Well, I can scratch "celebrity party" off my list of things done during my first week in New York.
And I'll keep the words "celebrity" and "party" in quotes because both aspects were rather questionable for the Roxy release of Jessica Simpson's Public Affair.
First of all, Jessica is one failed movie and ignored album away from being right back on the C-list. That said, she was still the biggest star by far who showed up at her own party. And even she only stayed for two hours.
I arrived around 7:15, after grabbing some dinner at a nearby Chelsea diner where no less than three other journalists swung by to grab something before the relentless circus that is a red carpet photo shoot — or purple in the case of this Yahoo! Music event.
In case your'e wondering how I got tickets, by the way... Well, Claire in all her fabulousness (not all of which has to do with her being British, but that plays a huge part) swung by my desk today to tell me about the shindig and, with a laugh, asked if I'd like to go. "You don't have to if you don't want to," she said in all seriousness.
Most people in my generation — including Joey, who happily came as my plus one — would say, "bitch, you crazy! It's Jessica Simpson!!!" And even I thought it was going to be pretty sweet when I saw the guest list — Ashlee, Lance Bass and Lil Jon were all "expected," while Fergie, Diddy and "all Epic talent" were under "unconfirmed."
If this were the album release for, say, Justin Timberlake (who incidentally was also on the list) those people might actually have showed up. But since it's Jessica Simpson, whose last album no one bought until she ruined "Take My Breath Away" and ripped Robbie Williams' "Angels" to shreds, you get slim pickin's.
Try Oksana Baiul, Gavin DeGraw, Paige Davis, Richie Rich and a handful of socialites/MTV stars/faceless rich people who even the photographers had to ask for their names.
I got the feeling that this might be the typical celebrity event — the guest list is always 10 times as fabulous as the attendance, the freebies are fantastic (free skates, candy, hot dogs AND all-you-can-drink booze) and the gossip columnists are more fascinating to watch than the guests themselves.
Seriously. I got more of a kick out of seeing MIchael Musto from The Village Voice (with those instantly recognizable glasses of his), Perez Hilton and George Whipple (he of the immaculate caterpillar eyebrows) than I did of seeing anyone other than Jessica.
OK, I will admit, I got a little tingly with surrealism when the singer of "The Sweetest Sin" (strangely my fave song of hers for whatever reason) skated past me on the rink at one point. And skating right next to Gavin DeGraw was cool in a trapped-in-an-episode-of-TRL sorta way.
But otherwise, my first celeb party in NYC was a bit of a disappointment. Luckily, Fashion Week starts in two weeks, and as the editor announced during yesterday's weekly staff meeting — "everyone will be covering that."
Yesssssss.......!!!!
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Laments of an underpaid undergrad
It is inaccurate for me to think that all the things that happen in my dorm are just "like" college. It IS college, just not for me anymore — technically.
My new roommate moves in tomorrow, and I will once again surrender the privacy and ability to watch and listen to whatever I want on my laptop I've come to enjoy these last few days. I still know absolutely nothing about him, just that his name is Antonin Chef. Here's hoping he's not as weird as his name.
But the worst college reminder occurred when I came home from work today and these two loud J.A.P.s were giggling and running off the elevator. I ignored them initially, till I went to press my button and noticed all the floors were lit up. Those freakin' orange-faced freshmen were off to spend their daddys' money in their screaming-for-air size 10 designer jeans and totally pissed me off for a hot minute. Granted, it wasn't nearly as bad as all the shit (literally) people would put on the Tri Towers elevators, but it's just the principle. New Yorkers should have a little more decorum sometimes!
But then I remembered that no matter how fabulously wealthy those brats' parents may be or how obnoxiously immature their freshman elevator antics get, they most definitely will not be going where I'm going tonight.
The (roller-skating) album release party for Jessica Simpson at Roxy!
My new roommate moves in tomorrow, and I will once again surrender the privacy and ability to watch and listen to whatever I want on my laptop I've come to enjoy these last few days. I still know absolutely nothing about him, just that his name is Antonin Chef. Here's hoping he's not as weird as his name.
