Day 3

Man, this shit is hard. But I've been really good so far, and I'm proud of myself. Four godawful protein shakes a day, plus a gross faux power bar thingie. That's it. Ray says he's worried I'm starving myself to death. Well, yes, I am starving myself, but I assure you not to death. I've got far too much insulation for anyone to be worried about that.

Crap, now I can't remember what time I'm supposed to have my next shake. With the bonkers fashion week hours and no sleep, I'm all kerfluffled.

Dear Internet,

I don't know that anyone actually reads this, but in order to force a teeny bit of discipline on myself, I am going to chronicle...my diet. Hideous and boring and maybe too much information, but dammit, I feel like if there's a public record, maybe I'll be held slightly accountable.

So, tomorrow, it starts.

Goodbye, cupcakes.

The Bicycle Thief

My bicycle was stolen on Sunday evening. Its not a super-awesome bike or anything, but dammit, its mine! Covered in white-and-pink flowers, with a basket, chrome fenders, and a big, squishy white leather seat. I mean, come on! What punk criminal wants a bike like that?! And of course, when we go in to report the theft, the RI cops could only say, "Well, are you sure you didn't just put it somewhere else?"

Fortunately, my darling husband and his eagle eyes spotted the missing velo this morning, chained to an old beater in the alley between some apartment buildings. The ever-vigilant Roosevelt Island Public Safety officers (who bear much more resemblance to Paul Blart, Mall Cop than to anything like the NYPD) showed up and sliced the lock, freeing my pretty peddler in time for me to ride to work. Yay for being reunited with my 40-pound beach cruiser! Think I'll rent The Bicycle Thief in celebration...

When it rains, it pours

So we'll be pouring lots of ice cold beers in the Billiard Room of the Octagon. When you arrive at the big white building, instead of walking around the side to the water, just head right into the lobby (the door is below a columned balcony) and go up the spiral staircase in the rotunda to the second floor. We'll be right there. Call me if you have questions or problems! 917.232.1393.

Also, for those driving, your parking options are as follows:
1. Park in the garage in our building (I think its about $20, what a racket). The entrance to the garage is on the north side of the building. You just use a credit card to enter and exit. From inside the garage, take whichever elevator bank you can find (you'll have to use the intercom to get the lobby to let you in the door) and go to the second floor. Head towards the center of the building (the rotunda).

2. Park in the visitor parking directly out front of the building. I have no idea if they tow or not. The concierge/desk people will probably warn you first, but don't necessarily take my word for it.

3. There's a municipal garage right under the Roosevelt Island bridge (you enter it right as you get off the bridge). Not sure of the cost. If you park there, go down to ground level and take the red bus right outside the Gristedes a couple stops to the Octagon. Come on up to the second floor.

There Will Be Beer

I drink your milkshake HoneyMoon Summer Ale, I drink it up!

Hope y'all are planning on joining us for some waterfront chilling and grilling this Friday. Party is on rain-or-shine. If it rains, we'll move the festivities indoors to The Octagon's Club/Billiard room, on the second floor in the rotunda. Keep checking here for details.

In case you're confused about where the park is, here's a handy diagram. Once you get off the tram or subway, you'll board the RIOC Red Bus (they all go to the same place, just hop on and pay your quarter), and take it to The Octagon, which is the last stop before the bus loops back and returns to the tram/subway. The diagram below shows where the bus stop is, and which way you should walk to find us. (Click on the image for a full-size version.)

P-A-R-T-Y

For those finding their way to this blog via the invitation to my birthday party, welcome! I'll post more information as we get closer to the event, including detailed maps and such, but here are the basics for the fête:

When: Friday, July 31st, 7PM-10PM
Where: Octagon Park, a beautiful little spot on the water behind our apartment building, which is called The Octagon, on Roosevelt Island
What: We will be celebrating my birthday with beer, food, cake, music, bocce, etc. Ray will be grilling, so come hungry. We'll stock cold beers and wine, but if you want harder stuff, feel free to bring it.
How: You can take the F train to Roosevelt Island, or the silly-but-rather-enjoyable tram. Once on Roosevelt Island, hop on the RIOC "red bus" (it costs a quarter) and take it to The Octagon, which is the last stop. The ride takes about 7 minutes. The bus drops you right in front of our building, and you'll just walk along either side until you hit the water. Turn towards the center of the building and you'll see us.
Why: Because the view of the NYC skyline mixed with good friends and cold drinks is the perfect recipe for a perfect summer evening.

Rain: If its raining, the party will move indoors to the Billiard/Club Room at the Octagon. Bocce will be replaced with pool. All else remains the same.

If you'd like to come early and swim or just hang out, we'll be there. Bring a bathing suit (for the swimming pool, not the East River), though the pool closes at 8. Dogs are welcome, as are friends, dates, and significant others.

Introductions: Elvis

For anyone who's been living under a rock our entire friendship, this is my baby, Elvis. He's an African pygmy hedgehog, and I am obsessed with him, for reasons that I'm sure are very clear. He hangs out with me at bars, at work, at parties, et cetera, and I carry him around in my purse. He's not the most huggable pet, seeing as he's covered in spikes, but he does have his own little ways of showing affection.

Introductions: Rusty

This is my beloved step-dog (sort of), Rusty, who I nanny whenever his owner is out of town. He's a 6-year-old Golden Retriever, and he's the most loving, charming, gentle, sweet ball of orange fur you can imagine. We've been buddies for about 4 years, and he was the only boy invited to my bachelorette party. Someday I'd like to have kids like Rusty...well-behaved, part-time, and get paid for it.

Introductions: Lula & Stephie

We have two cats, Lula and Stephie. They're sisters, and inseparable. We adopted them from the North Shore Animal League on a whim in January of 2007, and they have been mostly a delight since then. Everybody always says that their cats are so cute and so funny and do really crazy things, because they have some misguided sense that their critters are in some way special. BUT OURS REALLY ARE. They're hilarious. They chirp at birds. Its amazing.

Stephie is the larger sister, who often gets called "Fat Kitty." She tolerates this with the utter lack of concern typical of most felines (that's her in the snow).

Lula, also known as "Puffy Face," is the little runt. She's like a miniature cat, and has the delightful quality of never having grown out of that giant-eyed-kitten look (that's her to the right). She's less affectionate than the Fat Kitty, but that's okay because she sometimes stands up on her haunches like a meerkat. And that makes up for anything.

Entering the blogosphere

My mom has been saying for years that I need to start a blog because I do so many interesting things...so, "Hi Mom!" Though between this, Twitter, Facebook, Google Talk, and my regular job, I'm afraid I'll be so busy updating my vanity projects that I won't have time to actually do anything worth writing about. Here goes nothing...