adorable and I will be stuffing money in your pockets before long.

I also love the sound of your strange but delightful dinner. Were the cashew and sweet potato dumplings good? They sound really good.

I just came back from dinner at a place called Mortons Steakhouse. It would be fair to say that Morton's Steakhouse is not my kind of place. Firstly, they restaurant has a tagline, and that tagline is "The best steak, anywhere!". Really? Anywhere? I just don't see how that can be true.

My reservations were not helped by the fact that my waiter was not adorable at all, and was actually a little gross. He had a ponytail. A bad bad bad ponytail. I know, it was a ponytail, of course it was bad. But really, this was the worst. It was basically just a tiny little tuft of hair. In volume and quality, it looked like the brush from a tub of clag. Remember clag, everybody?

As if that wasn't bad enough, he brought over a tray containing various uncooked steaks, just to give us an indication of what they have on offer. Honestly. I think we all know what a porterhouse looks like. Keep it to yourself, guy.
Truth be told, the steak was really delicious. If I was tipping the cow, I would have given him/her 40% minimum. But I wasn't, so I didn't.
Now I'm watching Jay Leno and Andy from The Office is on.
I heart NY.

A day in Queens

One of the reasons my Mum and I made this trip to NYC was to hang out with our American relatives. My Grandmother's sister, Dottie, married an American and has lived here since 1946. She had a daughter and now has a bunch of grandkids and great grandkids. We've been hanging out with them a lot, and today we went to visit Dottie at her house in Fresh Meadows, Queens.

Everyone kept telling us that Queens was far far away and an attempt to travel there by PT would be crazy. Really, it was fine. In fact we caught an express bus that took us right there. We collected all our quarters so we could make the bus fare.

This is Tyrone, our bus driver.

He's been driving the bus for 32 years. He gets five weeks leave per year and enjoys sunny holiday destinations like Bermuda. He dislikes laziness, and the poor driving habits of his fellow bus drivers. He also dislikes his neighbour George, but I'm not entirely sure why. I don't know whether it was because he enjoyed our conversation or didn't like the look of our pile of quarters, but he let us ride the bus free. Thanks Tyrone!

We were a little early, so we stopped off at Starbucks so I could have a coffee. I asked for a small latte, but they misheard me and gave me a tall one. Check out the size of it:

It was gross.
Anyway, when we got to Dottie's house and she had a couple of slices laid out for us:

Yes!

For the next few hours, Dottie told stories of being a war bride in NYC. The woman is seriously hilarious. Highlights included the time she told her boss what her plans for the afternoon were when he made the rhetorical statement "What are you going to do?". Turns out that she used to work at an advertising agency on Madison Avenue and if her stories are anything to go by, Mad Men is totally real.

Anyway, no story of a visit to Dottie's house would be complete without acknowledging the specialness of her bathroom. It's wallpapered with a silver and pink clam shell print.

That's the wall and the roof. It's everywhere. See?

And as if that isn't good enough, she also has a cushioned toilet seat.

So comfy.
Anyway, we had a delightful day. As we were leaving, I managed to take a snap of this novelty kitchen wall decoration.

Nyuck nyuck nyuck.
Dottie lives alone, mind you.

I am absolutely the wrong person to ask how to get out of a clothing rut. I've been in one since I had to stop wearing a uniform every day.

First and foremost: I love that tweed jacket. It is an absolute rip snorter. I would love to have something as nice as that little baby and you could bet that I would wear the heck out of it if I did.
Your jumpers are super cute too. And you know know I feel about that chunky sock business. Top shelf cuteness.
But I guess your lament is not about whether or not you have cute winter things that can make cute winter ensembles. It's about the fact that being cute ceases to be a primary motivator for what you wear when it's really cold. And that's sad. While I know all of this to be true, being in NYC is cushioning me from the reality of this situation. Up until a few days ago, the weather has been so very lovely.

It was sunny when we went to the Empire State.

It was sunny when we caught the ferry to Ellis Island.

It was sunny when I walked through central park coveting dogs, especially this Boston terrier who I dreamed of taking home with me and calling him Wallace and living very happily together.

I know I'm living in a fools paradise though. That dog's probably already got a perfectly good name and calling him Wallace will not help his transition. JOKIES. I mean of course I know that I am coming home to winter and should be preparing for it by buying sensible winter clothes. Its just so hard to find them in a city that is going bananas for summer, and when I do find them, they are super expensive or just look kind of lame on me. Which, as you know, is the story of my life since I left school and the sweet refuge of wearing a uniform every day.
But I did find this awesome thing that I love and would be super practical for winter.

But was $450. And a cape.
Anyway, at least you've got that super awesome coat you bought in NYC. That's got to help.
And maybe you're just going through a necessary period of transition that will soon be over and soon make way for all the fun of compiling super cute wintry looks? That's possible, right?

A day in NYC

Today was our first proper day in NYC.

Uncle G arrived late last night and we sat around drinking American beer and planning what to do on our first day. We all agreed that we would just take it easy, perhaps walk uptown and see where we ended up. This started out promisingly enough, but it quickly became apparent that they were looking to me to be some kind of navigator/tourguide. They started pointing at things and saying "what's that building?", and then looking at me expectantly. The first few times I good naturedly responded with "ooh, I'm not sure" but after I while I started to feel the burden of two adults depending on me for all of their information needs, and I became agitated. I started saying things like "Look guys, I've only been here once before!" and "how am I supposed to know, sheesh!" but they kept asking questions.

In addition, the two of them kept making 'humorous' observations, such as the following exchange which occurred when we went to the Thompson Square Park and watched the dogs in the off lead area, including a few chihuahuas:
Mum: "Aren't they beautiful!"
Uncle G: "Yes, but I had no idea New York's rat problem had become so bad"
Mum: *Nyuk nyuk nyuk*
Me: *Forehead slap*

By the time we got to the Flatiron district I had had enough. I knew I needed to find a quiet place and regroup, so I told them that they should stay in one spot while I walked around and found the best vantage point from which to take a photo.
They totally bought it.

There they are at the bottom right of the frame, blissfully unaware of my plot and looking so small and fragile against the backdrop of that big building. I started to feel guilty for being irritated and wanted to repent. I asked them where they wanted to go next and Mum's little face lit up when I suggested the Empire State. So off we went.
While I thought I wasn't one for big views, I found it surprisingly enjoyable. Hella windy, of course. But quite fun.

We are back at the apartment now and everyone is napping before dinner time.
Such a good one.