But the worst college reminder occurred when I came home from work today and these two loud J.A.P.s were giggling and running off the elevator. I ignored them initially, till I went to press my button and noticed all the floors were lit up. Those freakin' orange-faced freshmen were off to spend their daddys' money in their screaming-for-air size 10 designer jeans and totally pissed me off for a hot minute. Granted, it wasn't nearly as bad as all the shit (literally) people would put on the Tri Towers elevators, but it's just the principle. New Yorkers should have a little more decorum sometimes!
But then I remembered that no matter how fabulously wealthy those brats' parents may be or how obnoxiously immature their freshman elevator antics get, they most definitely will not be going where I'm going tonight.
The (roller-skating) album release party for Jessica Simpson at Roxy!
Monday, August 28, 2006
Hey Mrs. Potter won't you talk to me?
Another fabulous day in the city.
First off, one of the many wonderful things about my job is the endless access I have to free copies of pretty much every magazine you can think of — and many you wouldn't (Atlanta Peach, a quarterly horse trainers mag, etc., the Capitol Hill lifetsyle mag, etc.) As I was telling the fabulously British Claire, "it's like a crack whore diving into a dumpster full of used needles" for this magazine addict.
Also in talking with Claire, I learned what I should have noticed from reading AdAge for the last month: there really isn't anyone actively covering music advertising at the magazine — "one of the most over-loooked sectors of the industry, I'm afraid," Claire said impeccably. I told her I would be happy to fill that void, and to prove it, I got started on my first pitched story: a quick piece on the Yahoo! Music promotion Jessica Simpson has where you can have your first name inserted into the second verse of "Public Affair" and buy your very own copy. It's more than a little ridiculous (hey anyone named Zera, Tuma and Kimball — Jessica made sure you were included!) which is why it will make for such a fun story.
After knocking out a quick story on Godiva, I bussed it over to Chelsea, which I immediately fell in love with. Where else can you see a billboard for gay.com that's just as large as the anti-abortion ones that used to decorate my drive to and from Columbus?
I also ate quite possibly the best burger I've ever had at the inventively named New York Burger Company. Everything about it was perfection. The bun was flaky and flavorful. The burger was cooked just right and well seasoned. The tomatoes were extremely fresh and of the cherry persuasion. And the selection of condiments was ridiculous — more than 10. I opted for the Chipotle honey myself. A wise choice.
I was then off to an advance screening of Miss Potter, starring one Renee Zellweger as Peter Rabbit author Beatrix Potter and one Ewan McGregor as her publisher/paramour.
I saw this dude handing out passes for it yesterday in SoHo and knew I HAD to check it out, if only so I could have my first (FREE, even) moviegoing experience with New Yorkers. It was a comforting lesson in culture: no matter how comparatively less cool I may feel by not being a native New Yorker, any airs of aloofness or jaded suaveness disappear at an advance screening of an Oscar bait movie.
Each and every person around me — from the chatty gay Jews to the mop-topped Napoleon Dynamite NYU student to the 50-something sisters who were in line behind me — became just as dorky and annoying as the clueless Ohioans who used to attend all the press screenings in Loews Richmond with me last summer.
For the first time since my arrival here, I felt a sense of authority and purpose. New Yorkers may have a lot on me in terms of style, cultural options and definitely money, but my film buff skills are still up to snuff.
After the movie (which was very good — will end up being marketed pretty much exactly like Finding Neverland, which it so obviously wants to be) I even got to participate in a discussion about the film with a marketer from the studio and 19 other New Yorkers. Everyone seemed to be in concordance with my observation that Emily Watson's character, while very humorous, was most likely a lesbian and wanted Renee Z real bad.
It was a fantastic ending to a thoroughly enjoyable day in the city. But as my much-anticipated fall preview issue of New York informed me today, I have many many more where those came from in store these next three months...
First off, one of the many wonderful things about my job is the endless access I have to free copies of pretty much every magazine you can think of — and many you wouldn't (Atlanta Peach, a quarterly horse trainers mag, etc., the Capitol Hill lifetsyle mag, etc.) As I was telling the fabulously British Claire, "it's like a crack whore diving into a dumpster full of used needles" for this magazine addict.
Also in talking with Claire, I learned what I should have noticed from reading AdAge for the last month: there really isn't anyone actively covering music advertising at the magazine — "one of the most over-loooked sectors of the industry, I'm afraid," Claire said impeccably. I told her I would be happy to fill that void, and to prove it, I got started on my first pitched story: a quick piece on the Yahoo! Music promotion Jessica Simpson has where you can have your first name inserted into the second verse of "Public Affair" and buy your very own copy. It's more than a little ridiculous (hey anyone named Zera, Tuma and Kimball — Jessica made sure you were included!) which is why it will make for such a fun story.
