Miscellaneous

Jury Duty

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The first of Jury Duty is: you complain about Jury Duty.

In an effort to not go against the rules, here we go: let me set the scene. It’s last Wednesday, the temperature in New York had been hovering at an inhuman 5 degrees Fahrenheit for a week already. The weatherman was warning us of certain death to come the next day. Ok, not certain death, but a BOMBOGENESIS. Now don’t get me wrong, I work for 1,700 rabbis and that term was CLEARLY biblical in origin, but I had never heard of it. All I knew was, it was cold AF and the meteorologists I follow on twitter (shoutout @jimcantore) were comparing it to a blizzard-hurricane combo. What in the literal f***.

I left work on Wednesday praying for a snow day… until I realized I wasn’t going to work the next day anyway. I had jury duty. My coworkers kept telling me that in this impending storm, the courts were sure to close. Call the night before, they said. If schools close, the courts will close, they said. They were wrong.

So the next morning, as all of my coworkers snuggled in bed in their PJs with hot coffee in mugs… I put on 4 layers of clothes and snow boots, and trudged through wind gusts and horizontal blowing snow down to Chinatown. Don’t get me wrong, I’d LOVE to serve on a jury. As an ex-attorney who has watched every episode of law and order 100 times and still has a pretty adamant hatred toward police, I can think of nothing I’d rather do more than explain to my fellow jurors what “innocent until proven guilty” and “beyond a reasonable doubt” means. I had dreams of 12 Angry Men, but with me as the holdout juror that convinces everyone else that a man was clearly innocent. I have incredible distrust for authority in general, and that extends even further against the police. In other words, there’s pretty much no way in hell I’d be picked for a criminal jury. I have “pre-emptive strike” written across my forehead in red permanent marker. However, this is what made my jury duty trip even more frustrating. I knew it was for naught! Maybe next time I’m called, I can just send them this blog as evidence and skip the blizzard-hurricane trek downtown. But even worse, I was selected for a jury in civil court. BO-RING.

But, I did it. I didn’t have a choice. I had a jury summons that said, “PREVIOUSLY ABSENT, MUST SERVE.” In red. You see, I had been called for jury duty before. Twice, in fact. The first time, I was going to be in London on the date of service, so I requested my automatic one-time adjournment. The second time I was summoned I was going to be in Costa Rica. But there’s no automatic second adjournment option, so I just didn’t show up. I know, I know, world’s smallest violin playing for me and my worldly travels. Point is, I had to go to the court house this time, bombogenesis or not.

I got down there and sure enough, there in the hallway were 100 other of my soon-to-be-closest-friends. We all complained together. It was a grand old time. Once we were let in the waiting room, there was a woman who told us all about jury duty. She is the equivalent of a “fluffer” in porn. Getting us all ready for the big show. Another simile: she was like the warm-up comedian before the live taping of The View; she got us HYPE for what was to come, and she thought way too highly of herself and her power trip. Maybe I should have used that second comparison first.

Anyway, this woman was obnoxious. She told us approximately 118 times that if we were unable to serve, we needed to go across the street and request an adjournment. Not too many people left. In hindsight, I am 90% sure this is because no one wanted to go outside, period. The bombogenesis was in full effect and I was monitoring the auto-text messaging from NY Courts as various court closings came through to my phone. New York City was never one of them. And then we sat.

And then we continued to sit. Jury duty is a lot of sitting. Thankfully I brought my kindle. But even better, jury duty is PRIME people watching. It would make a great case study. Over 100 people in a room, trapped and waiting, antsy and half asleep. The guy behind me started the snore. The woman next to me took out a Joel Osteen book. It was going to be a longggg day.

Soon enough, I made friends. This happens pretty much everywhere I go. There was a girl who was a nurse at NYU who was semi thankful to be in jury duty dong nothing versus in the ER dealing with bombogenesis fallout. And my friend Mrs. Joel Osteen was a nursery school aid/home business entrepreneur aka skincare pyramid scheme participant. Yes, she asked for my contact information. No, my skin has not improved.

After 4 hours of sitting and waiting, a state of emergency was declared for New York City. The volume of chatter increased as we discussed what that meant for our fates. Our warm-up comedian came out of her side office, and told us that there was only one judge in, and he didn’t need us. She told us we were getting credit for time served. (I know that’s the incarceration term, not the jury duty term, but same thing.) CHEERS erupted from the crowd. Some guy in the back wished our warm-up comedian’s grandson a happy birthday. She thanked him. I wondered how they got so close in 4 hours’ time.

I picked up my paper proving my service, quickly took a photo of it and uploaded it to the cloud so as never to lose credit for my time, and I sloshed my way back to the subway. In my four hours in the dungeons of civil court, a foot of snow had fallen. I finally arrived home around 3 pm, left to ponder all of those criminals I didn’t get a chance to save from jail. Maybe next time. In 7 years.

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Fitness

New Year’s Eve Midnight Run

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Last night I froze to death. Ok, maybe not to death, but pretty darn close. Oh, and Happy New Year everyone!! Last night I made one of the dumbest decisions of my life (and trust me, I’ve made some dumb ones), and I ran the Midnight Run with New York Road Runners in Central Park. Only problem: it was 10⁰ Fahrenheit, FEELS LIKE -7!! Wind gusts of up to 21 mph. For those of you non-Americans out there, that is -22⁰ Celsius. What. The. F*ck. I guess a lot of (less crazy) people chickened out, because the race was sold out at 5,000-person capacity, but according to the website there were only 3,988 finishers. Hopefully those 1,012 people decided not to come, and did not die of frostbite somewhere before the finish.

Here’s why I ran the race: I’ve always wanted to but I never had someone to do it with, my friend asked me to, I didn’t really have any other plans, and I didn’t want to drink two nights in a row. You see, we always go out the night before New Year’s Eve because it is so much cheaper and less crowded in NYC. It’s called Practice New Year’s Eve. More on that next year.

