Posts Tagged Gossip Girl
I don’t usually care for viral online clips, but I cannot stop watching the One Direction parody music video. As much as I love the original song, this version is brilliant and incredibly amusing. I actually wanted to cut my Saturday night short so I could return home and play this for the millionth time. It’s nearly impossible for me to tire of things I love, and I can tell I’m not going to outgrow this for a long time.
Last night, my roommate and I went out to the bar right around the corner and were pleasantly surprised. I kind of want to become a regular there. Sure it’s not as exciting as some of the places in the east village, but it attracts a fairly young crowd, has a skee ball machine, and offers a free burger with any drink. Why leave uptown Manhattan ever again? When I first moved to the NYC area, I said I hated going above 14th Street, but now I dislike making the trip downtown. Too many tourists! I think I’ve been an Upper East Sider all along.
Speaking of which, I actually had a dream about “Gossip Girl” last night. Yes, I dreamed an episode in my head. Blair Waldorf’s maid, Dorota betrayed her and it was a really big letdown, as we all know that Dorota has always kind of been more of a mother to Blair than Eleanor. There’s no reason why I should be dreaming about “GG,” as I haven’t watched it in weeks, but maybe I’m already experiencing withdrawal. After all, the show ends after next season. Will Chuck and Blair finally get together? One can only hope.
Looks as if NYC weather is finally going to remain nice, albeit a little rainy. I can deal with weekly showers and thunderstorms, but as my roommate and I said last night, we come from sunshine and constant warmth. We don’t take kindly to this wet nonsense. I’ve been spending a lot of time mulling over my future in NYC and wondering whether I can survive here past 2014. On one hand, I think I’d like to move back to good weather and heat in two years, but I also get the feeling that I’ll have adapted to New York and be too content and settled to leave by then. That works, too. The same thing happened when I started college. At first, I thought I wanted to transfer closer to home, but then I realized I’d just be starting fresh again and hadn’t given Arizona the chance it deserved, so I gave the UA another shot. It was the best decision of my life to stay in Tucson. I don’t know where I’d be today had I wussed out and returned to northern California for higher ed. Probably BSing it as a PR type somewhere in San Francisco. I love SF, but would make a terrible PR person. So cheers to sticking it out through the rough times.
Anyway, the point is that I struggle with the rain and dampness now, but will probably feel completely comfortable with NYC in two years and therefore stay well beyond that. Ideally, I’d own apartments in New York and the bay, but that’s quite a wish and expense. One step at a time.
While we’re on the topic of school, have you heard about the buzzkill commencement speaker who told all the graduating high schoolers that they weren’t special? Look, I get it. Young people these days are entitled and have been coddled all their lives, but why turn an otherwise positive milestone into a depressing event? Sure the graduates will learn soon enough that the real world can be rather unkind, but let them figure it out themselves. Can’t they enjoy graduation day without being told they may as well just give up and accept that they suck? I agree that kids these days have a lot of nerve, but this guy did not need to say this:
You’re nothing special.
Yes, you’ve been pampered, cosseted, doted upon, helmeted, bubble-wrapped. Yes, capable adults with other things to do have held you, kissed you, fed you, wiped your mouth, wiped your bottom, trained you, taught you, tutored you, coached you, listened to you, counseled you, encouraged you, consoled you and encouraged you again. You’ve been nudged, cajoled, wheedled and implored. You’ve been feted and fawned over and called sweetie pie. Yes, you have. And, certainly, we’ve been to your games, your plays, your recitals, your science fairs. Absolutely, smiles ignite when you walk into a room, and hundreds gasp with delight at your every tweet. Why, maybe you’ve even had your picture in the Townsman! And now you’ve conquered high school… and, indisputably, here we all have gathered for you, the pride and joy of this fine community, the first to emerge from that magnificent new building…
But do not get the idea you’re anything special. Because you’re not.
I believe he’s right, but why be such a grouch? I could understand delivering this to college grads, but not high school grads. Good grief.
Memorial Day weekend should be awesome, but so far, it’s been nothing but lonely and creepy. Earlier this week, my hilarious roommate, Jen flew back to Phoenix for a couple of days, and I haven’t taken her absence well, to say the least. More than anything, I’m just accustomed to people being in the apartment, and its emptiness just brings me back to my isolated Brooklyn days that really weren’t so long ago.
Thankfully, she’ll be back on Monday, but I’m so used to spending the weekends with her that it’s downright weird to be all by myself at home, especially since I no longer cover the Sunday shift at work (high five!). I’ve been doing all I can to stay out of the apartment, but the unpredictable weather patterns have made that rather difficult. I don’t want to get stuck in the rain for the millionth time this spring. So I hole up in my room and watch season five of “Gossip Girl.”
Speaking of which, I’m really bummed that the TV drama is ending next year. I only got into the program two months ago, so while I’ve been on “GG” overload for a short period of time, I haven’t enjoyed the program year after year as many loyal viewers have. I feel like it’s coming to a close too soon. Meanwhile, all the cast members have already mentally checked out. Chace Crawford and Leighton Meester plan to return to Los Angeles and Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds are shacking up in Bedford. As the Hawaiian dude says in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, “find a new show.” They certainly have.