After knocking out a quick story on Godiva, I bussed it over to Chelsea, which I immediately fell in love with. Where else can you see a billboard for gay.com that's just as large as the anti-abortion ones that used to decorate my drive to and from Columbus?
I also ate quite possibly the best burger I've ever had at the inventively named New York Burger Company. Everything about it was perfection. The bun was flaky and flavorful. The burger was cooked just right and well seasoned. The tomatoes were extremely fresh and of the cherry persuasion. And the selection of condiments was ridiculous — more than 10. I opted for the Chipotle honey myself. A wise choice.
I was then off to an advance screening of Miss Potter, starring one Renee Zellweger as Peter Rabbit author Beatrix Potter and one Ewan McGregor as her publisher/paramour.
I saw this dude handing out passes for it yesterday in SoHo and knew I HAD to check it out, if only so I could have my first (FREE, even) moviegoing experience with New Yorkers. It was a comforting lesson in culture: no matter how comparatively less cool I may feel by not being a native New Yorker, any airs of aloofness or jaded suaveness disappear at an advance screening of an Oscar bait movie.
Each and every person around me — from the chatty gay Jews to the mop-topped Napoleon Dynamite NYU student to the 50-something sisters who were in line behind me — became just as dorky and annoying as the clueless Ohioans who used to attend all the press screenings in Loews Richmond with me last summer.
For the first time since my arrival here, I felt a sense of authority and purpose. New Yorkers may have a lot on me in terms of style, cultural options and definitely money, but my film buff skills are still up to snuff.
After the movie (which was very good — will end up being marketed pretty much exactly like Finding Neverland, which it so obviously wants to be) I even got to participate in a discussion about the film with a marketer from the studio and 19 other New Yorkers. Everyone seemed to be in concordance with my observation that Emily Watson's character, while very humorous, was most likely a lesbian and wanted Renee Z real bad.
It was a fantastic ending to a thoroughly enjoyable day in the city. But as my much-anticipated fall preview issue of New York informed me today, I have many many more where those came from in store these next three months...
British invasion!
I just met my other Media editor, Claire, and she - like the EIC - is British, too! I love this job more and more by the second...
Sunday, August 27, 2006
What will you do when your suntan is fading and the summer's gone?
So in the frenzy of adjusting to the newness and excitement of all things NYC, I was a little startled when I called my dad earlier this evening.
"Hey Dad. What's up?"
"Oh nothing, just reading this 'Pop Quiz' in today's Dispatch..."
"Wait, 'Pop Quiz..' Wha-"
Then I remembered. My music labels/Flaming lips package ran today!
http://dispatch.com/features-story.php?story=dispatch/2006/08/27/20060827-F1-00.html
http://dispatch.com/features-story.php?story=dispatch/2006/08/27/20060827-F1-02.html
And I'm ecstatic about the results from a clip perspective. Pat Kastner desgined a fantastic graphic to accompany the rock glossary, and I even assembled a batch of songs and bands to represent each genre for the web site:
http://www.dispatch.com/multimedia/multimedia.php?story=dispatch/2006/extras/genres/genres.html
A lot of them are dead giveaways — Dashboard for Emo, Fall Out Boy for pop-punk, DMB for jam bands, etc. — but I'm still proud of sneaking Goldfrapp and Camera Obscura on the Dispatch web site.
The story itself was written with the 60-year-old clueless grandparent with two teenagers to shop for at Christmas and birthdays in mind first, but with the would-be hipsters at Alive a close second. I'm sure someone has already blogged about the Dispatch's lame attempt to put their stamp on indie musical genres, but I don't really care. It was tons of fun to write and it looks rill pretty.
In other news, my love affair with New York continues.
Christie did in fact materialize — after what was apparently a marathon night of drinking in the financial district that left her surprised to be home safely in Flatbush and with a Dunkin' Donuts sandwich in her fridge.
