My Sister the Babe

This summer, my sister is life guarding at a country club in Rhode Island. It's kind of hard not to be jealous when she calls me in the middle of a day at the office to let me know that she is off for the day and hanging out on the beach. Or sends me a text message on Saturday afternoon saying: I just met Prince Albert.

I think it would be neat to meet pretty much any member of a royal family. On further inspection, I discovered that Prince Albert is quite infamous. He is Grace Kelly's son, he used to date Claudia Schiffer and a former Miss Universe. He has 2 illegitimate children. (Thanks Wikipedia!) And now he knows my sister's name.

This is Prince Albert:


I thought her celebrity siting sounded pretty great. UNTIL...she called me yesterday morning to tell me that His Royal Highness had stopped by the pool one last time before he left. How nice is that?

Why I Love My Roommates

I can create a poster like this and they think it's funny.

I am totally cultured.

Tuesday in New York was disgusting. The heat poured off the sidewalks. It got under my clothes and created this prominent sheen of sweat all over my face. It was a good day to sit in air conditioning and thank God for creating it.

Then my friend Joe reminded a group of us that we had agreed to go hear a symphony orchestra perform outdoors in Central Park. Immediately, people who had agreed to go suddenly had "plans". Joe came into my cubicle and sulked. "But it's the last one!" he said. "we were going to have a picnic."

So somehow he convinced Kaitlin, Rakesh, Derek and I to follow through. We got to the Great Lawn around 7:30 and feasted, then listened to the distant sounds of the orchestra playing and the more immediate sounds of people our age getting wasted and babies crying. It was nice to sit and enjoy each other's company, listen to music and then see fireworks. The wind even picked up and the night cooled down; it was a nice time to be in New York.

...until we left and got caught in a torrential downpour.

Zidane Part 2

Isn't he cute? Maybe we should have called him Beckham...or Michael Owen.

Zidane the Parakeet

My weekend was a whole lot of nothing. Two of my roommates were away so the apartment was pretty quiet, and I only left either to get food or to go for a run. In other words, it was pretty nice.

The highlight of my weekend came on Sunday afternoon. After watching the Final Game of the World Cup, I settled onto the couch to read. Around 5, my roommate, Peter, called me outside. He was gardening and a small bird was perched atop the railing of our terrace. It looked like this:




I quietly made my way to the nearest chair and whistled to the little Parakeet. He cocked his head and hopped over to nibble on my finger. I felt like Snow White, but blond.

Peter got some chips and the bird perched in his hands for a snack. It came over to eat from my hands as well, but as soon as it sat on my palm, I remembered that I have a fear of birds crapping on me, so I encouraged the bird to go take a sip of water from Peter's hands.

We decided to name the little guy Zidane, after the Captain of the French World Cup Team. He looks like this:




There are some striking similarities between the 2 I think. They include:
1. Zidane was kicked out of the final game of the World Cup because he head butted someone. I think Zidane the parakeet would have head butted me if given the chance. If not, he probably would have pooped on me, which is not very respectful either.
2. Zidane the parakeet opened his wings and flew away in much the same way that Zidane the soccer player has his arms spread in the above photo.
3. Both have the colors blue and white on them.
4. I bet they both feel a little bit lost right now.


"Can we keep him?" I asked. I was even about to run down to the 86th street Petco store and buy a cage, but just as Peter headed into our apartment him, Zidane took flight. I hope the little guy is okay.

A Night at the Theatre

Last night, my friend Kristen and I went to see HISTORY BOYS, which won this year's Tony Award for Best Play. Kristen very generously treated me to a ticket for my birthday (See? i told you I would continue to celebrate for weeks to come.) It was the first time in a while that we'd spent some quality time together, so we decided to make a night of it.

Before the show, Kristen came to spin class with me. As I've stated before, I've never been particularly athletic, but lately I've really gotten into Spin Class at the gym, and every Wednesday night, Cliff helps me set up my bike and forces me to sweat until I almost get sick. It's great!

The play was terrific; it made me want to see more plays, which is something I don't take advantage of enough living here. Perhaps the most exciting thing for me was that my friend Seth is the Stage Manager for the show, so afterward he took us out for a drink and told us about the cast.

Kristen and I went back to my place and crashed; it was such a nice Wednesday night. Thanks Kristen!

The Unfortunate Quest for Bull Penis Soup

First, let me explain. About 9-10 months ago, one of my roommates and I were sitting on the couch watching "No Reservations". The show follows Anthony Bourdain as he travels to different countries and tries unique "delicacies" around the world. One of his stops entailed a visit to a restaurant to taste Bull Penis soup.

My roommate, Peter, and I watched on in awe and horror as he ate. When the show finished, we wondered if the stuff was even sold in the States. We figured that if it was here, we could probably find it in New York. We made a pact: if we found it, we would try it.

