Workplace etiquette II: Cabbie edition

I think cabbie etiquette should dictate the following...

1. Whistling while you work is ONLY acceptable if you are a dwarf in a fairytale.

2. Yelling into your cell phone in other languages as you slam on the breaks, is not only rude, but can be scary.

3. If you don't want strangers to blast elevator muzak, Christmas carols, or even house music in your ears, please don't blast them in mine.

4. Pulling up next to friends driving other cabs, and yelling to them through the windows, should be done when you're off duty, NOT when you have a fare in the back who has to get to a photoshoot.

5. Zig zagging like a ball off a flipper in a pinball game, can really put a passenger on TILT!

So, if you are thinking of becoming a cabbie, or already are a cabbie, please keep those things in mind, and let me know if you have any others to add to the list.

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Personal note: I made the big job decision mentioned in the previous post, and officially declared my two weeks notice today. Yipee! So, off to another magazine I go, from "Photo Assistant" to "Assistant Photo Editor," from Freelance to Staff, from 4 to 15 issues a year... Yikes! But I'm excited. Actually, I don't think it will really sink in till I'm there, but it's still a good excuse to celebrate (which means sitting on my couch watching TV with my dog and a glass of wine). Cheers...

Super-panties

I am convinced that my panties have super powers.

Seriously. I have worn my black lace and silk "comfy/confident" Vicky Secret panties three times since I found them hiding in the back of my drawer, and each time, something super has happened.

Wear #1... Last-minute interview at another magazine. Goes well enough to necessitate Wear#2, as follows.

Wear #2... Last-minute second interview at that same magazine, with the Creative Director; which also goes well, and leads to Wear #3.

Wear #3... 9/23: That magazine calls to offer me the job, AND I am offered a staff position/promotion at the magazine at which I have been freelancing since January.

Maybe it was the panties. Maybe it was the fact that the 23rd of November would have been my dad's birthday. Or maybe I'm just THAT good. Whatever it was, I'm not complaining. It will be a difficult decision though, so I'm glad to have the weekend to think it over.

Needless to say, I will definitely NOT be forgetting these panties at the back of my drawer ever again.

Half-Nekkid Thanksgiving

I just got back from blogging live from the John Mayer concert (which was hot by the way, see previous post for the link), and I'm sooo tired, but not too tired to take an HNT photo for you! To see what the half-nekkidness is about, click on the HNT sidebar link.
Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm blogging John Mayer

I'm blogging live from the Bowery Ballroom right now... so come visit! http://journals.aol.com/nlivejohnmayer/JohnMayerConcertBlog.

On radioactive butterflies and John Mayer

It's my first night switching from the sleeping aide Ambien to Lunesta.

My new doctor recommended the switch, and the commercials with those strange glowing butterflies did look rather relaxing, so I figured, why not? And it's fun to say... Loooo-nesss-ta. It sounds kinda sexy. I like the way it feels in my mouth to on chew it's syllables. The way my tongue forms it's consonants and vowels, Lunesta. Much better than its technical name, Eszopliclone (es-zoe-PIK-lone). Yeah, I'd take a good lunesta over an eszopliclone any day.

But, it has been an hour and I am already experiencing some of the more strange side effects, including "unpleasant taste." I've never experienced such an effect, and I have, unfortunately, had to take quite a few meds. It tastes like chalk in the back of my mouth, and not from the actual taking of the pill ages ago. And, let me point out the obvious, I am NOT sleeping. I am also not typing very well. Thank you, spellcheck! I am feeling the expected woozoooziness and drowsiness, but no actual sleeping is happening when I lay down. I'm just staring at the shadows and shapes on the ceiling, licking my puckered lips, while pondering the strange taste in my mouth. My coordination is a little off as well, I must admit, I walked into a closet door as I was heading into the bedroom, but that also may have had to do with the fact that the lights were off and the door was left open. And memory problems? Well, we'll see in the morning if I even remember writing this post.

They should have a "do not use Blogger" warning on the label of the bottle... The word verification is especially challenging at the moment. Okay, I'm off to try to sleep again.

But first, I just want to reassure you that I will not be operating any heavy machinery in the near future...

Take me or leave me

Inspired by a song from the musical Rent (the movie version is opening this week!) and a bad habits post by Kate, I present you with the...



Not Your Typical Jersey Girl: Take me or leave me list.

