The Eve

I still don't get Halloween in NYC (or anywhere, but that is beside the point). Apparently kids demand candy from the shops and things? To my fellow suburbanites, can you even imagine what would happen if we tried to do this? Picture going into Giant Eagle or something and asking a cashier for candy. She'd just say, "Ummmm...no, we don't do that" in a slightly bored voice, while looking at you like she's seen more exciting specimens on the bottom of her shoe.

My parents were visiting this weekend so I didn't go crazy or see the parade or anything, but we did love checking out the costumes. My favorite was at a Bowery bar on Saturday: a slutty 3 train, complete with headlights on her chest and red taillights on her butt. I also saw a matching garden gnome couple with the huge pointy red cone hats, big white beards and plaid, and all night they were dancing very stiffly and jerkily as you would expect a garden gnome to dance. There were a surprisingly large number of Marios out.

We went to the Sea Thai restaurant at Washington and 12th St, which I thought was really well priced (food-wise; drinks less so) for the trenditude of the area and the restaurant itself. (Not sure what they were thinking with the techno, but you can't win them all.) The waiters and staff were all dressed up and masked or face-painted for the holiday, but one of them actually had a studded leather harness on.

His wasn't quite this intense, but you get the idea.

Nothing better than having Thai food served to you in a cool restaurant by a kinky waiter.

The Homebody

I love that instead of going out tonight, the Friday of Halloween weekend in New York City, all my roommates and I ended up at home having a music share fest.

The Crazers

Walking home from the bar tonight, I bonded with a drunken crazy woman. I was venting to a friend about why Charlie Brown is terrifying -- that is, that the incredibly depressing voices, sound effects, dialogue and even illustration style are teaching little kids that life sucks -- and I stupidly said that it taught them that "they might as well put guns to their heads." Thinking back, maybe just generally a bad thing to say in public, but we know self-censorship is not one of my strong suits.

Upsettingly depressing.

Anyway, I noticed that a woman passing on the other side of me was staring at me with a creepy smile on her face, so I said, "Er, not really. Just kidding." She goes, in a friendly but belligerently drunk and over-sharey way, "No, you know what? Sometimes you do want to put a gun to your head. Like when..." and then she continues on some long story about a boyfriend and French textbooks. No, really. It made no sense. The story ended, "So yeah, I do kind of want to put a gun to my head right now!" I decided that it would be irresponsible of me not to say, "Ha, right. I know the feeling. But...don't actually do it, ok?" At which point she said that she was planning on remedying the situation with beer and cigarettes, and disappeared into a convenience store.

Later, my uptown 1 was stopped briefly to switch conductors, and obviously I was people-watching the folk walking on the platform to the exit. One guy walking past looked into the car, saw me watching, winked, and made a very lewd sexual gesture. I started laughing, and all the people in the train around me stared at me, thinking I was a crazer laughing at nothing. The guy sitting next to me actually scooted away a little.

When we finally got off the train, the girl walking up the stairs behind me yelled, "Holy shishkabob! It's raining!"

I think my travels home on weekend nights are the best part of living in NYC.

The Earring

Why is Soho so(ho) difficult to get to from my side of the island? (I am hilarious. But actually, it is.)

No time for a fulllll post, but today's Five Things of New Yorky Awesomeness:

1. On the 5 train there was a huge black man with a giant really cool looking gold earring that looked like Carrie Bradshaw's name necklace. Obvs, I edged closer to see what it said. IT SAID MY NAME. It was spelled "Stacy," but still. A big dude on the train was wearing an earring that said my name in gold script.

2. Starbucks let the public use their restrooms. And they are every block in this city. If you don't think this is awesome, you are just blatantly wrong. My mom said back in her day, they used to have to find hotels and pretend they were staying there to sneak into the bathroom.

3. Both today and the last time I used a Starbucks bathroom, I was sandwiched in between two groups of people: one speaking Hebrew and one speaking Mandarin. How does this happen? I mean I know the Chinese are the most populous dudes ever, but Israelis? And I know a (teeny tiny miniscule) bit of both languages. Awesome.

4. Three different people asked me for directions today, and I knew how to get to all three places (and I wasn't in a hurry, so I didn't even point without thinking in the direction opposite from where I was going, as sometimes happens). Boom. I am the directionmaster.