And I did…sort of. I’m really liking Comedy Central’s “Workaholics,” which reminds me of the people I grew up with and studied alongside in college. It also takes place out west and follows a bunch of post-college men-children who don’t know the first thing about being adults. It’s mind numbing and nothing more than brainless entertainment, but I appreciate having something to laugh at after work. Still, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss “GG.” I’ll just have to re-watch all the seasons once its over for good.
Though I’m only halfway through “Fifty Shades of Grey,” which has been considered by some as “‘Twilight’ for grown-ups,” I have an idea of who should play Christian Grey, the S&M loving male protagonist.
Grey, who is a CEO with a flair for bondage and kinky sex, is a lot like “Twilight” hearthrob, Edward Cullen: Gorgeous, mysterious, popular, and dangerous. Similar to Cullen, Grey is a threat to the woman who fascinates him most, yet cannot stay away from her even though he knows it is not in either of their best interests. He is creepy, violent, domineering, controlling, and frightening. He actually reminds me a lot of Chuck Bass of “Gossip Girl.” I don’t know about you, but I’m on Team Chuck and Blair, which likely means I’d vote for Grey and Anastasia Steele as well as Cullen and Bella Swan. Anyway, having watched Ed Westwick thrive at the part of the wealthy, troubled, and emotionally shut off Chuck Bass for four seasons, I see a lot of Grey in the character and really think the British actor (like Rob Pattinson! Too perfect) could pull it off. Westwick has mastered the rich weirdo persona all too well and wouldn’t have to do all that much work to portray Grey. All this time, many have suggested Alexander Skarsgard, Armie Hammer, and even Ryan Gosling, but my mind is made up. Westwick is meant for “Fifty Shades of Grey”…That is, if it doesn’t interfere with “Gossip Girl” filming. Really, though, why hasn’t anyone suggested him yet? He was practically made to play Grey!
“I’m Chuck Bass, bitch”:
Thankfully, I am planning on meeting the author, E.L. James at her NYC book signing tomorrow and will ask her who she would like to see in the flick adaptation. Expect a full report! Any other ideas on what I should talk to the lovely writer about?
I’m not too sure how I feel about the apparent rebirth of boy bands, but I will admit to being a huge fan of One Direction and The Wanted. You’ve surely heard “Glad You Came” as well as news of the British-Irish group’s silly spat with Christina Aguilera, but all you really need to hear is their tune below, “Satellite.” Forget what’s on the radio. This is a must-listen.
Doesn’t it bring out the best in you? I’ll probably tire of this song by Sunday, when I’ve jogged to it at the gym a total of twelve times, but I hope it becomes my summer theme song. If only it felt like summer. I got rained on today. Why can’t New York weather just tolerable already? You’ll all curse me for saying this later, but I dream of a time in which NYC is 90 degrees year-round. Clearly, I’m living in the wrong part of the country six months out of the year. Nothing beats the restaurants here, though. Tonight, Hillary and I hung out on the Upper East Side and sipped amazing margaritas for cheap. Maya carries the best margaritas in NYC. Ironically, one of my favorite Mexican joints back home is called Maya’s. Miss the food out west a lot. Here’s what I had tonight:
I thought I spotted the “Seinfeld” restaurant, but apparently that’s in Harlem on the other side of town. Either way, here is the place I found, which works I suppose:
And that’s about as close as I’ll get to Harlem. After living in Bed Stuy, I’m done visiting sketcherific (to steal a phrase from my boss) places for a while. As Hillary noted, I have officially crossed over to the dark side and become “one of THOSE Upper East Siders.” And she’s spot on. Before moving here, I hating going above 14th Street. Now anything below 59th may as well be Texas for me. Billy Joel would be proud to have made an uptown girl out of an East Village lover. I used to frequent the LES all the time, yet I just don’t have that desire anymore. Too crowded, grimy, and quite frankly overrated. What can I say: If Blair Waldorf existed, she’d be proud. I’m like the “Gossip Girl” ladies without the glamour, amazing clothes, and trust funds. Someday. How’s that for something to work towards?
Just like that, my California visit is over. Though I already miss the sunshine and know that I can always count on bipolar New York weather to put me in a rotten mood, I was pretty excited to return to my Upper East Side digs and roommate this evening. For one, I missed my “Gossip Girl” marathons, which would seem so much less cool or important in glamour-free Santa Cruz. Why would I watch “GG” there when I can run around outside in shorts and a tank top all day? Such carefree activity is fun for a while, but of course leaves me with multiple sunburns and puts me one step closer to melanoma.
I didn’t realize I’d miss upper Manhattan so much, even though everything shuts down early in my neck of the woods. There’s a chill bar on my block that provides a free cheeseburger with every beer, however, so I really need to pay that place a visit soon. It’s rather difficult to snag such amazing deals in NYC, and that’s a bargain if there ever was one. Besides, I can’t go two weeks without a cheeseburger, so this could be the perfect way to get my iron fix.