1. I get overly confident and flirty when I drink
2. I am extremely sensual and tactile
3. I have a habitually messy closet
4. I have been know to give a death glare
5. I stop listening when someone is saying something i don't want to hear
6. I have sleep and weight issues
7. I'm not a morning person
8. I maintain high expectations for friends
9. I get pissed when people discuss movies I haven't seen
10. I am not sympathetic when people don't feel well from tummy aches or colds... deal with it.

and if you give a damn
take me baby
or leave me

What do you need to admit? If anyone else wants to do a "take me or leave me list," put the link in the following comments section and I will post it, or just let loose in the comments here... It's freeing!
The Typette
b.o.b.i.
mel
dizzybird
ken

But I ordered it on the side...

I'm a big fan of ordering things "on the side." It makes whatever you are ordering seem healthier. Dressing, on the side. Sauce, on the side...

And when deciding to partake in those not-so-healthy treats, it is much easier to justify ordering them as side dishes than full orders. I can justify ordering eggs with a pancake on the side; but just ordering pancakes, I cannot. If I get a large dish of something, I am sure to eat the whole thing, because I came from one of those "clean your plate" families. My dad was even known to some as "The Bottomless Pit," and thus I have developed portion control issues. Yes, it's true, I am totally and completely portionally impaired.

I wish restaurants would do small sides, so people such as myself can get just a taste of something sinful, and not be tempted to engorge ourselves. Then it would be perfectly acceptable to order a salad with the dressing on the side, as well as 3 fries, a spoonful of mashed potatoes, 5 mac 'n cheese macaronis, and 4 bites of chocolate cake.

I wonder if the "on the side" method works for making chores seem easier... Honey, can you please help me with a bit of dusting, and a side of toilet cleaning? Sounds better, right? Maybe even a lover will be more amenable to trying different things, if the suggestion is made as a side order. How about some hot lovin' with a side of "down there," topped off with a dollop of Cool Whip? It could work. Any other suggestions for ways to test the "on the side" method?

Nice earholes

"You have nice earholes," my sister exclaimed, as we were standing in a crowded elevator at the Museum of Natural History, "enjoy them, before they start to sag..."

It was definitely one of the strangest, and most thought provoking compliments I have ever received.

The compliment occurred during one of my sister's biannual visits from Texas. Our elevator conversation began about the gorgeous earrings our mom had made for us (with stones from her wedding ring from our father), and I was busy bitching about my fat earlobes, and how tight the earrings were because of them. "The earrings are supposed to hang down, but they barely lay flat and reach below my fat lobes... Do earlobes shrink when you lose weight?" I went on and on to no avail. She was way too intrigued by my perky holes. "Seriously, you have nice holes."

At first, I was happy to receive this compliment, but soon I began to worry because I like hanging earrings, especially chandeliers, which can be heavy. I have bunches of them from all over: kiosk craftsmen on the Santa Monica promenade, airport shops, street vendors in Manhattan near where I work. But my sister's comment freaked me out a bit. Now I keep staring at my lobes in the mirror and thinking, oh no, are they starting to sag? Will these earrings contribute to future earhole drooping? Should I be taking preventative measures to avoid the sag? What should I do?

Thanks Sis, now I am weighed down wondering if there is a way to prevent earring hole sagging, or if I should just accept that it is an unfortunate inevitability.

HNT 2

To participate in the beauty that is Half Nekkid Thursday, click on the sidebar link.

When good hair styles go bad

It started off as a beautiful day... The temperature at my office was surprisingly comfortable. The majority of my coworkers were on location at a photo shoot, so I was not surrounded by any yelling or human stress balls. Two coworkers even invited me out to lunch for empanadas, a savory Spanish pastry I had never tried before, but ended up loving. Everything was great. And then it happened...

At 4:28PM, eastern standard time, I was making my way through the maze of narrow hallways stacked with boxes of magazines, supplies, and props, to the ladies room, when I looked in the mirror and saw a horrifying sight. My hair was in a very different state than how I had styled it in the morning. What was once a nice ponytail, had become a falling down flipped out behind my ears bumpy mess! My cheeks flushed as a feeling of embarrassment crept across my stomach. How long had my hair looked like that, I panicked, and why had no one said anything?

Did my empanada-loving coworkers invite me along just so they could gawk at the horrendous train wreck on top of my head? Did they start talking about me as soon as I walked away... Eeew, did you see Danielle's hair??? Or do they think I actually like my hair to look like an unkempt mane, and that I purposefully pull at my hair to make bumps?

Does this mean no one would tell me if I had spinach in my teeth or my zipper down? The horror. Maybe this all happened because my newly cleaned hairbrush is mad at me and put a curse on my hair. Or maybe the truth is that nobody gives a crap about how disheveled my hair looks, and I'm suffering from pms-induced paranoid... Whatever it is, I'm definitely bringing in a mirror to keep in my desk drawer from now on.

Brush-a brush-a brush-a

After weeks of delaying the inevitable, I finally cleaned my hair brush yesterday.