So she took me to Ground Zero, which was too surreal and intense for me to process at the time. I was in too much of a happy-to-be-in-the-city mood to really take in the fact that we were standing right by the site of the most horrifying historical event of my lifetime. Luckily I still took time to look at all the photos, walk around the perimeter of the site and even check out St. Paul's Chapel, which was most powerful of all. The videos and the cot where victims slept on definitely got my throat all tingly.
In a rather abrupt shift of tone, we then ventured out to the Chelsea Pier and watched some sweet breakdancers and ate some truly terrible food court grub. I found myself rushing to a McDonald's to rid my body of the toxins supplied by the "Cuban" portion of the pier's food court.
I then returned to the Pier hours later with Joey, Mary and their Late Show friends to see Absinthe, a raunchy cabaret show increasingly growing in popularity around the city. It just got two big mentions in New York and Time Out last week, each with the same photo of a fire-eating burlesque performer. It was so popular that Joey was able to convince everyone that the free tickets he had booked us were "sold out," but, as he later confided in me, he didn't get the right manager to approve his comp tix so he was worried he might be in trouble at work the next day (he wasn't, thank God.)
So while we had no Absinthe, we did get some cheap ($3-$6, not bad) booze at my new favorite bar, Milano's. I say new favorite only because of how unimpressive it was. It's a narrow, claustrophobic, unassuming little bar in SoHo (right by the Will & Grace building!!!) with photos of previous clientele around the wall and a big bass drum with a vintage print of Sinatra on it. There was one bartender working the whole bar, and a noisy juke box that made conversations hard to carry in inside voices. I fucking loved it.
The rest of the night was a bit of a bust, and I spent wayyy too much money on booze for what amounted to no lasting buzz and no random play. Just a slightly tipsy subway ride home that was much safer than the one the night before.
As for today, it rained all bloody day, but I didn't let that stop me from window shopping for the better part of three hours in SoHo. I managed to weave in and out of every boutique and trendy retailer imaginable (H&M, Zara, Label, Puma, Paul Frank, etc.) and walked away with socks from Old Navy (I only brought three pairs of white ones!) and a Sunday Times.
And I will end this post by saying how much I love the fact that the Sunday Times is a full buck fifty cheaper than it is Ohio!!! And today's Fall Fashion issue — with surprising cover girl Catherine Keener — is a whopping 300 pages, making for one heavy ass newspaper. And I'm about to plunge into it for the rest of this wet, mellow day.
"Hey Dad. What's up?"
"Oh nothing, just reading this 'Pop Quiz' in today's Dispatch..."
"Wait, 'Pop Quiz..' Wha-"
Then I remembered. My music labels/Flaming lips package ran today!
http://dispatch.com/features-story.php?story=dispatch/2006/08/27/20060827-F1-00.html
http://dispatch.com/features-story.php?story=dispatch/2006/08/27/20060827-F1-02.html
And I'm ecstatic about the results from a clip perspective. Pat Kastner desgined a fantastic graphic to accompany the rock glossary, and I even assembled a batch of songs and bands to represent each genre for the web site:
http://www.dispatch.com/multimedia/multimedia.php?story=dispatch/2006/extras/genres/genres.html
A lot of them are dead giveaways — Dashboard for Emo, Fall Out Boy for pop-punk, DMB for jam bands, etc. — but I'm still proud of sneaking Goldfrapp and Camera Obscura on the Dispatch web site.
The story itself was written with the 60-year-old clueless grandparent with two teenagers to shop for at Christmas and birthdays in mind first, but with the would-be hipsters at Alive a close second. I'm sure someone has already blogged about the Dispatch's lame attempt to put their stamp on indie musical genres, but I don't really care. It was tons of fun to write and it looks rill pretty.
In other news, my love affair with New York continues.
Christie did in fact materialize — after what was apparently a marathon night of drinking in the financial district that left her surprised to be home safely in Flatbush and with a Dunkin' Donuts sandwich in her fridge.
So she took me to Ground Zero, which was too surreal and intense for me to process at the time. I was in too much of a happy-to-be-in-the-city mood to really take in the fact that we were standing right by the site of the most horrifying historical event of my lifetime. Luckily I still took time to look at all the photos, walk around the perimeter of the site and even check out St. Paul's Chapel, which was most powerful of all. The videos and the cot where victims slept on definitely got my throat all tingly.
