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"oh my god this has got to STOP! Get on a plane to me! It's Grammy weekend...it'll be so much fun!" she says.

"hum, could I pull this off?" i think.

3,000+ Virgin America points, one way over due freelance check and VOILA! To the Paramount party we go!

la casalinga

I inherited only one thing from my grandmother. Well two things. Freckles would be first and her temperament in the kitchen, second. I do not like people to help or sometimes even be in the kitchen while I cook; depending on the size of the kitchen and the person(s) of course. But this evening I am cooking in a grown up kitchen. A kitchen with stainless steal appliances and the sharpest knives I've ever chopped with. It is a true joy.


I begin to cook and music plays in the background, Spanish music as per my request. Everyone gathers in and around the kitchen. We discuss travel, politics, dating. We open a bottle of fine wine, no Two Buck Chuck tonight. "Fine Italian food deserves fine Italian wine," our host says. We decanter a bottle of Tignanello; 10 years old. A glass is expertly placed in my hands as I do a million things at once. I chop and chat while the guests ask about the recipe I learned while in Italy. I pour a colorful medley of chopped carrots, celery, and onion diced in a breeze with that wonderful knife, into the saute pan. I begin to feel the wine influencing my senses as the delicious aroma rises. I breathe it in. Cooking always makes me feel like a woman.

The XX's

The more I see, I understand
But sometimes, I still need you

Sometimes I still need you

I was struggling to get in
Left waiting outside your door
I was sure, you'd give me more

Cause sometimes I still need you

NOW HE GOES TO PARIS?!

Last night I dreamt of Paris and this morning awoke to this:

"i have to say this is a bit weird and at the same time ironic being here by myself...i just crossed the bridge by Montmatre and it all came back to me."

If You Don't Know, Now You Know

This evening at Sundance, Gasland, or what I like to call The Dangers of Natural Gas Drilling for Dummies, will premiere. Gasland is an Erin Bronkovich type documentary, reporting on the true dangers of natural gas drilling. The film is witty, clever, comprehensive and features water lighting on fire! What more can one ask for?!

Congratulations to all involved. Go Gasland!

Mother Teresa said, "The success of love is in the loving - it is not in the result of loving. Of course it is natural in love to want the best for the other person, but whether it turns out that way or not does not determine the value of what we have done."

So give a little love. I have. Even if it was just a little and it felt so good! Click here to donate.

Quote of the Day

Big Apple Bitches

"didn't one of her friends just get engaged?"
"yeah but she's from Missouri or something...it doesn't count"

Kiss and Tell

All boys kiss and tell. And if they don't get to kiss you, they talk mad shit about you and or break your jewelry! True story!

the best gifts in life are free

ti faccio fare anche bella figura :)
x

Bridget Jones, My Hero

Quote of the Day

"glitter is like the herpes of arts and crafts! it never comes off!"

Can fantasies brought to reality ever be truly real?

I've been following a blog. This woman is a beautiful writer and I appreciate her candor. It's inspired me to be more so on mine. She recently wrote a piece about a lost lover. She recalls a time when they walked hand in hand and he promised to do things to make her happy. The scenario she depicts as a fantasy was my reality. She wrote:

"Later that night he will promise to build you a bicycle, take you to the beach, take you to Paris."

So what do you do when you've had a man get all greased up building you a bike complete with the perfect Peterboro basket? Or sweeps you away to Paris for the first time? he's taken you to the sexiest most remote beaches in the world?

You think...FUCK! that's what u think! But at least I can try to have a sense of humor about it.