5. Random strangers also kept calling me "honey" and "sweetie" and such today. This is what happens when I let my roommates dress me. (Not-so-awesome things also happened from this, like train creepers staring at my patterny tights and then giving me creepy predatory smiles. But the show must go on.) Apparently all those psych classes were right: when you look cute, people are nicer to you. Who knew?

The Song

I just wrote a big, angry, anti-New Yorker post, but I decided to drop it and feel the looove instead. That's right. I whipped myself up a little Chef Boyardee, turned up the Pink Floyd (it was "Wish You Were Here," which is a particularly meaningful love song of mine. And hate song. And emo song, and happy song, and hopeful song, and desperate song. This song is everything. Have you ever met someone who didn't like "Wish You Were Here"? No, is your answer. You haven't. Because this song is the epitome of everything that songhood should be. Here, listen. Do it.

Now after that, try to tell me that you're not feeling all feelingful, whether it be motivated or nostalgic or depressed or the beautiful drainy lack of all feelings (as PF likes to call it, "comfortably numb"). Isn't that great? All songs should aspire to this.)

Where was I? Right. I was cuddled in bed with the kitty cat (he only bit me twice. This restraint means he's feeling the love too), and I pushed the "delete" button on my negativity.

Apparently, my New York persona (didn't you know everyone has one?) has become complainy lady. I've never been miss Sally Satisfied, but since I've been here I feel like all I do is bitch. Even right now, I'm kind of bitching about being a bitch. This is not congruent with the slightly sassy but generally upbeat and somewhat naive touristy New Yorker I would like to be. Guys, stop laughing. I can totally be upbeat. Just watch.

As of right now, I am making an October 18 Resolution. My resolution is to, at the end of each day, come up with at least five things that happened that day that were kind of awesome, related to New Yorkiness or my new NYC lifestyle.

Five, you ask? On a Monday? Is that even possible?

Friends, this is possible. Not only because I am "Wish You Were Here"-inspired, and not only because I tend to completely exaggerate everyday occurrences (well, yes, maybe a little because of that). But five awesome things per day is not only possible, but unavoidable, because I live in a city that millions of people dream of, where infinite possibilities become realities every moment. When you have this many people in this space, magic (as well as some really awkward grossness) happens all the time. I'll bet right now, somewhere on this little island, a lost kid is finding his parents, or a girl is being proposed to by the love of her life. I'll bet also right now somewhere on this island, someone is taking a photocopy of his/her butt. It is all happening. So, as I said --

The Five Awesome Things That Happened (in this godforsaken city -- juuust kidding) Today:

1. I resolved to be positive about this city and come up with the list of Awesomeness! Isn't that awesome?

2. We had a vendor meeting at work, and they are letting us try out their product for free for a little while. I know I'm not being very specific here (I could, it's not confidential, it just feels kind of dirty), but I promise, it's awesome. It's been a little while since we had a non-food perk on my team. And I'm lucky for any perk, anyway. My job is really cool and we get free stuff sometimes. Who doesn't like free stuff?

3. On the way home when I was struggling to get off the ridiculously crowded express train where everyone was pushing and squishing and being generally rude, this dude gave me a smile and a polite "after you" gesture and let me go ahead of him off the train. Seriously, that is all it takes to make it to the Awesomeness list in my book. Think about how little real physical effort that cost him; yet, most people wouldn't do that. I kind of want to give him a hug.

4. Something pretty awesome and exciting happened that I can't tell you about yet. I'm sorry, interwebz, some things have to be private. Even so, it was awesome enough to go on the Awesome list, so here is its placeholder. (I'm not pregnant. Just wanted to quash that potential rumor off the bat. That would not be a NYC-related thing, anyway. Particularly as if that did happen, I would probably go back to Ohio because dear god I am not prepared to take care of a baby by myself right now.)

5. I saw this cool looking yogurt/gelato shop near work that I've somehow never noticed before. Come on, gelato is delicious. I am pretty excited about it.

The Gallery

I went with my roommate to a dance film showing/competition that her friend had a film in. It was in one of those really trendy little second-floor multi-media studio galleries in Soho, and all the films were projected onto the white exposed brick wall. I was straight-up not cool enough to be there.

Her friend's video was shot on a beach covered with broken glass. The star of the film danced among the broken glass, and the soundtrack was an original piece in toy piano and xylophone made to sound like the glass moving. They won the competition, and I learned stuff about dance/film art.

On the way out, there was a dude walking his three dogs of various sizes. All three dogs were wearing purple sweaters.