All of the reasons I ran the race did not take into account the weather. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to worry about that, I mean, it is midnight in December/January in New York… maybe I have a few screws loose. I definitely lost a few screws last night in the cold so I’m missing even more now. I have a new appreciation for those people in A Mountain Between Us who got stranded on a mountain after a plane crash.

The race was to begin at 12:00 am, but there was a complimentary pre-race party at 10 pm. However, since that party was OUTSIDE, my friend and I decided only to go the last 30 minutes. She came to my house at 9:30 to reflect on Practice New Year and talk through our various outfits. I say outfitS plural, but in reality, we wore all of them. On top of each other. Here’s what I ended up wearing, from the bottom up:

  • Sneakers with a light on them.
  • Ski sock to my knees.
  • Black capri leggings (but there was no skin showing).
  • A padded sports bra (gotta keep the jewels warm).
  • A tank top.
  • A long sleeve thermal.
  • A half zip pullover.
  • A full zip hooded jacket with full neck collar.
  • A down running vest.
  • A ski buff to cover my face.
  • An ear-warmer headband.
  • Running gloves.
  • An additional pair of gloves.

My friend wore two pairs of socks and two pairs of leggings. I didn’t. I regretted that decision.

We left my apartment and headed to the park, where five thousand other crazy people joined us at Rumsey Playfield for the pre-race party. I have never seen so many people dancing to a live DJ. I mean, literally EVERYONE was dancing. We had to. It was the only way to attempt to stay warm. According to my Fitbit, I logged a 17 -minute outdoor bike ride. But no, it was just furious dancing to Despacito to try and keep circulation in my toes.

We all headed to the race corrals around 11:50, where were given our final race instructions “stay warm and don’t die.” Ok, maybe he didn’t say exactly that, but I was too cold to listen. At midnight, our own private fireworks show started in Central Park, which was pretty darn awesome. The fireworks went on for FOREVER. And after 4 minutes, I was ready to start running, i.e. I was losing feeling in my extremities. We finally crossed the start line at about 8:40 and then we were off! The fireworks were still going off overhead, so I was trying dodge people who kept stopping to turn around and look to the sky.

The race course was the middle 4 miles of Central Park, and I know that park like the back of my hand. I know every hill and turn, thanks to many many Wednesdays with lululemon Run Club, and training for, and finishing the Shape Half Marathon back in April. I was well-prepared, but also, I had never run in temps like this before. It was NOT easy. Around mile 3, it started to feel like the entire course was uphill. This was my first race ever without music or headphones, because I wanted to take it all in. Luckily, that also made it possible for me to listen to people around me. When I was struggling up the mile 3 hills, I heard a few people around me also lamenting the hills, and I was glad I wasn’t alone. The combination of cold cold air to breathe, and cold muscles made it much more difficult than any other day.

My two favorite parts of the race:

  1. At mile 2, there was a dance party. A random DJ set up and people stopped right on the race course to dance around. There was also a champagne (apple juice) toast. However, I think it had been sitting out there for a few minutes because it was COMPLETELY frozen. I had decided before the race not to have water during, because I was scared of how cold it would be, but I couldn’t resist a slushie/icey of apple juice. I shaved off a bit with my teeth, decided it was not a good idea, then continued running.
  2. Running without headphones meant I was able to tell all of the police and volunteers Happy New Year. I gave countless high fives and I was able to laugh along with all of the conversations. One group of girls was asking people around them to tell their New Year Resolutions, which I thought was a cute idea. I almost yelled out mine but realized I was running very much ahead of their pace, and I couldn’t afford to slow down in the temperature.

When the race was over, I met up with my friend and we decided to take the subway home instead of waiting outside for a (few and far between) cab. Unfortunately, our clothes were WET at that point, and while it was warmer underground, it was still freezing. Literally. My friend had icicles on her eyelashes and she said she saw ice in my hair. After 20 minutes of waiting for a train, they made an announcement that due to a stalled train at another station, there would not be any trains. THANKS MTA. We called an Uber. Can you say SURGE??

When I got home, I peeled off my 6 layers, and stood in a steaming hot shower for 20 minutes. I also didn’t wash my hair because I was afraid to have wet hair. I put on long johns and continued to shiver in bed for about one hour, blowing my nose and coughing the whole time. I finally made it to sleep around 3 am, and I was SURE I would wake up sick this morning. But 2018, the surprise is on me, because I feel awesome! And I woke up with 12,400 steps already on my Fitbit so I don’t feel bad at all about sitting in bed writing this, as my Fitbit yells at me every hour to move. NOPE. NOT TODAY.

I will be teaching Spin tonight at the YMCA though. Top songs of 2017. Who’s coming??

Happy New Year to all of my subscribers, and readers who are not subscribers. To you latter category of people, stop procrastinating and hit subscribe; it can be your New Year’s Resolution!

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Fitness

Runstreet Art Runs – My 2017 New Year Resolution Success

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The countdown is on! Literally! The new year is a few hours away, and I promised you one last blog post for 2017 about successfully achieving a 2017 Resolution of mine: Finding something fun and new and different to work out. SUCCESS! Enter: Art Runs with Runstreet.

People tend to make resolutions about working out more, or eating better, and I won’t go into why these are bad resolutions, since I already talked about that once this week. But to quote one of my fav instructors at Peloton, Robin, as she said on Wednesday, let’s make a resolution to “stop doing sh*t you hate,” and that’s exactly what I set out to do this year.

I love to work out. I work out more than 90% of people I know. Ok, 95%. Here’s what I like about it: I have fun. I feel much more energized when I finish. I get a sense of accomplishment. I achieve goals. I get stronger. Oh, and I get to eat more.

But going into 2017, I was beginning to lose my very first reason I work out: I wasn’t having fun anymore and I was BORED. I still felt accomplished and stronger, but since I wasn’t having as much fun anymore, it was starting to feel like a chore. So my 2017 resolution was: find something new that makes me excited again for physical activity.