For months, I tried to ignore places that even offered soup, but then one day Peter came home with the news that he'd heard of a place on St. Mark's that served it. It took another 4-5 months for me to stumble across the name of the place: Kenka.

We decided to go this past Saturday night. We made our way down to the east village. Our friend graciously lent us her digital camera so that we could document the experience. We showed up, ordered one bowl to share and a large beer each to wash it down.

To our dismay, when it showed up, it was not in soup form. Instead, it lay there curled on the plate, like this:



Things went from bad to worse when Peter posed for a mugshot:



The dish was sliced into smaller pieces. I had 2 and Peter bravely had 3. To be honest, it didn't really taste like much of anything, although the texture was pretty chewy. I was glad to put it behind me and head to Bua afterwards to try to drink away the memory of dinner, although my roommate has said we still need to hunt down a place with the soup. Thanks Anthony Bourdain. Thanks a lot.

...and here's proof that I had some too:



If anyone hears of a place serving Bull Penis Soup, please keep it to yourself. Thanks.

Happy Birthday to Me.

Yesterday was my 26th Birthday. I was sad to put 25 behind me. And even though my roommate Adam and his friend Allan both assured me that this would be a good year (because 26 is an even number) I kind of liked 25.

I get a little weird each year around my birthday. I don't want anyone to make a big deal about it, but, let's face it, it's nice to be remembered. Last year, things got out of hand when I threw myself a party, a friend thought it would be funny to hire a singing telegram dressed as a pink gorilla to come sing Happy Birthday to me. Here's a picture of me looking uncomfortable with the most terrifying gift I've ever received:



My 26th bday went a little more smoothly. I got to work in the morning and was greeted by a large card on my desk that said "Happy Birthday Muffin!" and right next to it was a real muffin and a cup of coffee thanks to a great coworker. Then my cubicle neighbor came in bearing homemade vegan banana bread. It was delicious!

I got a lot of phone calls and emails too--even my big sister (who shares a bday with me) beat me to the punch and called me up. Later that night, a few friends took me out to dinner at my favorite Mediterranean restaurant, Begolyu on 81st and 3rd and then Derek and Adam met up with us at Auction House for drinks. It was such a great day. Thanks friends!

Of course my favorite thing about my bday is that I can usually drag it out for a few days, if not weeks. Bring on the cake!

Pirate Party

I am part of the Fun Committee at work. This means I was elected this year to help plan and organize company parties. Our second party of the year was last Thursday. The theme was Pirates. Kaitlin and I were put in charge of food and drinks and were also charged with writing up a Pirate Quiz that was distributed to the entire company.

The quiz included questions, such as:
-What is the origin of the word "Buccaneer"?
-Describe the Edward Low Flag
-Which of the Pirates of the Carribbean stars would you most likely be stranded on an island with and why? (Please answer in 1 sentence or less. Points for Creativity.)



We also had to look the part. So, Tuesday night, Kaitlin and I left work together to shop. Kaitlin's brilliant idea was to buy white t-shirts and sew stuffed parrots to the shoulders of our shirts. Unfortunately, no stores seemed to carry stuffed parrots. We did find 2 plastic swords for 99 cents though and walked through mid-town Manhattan brandishing them. One man even stopped us and threatened to call Homeland Security.

When we go to Kaitlin's apartment, we had another snafu. With no parrots, we decided the next best thing would be to iron letters onto our t-shirts. Unfortunately, we soon discovered that Kaitlin was out of the letter "a." It felt like Sesame Street gone awry. That meant the conventional pirate sayings and words, like "arrgh" and "pirate" and "walk the plank" or "ahoy" were all out. So we now both own shirts that say "SCURVY" across the front. Kaitlin's says "PEG LEG" on the back and mine says "YO HO HO". All in all, the party was a success. We had loads of Pirate's Booty and made delicious rum punch. And who wouldn't want a SCURVY t-shirt? (See picture.)

Friday Night Adventures in Make Up

I just went onto Joe's blog and found the above picture. This was the beginning of my night on Friday.

Memorial Day Weekend

When I was a kid, the Memorial Day weekend celebration culminated in the town parade. Everyone who was part of any sort of Roxbury organization marched. Following the parade, everyone converged at the cemetery where the guns were shot off to commemorate fallen soldiers and then the whole town would walk over to the Old Fire House to have a picnic of egg salad sandwiches and potato salad. Those were good times.

In more recent years, the parade has become less important to my family; maybe it’s because we stopped joining things. I dropped out of Brownie Troop 242 and once my sister graduated from high school, she was no longer on any local sports teams, so we stopped going all together.

This year my whole family trekked up to Cape Cod and hung out at the beach for the weekend. Although it’s a hike to get up there, the weekend was a lot of fun. One of my roommates came along and my sister brought her friend Fawn. We hung out and ate and went to the beach. In my mind, that’s a pretty perfect way to spend a weekend, including the family bonding time.