In a rather abrupt shift of tone, we then ventured out to the Chelsea Pier and watched some sweet breakdancers and ate some truly terrible food court grub. I found myself rushing to a McDonald's to rid my body of the toxins supplied by the "Cuban" portion of the pier's food court.
I then returned to the Pier hours later with Joey, Mary and their Late Show friends to see Absinthe, a raunchy cabaret show increasingly growing in popularity around the city. It just got two big mentions in New York and Time Out last week, each with the same photo of a fire-eating burlesque performer. It was so popular that Joey was able to convince everyone that the free tickets he had booked us were "sold out," but, as he later confided in me, he didn't get the right manager to approve his comp tix so he was worried he might be in trouble at work the next day (he wasn't, thank God.)
So while we had no Absinthe, we did get some cheap ($3-$6, not bad) booze at my new favorite bar, Milano's. I say new favorite only because of how unimpressive it was. It's a narrow, claustrophobic, unassuming little bar in SoHo (right by the Will & Grace building!!!) with photos of previous clientele around the wall and a big bass drum with a vintage print of Sinatra on it. There was one bartender working the whole bar, and a noisy juke box that made conversations hard to carry in inside voices. I fucking loved it.
The rest of the night was a bit of a bust, and I spent wayyy too much money on booze for what amounted to no lasting buzz and no random play. Just a slightly tipsy subway ride home that was much safer than the one the night before.
As for today, it rained all bloody day, but I didn't let that stop me from window shopping for the better part of three hours in SoHo. I managed to weave in and out of every boutique and trendy retailer imaginable (H&M, Zara, Label, Puma, Paul Frank, etc.) and walked away with socks from Old Navy (I only brought three pairs of white ones!) and a Sunday Times.
And I will end this post by saying how much I love the fact that the Sunday Times is a full buck fifty cheaper than it is Ohio!!! And today's Fall Fashion issue — with surprising cover girl Catherine Keener — is a whopping 300 pages, making for one heavy ass newspaper. And I'm about to plunge into it for the rest of this wet, mellow day.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Oh, dream weaver. I believe we can make it through the night...
I just woke up from a terrible dream — a nightmare, if you will — that I was back in Tiffin, going back to COLUMBIAN, to finish my degree at Kent. I was forced to take three classes, one of which involved pie baking. I remember thinking, how am I going to pull of baking a pie when I can barely make macaroni free of errors?
The only solace I found in the dream was the fact that I was wearing white patent leather shoes — something the non-dream me has wanted for months now — and a belt to match. But no amount of amazing fashion accessories in TIffin could replace being in New York. Especially this weekend.
Last night I caught up with some old broadcast buddies — Mary Traina and Joey Seaman — at the Upright Citizens Brigade for a mostly hysterical two hours of improv comedy. If the name sounds familiar, that's because UCB used to be a Comedy Central show starring Amy Poehler, who still does shows there most Sunday nights with ASSSSCat 3000. The best part about all the shows? They're only $8!
After UCB we moseyed over to a diner right by Madison Square Garden and feasted on fries, pancakes and tiramisu (the latter would be mine, thanks). We wanted to go out but needed to find a place to accomodate Mary and her underage sister, so we settled on Opaline, which was on 39th and 5th. Keyword being was — only after we got there did Mary's friend Boomer realize it had moved to the West Village.
So rather than force our tired bodies to get drunk, dance and somehow make it home at 12:20 on a Friday, we decided to call it a night and regroup tonight for a burlesque show and some serious boozing. The best part? The burlesque show will be FREE, courtesy of Joey's part-time job selling tickets on Broadway. Between all of our connections — mine at Ad Age, Mary at Transistor, Joey on Broadway and Boomer on the Late Show — we will probably do some sweet-ass stuff this fall for little to no money.
Unfortunately, all the money in the world does not make the V train pick you up any faster after-hours on a Friday night, so I found myself improvising my way home. After waiting a good half hour for a D or V train to come, I ultimately hopped on the A to 125th, walked through Harlem for the longest 15 minutes of my life (the only other white person I encountered was a cop, natch), hopped on the 6 and finally got off at 96th. It was a riskly 90-minute commute, but it probably would have been even longer had I decided to wait for the buses that could have taken me home on a route that actually made sense to travel.