Here’s what I knew: I loved teaching classes, because I liked the people and atmosphere of community. I had taught too many classes on the bike and wanted to move around a little. I liked being in fresh air. I wanted something different. I loved selfies and posting on Instagram.

I really didn’t know how I would combine all of those things and then miraculously, I got a follow on Instagram from Runstreet aka Marnie Kunz. (Check out that Instagram link and see if you can spot me a lot of times!)

Marnie is the writer and creator of Runstreet Art Runs, which she says is “a way to encourage runners of all levels to explore beauty around them and learn about local art and artists.” I was totally sold. She linked to an upcoming event in her Instagram bio, and I signed up immediately. I was not disappointed.

Basically, a group of runners meet up at a designated spot with Marnie, a certified running coach, and Marques Jackson of Filles Garcons Photography. We drop off our bags, socialize and meet each other, and then hit the pavement. We explore neighborhoods from Queens to Brooklyn to the Lower East Side of Manhattan, keeping an easy jogging 10-minute mile pace, and we stop every once in a while to gaze at amazing street art, and learn a bit about the murals and the artists from Marnie. The whole time we run, we talk, smile, laugh, and take photos – both amateur ones on our own cell phones, and real amazing quality ones snapped by Marques, who runs along with us (all photos below by him).

I have many favorite parts about Art Runs, but one of the big ones is exploring neighborhoods I have never seen before. Marnie herself found that the best way to learn the city and explore neighborhoods was by running through the streets. In fact, that’s how her Instagram started, by documenting the art she saw as she explored. Two weeks ago, I did a Holiday Art Run with Runstreet and I made sure to turn my Nike+ app on to document our route. It definitely was not my fastest run documented on the Nike app (probably due to the many photo breaks and readjusting of my Santa sweater… it was a HOLIDAY run, after all), but I wanted to be able to look back afterward and see where I had run. That holiday run was in Williamsburg, a part of Brooklyn I hadn’t spent much time in before. I have also done runs with Marnie on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, SoHo and Crown Heights!

She often partners with vendors and stores, so we finish with a place to warm up (or cool off, depending on the season), and with snacks to munch and juice to sip. Also, we hang out afterward and talk, which is my most favorite exercise. Also, her runs tend to have themes! I did one that was Hip Hop themed, where we were able to submit songs before the run and she added them to a playlist that bumped along with our feet the whole time. She also had an Ice Cream Art Run, which happened to be during #30Years30IceCreams. So obvi I had to go. It did not disappoint.

And last, but definitely not least, everyone is SO NICE. Every single person I have met through Art Runs has been incredibly sweet. I gained at least 15 new Instagram followers, and we often comment on each other’s posts and hug when we first see each other at the next run. In fact, I went on an Art Run after an ankle sprain, when I thought it was better but ultimately ended up stepping on it wrong and re-injuring it. Everyone was fast to stop, and incredibly concerned. A few runners offered to stay back with me, although I managed to tough it out the last mile (do not recommend this).

I love nothing more than a goodie bag or a keepsake. And after each run, we get a Dropbox link with all of Marques’ amazing photos, which become souvenirs, Instagram posts, AND viral advertising for Art Runs. V smart business model. All of the photos in this blog post are by the talented Marques aka Filles Garcons. Sometimes, a photo of me even gets on Marnie’s Instagram. Here’s me on top of an ATM, ankle brace and all. It got 419 likes!

Moral of this story: 2017 Resolution was a SUCCESS. And if you are like me and you’re looking for a FUN and ACCESSIBLE and ACHIEVABLE 2018 Resolution: look no further than Art Runs. They have a run on Monday, January 1!! It’s a Resolution 5K + Yoga. I can’t make it to this one, but I’ll probably be at the next one! Use your LONG LEGS and explore this BIG CITY. Try it out and tell me what you think!! Happy New Year everyone!

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Long Legs and other Personal Problems, Miscellaneous

Resolutions

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Christmas is behind us, which means New Year’s Day is upon us. And nothing says January 1st like a resolution that will fail by February 1st, amirite?? As a fitness instructor of 11 years, I can tell you for a fact that the gym is about to be PACKED for 3 shorts weeks. And then it will empty out again.

But to be perfectly honest, I don’t hate resolutions OR “resolutioners,” as I call the 3-week gym goers. I understand wanting to better yourself, and trying to set a benchmark and a starting point. You’ve all probably heard the phrase “diet starts on Monday!” Well a resolution is just a yearly “diet starts on Monday” with a more memorable date, because it’s literally the first day. I am generally pretty sarcastic about these people who make and fail at resolutions time and time again. But the reason I mock them is not because I think what they are doing is wrong, I just think they are using the wrong method. Also, TBH I love when the gym is full for a few weeks, it makes my Spin classes completely full and a lot more fun! But do I love showing people how to set up their bikes knowing that they will not get on one 48 weeks of the year? Not as much.

So in my very humble opinion, what is the right method, if I am so sure that this is the wrong method? The right way is to not set yourself up to fail. When I worked at lululemon, we did a lot of work in our orientation and training on goal-setting. I know, I know, so culty. I will post about my experience working there another time. Anyway, the goals of the employees are actually posted in the store on display for customers. It’s true, ask in any lululemon where they are, and they are happy to show you. What does this have to do with resolutions? Well for one, there is accountability. Your goals are literally on display! And secondly, they really do not want you to fail because then everyone will know. So they set you up to succeed. The four things they tell you before you brainstorm and write your goals are: make them concrete and measurable, start big, and then break it down to make the short-term ones attainable, make them positive, and begin making changes immediately. They also say to write them down and post them on the wall of your job. Maybe you don’t have to go that far, but it’s not a bad idea to write it down and stick it on your bathroom mirror, or on your desktop at work on a post-it. Anything to keep it in the forefront of your mind and keep yourself accountable.

My lululemon goals from 2015! I found them in my email. Most of them still stand. And I actually achieved (or am still working on) my 1 and 5 year ones!

