Archive for the 'This side of the Hudson' Category

The Boys Are Back In Town

August 1, 2008 | Filed under: The object of my obsession, This side of the Hudson, Whoopdie Doo

“Football is, after all, a wonderful way to get rid of your aggressions without going to jail for it.”  ~Heywood Hale Brown

The other night, G called to tell me that he saw Plaxico Burress in Best Buy. After I stopped convulsing and telling Metalia & J that oh my fucking God, Plax shops at Best Buy and I shop at Best Buy and perhaps I’ll run into him at JCREW; I asked the all important question: What did he buy? Like 20 DVDs and he used a Black Card. Then G told him that this was Cowboys country and I told G that perhaps he shouldn’t disrespect our guests.

Like a Superhero

June 16, 2008 | Filed under: This side of the Hudson, Whoopdie Doo

“I always loved running… it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs.” ~Jesse Owens

At some point during the Interminable Break Up of Hell Fire and Doom, probably after I realized that I needed something else besides dairy products to keep my mind off of wanting to kick the shit out of something (Or someone). I needed something else to help channel my anger so that I didn’t feel so consumed by it at all times. There had been these brief moments where I was somewhere between a rock and a hard place on the emotional spectrum. It was a toss up between really fucking sad and really fucking angry. I must say that if there is one thing I can never be faulted for it would be sharing how I really feel; crazy pissed off and all. So while this was going on, I contemplated writing away the rage but that just turned into me sitting and staring at the computer screen and missing deadlines and writing half assed movie reviews. Then I decided to bake but that took up more time and effort and because the light in my kitchen sucks, I could only bake and photograph my process between the hours of 9 and noon when the sun was at a perfect tilt in the sky so it would properly luminate my mixing technique. So I decided to start running.

Though running would be a very generous way of putting what I do when I strap on sneakers and a sports bra. It starts off at a nice little pace and then gradually turns into this half walk trot type thing and I’m pretty sure if you saw me ‘running’ you would start to place bets as to when exactly I would keel over and die. It’s like this awful hop, step type gait thing that kind of makes me look like an animal that got hit with a BB gun but must. keep. going. But in a half assed kind of way. It’s all rather sad and pathetic but it is my new thing. To half trot my way through 5Ks and weekly trail runs.

A few weeks ago I announced on Twitter that I would be going running again. Because look at me! All athletic and shit! If you’ve ever seen me in real life, I’m tall but wide-ish. And I am probably making myself sound really attractive right now but it is what it is. My athleticism is rather non-existent but with the whole half trot thing, I’ve been busting my ass and activity points are activity points, and it doesn’t matter if you look like a deranged and injured fawn while completing the activity. The wonderful Bill Braine tweeted (I hate that word) back that we would run together. To which I said Yeah, sure! While thinking that it would never happen because I would never and could never run with a person who runs, runs. Like for real runs with proper form while I most likely trail along behind him huffing and puffing like an injured animal. Days later he emailed me to suggest that we run a 5K together and again I said yes in hopes that he would promptly forget or that I could make up some reason to be halfway across the country. Of course despite my apprehension of coming in dead last or embarrassing myself in front of someone I’d met once – in a bar, while drunk – I allowed Bill to woo me with promises that he would run with me and that afterwards there would be brunch and mimosas. Then he mentioned mojitos if I came down the evening before. And I was all sign me the hell up because if you want me to do something offer up alcohol and I will be yours. Again, it is what it is and I have no shame.

Now to effectively put you to sleep I will make a ridiculously long story even longer and completely pointless by saying that we ran. Well Bill ran and I did my half limp thing until the very end when I actually did run and then I felt like throwing up in a church parking lot but I had managed to shave 1:30 off of my 5K time in less than a month. So I was on my runner’s high and in a good mood and feeling rather kick ass if I do say so myself even if I did look like a sweaty, limping, round buffoon who probably had no business running and dreaming of mimosas even though I hate champagne but my, wouldn’t it would be refreshing. But instead of mimosas I had the great fortune of babysitting Bill’s children while he and his wife went out which was so not what I was promised at the start of this. Sorry I should say that he and his wife left their very adorable children with me, a person that Bill had met once before while in a bar but I have a blog where I talk about how much I enjoy wine and they enjoy wine so I probably won’t be some psycho serial killer. I will instead be very normal and discuss why Luke’s father is such an important part to the overall Star Wars saga and perhaps promise a five year old that I will watch the other three movies with him. Because I am an emotional lush who is just so damn nice and a giver that way.

And now that this story has gone nowhere fast I will sum it up in 9 words: This weekend was fantastic, cathartic and all around perfect. The other morning, Bill came bounding down the stairs before our run and asked if I felt like a superhero. I said no and he told me that I should feel like one because I am. And while I remain wary of proclaiming myself in top superhero form, I can say that after five long months, I seem to have a bit of my (relative) bad ass back. And not a moment too soon.

Everything’s Coming Up Tulips

May 11, 2008 | Filed under: Fotografias, This side of the Hudson

“Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.” ~Rainer Maria Rilke

Y’all, I stepped outside my house the other day and was promptly greeted by an angry mob. An angry mob stuffed with festival food and cheap beer ready to breathe my air and brush past me and trip me with their humvee sized Maclarens. Then I died a very sad death due to acute social anxiety. My tombstone read: “Heather B. was such a lovely person until she found herself around other people. Then she turned into a hot mess.”