Nonetheless, I am home in one piece and stinky as hell — all this walking and waiting in the steamy subway queues makes an out-of-shape boy work up a pretty decent sweat. So it's shower time, then track down Christie for the afternoon of Chelsea and visiting the WTC she promised me.
The only solace I found in the dream was the fact that I was wearing white patent leather shoes — something the non-dream me has wanted for months now — and a belt to match. But no amount of amazing fashion accessories in TIffin could replace being in New York. Especially this weekend.
Last night I caught up with some old broadcast buddies — Mary Traina and Joey Seaman — at the Upright Citizens Brigade for a mostly hysterical two hours of improv comedy. If the name sounds familiar, that's because UCB used to be a Comedy Central show starring Amy Poehler, who still does shows there most Sunday nights with ASSSSCat 3000. The best part about all the shows? They're only $8!
After UCB we moseyed over to a diner right by Madison Square Garden and feasted on fries, pancakes and tiramisu (the latter would be mine, thanks). We wanted to go out but needed to find a place to accomodate Mary and her underage sister, so we settled on Opaline, which was on 39th and 5th. Keyword being was — only after we got there did Mary's friend Boomer realize it had moved to the West Village.
So rather than force our tired bodies to get drunk, dance and somehow make it home at 12:20 on a Friday, we decided to call it a night and regroup tonight for a burlesque show and some serious boozing. The best part? The burlesque show will be FREE, courtesy of Joey's part-time job selling tickets on Broadway. Between all of our connections — mine at Ad Age, Mary at Transistor, Joey on Broadway and Boomer on the Late Show — we will probably do some sweet-ass stuff this fall for little to no money.
Unfortunately, all the money in the world does not make the V train pick you up any faster after-hours on a Friday night, so I found myself improvising my way home. After waiting a good half hour for a D or V train to come, I ultimately hopped on the A to 125th, walked through Harlem for the longest 15 minutes of my life (the only other white person I encountered was a cop, natch), hopped on the 6 and finally got off at 96th. It was a riskly 90-minute commute, but it probably would have been even longer had I decided to wait for the buses that could have taken me home on a route that actually made sense to travel.
Nonetheless, I am home in one piece and stinky as hell — all this walking and waiting in the steamy subway queues makes an out-of-shape boy work up a pretty decent sweat. So it's shower time, then track down Christie for the afternoon of Chelsea and visiting the WTC she promised me.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Everyone should write a concert review at some point in their lives...
...that way you can Google yourself months later and discover amazing threads such as these devoted to your musical opinions:
http://www.vh1.com/artists/boards/main.jhtml/goo_goo_dolls/ViewThread?tID=1112042&mID=5531429&offset=0&index=0
My personal favorite comment on my vicious ripping apart of the Goo Goo Dolls:
"As for critics, isn't it great that we live in a country where we can legally own our own thoughts? This man could publish his opinion without fear of prosecution, persecution, or torture. Not enough countries can say that. The man has poor taste. There are starving children, cancer, and AIDS. I have bigger things to worry about. I can't take the time to teach him better taste."
Glad that person at least found the time from their busy schedule of curing cancer and AIDS to check the Goo Goo Dolls message board on VH1.com, of all places, though...
Also, as further proof of how rapidly I'm settling into things here in NY, my first story was finished by noon and up on the site by 2:
http://adage.com/mediaworks/article?article_id=111473
Second one will be up tomorrow. As for the actual magazine, it's pretty much up in the air till Friday as to when/if your stories will actually run in print or if they'll stay online. Chances are neither one is going to make it in this week, and that's fine. I'm still a bit shellshocked by the fact that I've already written two stories ready for publishing in the 48 hours since I've arrived in the city.
Finally, had my first celebrity spotting today. It wasn't much of one, but it still counts. Vanessa Kerry, the blonde daughter of John (not the one who wore the scandalous see-through dress two years back) at Duane Reade pharmacy on 44th and Lexington. I'm almost positive it was her, although she seems to have filled out a little bit from the pictures on Google Images.