I feel like it may come as a surprise to some of you that I am a fan of resolutions, but I am. I like to set goals for myself, and honestly, a resolution is just a positive goal to change your life for the better. Also, PLEASE remember guys, a resolution does NOT need to be body or health-related! And it shouldn’t be something you hate. This should go without saying, but people do it all the time. If you hated pizza, would you resolve to eat it? Ok, bad example everyone loves pizza… If you hated broccoli, should you resolve to eat it? NO. Eat another vegetable you like! If you hate running, do not resolve to run. It’s simple. And again, it does not need to be “eat healthy 5 days a week” or “work out more.” Plus, TBH, these should not be resolutions anyway. Eating to fuel your body, or working out to lower your cholesterol should just be things you want to do to live better and respect yourself. But I digress.

So what are my resolutions this year? I always make a few so I have a backup if I fail (LOL). This year I have one new one, and two rollovers from last year. I am writing them here to keep myself accountable:

  1. Plan myself less; have 1-2 FREE nights/week.
  2. Get back in the pool and start swimming again. At least twice a month, hopefully once/week.
  3. Do more weight training to become stronger. At least once/week, hopefully twice/week.

The first one is my top priority, but I already feel like I may fail, especially since I just found out I’m already double-booked for weddings on September 2, 2018! I am going to work really hard, though. I feel like every single night of my life is planned, and I never get a chance to relax. On July 17th I wrote a blog about how I did nothing that whole weekend. Not only was that a lie (read my blog to see why), but July 17th was the last time that happened.

The second and third ones are rollovers. I resolved to do them this year, too. I failed. So what? Don’t be embarrassed by failure, just try again! Maybe this next year I will do better because I’ll live closer to a gym where I like their classes. Or maybe I’ll buy a swim cap and goggles to get one step closer to achieving my goals. Maybe I’ll do that right now so I can start making moves to achieve my goals. And I love to swim! See, these resolutions do not need to be painful.

Some examples of super not painful resolutions, all of which have been resolutions of mine in the past few years:

I love to work out, but I was tired of everything I was doing. So this past year, my main resolution was to try new things and find something new that I really enjoyed. And I did! Art runs. More on that later this week.

I want to inspire you guys to make a resolution and try to stick to it. Maybe it’s as simple as “put the laundry away on the same night as you fold it,” or maybe it’s tougher like “run a half marathon by year end.” Either way, it always feels good to achieve something, even if it’s something fun. Start using those vacation days, even if they’re staycation days, and start doing nothing! Resolutions can be fun. 😊

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Fitness

Spiderbands

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You know what I always dreamed of? Using bungee cords hung from the ceiling for an hour-long cardio and toning class that kept me engaged and sweating the whole time. JK, I never dreamed of it because I didn’t even know it was possible, but FitForFreeNYC made my non-dream become a reality, because she came through yet again with a freebie at Spiderbands!

Ever since I took a free yoga class and free BollyX class from following Alexa Lippman’s blog and Instagram, I have been keeping a close eye on her posts, and it has paid off again and again. This past week was definitely the best yet. On November 27th, she posted a boomerang and said that if you created an account during the month of November, the first class would be totally free until December 28. That meant I had 3 days to claim the class! I dropped all of my Macy’s Parade and Thanksgiving plans and signed up STAT. I also told 8 of my friends to sign up. Five of them did, too! We decided to take a class together and we even set calendar reminders to sign up right when the spots opened, because all classes for the week open up at 1:00 pm on Mondays. Long story short, all of my friends bailed (literally, all 5 of them), but I went anyway, by myself, and it was a BLAST. AND a fabulous workout!

Generally the first class is $20. You may have missed the opportunity for a free class, but the good news is, for the month of December, it’s BOGO! (I picked this tip up from FitForFree as well.) At $17/class, that’s even less than the first class special. And trust me, you’ll want to do it more than once.

The Spiderbands location has two studios in it, which have different bands in them. The downstairs studio is for Spiderbands, the original band. There are five different possible classes with those bands. The upstairs one is Spider Flyzone, where the pace is slower so you can perfect your technique and work on acrobatic skills, either with or without a partner. When I walked into the Union Square location, they were super nice and inviting, gave me a tour of the studios and the locker room (VERY modern and clean), and explained the lockers to me. They also informed me that cell phones were not allowed in the rooms at all, which made me thankful I was early so I could snap some quick shots of the place before we started!

Even on the original Spiderbands, there are five different options of classes, some using trampolines and even boxing bags! Since it was my very first class, I decided to go for the Signature Spiderbands, taught by the one and only CREATOR of the band itself, Franci Cohen. The bands have only one adjustment: the height of the handles on the bands can either be on high, or low. Being 5’11”, clearly I was high (DUH LONG LEGS big city). Then I was ready to go. Franci explained that to keep things simple, each segment of the class would be four moves, and she would teach one, practice it, and add one on at a time. We started with a cardio warmup, which followed the same 4-move format. We began by jumping with our hands on the bar of the band, doing different movements from things like spider jumps (like a side to side skater jump), and jumping jacks, and running forward and back, all while pushing on the resistance of the bands with our arms. I found out quickly that the upper body and cardio were going to be the tough parts. With all of my spinning, the squats were nothing compared to the constant resistance on my shoulders and arms from the pressure of trying to hold the band down against the resistance from the ceiling. The four-move-max really helped because I could concentrate more on the movements and good form than on remembering the next move. I did enjoy the fact that it seemed a little choreographed, since I am a fan of step aerobics and other dance-y-type things, it kept things interesting to change up the moves. However, since it was a max of 4 moves to remember at a time, it didn’t take a very coordinated person to catch on.

The floor of the studio was very bouncy, which is helpful for knees, but I was a little bit worried about my ankle stability on the one leg jumping movements, since I had a double sprain earlier in the year. Overall, though, the floor made it more fun, and we were able to do a larger range of things, with bigger range of motion. For example, my favorite move of the class was when we held on the bar, walked backwards, dropped our butts down to the floor, rolled back like we were going to do a backward somersault, touched our toes to the bar, and then rolled back up to standing position, all without letting go of the bar. I got stuck on the floor the first time, but Franci cued that if we backed up further, the bands would have tighter resistance which would help us get back up, and sure enough, it worked. There were 25 available spots in the class, but we only had about 14 people, which was great because Franci could walk around and help each of us out! 4 of those empty bands were from my friends who bailed! THANKS FRIENDS!

