My Main Cast

It took me almost a year to find the close circle of friends that I now have in the city. Last July-September, I began hanging out regularly with a few woman in Manhattan. Because of our diverse ethnic backgrounds, we once jokingly called ourselves "The United Colors of Benetton" and personalized a Disney fairies image that now hangs in some of our offices. The name for our clique never really stuck - not that we've ever tried to label ourselves as if we were some sort of girl band - but the group has gradually updated itself since the initial Cast of Characters post to encompass a beautiful group of women that I am proud to call friends.

Hallmark should make a card that reads, There are 8 million people in New York City, and we found each other. I'd buy one for all of them.

In alphabetical order:
Debasha - the fashion corporate merchandise planner
Iris - the fashion designer / personal shopper extraordinare
Jackie - the cocktail waitress who receives $100 tips from Jay-Z for counting his cash
Mayra, the international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor
Natasha M. (Tasha or T) - the film and TV voiceover/actress and the best "Sex and the City" Tour Guide ever
Natasha S. (Natasha) - the finance executive and fabulous roommate dubbed by the Former SNL Actor: "A White Girl Who Swallowed a Black Girl" (check her out from behind and you'll see what he meant)
Ra - the shoe designer and footwear guru

Other main characters (around and about NYC):
Bobbi (Tokii) - the best friend from college, whose acting career takes her in and out of the city
Annisha - the publishing marketer
Candice - the flight attendant
Cassie - the Connecticut-based nanny, soon-to-be-fulltime-New Yorker
Gina - the fashion merchandiser who just moved to LA

A Year Ago Today: September Sunrise
No Title for Last Night
August's Sunset
Two Years Ago Today: VMAs, Mass Celebrity Sighting and Almost TGIF

United Colors of Benetton

Tonight is Girls' Night.
Meet the cast of characters from my nightlife in New York City.
We're like the United Nations or a gang of Disney Fairies.



Clockwise from top (with fairy correlation):
Natasha M., (Tasha) the film and TV voice over/actress (the adorable blonde)
Ra, the shoe designer (the token Black hottie*)
Iris, the handbag designer (the gorgeous White girl with an ass)
Mayra, the international manufacturing, research and multimedia supervisor (the Equedorian with the entire exotic package, including the sexy accent)
Me, executive assistant, blog author (the half Filipina/half White girl with long hair)

*Featured as the Token Black Fairy in our Disney remake and representing for:
Gina, the fashion merchandiser who just moved to LA
Debasha, the fashion corporate merchandise planner

Other main characters:
Tokii, the best friend, whose acting career takes her away from the city more and more and takes my heart with her wherever she goes (the next Tia & Tamara Mowry by appearance; next Angela Bassett by trade)
Annisha, the publishing marketer (the Caribbean beauty)
Candice, the sexy flight attendant (the Black Southern belle)
Cassie, the Connecticut-based, soon-to-be-fulltime-New Yorker, hot nanny that I would never hire to be eye candy for my husband in my home, and one of the top five prettiest people I've ever seen in real life (Puerto Rican with a Southern accent - does it get any hotter than that?)

The most interesting part of the above list is that all of us, with the exception of Annisha (from Trinidad & Tobago), are from or have lived in North Carolina.

There aren't too many Disney references that can be applied to our unmarried-gals-in-the-city lives, but this blog is full of cliché Sex and the City quotes. Many of my cliché moments are inspired by the most important women in my life within the five boroughs ... although that area is quickly expanding to encompass the world.

Restaurant Week Winter 2008 - Aspen

I met with Annisha, Gina B., Debasha and Tasha at Aspen last night to enjoy their $35 Prix Fixe Menu for NYC Restaurant Week Winter 2008. I chose the Warm Goat Cheese & Arugula Salad, Tasha and I shared the Pan Roasted Chicken and the Wild Salmon, and I ended up eating the remainder of everyone else's desserts ... so Snow Capped Cupcakes, Sorbet/Gelato and Pumpkin Flan. Add a few bottles of wine and lots of laughter. Equals another one of those New York nights that I always wanted.

At some point, as the last bottle of wine was drying up and some were on their third or fourth glasses of sangria, and I was picking the dessert crumbs off of everyone’s plates, I suddenly thought of Annalisa. I’m not sure why, but I remembered a promise I had made to her via a blog comment. I had promised that I would have a drink for her one night in New York City.