Hairbrush cleaning is not one of my favorite activities, especially when my brush gets out of control, and looks like Cousin It has borrowed it. At those times, I consider going out and buying a new one instead of cleaning it, but not this time. I wouldn't let myself. I have come to appreciate this particular round Conair brush with a black and green handle too much to toss it aside because it got too hairy.

So my Sunday activity was to go in, with scissors and comb, and free it from its matted cocoon. I prodded and picked, pinched and pulled, and finally section by section, re-revealed the shiny surface below.

It had me thinking about how great it would be to have a self-cleaning hairbrush. They make self-cleaning kitty litter boxes, self-cleaning ovens and irons, and even are working on self-cleaning suits, so why not self-cleaning hairbrushes? Any inventors, I expect you will begin working on this immediately, and of course give me credit for the inspiration. I did a search to see if one existed, and the only thing I could find was the Twist N Clean(pictured above), which claims to be self-cleaning, but does not explain how it works. I don't know if I can believe that a twist alone can prevent a brush from getting to the surgery stages that mine was at. So inventors, please get on that for me, and get back to me when the prototype is ready to test.

Go hungry, leave happy

I think I have a bit of an unhealthy obsession with the International House of Pancakes.

It's not an obsession about going there, in fact, I have only actually eaten there a handful of times; but I have started talking nonstop about how I want to go there. I mention my desire to hop to the i, at least a few times a week. And I have even been known to pout if I pass one and cannot go, like a kid with a toy shop. Lip sticking out, puppy dog eyes, the whole nine.

I think I have created an idealized version of the ihop in my head. The cute blue house-like buildings with wood paneling, in which kids eat fluffy pancakes with faces made of whipped cream and cherries for eyes and bacon mouths. And for me, a pitcher of coffee, a huge glass of OJ, and a heaping portion of eggs, with a "side of pancakes." Perfect Sunday brunch, any time.

But, this vision is missing a few key elements that can define a visit to the ihop. Specifically, the long lines that I see out the door every weekend, the screeching children who are throwing their pancake faces all over the floor, and the fact that most ihops are total dumps. But, as soon as I think of those real-life downers, or make an actual visit to the place and end up unable to "go hungry, leave happy" but rather leave feeling over-stuffed and annoyed; I am disappointed briefly, and then forget about it, and the craving returns.

How does the ihop have this power over me? I'm thinking it must be mind control. Some person in a booth with buttons labeled Danielle's cravings: "Skinny Cow," "Chocolate," "Pasta," and the blue "ihop" button, which is currently stuck in the down position.

Anyone up for some pancakes?

Half-Nekkid Thursday

It's official... As if I needed an excuse to post more photos, I'm joining in on the fabulous Half Nekkid craze, started by Osbasso, lucky you! There is a link on the sidebar if you too want to join in on the fun.

Check out my body art... I designed the tattoo in this picture, which was inked at two different times, and was inspired by pop artist Keith Haring, who died of AIDS in 1990. I added the standing figure over the "baby," who is clinging to (or being lifted by) the lily enwrapping it, a week before my dad passed away in 2001.

I have one more tattoo somewhere else... maybe you'll get to see that'll on another HNT!

Victoria does Honeydew

When I was dressing for my Monday, I knew that I wanted that confident feeling that can only come from the right pair of underwear... But, as I was digging through my drawer, I found, to my dismay, not a pair of Honeydews in sight. I was beginning to pout, when my hand brushed up against something soft and silky.

What's this? I wondered as I pulled out a pair of black satin and lace v-front bikinis from Victoria's Secret that were hiding in the back of the drawer. With vague remembrance, I realized that they were the pair my mother had bought me several months ago. I know that must sound strange, sexy undies from the mom, but she had a gift card or something and decided to spend it on me (and what better way is there to spend, really?), and then I went and lost them in the back of a messy drawer. I'm so inconsiderate. But they were found nonetheless, and on the morning when I wanted a confidence boost. I slipped them on, and they felt perfect. Per-fect. They were smooth and comfy against my skin, laying perfectly flat, and not digging in anywhere. I knew it was going to be a good day.

And, indeed, it was. So after work, I decided to go to the Victoria's Secret website, to see if I could buy more, when what did I see? But mesh with lace trim panties that look exactly like my beloved Honeydews! WHA???

My first reaction when I saw the similar skivvies was anger, How dare they steal the Honeydew design? But then I thought about how this could work to my advantage. The more widespread the style is, the cheaper the price will get, right? And as soon as I saw the fetching purple mesh number shown above with black lace trim, I was sold. I knew I would not be able to resist the temptation of the VS. Is it so wrong to succumb? Should I be loyal to my Dews?