Overall, I left the class super sweaty and I had a BLAST! The class went by FAST, ended with 5 minutes of tough ab moves, also utilizing the Spiderbands and arms, by sitting on the floor and doing different moves like variations of reverse crunches, and I was sore for a few days. I would definitely recommend going back. In fact, I may snap a BOGO 2 more class before that deal expires in 4 days!

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Big City Living

First Snow

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It’s December! That means that although we had a freaky 50-degree day yesterday, the first snow of the season is upon us! And the second… and the third…

Remember 2 weeks ago when we were wearing short-sleeved shirts and wondering when winter was going to arrive? Well I think it’s made its debut. Soon, the city will be pretty nasty and slushy, as it always gets, but nothing beats that very first snow of the season.

12 days ago, we had our first big snow. And it snowed ALL. DAY. LONG. My best friend from high school was due to fly into NYC that morning, and I was almost sure that her flight would be canceled or delayed. But… miracle of miracles, she landed on time! It took her hours to get from the airport to my house due to the #SummerOfHell continued, aka #WinterOfHell with MTA, but that’s a whole different story.

This year we have been lucky because the first few snows have completely melted, the city is dry, and we will now be gifted a SECOND FIRST SNOW. Since we have been given this rare gift, I decided to compile a list of do’s and don’t for the first snow (or SECOND FIRST SNOW) vs. the 2nd, 3rd, 4th etc. snows. These are very useful tips, so feel free to bookmark this page for future use.

FIRST SNOW:

  • DO wear cute clothes. There will be photos. Which leads me to my next point…
  • DO take photos. It will never look this pretty again. Until the next year.
  • DO make a snowman, or a snow angel. This will be the last snow you can safely touch for the year.
  • DO post about it on social media. How else will everyone know it’s snowing outside?? By looking out the window?? Who does that anymore? Also…
  • DO boomerang. Snow is made for boomerangs. Jump in it. Ball it up. Throw it. Sled in it. So many action shots.
  • DO have fun! White pretty stuff is falling from the sky and the world is your own personal children’s storybook!
  • DON’T forget how to walk. Yes, I know it’s slippery. Walk carefully, but not like a tourist. We still have places to go. Separate but related:
  • DON’T stop to take a photo in the middle of the sidewalk. Yes, def take photos, I already said that above. But go to Central Park. It’s prettier there. Or at least move to the side of the sidewalk and yield to pedestrians.
  • DON’T use an umbrella. Come on guys. It won’t help. You know. I know. Let’s stop pretending.
  • DON’T run down subway stairs. SPLAT. No train is worth that. Even if you have to wait 15 minutes for the next one (get your sh*t together, MTA). I’ve had two sprained ankles to prove this.
  • DON’T forget how beautiful it is. It won’t be like this for very long…

SECOND (third, fourth fifth etc.) SNOW:

  • DO cover your head. Things will be melting, city juice abounds. No one knows what it is, but suffice it to say you don’t want it on your head.
  • DO wear whatever layers you have, cute or not. After you’ve taken your “first snow” pics, the jig is up. The snow seems to radiate cold after a while. It’s like black concrete for heat.
  • DO wear snow boots. Duck boots. Any and all waterproof boots.
  • DO be aware of the mystery slush piles. I mentioned this in my first blog EVER about Tips for NYC Living, but remember, it may LOOK like it’s 1 inch deep, but it could be 10. Do you really want to take that risk??
  • DO complain about it social media. Yes, everyone else will be doing it, too, but misery loves company, right?
  • DON’T wear suede boots. Or suede anything for that matter. You will be splashed. It will not be pretty.
  • DON’T go into work if you are gifted a snow day. That means checking your work email from bed if there is even a 10% chance of snow for the day. DON’T risk getting ready if it is not necessary.
  • DON’T forget about scaffolding. It is your friend. There is dry, non-icy, non-slushy ground below it. Sprint to it (carefully).
  • DON’T forget to take a mid-winter vacation to a warm, beachy place. But also DON’T forget to check the weather first. Airport delays in the snow = more miserable than sitting at home in the snow.

And DON’T forget to pass this list along to a friend and keep it handy, as I am sure we will all be needing it soon.

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Big City Living

Christmas at Rolf’s

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Do you love Christmas decorations as much as me? Enough to wait out in the 25 degree cold for over an hour? Enough to “waste” a half day of work by standing in the cold, and then standing in a bar like packed sardines, drinking barely above-par drinks that will not get you drunk and cost $17 each? You do? Cool. You should go to Rolf’s.

I went last week, and I did not regret it at all. Yes, we waited. 75 minutes, in fact. Yes, I was sick as a dog and trying not to cough on everyone in line around me. (I may have scared a few people away, it could have been an 85-minute wait if it were not for my handy-dandy hacking cough!).

Rolf’s is a German restaurant near Gramercy. It’s known for its schnitzel. But more, it’s known for its Christmas decorations. And don’t fret if you’re leaving NYC in a few days for the holidays, or if you’re not coming to NYC until New Year’s Eve (not recommended, FYI), according to the Rolf’s website, their Christmas decorations will be up until May. And they are epic. They have been written up in Thrillist, Time Out NY, NY Mag… the list goes on. I dare you to google “Rolf’s NYC” and just look at the images. Or read on, I took approximately 900 photos.

I had heard about Rolf’s for years, but like most too-cool-for-school New Yorkers, I figured it was mostly hype. But here’s the issue, I’m not a too-cool-for-school New Yorker when it comes to Christmas. I go see the Rockefeller Center tree every year. And the Saks 5th Ave. light show. And I’ve seen the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular numerous times. I am obsessed with Christmas. So obsessed that even New York tourist crowds will not deter me. Yes, my Jewish mother is proud.