Anyway, this is what I figure Hell will look like. But I bet there’s gonna be beer!

Ok so I didn’t die. More like I was stationary for 48 entire hours during which I had exactly two goals: 1) Find the funnel cake. Imbibe the funnel cake. Get the powdered sugar in my hair. Remove powdered sugar from my person by licking. 2) Use tulips for hypnosis. Rinse and repeat. I’d say this weekend was a rousing success. AIM LOW, kids!

And then all things went to shit when I discovered Lightroom. Better yet, I say “Simon!” in a sing-song voice and he’s at attention. Now I get to take 765 photos of my cat, then over expose the shit out of them and make them look all mind-bending and bright and ‘antiqued’. It’ll be like being high all the time but without the severe paranoia. No Pasa Nada: Like tripping on acid. The good stuff.

More like No Pasa Nada: Just a touch of class and crazy.

Quick! Change the subject

March 12, 2008 | Filed under: Oh The Stupidity You'll See, This side of the Hudson

“Now that it’s all over, what did you really do yesterday that’s worth mentioning?” ~Coleman Cox

Don’t think I didn’t hem and haw over titling this “And Ho Jinks*Ensue” or “What would I do for $5500”. But I think being good and mature and remembering that I have a job I would like to keep for a few more years has trumped my eagerness towards immaturity. It is different when something of this nature occurs several states away or across the country but when you’re standing in line for a breakfast taco in Austin and you see your Governor’s face plastered all over CNN with the word PROSTITUTION in 47 point font bold, well then you kind of want to curl up in a ball and contemplate moving four hours north. I hear Montreal is lovely in the spring. My tagline would have to be “Smarties for all!”

It’s been information overload on top of the usual debauchery as of late Obviously I don’t know what it’s like to watch things unfold in places outside of Albany but here it went from “No EFFING WAY” to “mind numbing”. I’d like to get back to the regularly scheduled programming of snow and wait, yup, more snow and oh wait, is that rain? Nope, it’s snow. Alas not.

I am certainly not about to climb upon my pedestal and debate the merits of extracurricular activities outside of the marriage (I’ve never been married) or where my taxes have mysteriously gone off to (seriously, I don’t care). I am actually going to sit here and revel in the miracle that was surviving four days in Austin without anyone kicking me in the face or an incident of tears. In fact it’s been several weeks since my last sob fest and I’m feeling back to normal. ‘Normal’ of course being powered by Grey Goose la poire, patron and guacamole for four days but normal nonetheless.

*Sarah is so effing brilliant. It kills me.  

New York, New York

February 22, 2008 | Filed under: Humdrum, This side of the Hudson

“Thanks to the Interstate Highway System, it is now possible to travel across the country from coast to coast without seeing anything.” ~Charles Kuralt

When I lived outside of New York and a non-New Yorker would ask where I was from, I would reply with a mere ‘New York’ and leave it at that. Of course then the natural assumption is New York City and I found perfectly fine to either correct that person or just smile and shrug and lament on the traffic on the West Side Highway.

If a straight up New Yorker asked me of my origins, there is no way in hell to give a simple answer. They want to know the county or the area code or whether or not you reside somewhere above Rockland County because anything above Rockland County – if say the person asking is from below Rockland County – is considered Upstate. And when responding Upstate it’s good to have a cache of comebacks relating to weather or cow tipping or OMFG where do you catch a cab?!

Sometimes the state doesn’t feel that large and other times I am amazed at the corners of the state that I’ve never stepped foot in. ‘Homogeneous’ would be the last word used to describe the inhabitants. A person from downstate will wax philosophical about how people from ‘upstate’ aren’t real New Yorkers. (Which of course begs the question ‘Why do you talk so proper?’ I talk ‘proper’ because I’m from Upstate New York and this is how everyone talks. But I digress.) And a person from so far upstate that they can see the RCMP three blocks away, can easily find Syracuse to be cosmopolitan, Albany to be ‘too damn big’ and New York will cause all five of their senses to spontaneously combust.

On a trip to Watertown yesterday, I found that there are places that look like a scene out of Deliverance and half expected for someone with a banjo to come busting out of the snow covered trees. That’s how New York is; one end of the state leaves me puzzled because there should probably be a log cabin right about here. Then there’s the other end with Rockefeller Center and the Anthropologie from Heaven. With bars and restaurants that stay open until the wee hours of the morning and the ketel one, pomegranate martinis flow like water.

I live somewhere in the middle. I’m getting used to this gray area of a town where on one corner there is a JCrew and on the next there’s a horse farm. I know I grew up here but I feel like I either missed so much, forgot all of it due to rail gin or blocked it all out to save my sanity. I can’t say that I’m ready to accept my lot in life and living in a place where an exciting night out is the bar at the Crowne Plaza. Maybe one day, I’ll be perfectly OK with it all but after yesterday’s drive to the North Country and the current gray skies and impending doom of an apocalyptic ice storm; that day will not be today.