Tequila Boom Boom

the drunk dial, text, skype, fb post are the worst possible temptations any bad drunk, such as myself, falls prey to. on top of the horrendous headache come the flashbacks of the embarrassing behavior throughout the day. you check your phone/computer for concrete evidence-it's bad. apologies are in order so you suck it up. but if you're lucky like me you find that the people who really know and love you-forgive you. and if you're even luckier you get an epic nickname like the one i was given, "Tequila Boom Boom!"

un sueno

I begin to wake, tumbling around in silky white sheets, as the sun bathes the room. A man sleeps beside me. He rolls over to hold me, nuzzles my neck and whispers softly, "please." I moan to say no, not consciousness enough to say the words. I sense the children are awake and have run into the room. He kisses my neck. "We're not alone," I say. "There's no one here," he reassures as he climbs on top of me. I finally open my eyes and realize who it is. He continues and I burst into breathless consciousness as if from a nightmare.

"He Better Come Correct!"

"just write him back and leave it alone"
"i honestly don't have anything to say and I refuse to go back and forth"
"its just frustrating because I know he likes you!"
"yes, but sadly for him i'm growing up and can't be my own worst enemy. i have to make the best decision based on the information he's given me."
"I know...I just know he's a really good guy."
"i'm not going to get stood up like some nerd on prom night and go back for more like an asshole! Didn't happen then and it most certainly will not now!"
"LOL, ur so right!"

LOLLOLOLOLOLOL

This is a wise wise woman and I'm with her! As my sister Karina once said, "He better come correct!"

Emma Valentina

She always smells like LipSmacker's Vanilla Frosting lip gloss. She is most talkative in the morning. She has eyes like black pearls. She makes me want to pick her up constantly even though it spoils her. I can't wait for her to call me Tia. She LOVES her Elli Elephant. She coos like a blue bird. She laughs when she makes a fool out of me. She looks like an angel especially when she sleeps. She is always dressed to the nines! She's mommy's best friend. I cannot imagine loving anything more. She changed all our lives.

Blog to Boom

A quick sweep of a velvet curtain and you're transported. The place? Juliet Supperclub. (pause for laughter) The scene? A wild confetti of Homecoming dresses, Gucci belt buckles, sequins, and fist pumping. The circumstances are so offensive the only option is to have several drinks at friend's table. Suddenly, we are serenaded by Kenny G and culo shaking. I'm just disappointed we didn't have this lucky texter's seat!


The only cure for such a trauma is the Boom Boom Room. Gold elevators, equipped with the tripiest video you've ever seen, fly you far above the High Line to the 18th floor. The gold ballroom, full of posh patrons, is the most impressive real estate in the city. We have a seat beside the grand ivory piano, sip a few glasses of champagne, and dance to one of the funnest sets I've heard in a long time. He actually played Biz Markie's "Just a Friend" and my parents song "Careless Whisper" by George Michael. My mom would have DIED!!!

"Why you so sad, guuurrlll?!"

The zamboni polishes the ice within minutes. Sophie cries out for us to get going. "Let's go," Raye shouts with her signature squeal. We all jump to attention and gleefully head out. The ice is glossy, wet and very intimidating. Also, I have not been on skates since I was about 17, which makes me quite nervous. We hit the ice and Raye takes off like a pro. Emma grips Sophie and Karla keeps them company. My skates touch down and I glide easily. "It's like riding a bike," I think. I reach for my Ipod for some much needed introspection and fall into my own world. I play Sigur Ros, the perfect soundtrack for this moment. As the music rises, I skate faster. I circle the girls and they smile enjoying my enthusiasm. I pick up speed against the bitter wind and I feel myself coming back as all the tension falls away. I lift my face to the Wall St skyscrapers that block the sun and spread my arms a la King of the World. Suddenly, a divot catches my toe pick shocking me back to reality. I stumble clumsily but catch myself. All I can do is laugh out loud and think, "you're ok, you're ok," just as my mother would console after a tumble. And within moments my potential spill is far from my mind and I take another chance on myself, flying bravely around and around in circles. Just like in life.

"That's what we in the biz call Party Time!!"

I love when people call New Year's "Amateur Night." While it is true that every lamebo takes this opportunity to party it up Jersey Shore style, is it that much cooler to consider yourself a professional partier? And what does that entail exactly?