i love ny, but i'm not in love with it.

The most touristy thing I've managed to do during my time in New York City so far is a ferry ride to Staten Island. There isn't much to do in Staten Island that I noticed. So, I basically got on the ferry, took some pictures of the Statue of Liberty, fought my way around tourists and their progeny, got off the ferry and was herded back like cattle onto another ferry.

No, I didn't hear Carly Simon's them from the Working Girl soundtrack in my head. I just heard a bunch of screaming brats and German tourists trying to get the best shot.

I thought that I would just make my way up to Times Square and see what Broadway was offering in the cheap ticket arena. I didn't make it that far. Instead, I ended up getting lost around the Financial District.

But I was on a mission.

My trusty guidebook - the one who's fold-up subway map got me incredibly lost underground on my way to the Upper West Side from JFK - told me that I was quite near John Street where I would find Les Halles. According to my guidebook it's the restaurant where famous chef "Anthony Bardaine" got his start. I was appalled. Who the hell edited this book? This is, after all, the book that gave me a list of neighborhood walks that include stopping at Starbucks for a relaxing cup of coffee. (There must be nearly 300 on the island of Manhattan - 20 of them right around the corner to the flat I'm staying at.)

But this is truly appalling. Shocking. How can someone misspell a famous writer's name. Bourdain, for crying out loud! What next, they're going to suggest that it's fashionable to wear a hair scrunchie in public?

This would have been fine except for the fact that I was wearing four-inch espadrilles that cut into my pinkie toe. This apparently makes me an easier target for being hollered at. Yet, somehow they're a bit classier here in NYC than in Oaktown. Here they actually look at you once (not twice) and then make eye contact and smile before shouting out: "Hey, beautiful!"

I ended up somewhere around Wall Street and remembered that my father had warned me to stay away from the street. "Crazy economic times!" Nothing much was happening. So, I just took pictures and kept walking eventually coming to a subway station.

After wandering up John Street I finally found Les Halles. It was already 3:30 pm, way past the lunch crowd. But, I'm still on Pacific Standard Time, so it was lunch for me. The lunch specials are $13 and up. And I've noticed that unless you're going to Subway Sanwiches, every restaurant in Manhattan starts at that price. I think it's a small price to pay for a really good meal with tons of food. They serve enormous portions everywhere I've been to. I had the French dip. I believe even my dad would approve my trek through Wall Street for this.

I never made it to Times Square - and wouldn't mind if I didn't make it there at all this trip since I stayed there last time. I claimed my seat on the 1 train and didn't get off until West 79th Street and Broadway right in front of Zabar's. Ah, Zabar's. Nosh heaven. I ended up going to their little cafe earlier in the day for a $2 ham and cheese croissant after learning the H&H Bagels across the street didn't put schmere on their bagels. GET OUT! I had also purchased a bottle of Poland Spring water in the cash only line. Hehe. Cash only - as in "You've Got Mail".

That evening after sitting on my friends stoop enjoying my latte from World Coffee down on West 80th and Columbus, we had made plans to grab dinner at CraftBar in the Union Square area with my two girlfriends from back home. Top Chef host, Tom Colicchio has like four restaurants within blocks of each other. Craft is the haute cuisine one and Craftbar is less expensive, by NY standards, I guess. I don't especially think that paying $17 for 3 salty ravioli is affordable.

We all walked back down to Union Square. I had hung out there the day before sipping my Venti Ice Tea Lemonade from Starbucks (yes, I know, I succumbed)and enjoying the warm 80-degree weather. I thought there would be a farmer's market, but instead there was live music and a bunch of people sitting and enjoying the city.

People in New York enjoy their parks. I love that. They sit outside on warm days and nights listening to street performers play jazz or drums, or whatever it is they're doing.

And then it started to rain. So, like sewer rats we scurried down to the subway, which is a good thing because when it rains the city smells like garbage and piss. We got on a crowded train that kept stalling. Switched lines a couple more times. By 1:30 a.m. I'd had it. My feet hurt, I had the stench of piss in my nostrils, I was wet and sweaty at the same time. And some homeless jerk called my friend a "white bitch". I'm pretty sure I shouted: I HATE NEW YORK! at this point and said fuck it, we're grabbing a cab.