I threw caution to the wind, met my friend who had taken the day off of work, and plopped myself at the back of the queue. It extended half an avenue. For you non-New Yorkers out there… that’s long. We kept warm by marching in place and complaining about the cold. As most locals do, the best way to deal with any weather whatsoever is to complain about it. I am a pro.

After 75 minutes we finally were allowed entry. Unfortunately, we found out that you were not allowed to sit at a table unless you were ordering full entrees. And those menus were crazy price-gauged. The entrées ranged from $40-$70 for German street food. We tried to ask for a table for appetizers and drinks, but they said no. Bar only. It worked out for the best because the bar is where most of the decorations are. Well, sort of. This place looked like Father Christmas threw up all over it. Then ate it back up, then regurgitated it again. Gross analogy, but for real. The ceiling was DRIPPING with lights, ornaments, and my favorite, super creepy dolls peeking out of everywhere. On the mirror about the bar, there was even more, plus a beautiful wreath.

Have you heard the saying #DoItForTheGram? Well, this place was invented for that. Everyone and their mother (literally… there were a few families in there), were trying to take photos. Unfortunately, the place was so incredibly packed that most photos were from way too close up! Every time a person left, their spot was filled by someone trying to take a photo from 2 feet away, within 30 seconds. It was basically human Jenga.

The place is supposedly famous for its many kinds of Schnapps, but I did not look any further than their seasonal cocktail menu. After waiting in the cold for over an hour, you’d think I would have tried the mulled wine or hot cider. But no, I decided for an icy holiday treat – some sort of Baileys + Cinnamon concoction, complete with a cinnamon stick for garnish. It was not strong at all, but boy was it yummy. Worth $17? Hell no. But the photos were!! I highly recommend going, solely for the pics. Then go literally across the street to the diner, like we did, for a meal at a quarter of the price. And watch all of the cold people in line for Rolf’s as you eat your warm food.

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Long Legs and other Personal Problems

My Worst First

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It’s been nearly two months since the #MeToo movement struck the internet. Two months and many many many sexual assault accusations. So many, that it’s hard to keep up. You can find a handy-dandy list of “Powerful People in Entertainment Who Have Been Accused of Sexual Harassment or Assault” on the Teen Vogue website. And that article was published before another hard-hitter was announced last week, trophy child of NBC, Matt Lauer. In fact, there are lists like this popping up everywhere, including the New York Times, which has a chart with the accusation, the fallout, and the response. These are the times we live in, we need a chart to keep track. But am I surprised? No.

When the monstrosity of a bomb of Harvey Weinstein came out, and then in quick succession Louis CK, Charlie Rose, and many others on the chart, my female coworker said to me, “I can’t believe it; can you believe it?” And my answer? OF COURSE I CAN. Why would it not be true that men in power, men who are famous and have access to flocks of women, use their power to prey on women? Why would men in power choose not to prey on women, when ordinary, run-of-the-mill men do it, and get away with it, every day?

Two months ago, when the #MeToo movement began, I had trouble posting on social media. I didn’t feel it was necessary because of course me too. Because like, DUH, EVERYONE WHO HAS A VAGINA HAS BEEN VIOLATED. My emoji boyfriend, in light of the Al Franken situation asked me recently if anyone has ever “cupped my butt” as women allege Franken did in photos. And my answer is the same: of course. Because I am a female and that is what it means to be a female. So why should I bother posting #MeToo? To enlighten people? Are there really people out there to whom it would be surprising or eye-opening to see that these things happen to women? The answer, I guess, is yes. People seem to be surprised every day there is a new celebrity found to have acted improperly, whether it be inappropriate touching, fondling, rape, etc. And yes, I realize I just used the phrase “rape, etc.” That is the state of the world.

Ultimately, I decided to post one tweet, simply with the hashtag. No Facebook post, no story of my experiences (yes, plural), and no explanation. It felt like glorifying the perpetrator to put any story on the internet. Also, I worried, “what if people don’t think my story ‘counts’ and it isn’t ‘enough’?”

Have bad things happened to me? Sure. Were there “little” things like butt-grabs? Unwanted advances? Unwanted kisses? Yes. Was there also someone who said I “had to say yes because I set a precedent?” Also yes. Were there things that I could have pressed charges for? Yes. Yes to all of the above. There were worse things than the story I’m going to tell, and there were things that were “not as bad.” And I’m sure there will be more. I’m in a relationship now, which insulates me from a lot of the unwanted advances that come along with dating, but I am still a female, and I still leave my house, which means I am still vulnerable to any and all unwanted interactions with the opposite sex.

This story is specifically about my worst first blind date. In my humble opinion, it was one for the books. Which also makes it one for the blog. It’s a personal story, but I’m hoping that people connect to it. At various stages in the story, there were points where I felt uncomfortable. Where I wasn’t sure if a line had been crossed, but I knew I was uncomfortable. We are socialized as women to be easygoing and accommodating. To go with the flow. Sometimes, situations are confusing in the moment with things happening quickly around you, spinning out of control, and you don’t know until years later, looking back, just how wrong it was from the beginning. In the moment, it seems like maybe you said one wrong thing, or maybe if you had just worn a different outfit, or if you had just been firmer, then this wouldn’t have happened and he would have understood. But the reality is, there’s not much you can do in hindsight except tell your story.

Let me set the scene: It’s 2011, I’m a 2L in law school. I have been single for a little more than 2 years, dating here and there, using tinder, OKCupid, the works, but nothing was sticking. I had met a few guys where we had 2-3 month flings (let’s not make them more serious than they were), and after a few months, when it got to the point where they had to probably make it official or break it off, they all ghosted. Or in the rare chivalrous case, they did the fade-away, and not the full-on ghost. Anyway, point is, dating was not really working for me. So one night, after lamenting the single life over a few drinks, my friend told me he wanted to set me up. He told me he had a friend from childhood that he thought was perfect for me. He was tall (check!), into athletics, martial arts specifically, (check!), he lived locally (Long Island… but sort of check!), and he was single (CHECK CHECK CHECK). Clearly my standards were not set too high. But the dating apps were trash, so I said sure, why not?