The most exciting part for me was Friday night when we arrived. We all had turkey sandwiches and my sister and I finally gave my mom her Mother’s day gift. For our birthdays this year, my parents gave us a bit of money towards taking a trip together. I think they were expecting us to go camping, or maybe to Florida together, but we managed to find a good deal on airfare and take a trip to Italy.

While we were there, we kept a journal, which I typed up and printed out, and my sister put all of our pictures in an album and we finally were able to tell my parents about our trip the week before. I think they appreciated it. Until it came up that my brother bought her a bike. Suck up.

Other than that, it was very laid back, and for me, it was even better than marching in a parade.

Self Tanning Update

After purchasing Oil of Olay moisturizer with a "Touch of Self Tanner" in it for my face, i stepped outside to notice that the tanning lotion I've been applying daily to my entire body does not hold the same "Kissed by the Sun" appeal that it does under flourescent lighting. In fact, when i came into contact with real sunlight, there were alarming streaks around my shins and it sort of looks as though i have some sort of skin disease.

Result: i was made fun of all weekend by my sister, her friend and one of my roommates not only for looking orange and streaky, but also for spending way too much money on self-tanning products.

Fortunately, when they asked to borrow moisturizer, I handed them the one with self-tanner in it and didn't mention it until later.

Bronze Goddess

I have recently invested in this: It's body lotion with self tanner in it. This is day 2 of the experiment.

So far, I have to say it's going pretty well. Last summer, I had a tanning mishap with Neutrogena. When i got to work after using it for 2 days, Joe, who sits next to me, took one look at me and said "whoa. what happened to your legs?" It's kind of nice having someone tell you honestly when you've gone too far. I ceased use of the product immediately. Vain? Perhaps, but for the first few weeks of summer, I admit that I'm a bit self conscious about my paleness. I feel like I need something (other than the sun) to help me transition to a healthy summer glow.

I'm considering purchasing a product for my face soon too. I mean...guys think Jessica Simpson's hot, right? and she's orange...maybe this is a logical first step for me. Updates tk.

Who Darted?

The rumors are true: I have a darts team. Technically, it’s not mine. But I will say that I am a proud co-founder of the league. And that’s saying a lot for me because I am notoriously bad at sports. I lack coordination and skill and can barely walk down the street without falling flat on my face.

Here is a brief history of my sporting career: my high school had required team sports. After much deliberation, I joined the Paddle Tennis Team. Paddle Tennis was the sport that required the least amount of running. Plus, they also gave out free cookies and hot chocolate between matches. I was really good at eating the cookies, and sophomore year I was elected Captain. The End.

Now, back to darts. A few weeks ago, 2 of my roommates and I went to a local bar and saw that there was an unoccupied dart board. One of my roommates asked for darts and encouraged us all to have another beer and then throw a sharp object at a target. This indicates that my roommate is perhaps not that bright, when in reality he’s pretty smart. I appreciate his confidence in me. I also appreciate that I don’t really remember the end of the night. When I emerged from my blackout, I found myself on the terrace of our apartment, with my roommate Adam and his friend Allan. I was talking about how stellar I am at darts (and hey, if I’m not stellar, at least I talk a good game).

People say that Allan is a notorious cheater (I have seen no proof of this), so Adam suggested that Allan and I join forces and become the most obnoxious and exclusive darts team this island has ever seen. We thought this was a fun idea. First, we brainstormed team names. Although my dad cleverly suggested "Dart Vader", The Museum of Modern D’Arts won out.

Next we had to figure out who to play. Fortunately, Adam and our roommate Jaymie decided to create a team of their own. They dubbed themselves the "Two of Darts" and refer to one another as the King and Queen of Darts (kind of a misnomer at this point, but who am I to tell them what to call each other?)

Anyway, last weekend we had our first game. About 8 of us played and I’m proud to say that MoMD is now undefeated (we beat 2 of Darts by 1 point).

Here's the breakdown:
MoMD (2-0) 2 of Darts (1-1) 103/Lex (0-1)Dartenders (0-1)

We’re working on making t-shirts with our league slogan "Who Darted?" on the front and also on building the buzz. Contrary to Kristen’s blog posting, we DO want her to join. We just have to pretend to be exclusive first…if you’re interested in joining, Kristen helped me create a formal application. Games are held Sundays. And I always win.

Hello, My Name is ______.

Ruth.

Here is a picture of me doing one of the things I love most:
















Here are some random facts about me:
-I think that with my name I will one day make a great 80 year old woman.
-I am told I use the word "awkward" too often.
-For 12 consecutive years, I won my hometown's annual frog-jumping contest (with real frogs) and placed in the watermelon seed spitting contest 3 years in a row.
-In high school I was the captain of the varsity paddle tennis team.
-I grew up in a small town in Connecticut. Now I live in a big city.
-At this point, most of my friends have blogs. If they all jumped off a bridge, I probably would too.