If not, oh well. I have mad plans to arrange to see celebrities — guaranteed — in the coming weeks, including checking out Amy Poehler and the Upright Citizens Brigade this weekend. Huzzah!
http://www.vh1.com/artists/boards/main.jhtml/goo_goo_dolls/ViewThread?tID=1112042&mID=5531429&offset=0&index=0
My personal favorite comment on my vicious ripping apart of the Goo Goo Dolls:
"As for critics, isn't it great that we live in a country where we can legally own our own thoughts? This man could publish his opinion without fear of prosecution, persecution, or torture. Not enough countries can say that. The man has poor taste. There are starving children, cancer, and AIDS. I have bigger things to worry about. I can't take the time to teach him better taste."
Glad that person at least found the time from their busy schedule of curing cancer and AIDS to check the Goo Goo Dolls message board on VH1.com, of all places, though...
Also, as further proof of how rapidly I'm settling into things here in NY, my first story was finished by noon and up on the site by 2:
http://adage.com/mediaworks/article?article_id=111473
Second one will be up tomorrow. As for the actual magazine, it's pretty much up in the air till Friday as to when/if your stories will actually run in print or if they'll stay online. Chances are neither one is going to make it in this week, and that's fine. I'm still a bit shellshocked by the fact that I've already written two stories ready for publishing in the 48 hours since I've arrived in the city.
Finally, had my first celebrity spotting today. It wasn't much of one, but it still counts. Vanessa Kerry, the blonde daughter of John (not the one who wore the scandalous see-through dress two years back) at Duane Reade pharmacy on 44th and Lexington. I'm almost positive it was her, although she seems to have filled out a little bit from the pictures on Google Images.
If not, oh well. I have mad plans to arrange to see celebrities — guaranteed — in the coming weeks, including checking out Amy Poehler and the Upright Citizens Brigade this weekend. Huzzah!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Cause we're all better off in New York...
Three weeks ago, I never would have believed I'd be writing this blog post.
It was just three Wednesdays ago that I was interviewed over the phone for a fall internship with Advertising Age magazine, a publication I was vaguely familiar with through my Magazine Publishing class but hardly something I read avidly. The interview went OK, but I thought I could've sold myself a lot better on some of their questions. I completely choked on the "Where do you get your news from?" question. I didn't even think about blogs, which is where 90% of story ideas come from nowadays.
Nonetheless, here I am from my dorm above the 92nd St. Y on the Upper East Side, fresh from dinner and a quick viewing of the Metropolitan Opera in Central Park, starting a new blog on my new Macbook to commemorate a new chapter in my life.
And what a perfect time to start one.
I am done at Kent State, although I have not graduated. I am quite literally one class away from my degree — a last-minute failure on my part to meet participation points for my online Great Books class caused me to fail the whole class. I was supposed to graduate last Saturday and found out on Thursday that it was going to be an impossibility.
Needless to say, I was a bit of an emotional wreck for the rest of the weekend, which included a road trip with my Dad and Dana to return her to Syracuse. My only comfort amid rampant regretful thoughts of how I could and should be graduating in Kent was the fact that I would be moving to New York City in just three short days.
I'm doing much better now as far as not getting down on myself about not graduating on time, although Sweet Lady New York certainly plays a large part in that. I have already visited Union Square (LOVE it), Times Square (blecch), Grand Central Station (I'll be taking the subway there everyday to get to work on 44th) and, as previously mentioned Central Park (breathtaking view of the city). There are plans for much, more more, including a trip to Chelsea and the World Trade Center this weekend with my friend Christie from high school.
I left Ohio with a lot of loose ends untied (the whole not-graduating thing meant no trip to Kent and therefore no farewell party at my old apartment) but honestly, no regrets. Finishing up an internship, trying to do two classes and moving to New York in a three-week period leaves you absolutely no time to stop and wonder what you're going to miss or think about what you'd like to do before you leave. All you can do is finish up whatever you can and take breaks to sleep.
As a testament to the whirlwind pace of the last three weeks, here's what I've accomplished since flying into LaGuardia yesterday at 2 PM:
--took Super Shuttle to 92nd St. Y (ended up riding for 2 hours because three different people had to be dropped off in Harlem)
--checked in at Y
--hopped on the 6 and imagined I was J. Lo
--realized I was going the completely wrong way to Union Square and ended up in heart of The Bronx
--turned around and went to Union Square
--got treated to dinner at Spice by Christie
--shopped at Virgin on 14th St.
--strolled through (and hated) Times Square
--met my roommate who moves out on Friday (he's studying to get his PhD. in economics from Harvard--yeesh!)