“So guys,” I said, as soon as there was a break in the laughter. “There is a woman in California, who reads my blog [this sounded super nerdy to say out loud, but none of my friends snickered or raised an eyebrow] and has always wanted to live in New York, but she began a life as a mother instead. I promised her awhile ago that I would have a drink for her in the city. So can we toast Crazy Mom of Three?”

"Sure!" everyone said. Odd requests are generally not questioned by my crew once the adult beverages begin to flow.

I raised my glass and my friends raised their glasses without hesitation.

“To who again?” Gina asked, her eyes glazed over by her sangria.

“To Crazy Mom of Three,” I replied, holding my glass aloft.

“To Crazy Mom of Three!” we all said in unison.

We live in a world where technology has the capability to connect across continents people who have never met. It’s kind of amazing. So are my friends.

Crush on Ellen and Need an Air Conditioner

I am weirdly attracted to Ellen DeGeneres. This isn't a new revelation. I was watching a rerun of her show on the Oxygen channel last night, and decided that I'm finally able to admit it in the blogosphere. I had a conversation with my friend Eileen, Annisha and Gina B. about my female crush after Ellen hosted this year's Academy Awards show.

"Female crushes are normal and do not mean that you are a lesbian," Eileen had said to me over brunch at Cafe Noir after I had said, "Ok, girls. I am weirdly attracted to Ellen DeGeneres. Does that mean I'm gay?"

"But it's not your normal female crush," I had replied, "Most heterosexual girls have hot-girl crushes, like on Jessica Alba, or say something trendy like, 'I'd make out with Angelina Jolie.'"

I know I am strictly interested in men - at least in terms of intimacy. In fact, my fantasies of Ellen simply involve frolicking hand-in-hand in a meadow and laughing at her jokes while we rest in the shadow of cherry trees.

Anyway, I really need an air conditioner. It was so hot today.

This photo sums up today's temperature:

Spring is in the Air

Annisha and I planned to meet for lunch on Friday, but it was so beautiful outside this morning that she emailed me and asked if I wanted to meet in Bryant Park around 12:30. So we did, and the day was indeed beautiful. In fact, it was almost too warm along the perimeter of the park since the canopy of leaves hasn't grown back yet to shade the lunch crowd from the sun.

It's kind of funny that everyone in my office was so excited about the weather today - as if we've had a hard winter. However, after the record cold temperatures we had in February, it's easy to forget that it was 71 degrees Fahrenheit on January 6. I guess it's the anticipation of spring that really has everyone talking.

I meant to take some camera phone photo ops during lunch, but since I forgot, here are some images taken in Bryant Park during my first fall season in New York City.

Hoboken Saint Patrick's Day

"'... To paraphrase Col. Nathan R. Jessup (A Few Good Men), "I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for St. Patrick's Day, and you curse the bars. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That St. Patrick's Day, while messy, probably saved (financial) lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, stops trouble. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall.'

"On March 3rd, when you see that guy puking in your front yard or urinating in your hallway, keep in mind there was a time when he'd be in the bar instead, and we'd deal with it ..."
- From ChrisHalleron.com
Christopher M. Halleron, freelance writer/bitter bartender, writes a biweekly humor column for The Hudson Current and websites in the New York Metro area. He spends a lot of his time either in front of or behind the bar in Hoboken, New Jersey where his tolerance for liquor grows stronger as his tolerance for society is eroded on a daily basis. Read more at http://www.chrishalleron.com/

Today I experienced my first real Saint Patrick's Day Celebration. I've never really done more than just try to remember to wear green on the actually holiday. Most years I have forgotten.

But this year - my first year as a New Yorker - we kicked off my first day as a half-Filipina/half-White Irishman at 9 a.m. with bagels and screwdrivers in Annisha's apartment, went to a house party on someone's roof before noon, laughed hysterically as Eileen crashed the St. Patrick's Day Parade and took a photo with a member of an Irish Celtic band, ditched the long bar lines and headed to another house party, where I learned that I can like beer ... and all before 5 p.m.

Later we went to a bar in Manhattan to meet Annisha's boss and a colleague from their London office, had dinner at Lombardi's Pizza on Spring Street, and then I had to call it a night. The girls went on to another downtown bar, and I'm home by midnight. But I'm pretty proud of myself for pulling off a day like today.

