The Snapshots

Each photo is a memory and link back to a previous blog post. Click around and see what you find...

      


     



     




The Place

I’ve always imagined life to be a movie.
Not just my life. Everyone’s. All of our stories just happen to intermingle and sometimes the directors of our epic films take on joint projects.
So I’ll explain to you the new filming locations of the current scenes. The past several shoots have been in Richmond and Newport News, VA. Now we’ve moved to the Big Apple for a two-year stint.
New York, watch out. This movie is going to blow you away.
The Setting:
Home – Astoria, Queens

My walk to the subway from the new apartment.


Cute little market place in Astoria.


My apartment! Right in the middle.



Finally. My own room in NYC


One angle of my room - and yes, there is a closet (hallelujah).

Part of the kitchen - there are more cabinets on the the other side but I neglected to take that picture. Ops.

Bathroom. Love the tile.

Living room. So lucky :)

Work – Bloomingdale’s SOHO, New York

Working at "Bloomies" on the 3rd floor.

The lovely Soho area - so glad I'm working here. One of my favorite areas of the city

Only about a 30 minute subway ride from Astoria.

School – Pace University, Midtown New York

The Fred French Building, where my classes will be.

It is located in Midtown Manhattan, around 45th street and just up from Times Square.

Awesome 1930's art deco look.


Where is your next setting going to be?

Yeah... No, I Can't Really Do That

This is all I have to say about work today. Actually I WOULD say a lot more, but blogging about work is supposed to be done with "discretion," which I may or may not possess, depending on any given day.

Free speech? Forget about it. Biting the corporate hand that feeds me? I think not. Besides... the company is fine. It's people in general that have me wondering.

Anyways - this is what happened to me today. Go 35 seconds into this clip. I might as well have quoted the movie...


Yes. I said that. I'm under the impression that what you give people is what you get back, so I'm sure everything will come full circle (oh yeah crazy people - watch out!)

But thank goodness for grad school.

And 53 seconds into that clip I agree with as well!

To You, Darling Blog

My Dearest "Why,"

We've been together for quite a few years now. And I know that just recently you got a facelift. But there still need to be a few changes in your general appearance. Please don't think me vain, but half your appeal comes from your format, and I know there are a few things we could change. But how? Well, let me worry about that...

Just know that I'm thinking about you dear "Why Blog." No, no big surgery is required. You just need a simple nip here; a little tuck there. But then again, who doesn't? Don't be offended! Goodness, who would have thought you to be the defensive type. Listen, in the next month or so I'll be working on a way to better organize your pages - that's really all I'm thinking about!

And you - well, you just keep doing what you're doing.
Always and forever,
B

Thursday's Things New Yorkers Say

This week, the city seemed full of advice. Almost everyone I spoke with had something to tell me or a hint to getting by in NYC. I tried to scribble down a few of their thoughts.

At the Quays Pub in Astoria, a guy at the bar speaking to me:

“And what ever you do, don’t become a cynic,” he says. “No, ha… I won’t,” I reply. “You say you won’t, but you’d be surprised…” he finishes, taking a sip of his drink.

Oh how ominous. I’ll have to watch myself. Can I just also mention the fact that this conversation seemed to be right from a movie? Dark bar and a beer included.

In a department store, shopping for coats:

“Yeah, I really need a winter coat,” I say looking at a long puffy jacket. “No girl, what you need to do is just hibernate. December’s not bad, but FORGET January! Just sleep though that month,” the saleslady says.

Winter in NYC does not sound promising.

And then there’s always this: On the N train during Halloween; conversation between two 20-somethings, one guy and one girl.

“What are you again?” the drunk Batman says. “I’m a schoolgirl!” she says, obviously a little annoyed. “Oh good, good, I was hoping that was your costume. Otherwise I was going to have to take you back to the principal’s office (insert stupid grin). But then he might get me for bein’ bad (then a questioning tilt of the head). You’re like over 18 right?”

HA! I laughed out loud I think. But the girl left at the next station. Poor perverted Batman had to go home alone. Maybe he should start looking for a Robin instead.


The Halloween Parade described in one picture.

Me, the Bartender, and the Pig


This week was....what I expected. It started with a midterm, which led to lots of coffee and very little sleep. In fact I pulled my 1st graduate school all-nighter before working an 8-hour shift at Bloomingdale's and attending a pancake breakfast in Newark for the middle school students. But no complaints.

By Thursday I finally felt prepared to present my project on publishing fiction novels to the class. Afterwards, a group of girls and myself decided drinks and food were a necessity, and opted to try Shake Shack for their infamous burgers – which by the way, were no let down. We have been meeting almost every week for drinks or homework and have since dubbed ourselves The Pub Club (which infers both our graduate program and after class past time).

Now, several members of The Pub Club had very interesting evenings…

So you know that song “Jump and Jive” from the big band era? It was by a man name Louie Prima, who coincidentally happened to know the Carpenters (Dad's favorite band). But that’s neither here nor there. Just keep this thought in the back of your mind for a moment.

The point is, I walked into a bar named Rudy's with two members of the The Pub Club. One of the girls had friends in town that are part of a band, so we thought we’d meet up with them for some food and drinks. They just happen to be in a band with Louie Prima Jr… who just happened to be at Rudy's. It’s all coming full circle isn’t it?

Then it got crazy. Keep up with me here.