Grabbing a cab in NY, I've noticed, is hit or miss. You can get a really nice and decent cabbie, or a bastard that tries to overcharge you. I have to say that I didn't exactly know the proper way to hail a cab until a couple of Boricuans in East Harlem taught me how.

I'm glad I had a chance to have some NY style pizza at Big Nick's Pizza and Burgers on Broadway on the Upper West Side after helping one of my friends move from Spanish Harlem to West 80th. Then we all headed up to West 82nd for some Yolato! Gelato.

Sunday was what I like to think is a typical NY day. Although, I'm pretty sure it's not. Nevertheless, we woke up at noon and headed to brunch at Nice Matin two blocks down on Amsterdam and West 79th. There's nothing like having brunch at 3pm and waiting out the morning rush. The Salmon Benedict was delicious. I remember asking my friend if this was the sort of place one might see celebrities. And much to my surprise as we were sipping the rest of our coffee, I noticed an older gentleman sitting by himself in the corner. Sorvino? Paul Sorvino? The guy that was on Law and Order and Goodfellas. Mira's dad.

Ok, so, I'm not sure if it was him, but who cares. As far as my friends and I know it was Paul Sorvino. I had my NY celebrity moment. I'm still hoping to see more since the Tribeca Film Festival is happening right now. I'd be happy just seeing DeNiro. That would rock.

I think we're heading out to Fairway Market soon, so I'll continue this later.

Until then . . . I have left my heart in San Francisco but I still Hella Heart Oakland.

True Centralist

I found myself traveling east today on Highway 4. No end in sight. I can't remember the last time I was in Stockton. Probably 20 years ago for Thanksgiving? Yet, here I was driving my own ass through the California Central Valley to enjoy a feast of roasted lamb and Delta grown asparagus in the middle of a walnut orchard.

I consider myself a city girl . . . or, suburban, at least. For me, going to "the country" is going to visit my immediate family in Sonoma. That country has a swimming pool, though, and feels more like a resort than "the country". That's probably because technically, Sonoma is within the Greater Bay Area region. Stockton, on the other hand is smack-dab in the heartland of California - full of farmers that actually grow their food to sell at markets.

It was a beautiful Easter Sunday and a great excuse to head out to what seemed like a million miles of one-lane roads with draw bridges. I don't think I've ever made it out to the Delta. Yet, here I was passing through miles of levees and inland freshwater estuaries. And . . . miles of blooming cherry trees everywhere.

Considering how far it always seemed to me as a kid, I've realized that now I really don't live that far away from the agricultural center of California.

Then again, that's the beauty of my state . . . pretty much anywhere you go something's growing. Artichokes on the southern coast by Salinas, strawberries in Watsonville, pumpkins and squash in Half Moon Bay, pears in Lake County . . . and not to mention cherries, almonds, walnuts, oranges, peaches, nectarines, alfalfa, tomatoes . . . and all the different grapes varietals spread from south to north for each of the "wine countries" throughout the state.

I actually learned something new today. We had some delicious asparagus at dinner. They were so good I barely needed any mayo with them. Organic and fresh, of course. (That's to be expected in farm country.) Apparently, because they are grown in the Delta where the land is moist they tend to take on a sweeter taste compared with the asparagus grown on the coast by Salinas where the earth is drier.

I remember heading up to the Capay Valley (west of Winters) with the BFF on a day trip and stopping at local farm stands. The aroma that came from those tomatoes was incredible. Sweet and earthy. You just can't get that at the super-market. I usually put olive oil, salt and oregano on my tomatoes. But those I ate plain because they had so much flavor.

I have to admit that being raised in a city environment I'm more prone to eating processed foods. Sad but true. Thanks to my office receiving fresh, local, organic fruits every week I've gotten more into the habit of eating produce. But I think this summer, I'm going to make it a habit of doing my grocery shopping at a local, organic, artisinal farmer's market full of fresh produce, baked goods, dairy products and meat.