St. Patrick's Day in Hoboken was somewhat reminiscent of the college spring breaks of my youth. It wasn't a 9 p.m.-to-noon-all-nighter, but even if I don't have the late-teen/early 20s energy to pull something like this off every weekend, I feel like I've still got it ... or I at least had it today.

Phone Photo Ops - St. Patty's Day in NJ

Heading to the a.m. house party with my girls: Jenny, the Broadway star from Cats; Eileen, the White girl who out-danced everyone at Morris Chestnut's Chocolate Party a few Valentine's Days ago; Iris, the ex-girlfriend of an NBA player, who walked away because she was too good for him; Annisha, the fashion designer turned magazine publisher; Gina, the fashion merchandising extraordinaire; and Farrisha, the vivacious twin sister of Annisha, whose wit and sarcasm was immediately endearing.


Climbing through the window to a party on a roof deck, until the police came and told a bunch of young New York professionals that we were getting too rowdy.


As the St. Patrick's Day Parade ended, barhoppers filtered back into the bars (and the lines to get into the bars).


The Empire State Building from the streets of Hoboken


Pizza at Lombardi's back in Manhattan later tonight

Nikki Baby's Birthday

Yesterday I went to the gym after work, took a kick-ass cardio boot camp class followed by a 30-min abdominal class, showered and got ready to go out for a night on the town. I didn't return uptown last night. I was staying at Nikki's apartment in midtown since we had late-night plans. She has an amazing panoramic view that includes the East River on one side and an unobstructed view of the Empire State Building on the other, and she lives in the same building as Vanessa Minnillo and even sees Nick Lachay around from time to time. I saw neither last night.

I joined Nikki, her boyfriend and several of their friends at her apartment for some pre-party shots, and then we went out to celebrate her night on the town. She wore a pretty dress and a tiara, which we made her boyfriend wear for a random photo in the bar later that night. I don't remember what time we got back to her place, but I do remember that me, Nikki and her boyfriend were huddled around ice cream birthday cake on her kitchen counter, wearing pajamas, cutting slices, and eating it with our hands.

It was a struggle walking to work this morning. First of all, it was overcast, pouring rain and our umbrellas flipped inside out at least half a dozen times in the gale forced winds. Yet I still wished that I was wearing dark black sunglasses. We went our opposite ways at 42nd Street and Fifth Avenue. Nikki, Alexis and I all work within a 3-4 block radius of each other and have plans for some spring lunches in Bryant Park. I can't wait for my first spring in New York. But for now, it was winter rain and hangover in the city. Side note: Arriving at work hungover is barely frowned upon in New York. Although I would say that I was more sleep-deprived that physically ill.

Her birthday weekend continues through Friday, Saturday and Sunday, but I had to forgo what will be an amazing dinner tonight fully paid by a club for which she promotes (and the subsequent after-party) because I have to be in New Jersey at 9 a.m.

And why? I already had plans to meet Eileen, Annisha and Gina B. across the Hudson River for the Hoboken Saint Patrick's Day celebration. Depending on how the barhopping goes in the morning and the rest of the day, I might rejoin Nikki tomorrow night. She's going to have a hummer escort. I am overlooking that fact that I am very anti-hummer, anti-SUV and anti-any other gas-guzzling atrocities. But it's her birthday weekend. So we'll see.

Saturday in the City

It took me an hour and a half to get home from West 23rd Street. Ninety minutes. But before I recount that part of my day, let me back up.

I met Eileen, Annisha and Gina B. for brunch in Soho at noon. We stayed there for four hours. I love how conversation at brunch has no rules. We talk about anything and everything. It's so refreshing, frequently hilarious and always a good time. The bartender, a friend of Annisha's and obviously entrigued by our incessant laughter, pulled up a chair for awhile. I learned that he lives just five blocks from me. The waitress brought out a pitcher of sangria on the house, and suddenly it was 4 p.m.

After brunch Annisha dropped Gina off on Houston and me at West 23rd, and then she and Eileen drove back over the river to Hoboken. I had my eyebrows threaded at Unique Threading Salon and then went to The Container Store on West 19th Street - my haven. I find a sense of meaning and purpose in there that I should find in a church. It's the immaculate organization.

I bought a 12-cube organizer for my closet, two air-tight Tupperware boxes and a sandwich-shaped container since I've started making sandwiches for lunch at work (trying to add whole grains to my diet).