The Serenade

This gangsta-looking Latino guy was singing "U Smile" and wearing a doggie backpack on the subway today.

And when I say gangsta-looking, I mean just your typical Harlem dark sweats, sneakers and cap-wearing dude.

And when I say singing, I mean he was really hitting those high notes. I am a pretty high soprano, but he was singing his Bieb feve frenzy in an octave I can only aspire to.

And when I say doggie backpack, I mean he literally had a bright red rectangular backpack with a small doggie in it.

The Visit

My friend came to visit this weekend. She's originally from Ottawa, but goes to school in Kingston. Funny, how Americans know nothing about Canada, but they know all about us. We are way more self-important than them, though. Plus, we are more likely to shoot most other countries than they are us, so everyone needs to keep informed.

I am still unfortunately sick, so I'm not going to give you a long, detailed weekend play-by-play. Suffice it to say (is that the right phrase? Suffice WHAT to say? This makes no sense) that we covered a lot of ground.

We actually did one of those sightseeing bus tours yesterday. I know, you're like, "Ewww why??" But it was really cool, and we wanted to. We learned stuff. I'll bet you don't know some of the interesting stuff about the city you've lived in your whole life that we know from that one day. We know some history of tenements in NYC, and where Bon Jovi's penthouse is, and why the current MSG is the fourth one built. We know why Donald Trump is a dousche, and all about the wave of Jews that my great granddaddy came over with. Also, one of the guides talked about the building I work in (I am special). We also got to hop off throughout the day to buy things and explore and drink street daquiris. So lay off, haters. We had a good day, and you are judgey and mean.

Also, did you know that the Church of Scientology welcomes visitors? NOW YOU DO. Why is everything Scientology so scary?

The Stranger

All right, friends. I am very sick right now and (another) big weekend is coming up, so I know that tomorrow I will seriously regret having stayed up to thumb-type this post on my iPod. And yet I trudge on, for you. Actually, mostly I trudge on because I am a bit of a narcissist, and I love hearing the sound of my own (digital, written) voice.

Here's the situation. Every day, when I'm walking the couple of blocks from the subway stop to work, I pass the same guy. EVERY DAY. That's the weird part; I don't necessarily get to work at the same time each day. Yet, I always pass him during my fourish minute walk.

This dude is probably around 30 (although I suck at judging age; he could end up being 20 or 40), relatively fit-looking under his suit, with the kind of slightly spiky dair hair and facial hair that says, "I listen to great music, and I know it. I also have at least one tattoo and possibly a surprising piercing on my body. I wear this suit because I have to and I do it slightly ironically, but damn, do I make it look good." You know what I'm talking about.

For the first couple of days that we passed each other, I thought it was a funny coincidence. I tried to catch his eye to tell him, in eye language, "Hey there. We cross paths daily. We should smile at each other, or at least make the slight face adjustment that shows recognition when you're feeling too New Yorkian to smile." But, frustratingly, daily guy would never look up to make eye contact with me. Then I started getting this weird paranoia that someone had hired him to stalk me, which explained both why he was there every day even at different times and also why he wouldn't look at me. However, I'm not actually that paranoid/ narcissitic/ generally crazy, so I figured that he probably is just super zoned in the mornings, and legitimately hasn't noticed the beautiful brunette he passes daily. Not sure how he hasn't noticed; lately I have taken to openly staring, a mixture of "What the hell? Really, every morning?" and "Be my friend!" This morning it kind of almost seemed like he was smirking a little as he pointedly avoided (at least it seemed pointed to me) my gaze.

So my question to you is, how do I get my morning buddy to actually become a morning buddy in reality and not just in my head? Should I just leave this poor dude alone? (Let's be honest. That's not really an option for me. I don't leave things alone. I'm a trudger.) Advice?

The Meal

Right now I'm having the gourmet dinner of champions: a can of Chef Boyardee with frozen spinach and hot sauce. I think I eat even worse now, as an entry-level young professional trying to support herself in NYC, than I did as a college student. Actually, I know I do. Thanks, college roomies.

The Party

Last night was my roommate's joint birthday party with two of her friends. I tell this roommate that she is crazy pretty much every day, and the party (and her friends) were a fitting extension to her craziness. In other words: awesome chaos.