It will definitely be healthier, reduce the amount of carbon footprints, support local farmers and might even prove to be cheaper. I think if you buy less (and just what you need) it proves to be a win-win situation for everyone. Plus, now I also incredibly inspired because of the delicious veggie quiches my aunt made from a cookbook she gave me for Christmas. It's time to try it out. And . . . make good on all those carbon footprints I left behind on I-5 and the bugs that met their demise on my windshield. Maybe I'll even bake a pie like the one I brought for dessert today.

Pandora's Box

The office is so damn quiet today that it seems like i'm in the middle of silent reading study hall. everyone's here but it's just quiet. All i hear is the occasional tickle of the keyboard and the hum of the air conditioning system.

Hmmmmmmm.

Luckily, there is a cure for the ear-numbing silence that afflicts most offices. for those of us not blessed with iTunes on our PCs, there's Pandora. Sure, you can always listen to your favorite radio station online, but with the buffering and static it's kind of an annoying inconvenience.

Pandora is a cool website that creates a playlist based on an artist, song, or genre. I am currently listening to the Lily Allen playlist which features Gorillaz, Cake, Frou Frou, Lush, Gwen Stefani, Peter Bjorn and John . . . and of course, Lily Allen. And ewww . . . Regina Spektor . . . I've was just able to skip ahead to another song. I've been switching between this playlist, the Morcheeba one and Ivy, of course. It's chill music for a hectic lifestyle. I call it more chick music to bug the guys in the next cubicle.

And being all about East Bay businesses and ventures I don't feel a bit bad about listening to this cool new venture, which I've been using for over a year. Wonder if it's gone IPO yet.

But yes, I do feel a pang of guilt for blogging at work, when I should be updating Excel spreadsheets, or doing something a little more productive. Hey! Everyone else is on Craigslist or Myspace right now. So, I don't feel so bad. I'm going to enjoy my tunes for another hour, sip my Jamba Juice - HQ in EB, as well.

gettin' all hyphy up in herrr

At least these folks are keeping it real in da Yay Area!

wooo wooooo!

can't put the pussy on a pedastool

Work has been driving me nuts lately. Deadlines. Figures. More deadlines. And egos.

Luckily, I'm not alone.

And lucky for us, there's Kitty's Bar in Emeryville. It's down the street from my office, on the way home and offers $2 on-tap PBRs (Pabst Blue Ribbon). I've recently found out that Pabst Blue Ribbon is one of the oldest breweries in th U.S. (160 years and going strong) I just think it's awesomely good cheap beer.

The best part is that it's not brewed by Anheuser-Busch. (My headache today was caused by that company and their media company. Fucking piss-water beer.)

I can't say that I actually drank PBR before I moved out to the East Bay. I was a spoiled brat who drank $4 Bass Ale (Anheuser-Busch). But that's all we drink now a days when we go out. It's cheaper than the friggin' $10 mojitos at Kitty's.

Yet, that seems to be the house drink. Well, at least for all the non-fashionable geezers getting pages on their beepers from 1999. I love mojitos as much as the next person, but seriously, they're not cool. (Unless you order them with raspberries.)

But it's a hidden cool old warehouse with a heated patio and cool beats. And even thought I'm sure they were playing Hall and Oates for the over-40 crowd that was drinking mojitos as if the lime juice was poured from the fountain of youth.

And for being called Kitty's, it's patrons like to bring their mini-dogs and show them off in their little sweaters and accessories. It's somewhat pathetic and sad at the same time, which always reminds me of my mantra: "Hope I die before I get old."

i hella heart oakland

I have a love-hate relationship with Oaktown. Some days I want to flip off every driver that cuts me off, or every crazy homeless person that panhandles, or every guy that visually violates me on the streets.

But today I saw the sign. Literally. Walking with my coworkers from our B.F.E. parking spot that was practically in Orinda to Becky's Chinese Restaurant in Rockridge, I noticed a sign that read: "Hate Free Zone". I must have read it aloud because one of my coworkers replied: "Yeah, don't be a hater."

That got me thinking. Oaktown ain't that bad. Sure, like any large developing city it has it's flaws. But today I saw the real Oakland. The Oakland I've learned to hella heart.