On a crowded uptown 1 train from West 23rd Street, I was able to get a seat at 42nd Street. A man put his bag in the seat next to me instead of sitting down or offering the seat to another passenger. At 59th Street an older woman - but by no means elderly - got on the train. A few moments later she asked me if the bag was mine. The man turned to her and said curtly, "Ma'am, you look twice my age. Do you want to sit down?"

She smiled, trying to mask her shock and surprise, and said, "I am twice your age! Thank you!"

She sat down next to me and pulled out a Blackberry. When the man moved to the other side of the train, I said to her, "I don't know how old you are, but you don't look twice his age. You look fabulous."

And I meant it. In fact, as I said it, I wondered privately if she had had any work done. Her skin looked great. Her makeup was well-applied, and she had on a furry hat and an outfit that looked expensive.

She smiled back at me and said, "He was a might rude, wasn't he? But aren't you so cute. I'm glad I got to sit next to you."

She exited the train at 103rd Street and flashed me a fabulous smile.

At 125th Street, the train was delayed. After half a dozen announcements regarding a smoke situation at 145th Street and FDNY investigations, I lugged my stuff off the train and waddled with my bags to the bus stop. I waited through two buses since they were full of fellow subway rejects.

When I finally got on a bus, I rode it one stop before I became irritated by all of the pushing and shoving. I stepped off the bus and walked the rest of the way to my apartment. It was less than a dozen blocks that I normally wouldn't hesitate to walk. With my heavy load, it was a struggle; however, I paced the bus block for block all the way to my building because of the delays caused by the overcrowding.

Now I'm in my apartment and relieved that Eileen, Annisha and Gina had already decided to bail on a birthday party that we planned to attend in the Lower East Side. I had been trying to think of a decent excuse to back out, but the bitter cold made a good enough one for all four of us.

Instead I will spend my evening organizing my shoes and vegging on my couch. I hate to admit that nothing would give me more joy tonight. It's a Saturday night in New York City, but I get a weird adrenalin rush creating organization in my life.

I'll blame it on the weather so I don't feel as lame!

Super Bowl XLI

Last night I met Eileen, Gina B., Annisha and two of their friends at Bounce, where we had six seats at the bar, a round of shots on the house and front row views of the flat screens. We rated the Super Bowl commercials, cheered on our teams, ate popcorn shrimp, quesadillas and chicken fingers and stopped drinking before we'd regret it in the morning.

At one point, I looked at our six reflections in the long mirror behind the bar. I know alcohol makes you feel more attractive than you really are, but we were some hot girls sitting at the bar. I turned to Eileen and relayed my observation. She nodded and replied, "That's how we roll! We're like the Pussycat Dolls; we've got one of each color."

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed at the revelation. "How many Pussycat Dolls are there? Six?"

She looked puzzled, "Hmmm ... I don't know."

We both shrugged and turned back to the game.

Later after Prince's amazing halftime performance, I sent a text message to my closest friends: "I just watched the Super Bowl halftime show from a bar in Manhattan!"

What am I going to do next?

Remove: I'm going to Disney World!

Insert: Keep living in New York City!

New York City Marathon

Terrence and I stood at 96th and Fifth Ave (Mile Marker 23) for an hour and a half. Then Annisha called and told me to go to Mile Marker 24. Then she said that Eileen's family was headed to the Finish Line. Then I got worried that if I did too much walking and not enough watching, I'd miss Eileen and her fire engine red shirt and black shorts fly by so we stood on the corner of East 90th for another 45 minutes. And after all of that, we still didn't see her! So I dragged Terrence around Bed, Bath & Beyond, Crate & Barrel and Best Buy to continue apartment-stuff shopping. Even though we missed Eileen's run entirely, cheering for the other thousands of runners for two hours was amazing! They were champions! Can't wait to see next year's ... and why? Because I live here!!!

Sex & the City Girls

I know it's such a cliche title for a post about an evening spent in the East Village with three other women, but Sex & the City is exactly how I felt tonight. I didn't say that to Eileen, Annisha and Gina B. because I didn't want to sound like a cornball during Eileen's birthday dinner at Miracle Grill, and I feel a little like a dork typing about it now.

