Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Helloooo?
I'm alive. Just buried under mountains of work. Someday soon I'll blog about all the cools shit that's happened in the past month, I swear.
Case in point:
Fabu trip to the Cloisters.
Dinner at an Italian joint run by a Ukrainian who had been in a fight with Brazilians.
Buying a new Malia Mills tankini.
Central Park Summer stage concert and picnic with the whole crew.
Doing some consulting work on the side, while putting in 60+ hour weeks at work and going to graduate school.
Dinner at the Pearl Oyster Bar, drinks at Park NYC and a fantastic night out with J-a.
The view from Port Imperial - yowza!
Muffin tops (har har har!)
My harrowing business trip through Dulles - the world's most craptastic airport.
Interviewing painting contractors, movers and pricing stuff (yeash, it makes you want to gouge your eyes out).
Signing mortgage papers... scary!
Closing on the house in 58 days.
So, see, I'm officially doing stuff. And I'll get around to writing about it and posting pictures someday
I'm alive. Just buried under mountains of work. Someday soon I'll blog about all the cools shit that's happened in the past month, I swear.
Case in point:
Fabu trip to the Cloisters.
Dinner at an Italian joint run by a Ukrainian who had been in a fight with Brazilians.
Buying a new Malia Mills tankini.
Central Park Summer stage concert and picnic with the whole crew.
Doing some consulting work on the side, while putting in 60+ hour weeks at work and going to graduate school.
Dinner at the Pearl Oyster Bar, drinks at Park NYC and a fantastic night out with J-a.
The view from Port Imperial - yowza!
Muffin tops (har har har!)
My harrowing business trip through Dulles - the world's most craptastic airport.
Interviewing painting contractors, movers and pricing stuff (yeash, it makes you want to gouge your eyes out).
Signing mortgage papers... scary!
Closing on the house in 58 days.
So, see, I'm officially doing stuff. And I'll get around to writing about it and posting pictures someday
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Oink
Because I have a lot of things to say, and lots of pictures to post and yet, have NO TIME WHATSOEVER to do it in... I drew a pig.
Thanks to the Smitten for the idea.
Because I have a lot of things to say, and lots of pictures to post and yet, have NO TIME WHATSOEVER to do it in... I drew a pig.
Thanks to the Smitten for the idea.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Overheard
D: would you still love me if I spoke in a constant, near-unintelligible management-speak?
J: maybe. Try me.
D: I'm thinking that if we evaluate the synergistic possibilities for enhancing our value proposition, we may be able to effectuate a radical re-engineering by thinking outside the box and creating a momentous paradigm shift.
J: I thought the whole point was that I was trying to get into your box.
D: would you still love me if I spoke in a constant, near-unintelligible management-speak?
J: maybe. Try me.
D: I'm thinking that if we evaluate the synergistic possibilities for enhancing our value proposition, we may be able to effectuate a radical re-engineering by thinking outside the box and creating a momentous paradigm shift.
J: I thought the whole point was that I was trying to get into your box.
Monday, July 11, 2005
The Degenerate Lounge, or Daniella Does Atlantic City
We went to the beach this weekend (Jerseyites call it "down the shore", but I'll never get used to that) for some much needed R&R. Friday, the remnants of Hurricane Cindy wreaked havoc with the weather, so we stayed in, watching TV. Saturday was spent idyllically enjoying the sun, sand and sea gulls at Island Beach State Park, which, although one of the least crowded of the Jersey shore's beaches, was still waaaay too full of people for my taste.
As I had never been to Atlantic City, it was decided that we would drive another hour southward to check it out. Our first stop? The Borgata, which is currently the hip and happeningest of all the AC casinos. The place is impressive, in a cheesy, casino-esque way... all gold glass and purple lights on the exterior. After parting with $5 for parking (since when do casinos charge for parking?!?), we headed in.
John and I had set a strict budget of $100 for both of us - that had to include gambling, drinks, etc. Yeah, we're high rollers, what can I say? After doing a circle around the casino floor and being unable to find any blackjack tables with limits under $50, I asked a cocktail waitress where the $5 tables were. After doing another circle, we found the so-called "low limit" tables - about five $25 tables, and one single, solitary $15 and one sad little $5 dollar table. The wait for a seat at the $5 table was 2 hours. During which time you did not get free cocktails (those are reserved for players actually gambling and good luck getting one at the slots -- not that I play slots).
After commandeering a martini (for the privilege of which we paid $12 -- I can see in Manhattan, but at a casino!?!), we decided to attempt the $15 table. I was promptly relieved of $60, without having ever gotten my free drink. Then John was likewise relieved of the rest of our money. The whole thing took about three minutes. After losing another ten bucks in the slot machine (did I mention that I hate slots?), I slunk over to the cashier and cashed in my chips... money left from the $100 budget? $11.25. Time spent at casino? 20 minutes. Free drinks received? Zero.
We then attempted to get a seat at Ombra, the Borgata's Tuscany-inspired wine bar. The verdict? Two hour wait for tables, no seats at the bar. We took that as a clear sign to get the fuck out of the Borgata.