--got lost again, this time by foot, on the way to work this morning
--wiped away drool in anticipation of all the amazing opportunities AdAge will afford me
--started my first story (on this kid's network NBC and Telemundo are launching next month)
--dinner and opera in Central Park
--acquainted self with local grocery store (and fierce Boricua cashiers)
My only regret over the last 24 hours is not having access to a cable TV. Project Runaway is on right now and I'm totally missing it!!! My goal is to find a bar somewhere in Manhattan that has weekly viewing parties (which I totally miss at Union Station!!!)
But that is a minuscule complaint to an otherwise unbelievable arrival in the City That Never Sleeps. I will be pinching myself till early next week that this is actually happening.
Thanks for reading my inaugural post. Stay tuned for updates and, by all means, comment and tell me what's going in your lives as well!
It was just three Wednesdays ago that I was interviewed over the phone for a fall internship with Advertising Age magazine, a publication I was vaguely familiar with through my Magazine Publishing class but hardly something I read avidly. The interview went OK, but I thought I could've sold myself a lot better on some of their questions. I completely choked on the "Where do you get your news from?" question. I didn't even think about blogs, which is where 90% of story ideas come from nowadays.
Nonetheless, here I am from my dorm above the 92nd St. Y on the Upper East Side, fresh from dinner and a quick viewing of the Metropolitan Opera in Central Park, starting a new blog on my new Macbook to commemorate a new chapter in my life.
And what a perfect time to start one.
I am done at Kent State, although I have not graduated. I am quite literally one class away from my degree — a last-minute failure on my part to meet participation points for my online Great Books class caused me to fail the whole class. I was supposed to graduate last Saturday and found out on Thursday that it was going to be an impossibility.
Needless to say, I was a bit of an emotional wreck for the rest of the weekend, which included a road trip with my Dad and Dana to return her to Syracuse. My only comfort amid rampant regretful thoughts of how I could and should be graduating in Kent was the fact that I would be moving to New York City in just three short days.
I'm doing much better now as far as not getting down on myself about not graduating on time, although Sweet Lady New York certainly plays a large part in that. I have already visited Union Square (LOVE it), Times Square (blecch), Grand Central Station (I'll be taking the subway there everyday to get to work on 44th) and, as previously mentioned Central Park (breathtaking view of the city). There are plans for much, more more, including a trip to Chelsea and the World Trade Center this weekend with my friend Christie from high school.
I left Ohio with a lot of loose ends untied (the whole not-graduating thing meant no trip to Kent and therefore no farewell party at my old apartment) but honestly, no regrets. Finishing up an internship, trying to do two classes and moving to New York in a three-week period leaves you absolutely no time to stop and wonder what you're going to miss or think about what you'd like to do before you leave. All you can do is finish up whatever you can and take breaks to sleep.
As a testament to the whirlwind pace of the last three weeks, here's what I've accomplished since flying into LaGuardia yesterday at 2 PM:
--took Super Shuttle to 92nd St. Y (ended up riding for 2 hours because three different people had to be dropped off in Harlem)
--checked in at Y
--hopped on the 6 and imagined I was J. Lo
--realized I was going the completely wrong way to Union Square and ended up in heart of The Bronx
--turned around and went to Union Square
--got treated to dinner at Spice by Christie
--shopped at Virgin on 14th St.
--strolled through (and hated) Times Square
--met my roommate who moves out on Friday (he's studying to get his PhD. in economics from Harvard--yeesh!)
--got lost again, this time by foot, on the way to work this morning
--wiped away drool in anticipation of all the amazing opportunities AdAge will afford me
--started my first story (on this kid's network NBC and Telemundo are launching next month)
--dinner and opera in Central Park
--acquainted self with local grocery store (and fierce Boricua cashiers)
My only regret over the last 24 hours is not having access to a cable TV. Project Runaway is on right now and I'm totally missing it!!! My goal is to find a bar somewhere in Manhattan that has weekly viewing parties (which I totally miss at Union Station!!!)
But that is a minuscule complaint to an otherwise unbelievable arrival in the City That Never Sleeps. I will be pinching myself till early next week that this is actually happening.
Thanks for reading my inaugural post. Stay tuned for updates and, by all means, comment and tell me what's going in your lives as well!
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