This wasn’t a totally blind date because my friend knew him, let’s call him Freddy, so my friend promptly texted Freddy and told him to add me on Facebook and sent him my number. Within 5 minutes of me agreeing to a date, we were Facebook friends. For the next week, I spoke with the mystery man. Freddy called me a couple times over the next week to chat. I was impressed. Guys NEVER call. I was lucky at that point in my dating life if a guy replied to one of my texts within 4 hours! Freddy and I chatted on the phone for over an hour. Sure, sometimes I felt like his questions were intrusive, and a bit inappropriate. Why did he need to know what I was wearing? But hey, I was in law school. The answer was “sweatpants and a hoodie” almost every time. Why not let him know what he is in for? The last time we spoke on the phone before meeting in real life, he asked me what color underwear I was wearing. In hindsight, maybe this was a red flag and I should have canceled the date. But in the moment, I was like “black, got to go to sleep, see you tomorrow!”

The day of our date was not special for any reason. At this point I had been on many many first dates. Tinder is great for first dates… 2nd? Not so much. I did not put much thought into my outfit for the date. I wore a casual denim skirt and cute shirt with flip flops, in case Freddy wasn’t as tall as my friend said. He had picked a divey bar on the west side, since he was coming from the Long Island Railroad at Penn Station.

When I got to the bar, he gave me a hug and we sat down and ordered a drink. Right away, he put his hand on my leg. I thought it was a bit forward, but as a female who has been out in the world a few times, I just took his hand and placed it back on his own leg. We continued chatting about random topics, and every once in a while he would slip in an inappropriate question, which I would laugh off. I was thinking, “this guy thinks he is slick, but really, I am slicker!” Plus, obviously I was not wearing the same underwear as the night before, duh. Yes, he asked me that.

Meanwhile, three more times in the next half-hour, his hand magically appeared on my leg, slightly higher than the time before, and three more times I silently placed it back on his own. At one point, his fingers were pretty far up under my skirt but again, I did not say a word, I just took his hand and placed it back on his lap. At thirty-five minutes in, he tried to kiss me. While we were sitting side by side at the bar. Without getting into the mechanics of how difficult it is to kiss while sitting side by side at a bar, I was able to push him away. I was not sure where I gave him the indication that I would be interested in kissing him. Maybe it was the three times I had silently taken his hand off my leg without making a big fuss. Or the fact that I had a sip of the second drink he had gotten for me without asking. Anyway, again, I was thinking, “I am a smart, strong female, and I do not need to get hysterical that a guy tried to kiss me.” So I calmly told Freddy that I dislike public displays of affection, and I would appreciate if he would keep to himself at the bar. I figured this was a good way to combat the wandering hands, as well, which were getting out of control. He did not try to kiss me again, although he whined about it, and his hand did make another appearance on my leg, higher yet, under my skirt this time. I told it was time for me to go.

He knew where I lived, so he told me he would walk me back to Penn Station where my subway was, and where his train was. At this point, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be hanging out with him again, but since he was a friend of a friend, I said sure he could walk me to the train. The second we got outside, he “playfully” pushed me into the wall and said something to the effect of “we aren’t in public anymore, so now I can kiss you.” Then he also stuck his hand up my skirt. I squirmed away, walking faster toward the train. In case you were wondering, it was not playful. Or romantic. Also in case you were wondering, he was taller than me as my friend had promised. Significantly.

Again, in hindsight, maybe I should have taken this opportunity to invent a random errand I had forgotten about. But I was mostly concentrating on getting to the subway. So we continued walking. After what felt like an eternal two blocks, we reached the subway and he went down the stairs into the station with me. On any other occasion, I would have felt this to be a romantic gesture, but I was getting nervous that I would not be able to shake him. When I finally got to the turnstile, he asked me for a hug, and I acquiesced, as all females are taught to do. Little did I know that as I went to pull away, he would pull my skirt up. Completely. 100% showing everything underneath for full view of all MTA customers. I had been relatively reserved until that moment, but I couldn’t contain it anymore. I went off on him, screaming obscenities, pretty much every word that I know. I believe the last words I spoke to him were “are you f*cking kidding me right now!?” And as I turned around and swiped my MetroCard, I heard him say “text me when you get home, ok?”

I did not text him when I got home.

But he texted me! 4 times, in fact. By the time I got out of the subway (this was before we got texts underground), I had 4 messages from him about what a great time he had and how we should do it again sometime.

I felt like I had taken crazy pills. Who had a great time? Certainly not me. How did he have a great time? Did he enjoy hearing me scream the F bomb at him to the entire 34th street train station? I wasn’t too worried about him though, I figured I would just ghost, like guys do.

I called my friend who set us up, and since I am a female who only appeases others, I didn’t even tell him the story. It wasn’t worth it. I told him I didn’t think Freddy and I “clicked” and that we were “looking for different things.”

Me: looking for a caring guy. Freddy: looking for sexual assault. But I didn’t add that part.

I hung up the phone, went into my apartment, unfriended Freddy from Facebook, and answered his 4 text messages by saying I didn’t think it would work out with us as more than friends. Aren’t I so sweet?

I wish I could tell you that was the end of the story. It’s bad enough to end there, right? Unfortunately, it doesn’t.

A week later I received a phone call from a number I didn’t know. I was deep in the thick of applying for 2L summer internships, so I was answering every unknown number with vigor. I picked up, and was told that it was an officer with the Long Island Police Department. I was confused at first, because I didn’t remember applying there. But I kept listening. He asked my name, and he asked if I had recently been on a date with Freddy. Again, I was very confused. What did this have to do with my date? Did he report himself for pulling up my skirt in public? Did some good Samaritan see him put his hand up my skirt at the bar? The police officer went on to say that he was actually sitting with Freddy at the table, and they had questions for me. Again, I was baffled. Did he report me for saying no to getting it on in an alleyway?