We decided to head for the Strip. Along the way, we saw a billboard advertising free parking at the Sands. Of course, I should have known from my vast viewership of movies such as Casino, that nuthin' is ever free at a casino. "Free" meant $3 with a rebate if you signed up for their frequent gambler program... um, no, thank you. They can keep my $3.
This is where the night gets amusing.
The Sands was obviously the height of chic and cool in its heyday. There were pictures of fabulous people, wearing fabulous outfits, drinking fabulous drinks, having a fabulous time. Only those people were here in the 50's and the place has seen better days. After riding in an elevator populated by people who were a nose hair away from appearing homeless, we arrived at the lobby. A sign advertised "Low Limit Tables!" on the fourth floor. How bad could it be, right?
Oh, it was very, very, very bad.
After riding up to the fourth floor, the elevator expelled us into a hallway with cracked linoleum and industrial lighting. A sign pointed us toward the right. We followed the hallway to our destination-- the Low Limit Tables!
This was by far the saddest place on earth. No one spoke. There was no music. The was only fluorescent light, green felt covered tables encircled with metal folding chairs and a haze of smoke. Humorless men, and a few women, sat, with eyes glazed over, playing card games. These were not men who looked like they could afford to lose money gambling. Even the cocktail waitress (the lone one) was sad... old, with platinum blonde hair, blue eyeshadow and orange hotpants. John immediately pronounced the place The Degenerate Lounge. Some of the men looked like they had been there for days. Horrified, we ran back the way we came.
We then decided that the "main" casino had to be better, which with the benefit of hindsight, was not the best decision. We bellied up to the bar. There was a cover band playing country music and two middle aged female groupies (the band's girlfriends?). There was also a two drink minimum. At least I managed to win the money to pay for our drinks by feeding a dollar into the video crack (video poker for the unitiated) machine conveniently located in the bar directly where I was seated. We once again decided to get the hell out of there.
Our final destination was the Trump Taj Mahal, by way of the boardwalk. The Taj was an impressive structure from far away, what with its fiberglass minarets and gilding. Up close, it was bit shabby. This was borne out when we sat at the outdoor Casbah bar and witness a parade of strippers (probably getting off shift). After a quick bite, we decided to call it a night.
So, the verdict? I came, I saw, I certainly did not conquer and I don't really have any urge to go back. Draw your own conclusions.
Those of you who have different opinions, I'd love to hear from you... what did I do wrong (aside from not being willing to blow a week's salary on gambling -- I reserve that for shoe shopping!)? Why did my AC experience suck? What should I have done different?
Pictures later.
We went to the beach this weekend (Jerseyites call it "down the shore", but I'll never get used to that) for some much needed R&R. Friday, the remnants of Hurricane Cindy wreaked havoc with the weather, so we stayed in, watching TV. Saturday was spent idyllically enjoying the sun, sand and sea gulls at Island Beach State Park, which, although one of the least crowded of the Jersey shore's beaches, was still waaaay too full of people for my taste.
As I had never been to Atlantic City, it was decided that we would drive another hour southward to check it out. Our first stop? The Borgata, which is currently the hip and happeningest of all the AC casinos. The place is impressive, in a cheesy, casino-esque way... all gold glass and purple lights on the exterior. After parting with $5 for parking (since when do casinos charge for parking?!?), we headed in.
John and I had set a strict budget of $100 for both of us - that had to include gambling, drinks, etc. Yeah, we're high rollers, what can I say? After doing a circle around the casino floor and being unable to find any blackjack tables with limits under $50, I asked a cocktail waitress where the $5 tables were. After doing another circle, we found the so-called "low limit" tables - about five $25 tables, and one single, solitary $15 and one sad little $5 dollar table. The wait for a seat at the $5 table was 2 hours. During which time you did not get free cocktails (those are reserved for players actually gambling and good luck getting one at the slots -- not that I play slots).
After commandeering a martini (for the privilege of which we paid $12 -- I can see in Manhattan, but at a casino!?!), we decided to attempt the $15 table. I was promptly relieved of $60, without having ever gotten my free drink. Then John was likewise relieved of the rest of our money. The whole thing took about three minutes. After losing another ten bucks in the slot machine (did I mention that I hate slots?), I slunk over to the cashier and cashed in my chips... money left from the $100 budget? $11.25. Time spent at casino? 20 minutes. Free drinks received? Zero.
We then attempted to get a seat at Ombra, the Borgata's Tuscany-inspired wine bar. The verdict? Two hour wait for tables, no seats at the bar. We took that as a clear sign to get the fuck out of the Borgata.
We decided to head for the Strip. Along the way, we saw a billboard advertising free parking at the Sands. Of course, I should have known from my vast viewership of movies such as Casino, that nuthin' is ever free at a casino. "Free" meant $3 with a rebate if you signed up for their frequent gambler program... um, no, thank you. They can keep my $3.
This is where the night gets amusing.