I never ever get dolled up, as you know (if you are a StaciBeth stalker, which I know you are), but as we were VIPing at a club, it was time to do it right. I wore heels. Stilettos. Trust me, if there is any place that could be the worst, most annoying, inconvenient and painful place to wear heels, it is NYC. There are constant sidewalk cracks and holes and bad drivers and rude people and all kinds of other obstacles. I really don't get how people do it every day; possibly they are masochists. After an hourish, I wanted to stab myself in the foot with my stiletto to end my misery. But, I looked freaking hot.

When I say the people last night were crazy, I don't exaggerate. My favorite was this giant, possibly 300 pounds of muscle, loud, charismatic, very Italian guy with a lisp (I love lisps. I think they are incredibly funny and cute. Half of my friends have lisps, and I'm still not over it) who was there with his Russian girlfriend who barely spoke English. I asked where they had met, and he went on about meeting on the plane to Las Vegas (he was drunk, she was attractive and all foreigny) and then spending their whole time there together. Right. You met the attractive Russian girl who speaks no English when you both happened to be alone on a plane from New York to Vegas, and then you both happened to come back to New York at the same time. Totally.

My least favorite crazy person had to be my roommate's ex-boyfriend's date. She kept talking about her job, "To help people live a better life. If you don't love your life from the moment you wake up until the moment you go to sleep, I'm not doing my job. That's what I do. I just want to make other people's lives better. That's my job. That's all it is." At first I thought she meant she was some kind of prostitute, but she explained that she works at some "education" center that runs programs to help people live extraordinary lives. In other words, a cult. She was totally brainwashed. Apparently she turned to my other roommate randomly at one point and said, "I'm extraordinary. Most people are down here. [Hand gestures] I'm up here. Barack Obama? Down here. Me? Up here." But that doesn't mean she wasn't just crazy to start with. Later, in the middle of a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with this, she leaned over and announced to the birthday girl, "If you need me to sing tonight at any point, just let me know." I said, "Um...why would she need you to sing?" "Oh, I sing and dance and act. You know." Yes, I do know. You have a personality disorder. I get it. You should get help. I realize that personality disorders are no laughing matter, but...this one kind of was. It had to be, or we would have killed her.

Venue-wise, the club was very cool. It was an old synagogue-turned-fabulous drinking establishment, and you had no idea it was a club from the outside. Inside on the restaurant level, there were great stained glass windows and weird light mummies and a tree as well as antlers growing out of our stone table. I will have to track down someone with pictures.

Downstairs, we had this comfy VIP nook that could be curtained off from the rest of the place (but wasn't, obvs). Thank god we had it too, because the place was packed, and I was not in the mood to pick up random guys. Not trying to be conceited (too much), but that's just what places like that are for. Girls get all sexified up to go and gyrate in public and make men (and women) drool all over them, so they can feel good and confident and sexy. And I did feel good and confident and sexy, but for whatever reason I wasn't really feeling like being groped by strangers (yes -- I was pretty sober). It was really fun, though. Also for awhile we had this huge, arms-crossed security guard in our section to stop other people from trying to impede on our awesomeness. Hilarious.

After my roommate got in a fight with the establishment owners because they are racist jerks, we ended up at some really crappy hole-in-the wall back-alley place that was straight out of a 70s movie. When we got there I thought it was a black disco bar, and I imploded with joy. They eventually started playing more modern rappy stuff (unfort), but it was still an amazing find. It had a little dance floor with a stage, piano, big comfy couch and obviously disco lights, and the D.J. was set up on a tiny open balcony above the stage. If it weren't so far away from my beloved Harlem, I would absolutely become a regular there. We closed the place.

This morning, in front of my roommate's friend's Village one-bedroom apartment (!!!) where we had slept, we watched a parade of Catholic Filipinos go by. They had instruments and signs and flower chain things and big Marys. When we asked the policeman what was going on, he said, "I don't know. I'm Jewish. We don't do this at synagogue."

The Town

Why do I feel like I always find myself at karaoke bars playing drinking games in foreign languages while surrounded by belligerent Asians?

Right. Because Chinatown is my other neighborhood, and the Neway KTV is my other dig. (Can I say "dig"? Is it supposed to be "digs"? What does that even mean, really? God, I'm white and sheltered.) I particularly love how the bouncers at the KTV know me now.

I also love how when I was trying to rap tonight, this girl stared at me and said, "Waaah." This is the Chinese version of "wow" (depending on how it's said; it could also be a whiny noise. Chinese is all about intonation, after all). I wasn't sure if she was impressed by my mad abilities to channel Jay-Z or by my incredible tolerance level for humiliation. I'm leaning toward Jay-Z.