After dinner, we crossed the street to Magnolia Bakery for their signature cupcakes before strolling down Bleeker Street, stopping by a Marc Jacobs store, and then heading our separate ways. I caught the train at Christopher Street and carried the sacred cupcakes to the Bronx. When I arrived back at Tokii's apartment, I threw down my bags, took off my jacket and then held the cupcake box delicately in my palms elevated in front of me.

"Ahhhh ... Ahhhh ... Ahhh ... Ahh .... Ahhhhh ..." I sang, mimicking a monk carrying an offering in a sanctuary. I turned slowly and entered Tokii's room. She got a devilish look in her eye, "What ... is ... that?!?!?!" Brief pause and then: "You didn't go to Magnolia Bakery!"

The latter wasn't a question. She grabbed the box off my palms. We each devoured a cupcake. I know being a New Yorker isn't about Sex & the City nights, Magnolia cupcakes and Marc Jacobs, but there's something about good wine, great restaurants and fabulous women that make you feel like you're finally starting to fit in.

Stealth Bomber Sighting & Girls' Night Out

Last night, I met up for the first time with Eileen in the East Village for dinner with two of her friends. Eileen and I played volleyball together in middle school. We were never really friends. She was a cheerleader and hung out with the popular crowd. I was awkward, lanky, lacked fashion sense (more so than other middle schoolers in the early 90s) and had about four friends.

I happened to run across Eileen's myspace page in an odd, almost unbelievable way. Last November or December, I was sitting in my boring apartment in a boring town, scanning the myspace photos of artsy, trendy and/or socialite-ish New Yorkers, and I happen to notice that her picture looked strangely familiar - like an aged composite photo of a someone I only remember as an eighth grader.

I clicked on the picture, whose screen name was "Eileen." Immediately I remembered her last name so I went to the search feature on myspace and entered her full name. Her picture popped back up in the search results. Wow. I thought, she looks amazing! Feeling a little like a weird stalker, I read some of her blogs and looked at her photos. Then, I thought, what the hell? Let's send her a message. So I did and she responded. I couldn't believe she remembered me. At first, I thought she was just trying to be nice, but I believed her after she mentioned that her immediate recollection of me (upon seeing my photo and message) were side barrettes, shiny shorts, jeans with different color panels, and cotton T-shirts of various solid colors - my exact wardrobe rotation in middle school.

We exchanged messages on myspace over the past few months and she offered invaluable advice about moving to New York City and becoming a New Yorker. When I met her last night, she was a fifteen-years-older version of the eighth grader I remembered. Hilarious, witty, radical and fabulous! At the restaurant last night, she introduced me to her coworker at a famous American leather goods company and best friend Annisha, and Annisha's lifelong friend Dana, who is a teacher in Brooklyn. Both being just as friendly, funny and fabulous.

After dinner in a trendy Greenwich Village spot, where we drank Sangria (that we all agreed wasn't that good), we headed to the Meat Packing District, where I got my first dose of Lower Manhattan night life. We toasted the night in a bar just blocks from Carrie's fancy apartment stoop in Sex & and City (in the show, her apartment was on the Upper East Side; in realty, the famous front steps and doorway are Downtown).

I arrived home at a less than decent hour, but realized that the rough neighborhood to which I was returning wasn't quite as intimidating as I thought it would be because dozens of late-night barhoppers were just getting back, too. Twenty-something girls were hobbling down the sidewalk in painful heels, the homeless were sound asleep instead of begging for spare change, guys of all ages were listening to music on street corners and once I came within view of Tokii's apartment building, I knew I was almost safe. The drug dealers who hang out on the front stoop of the building are almost like our 24-hour security and concierge. One of them stood up as I approached, took out his key and opened the door for me, told me I looked really pretty and said good night.

It was a good end to a long day that involved more disappointing bouts of apartment hunting that continue to leave me feeling emotionally drained. I'm glad I didn't spend the night laying on my air mattress, flipping channels on Tokii and Candice's TV and feeling sorry for myself. Tonight reminded me why I came to New York City - to have a life, the kind of life I want for myself in my late-20s, where something ... anything ... happens to me before marriage, babies, minivans and vacuum cleaners.

Oh yea, and a stealth bomber flew really low over the train station I frequent in the Bronx while I was waiting for the 4 train yesterday afternoon. It passed slowly overhead, banked left over Tokii's apartment and headed toward Manhattan. I don't know what the significance of including that sighting in this blog is, but it's not everyday you see a black, flat, triangular "Bat plane" fly over your head.