Though I’m glad to be back in Manhattan, I know I’m going to have a rough time with the storms this week. During my trip home, I realized that I’d be happiest if I could split my time between NYC and the bay area. Nothing beats the pace and energy of the east coast, but California sunshine keeps me sane and gave me the perpetual chipper demeanor that has served me so well all over the world. I feel like a sad and lost creature in anything other than dry heat, but as much as I worship the sun, the feeling is not mutual. Redheads do not fare well out west. As the product of two Jersey kids, one of whom was 100 percent Irish, I’m an easterner by design, but not at heart. Even though I should belong here in New York, I just don’t. But I’ll fake it until I make it all right, and I have something to work towards. I don’t know how Blake Lively, a smiley Californian as well, made such a smooth transition to New York. Karl Lagerfeld once said that she has perfected the east coast/west coast balance, as she had to move to Manhattan for “GG,” but I wonder how long it took her to adapt to this chillier area. She’s definitely less of a complainer than I am, so I suspect she took to her new home immediately. You gotta wonder how much she misses Los Angeles, though. While I prefer New York City to the clogged roads of Botox Land LA, I think sunshine is an exceptional perk.
On Saturday, my nephews asked why I live so far away and rarely see them. They suggested I purchase the house for sale on their block (the asking price is a million dollars, mind you), and when we drove past the property, they pointed to it and said nothing could be better than being within walking (okay okay, “biking”) distance from me. I explained to little Lukey that I need to be super wealthy before going bi-coastal, to which he inquired, “Why don’t you get a money jar then?”
Maybe that’s the trick to owning places on both ends of the country. Well, that’s part of it. I would need to see a lot more success, so here’s to hoping that’s feasible at some point in the distant future. I cannot take New York fall, winter, or spring, though. I need hot weather all the time or I’m a rudderless ship with pasty vampire skin. Tucson and Santa Cruz spoiled me for life. I don’t want to reside where the sun disappears for six months out of the year, especially since I have known all my life that the sun is beyond generous in other sections of the United States. That just means I need to become so amazing at my trade that I can afford to work out west during the cold months (October through April). Possible? Maybe four years from now, but perhaps I’ll have acclimated to the cold temperatures at that time. Until then, I’ll continue dreaming of heat waves and poolside adventures with the one and only Nikki Grey.
If you’ve visited this blog before, I’m a little surprised you’ve returned, as I devote many of my posts to complaining about living in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. Before you write me off, just know that I’m officially leaving this place next month for an apartment in uptown Manhattan, where I’ll have absolutely nothing to rant about. Really. If you were to see my new home, you’d agree, especially if you know anything about my current area.
Last week, I responded to about about fifty Craigslist postings and heard back from three people, two of which are from Arizona. The girl I’m going to move in with grew up in a Phoenix suburb and went to high school with one of my close college buddies, so I felt pretty comfortable knowing that we have a similar background and aren’t complete strangers. Talk about six degrees of separation, too. I’m really looking forward to only taking one train to work and not having to worry about taxi drivers throwing hissy fits about hauling me to Brooklyn. I also don’t feel in danger of getting prison shanked in this new neighborhood, so that’s another plus. This is going to be a really good move, and I’m glad I’ll be all settled in before summer.
Though I’ll miss the low rent of Bed Stuy, I won’t be sad to say farewell to garbage strewn sidewalks, the junkyard view from my bedroom window, struggling with the building entrance lock every time I want to access my own home, losing hours of my life waiting for the G train, or the obnoxious poltergeist who pulls pranks on me and my roommates. What an inconsiderate prick that ghost is. As you can tell, I’ve had my fair share of unfavorable experiences in Bed Stuy for a myriad of reasons, so departing now was a smart call on my part.
I will, however, miss some of the funnier aspects of residing in a rundown building managed by a landlord who doesn’t give a fuck about meeting basic needs for his residents. Last night, my next door neighbor knocked on the front door and asked to climb through my fire escape to enter her own apartment. She said she’d done it the day before because her apartment lock is broken, so I let her march up the stairs once again. Kind of ridiculous when a building manager can’t be bothered to replace a faulty lock, though.
Starting next month, I’ll be an Upper East Side resident, which is basically the same as a “Gossip Girl” star, right? Hopefully this means I’ll bump into the cast members on one of my morning strolls to the subway. On second thought, I’m happy enough with a Starbucks, Brooklyn Brewery, swanky hotel, and gym on my block. I don’t need anything more than that.
Earlier today, I emailed a fellow Arizona alumnus who wanted advice on relocating to New York City. Though I assured this person that it’s possible to find low-rent apartments in Manhattan, I also mentioned that it’s somewhat beneficial to start off in Brooklyn and work one’s way over to the city. I’m going to appreciate my new place so much more because of my current living situation, so I guess I wouldn’t have done anything differently in that department. From here on out though, I’m sticking to NYC. You’re terrific, Cobble Hill and Williamsburg, but I have no use for the borough anymore, unless it involves Penn Badgley.