I'm sorry Honeydew, I still love and appreciate how sexy and confident you make me feel... and you will always be the first mesh and lace in my collection, but these are cheaper when you buy 3 pairs, and there are new colors to try, so how can I not be drawn back to Vicky's? I hope you will understand...

My new toy

I have been having fun playing with one of my birthday presents, an alienbee photo light from the beau. At first, I thought these lights were a joke, the mini ipod of studio lights, because they come in colors like Martian Pink and Alien Green; but the truth is, they pack a powerful flash in a cute package.

Last Saturday, when my friends came over to celebrate, I put on a funky iTunes playlist, and after a few margaritas, I forced them to be my models. It was so fun to just be silly and take pictures.

Here is a shot I took of my brother Brian J, a musician in Brooklyn.

The timing of this present was perfect, by the way. I got a call on Wednesday to do a photo shoot for a magazine next week... So now they get me, and my Mello Yello Alienbee!

My new obsession is Grey

There are a lot of exciting things in the works here in the Jerz, but I don't want to jinx them by writing about them before they are set in stone! I will fill you in soon though, I promise. In the meanwhile, I will share with you my new favorite TV show... If you have not seen Grey's Anatomy (the show on after Desperate Housewives) you are missing out.

This show is worth staying up late for on Sunday night. It is about a group of surgical interns in Seattle, trying to deal with the daily struggles of relationships and career, and how they intersect at one particular hospital. Doesn't sound that original, right? So, what is it that makes Grey's Anatomy so special? Perhaps it is the witty writing, or the super sexy actors (swoon), or the characters who are so loveable, that I even find myself loving the characters I am supposed to hate! How do they do that?

Or perhaps it is that Grey's Anatomy is the only show that really takes me through the full spectrum of emotions in each episode. I see the previews for the next episode and actually think, how am I going to wait an entire week? Last week, I was upset that I erased it from my DVR after watching it, because I would have watched it a second time. Seriously.

So if this at all sounds intriguing to you, check it out, Sunday 10PM EST on ABC. Then you too can rush to the water-cooler on Monday morning to dish with me and my coworkers about whether or not Dr. McDreamy will end up signing his divorce papers from Addison to be with Meredith... He is so not signing now, by the way. Poor Meredith. But, my Honeydew undies are not in a twist over it, because it would be fun to see her engage in some good sex-capades for the moment anyway. So screw him (yeah, I wish)!

The art of the doormat

The door across the hall from my apartment has a green Jets football team doormat. It's saying: I'm a Jets fanatic.

The Jets mat's neighbor, across the hall from me and one door to the left, moved in recently, and also put out the same green Jets mat, right next door. It's saying: I'm a follower, and I'm uncreative.

I wonder if when the new guy moved in he already had that Jets mat, or if he went out and bought it when he saw the one next door. I wonder if it was done in a competitive state of mind, or a fraternal one. I wonder if he is a bit of a doormat himself.

Do you think most people give serious thought to their doormat? Do they consider their neighbor's mats when choosing their own? And, do the people with generic-looking flowery mats spend a long time picking those out? Do they stand in front of the mats deliberating, looking from one to the next, and then back to the first? Hmmm, the pink or the purple carnation?

Outside my door is a "Wipe Your Paws" mat.

It's saying: I love my dog, and I'm a big dork...

What does your mat say?

Path news

It was a sad Monday morning commute for the Jersey crowd this week, after some disheartening news came on last Friday's PATH-ride to work.

After saying his usually 33rd street schpiel, the PATH conductor, the one with the pin-filled hat, added his usual something extra with a "Thank God it's Friday. Hopefully it is pay-day for you. If so, I hope you don't spend it all in one place," and that's when he dropped the bad-news bomb, "on behalf of myself and the crew, it has been our pleasure serving you, but effective Monday, there will be a schedule change and I will no longer be with you on your morning commute." For some reason this saddened me. I liked the something extra he would add. The prayers for the hurricane victims, or timely jokes about sports or the weather...

I remember just last week when he said, "I hope you have an umbrella, and if you don't, you better run to the dollar store and get one because the rain's a-comin'." And sure enough, by the commute home, the rain was coming down. How could they just switch it up like that on us? I hate change. I was just getting to know this guy. I had actually started pausing my music at the end of my ride in order to hear what he had to say. Seriously.

So, this Monday morning's commute was an especially solemn one. I rode the PATH with my head lowered, and not because I was nodding off to sleep. Then as we approached 33rd Street, in memory of Pin Hat, I said to myself, "Thank God it's Monday, only three more days till Friday."

I will miss you, Former Morning Conductor. Thanks for making me smile for nearly a year. With luck one day, when I am drunk at 2AM, I will stumble upon your train again. Hopefully. Someday.