Lunch today at Becky's - the classiest Chinese restaurant I've ever been to with great lunch specials that include a hot and sour soup to die for. Rockridge is definitely my favorite neighborhood of the city with its super cute boutiques and delicious restaurants. Another one I discovered this week was Khana Peena Indian Cuisine down by Broadway. All you can eat organic buffet that is out of this world and a sleek patio with calming fountains.

But . . . there are definitely other parts of Oakland that are worth exploring. Today after picking up the BFF at the West Oakland BART station we headed to champa garden my all-time favorite Vietnamese-Thai restaurant. Ok . . . I got lost trying to find it, proving once again to the BFF that my sense of direction operates on its own compass.

But it's not my fault it's hard to find. The restaurant is on 8th Avenue and the middle of nowhere four blocks from International Boulevard. It's also in the middle of a residential area. Gotta love the East Bay where convenience stores and gas stations are found in the middle of a residential zone. But it was all worth it. I'd been craving their signature rice ball salad - chilled fried rice mixed with peanuts and meat rolled in a fresh romaine lettuce leaf stuffed with vermecelli, cilantro, and mint leaves topped with some peanut sauce drizzled on top. It's part of the Champa Sampler or as BFF calls it, "The boat" because it comes in a boat shaped plate.

After dinner I had made plans to go to the Stork Club on Telegraph with the buddy who lives in Fruitvale, which was super close to Champa Garden. I do know my way around Oakland. I managed to get us from Fruitvale to Telegraph Avenue without even getting on the freeway.

It just so happens that today was the first Friday of the month. In downtown Oakland that means the Oakland Art Murmur is the place to be. Or at least that's what I had heard. I had no idea how big a deal it really is. That area of Oakland has a handful of art galleries within a three block radius. It's like a huge block party full of artsy Bohemian types. It seemed oddly out of place in Oakland.

At the end of the block in front of the Rock, Paper, Scissors Collective they had this strange contraption that two chicks were spinning around in. They were keeping momentum of the spinning machine by peddling bike peddles. It was mesmerizing - and nauseating at the same time.

But we weren't there for the art galleries or exhibits (although we've decided to definitely check those out next month). Afterall, we were there to see some titties.

Yes, that sounds bad . . . but what else is there to see at a burlesque show. We got there early enough to swoop in on some majorly awesome seats in front of the stage. (Everyone else that came in late was stuck sitting on the floor in front of the stage). The thing I do like about Oakland is the eclectic mix of characters. We had a mohawked punkster blocking our views. Rockabilliy was definitely the wardrobe style of choice for the ladies with a bunch of chicks wearing vintage dresses, fishnets, patent leather pumps, black hair, crimson lipstick and rad tattoos everywhere.

The show itself was OK - but how much old fashioned striptease and pasties can a person take? Although I did catch a glimpse of the BFF actually enjoying himself. It's cool to see your friends actually glad at having been dragged out. I think I showed them a new side of the East Bay after almost writing it off as backwards and rude. "This is better than The City!" Yes. It is.

In the end at least our table wasn't swooped up by some random hipsters. One of my coworkers came up to us as we were leaving, so, I gladly kept the table within the company.

All in all a perfect end to a pretty good week. And I don't think it's too early to shout this out at this stage in the relationship: "I hella heart Oakland!"

happy hour

Seems like everyone I know is getting into spring mode. You know, that time of year when short sleeves and skirts are back in style. That also means that the winter flab must go.

I guess there are certain ways one can do this. There's plastic surgery. But that's too expensive. One can always pick up an eating disorder. I'm too lazy for puking and sticking enemas up my ass. I could stop eating, but then I'd have nothing to write about.

So, instead I've started doing what it appears everyone in my office is doing as well. I've started eating salads, drinking lots of water and sweating bullets at the gym. One of the great perks of working for my company is a free gym membership (as well as fresh organic fruits shipped every week) as part of an employee wellness plan.

It's become the new after work social activity. No more happy hours at Kitty's. Too costly and it just packs on the calories. The new catch phrase is: "you going to the gym?"or "see you at the gym."