The Sands was obviously the height of chic and cool in its heyday. There were pictures of fabulous people, wearing fabulous outfits, drinking fabulous drinks, having a fabulous time. Only those people were here in the 50's and the place has seen better days. After riding in an elevator populated by people who were a nose hair away from appearing homeless, we arrived at the lobby. A sign advertised "Low Limit Tables!" on the fourth floor. How bad could it be, right?
Oh, it was very, very, very bad.
After riding up to the fourth floor, the elevator expelled us into a hallway with cracked linoleum and industrial lighting. A sign pointed us toward the right. We followed the hallway to our destination-- the Low Limit Tables!
This was by far the saddest place on earth. No one spoke. There was no music. The was only fluorescent light, green felt covered tables encircled with metal folding chairs and a haze of smoke. Humorless men, and a few women, sat, with eyes glazed over, playing card games. These were not men who looked like they could afford to lose money gambling. Even the cocktail waitress (the lone one) was sad... old, with platinum blonde hair, blue eyeshadow and orange hotpants. John immediately pronounced the place The Degenerate Lounge. Some of the men looked like they had been there for days. Horrified, we ran back the way we came.
We then decided that the "main" casino had to be better, which with the benefit of hindsight, was not the best decision. We bellied up to the bar. There was a cover band playing country music and two middle aged female groupies (the band's girlfriends?). There was also a two drink minimum. At least I managed to win the money to pay for our drinks by feeding a dollar into the video crack (video poker for the unitiated) machine conveniently located in the bar directly where I was seated. We once again decided to get the hell out of there.
Our final destination was the Trump Taj Mahal, by way of the boardwalk. The Taj was an impressive structure from far away, what with its fiberglass minarets and gilding. Up close, it was bit shabby. This was borne out when we sat at the outdoor Casbah bar and witness a parade of strippers (probably getting off shift). After a quick bite, we decided to call it a night.
So, the verdict? I came, I saw, I certainly did not conquer and I don't really have any urge to go back. Draw your own conclusions.
Those of you who have different opinions, I'd love to hear from you... what did I do wrong (aside from not being willing to blow a week's salary on gambling -- I reserve that for shoe shopping!)? Why did my AC experience suck? What should I have done different?
Pictures later.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Dear Terrorists,
Fuck you. I hope you all die a painful, obliterating death. You are the worst kind of scum and don't deserve to be called humans.
No fucking regards,
Daniella
Fuck you. I hope you all die a painful, obliterating death. You are the worst kind of scum and don't deserve to be called humans.
No fucking regards,
Daniella
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Winner of Worst. Copy. Ever. Award
From a real estate listing:
Carefully designed with much attention to detail, this beautifully presented home boasts exceptional living accommodations. Enter into the bright and airy living room accented by a lofty ceiling, a gleaming wood floor and sun filled sliders to the refreshing balcony. On warm evenings relax outside or enjoy a barbeque within this relished outdoor space. In the openly adjacent dining room host pleasing dinner parties with meals prepared in the modern kitchen. Smartly residing on the second floor are two spacious bedrooms. The owner's bedroom graciously features two mirrored closets for prime organization, a grand wood and access to the full bath. There a brilliant skylight brings in soothing natural light. For convenience there are laundry facilities and an attached garage on the ground floor. The property is ideally situated for easy access to fine shops, major highways and mass transportation towards both Newark and NYC.
From a real estate listing:
Carefully designed with much attention to detail, this beautifully presented home boasts exceptional living accommodations. Enter into the bright and airy living room accented by a lofty ceiling, a gleaming wood floor and sun filled sliders to the refreshing balcony. On warm evenings relax outside or enjoy a barbeque within this relished outdoor space. In the openly adjacent dining room host pleasing dinner parties with meals prepared in the modern kitchen. Smartly residing on the second floor are two spacious bedrooms. The owner's bedroom graciously features two mirrored closets for prime organization, a grand wood and access to the full bath. There a brilliant skylight brings in soothing natural light. For convenience there are laundry facilities and an attached garage on the ground floor. The property is ideally situated for easy access to fine shops, major highways and mass transportation towards both Newark and NYC.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Oh, Sandra, how could you?
I know you're tired. I know it's been a long slog. But, Sandra, you're one of the few moderates left in our increasingly polarized society who has some say in where this country is headed!
You know that condescending asshole in the White House and his group of toadies are going to push through some radical bible-thumper to fill your seat. It was ok when we thought it was just ol' Rehnquist--he's so conservative, it would be a one for one switch. But, et tu, Sandra?
We may as well say good-bye to our right to choose.
You've broken my heart, Sandra.
I know you're tired. I know it's been a long slog. But, Sandra, you're one of the few moderates left in our increasingly polarized society who has some say in where this country is headed!
You know that condescending asshole in the White House and his group of toadies are going to push through some radical bible-thumper to fill your seat. It was ok when we thought it was just ol' Rehnquist--he's so conservative, it would be a one for one switch. But, et tu, Sandra?
We may as well say good-bye to our right to choose.
You've broken my heart, Sandra.