So at this little whole-in-the-wall in Hell's Kitchen, you can order any drink of your preference and get free hotdogs. I know I’ve blogged about this amazing offer before, but it’s a deal worth repeating. Anyways, we all met LP Jr. and his other band mates, which, let me tell you, were quite the cast of characters. Long hair and sunglasses to rat-pack inspired threads...the whole bit. It really made me want to follow around bands and capture their personalities with a pen ("Almost Famous" equals my dream). We also met a strange Austrian man who called himself Barak Obama. But again I digress...

And then it happened.

At first quietly… “Do-do-dodadodo.” Music was building and bellowing from the far end of the cramped one-room saloon. The packed bar knew something magical would happen any moment now because someone (some genius!) had slipped a few quarters in the ol’ juke box.

Then that beat kicked in and the saxophone took over your soul! The slow bounce and bob-your-head dance of the crowd was becoming a full on Swing. Suddenly with great gusto, we heard it:

Baby, baby it looks like it's gonna hail!

Baby, baby it' looks like it's gonna hail!

You better come inside

Let me teach you how to jive and wail…

Some of The Pub Club

Well LP Jr. was going insane. After all, this was his father’s song. But there was a general hype throughout Rudy’s. Everyone was moving, moving, moving right along with the tune, as the bartender danced, whapping the tap beer selections and running up and down the restaurant, hotdogs flying. He even took a picture of our group and told us to text him anytime we were in the neighborhood so he could "have our drinks ready."

I’m not sure that night is repeatable without Louie and the band. Still, I don't doubt we'll return.

Oh and how could I forget! There was this infamous picture of the one of the girls, with the bartender, and a giant pig sculpture that sits outside the restaurant. Not only did we "convince" Louie to give us the rights to his memoirs that night (because we’re going to be publishers, right?) but we also decided to write for our up-and-coming-completely-imaginary-at-the-moment publishing house. Hence the title of The Pub Club’s memoirs: “Me, the Bartender, and the Pig.”

Because that’s where it all really began.

The Showdown

I had an extremely productive day. Went to the bagel place, finished a paper, toured a magazine production company in Times Square, and even met up with the Pub Club (girls from school) about an up-coming project. I felt good.

So I walked into the apartment around 11pm, and turned on the lights in my room.

Scuttle, scuttle, scuttle.

What. The. Heck.

Michelangelo was at it again. He was up to his creepy trick of appearing in darkness and hiding when the light exposed his disgusting, little self. (If you are reading this and don’t know who in the world Michelangelo is, click here for a brief tale.)

Now, instead of blogging about a magazine production company or field trips to Times Square, I’m writing about an ugly bug who destroys my feelings of safety and security.

I know you think I’m crazy. But I’ve just got to tell you about “the showdown.”

Where it all happened...

The lights are already on. My main objective at the moment is to recharge my dying phone. So I edge toward the desk, only to the see the backend of my little brown friend crawl behind a book on my printer.

The antennae are sticking up, while the rest of Michelangelo is hidden. I begin to panic. He knows I’m watching him, and I KNOW he’s watching me. After two minutes of hardly breathing, I run and grab Tupperware from the kitchen.

“You will die,” I said, vehemently.

But I was so scared of this bug that my arms began to shake. Can I just say, this is the one time in my life I really wanted a boyfriend?! I know that’s all gender bias and what not (thank you college education) but it’s the truth! I thought to myself, “Now if only a boy were here, I would not still be looking at a book hiding a bug”… or even if an unafraid-of-bugs-kinda-girl could be summoned (Katelyn James I needed you!). Alas, that girl is not me. Newark, NJ feels homey, and NYC is like a safe haven compared to the thought of harboring a bug in my room while I sleep.

So I’m still staring at the antenna two minutes later thinking about possible boyfriends that could take care of this. Then the thought occurs to me: I’ll put plastic bags on my hands! Yes, plastic bags will give me the courage to finally use this Tupperware and capture Michelangelo.

Now I’ve got little plastic bags on both hands and I’m holding a little plastic bowl and lid. “One… two…three…” No! I can’t do it. Bungee jumping was easier than this. “One… two…three!” No, no, no. I start talking myself into it again, counting and counting but to no avail.

Then another thought strikes me: maybe Michelangelo is no longer there. I had made several kitchen runs, and now we were going on minute 10 of “the showdown.” So I whapped my printer twice.

SCUDDLE!

He appears on the binding of my book on the top of my printer. This is bad for two reasons: 1) I squealed really loudly 2) Because he’s on the binding of a book, he is in an awkward position and I can’t quite catch him. More staring ensues. Minutes 11 and 12 of “the showdown” were really rough.

“Okay Britney. Do you want to sleep tonight? It’s sleep… or the bug…” After several “oh my gosh‘s” and “I hate you’s” something finally made me move.

SLAM! I threw the Tupperware on the bug, while also pulling off two of his legs (unintentionally–though I wasn’t sorry).

No, my room did not look like this beforehand. I absolutely wrecked it trying to get rid of this creature.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Eeeeeeeeh! Ew. Stop! Stop moving. Oh my gosh I hate this.” You don’t have to tell me that I sounded like an idiot.

But now I had a whole new predicament. I couldn’t leave my post without Michelangelo escaping, so I squealed again, and stomped my foot like a two-year-old. “Anna!” I said it softly at first. Then after I heard her get out of bed, my voice rose to a normal tone. “Anna!!” She came rushing in and saved the day with a folder we were able to stick under the plastic bowl. Finally after flushing the bug down the toilet, I looked at Anna with remorse.

You see, I’m 90% positive that was not Michelangelo from last night. In fact I’m pretty sure that was Ricardo, who just so happens to be a whole different bug entirely.

This was taken right after the realization that there are probably multiple breeds of roaches in my apartment.