Here’s something I didn’t mention before: Freddy is black. It was not relevant to the story before now. But as I continued to listen to the police officer, he told me that Freddy came into the station himself to report that he had received numerous death threats online. The officer said that Freddy received these threats from my friends via email, using the n-word, and telling Freddy that he should die because he went on a date with me and because I was white. Now, Freddy was not the first black man I went on a date with. Freddy would also not be the last black man I would go on a date with. And I certainly would not be friends with people who make death threats to anyone I go on dates with, black or not.

The officer asked me if I had told anyone that I was going on a date with Freddy. I kindly told the officer that yes, as is common practice for women when going to meet a stranger for the first time, I told my roommates and my best friend, none of whom are cyber bullies or racists.

I asked the officer if he had any information on who these threats came from, and if he could identify if they were, indeed my friends, because I was 100% sure that this is not the case and there must be some misunderstanding. He told me that the information was private, and he could not reveal it. I explained that I have a diverse and accepting group of friends, and they are not the type to cyber-bully, nor do I think they would go to those lengths to defend one date I went on. Then I asked him if my name would be on any paperwork because I was in law school and it was important for me to stay out of the court system.

Could I have said, “oh btw… Freddy also tried to finger me in a bar, and then forcibly kiss me in a bar, and then when I said no, he tried to do it in a dark alley, and then when I said no, he lifted my skirt up for all of Penn Station to see”? Yeah, I could have said that, but I didn’t.

I just told the officer that I did not know anyone who would make those kinds of threats. And the officer asked me to call him if I thought of someone who did it, or if “any new information came to light.”

For the next three weeks, I received periodic calls and voicemails from the Long Island Police. Never once did I tell them what really happened. And never once did I magically “remember” that I had a friend who was a racist cyber bully.

After three weeks of calls I never heard from the LIPD again. But I did hear from Freddy.

Two years after my worst first blind date ever, on December 6, 2013, Freddy’s photo popped up in my OKCupid inbox. I was expecting an apology. But no, it was as if we had never met. The message began “Hello, I’m Freddy. How are you doing? I see we have somethings (sic.) in common (tall, you stay in shape…”

I am not making this up. I went back years into my email to quote it exactly, minus the name. How does a person who reports a woman to the police, after assaulting her, look at her dating profile with multiple photos of her, and pretend it did not happen? HOW? I was so baffled, I just ignored it. I pretended it was another one of the many messages on OKCupid from weirdos, and I deleted it.

And that was the end of that. Except it wasn’t. Two years after the OKCupid message, in 2015, he friended me on Facebook. Again, I was baffled, but I just blocked him, since the unfriending back in 2011 clearly didn’t work. Thankfully, I have not heard from him since 2015. However, the friend who introduced us got married 18 months ago, and I wasn’t able to attend the wedding. I later learned that Freddy was one of the groomsmen, and I was relieved that I wasn’t able to go.

6 years later and I cannot put my finger on what part of this whole story hurt me the most. Was it the fact that I felt violated in public? The fact that I wish I had trusted my instincts and canceled the date before it happened? The fact that I wasn’t firmer with my words than just moving his hand? The fact that he pushed me against the wall and put his hand up my skirt and I still walked with him to the subway? The fact that when I called my friend, I didn’t tell him the truth? The fact that when I eventually did tell my friend the truth, he didn’t believe me? The fact that this man who clearly violated me, went on to report me to the police? The fact that he felt it was necessary to pull “the race card” for whatever reason he had? Or the fact that, years later, he pretended it never happened? I really don’t know.

But I’m telling my story anyway. It’s not going to fix anything. I’m not going to call the LIPD and say, “oh yeah FYI 6 years ago a guy made a false claim against me that I did not appreciate and also he tried to fondle me in an alley.”

Maybe I feel like being a bit of Silence Breaker myself. I may not get a Time Magazine cover, but I hope I empower someone out there to act on her instincts, or to say something makes her uncomfortable instead of just repeatedly moving a hand away. Maybe it will empower her to know that even if her hindsight is 20/20 and she looks back and rethinks her actions, realizing there were things she probably could have done differently, it doesn’t mean it was her fault that they happened.

So yeah, #MeToo. #MeToo so many times I can’t count. But this is one of my many stories that deserve a hashtag.

You should not have to be on the defense on a date or on the phone. You should not need to be on the defense in your place of work. But I’m not surprised that we still are. I’m not surprised that my single friends are still vigilant, telling their friends and roommates when and where they are going on their first dates, “just in case.” And I’m not surprised that Al Franken stepped down yesterday from the Senate. No, I’m not surprised. But I hope that soon, this will be the exception and not the rule. And I hope this story empowers at least one more woman to speak out and tell her story.

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Travel

Fall Festivals and Suburbia

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It’s December 6, 2017, and there are Christmas lights everywhere you look. I guess that means it’s finally Fall? It’s hard to tell, you know, since it was 60 degrees 2 days ago. All I know is, I have been ready for weeks, and I may have gotten excited and ordered 2 – ok, 4 – coats on Black Friday/Cyber Monday, so I am officially ready to be decked out!

Unfortunately, this year, as I am every year, I got carried away early and wanted to celebrate my favorite season of the year a little bit too early. There’s really nothing better than boots, tights, and a comfortable sweater-dress, AMIRITE?

Six weeks ago, in mid-October, I was already gearing up for the season and decided to take a quick jaunt to the suburbs to deck myself out for Fall Festivals. Unfortunately… it was still 70 degrees. I didn’t let it stop me! I put on my sundress and got down and dirty with some pumpkins and hay bales.

The real reason for this trip to the burbs was to see my parents, and so that my emoji bf, for the first time in our almost 2.5 years of dating, could see where my parents live. It was a quick trip for him, because we left after work Friday, and he had to be back to work on Sunday, but we tried to make the most of our 36 hours in the suburbs.

Friday night started with our arrival into 30th Street Station. If you’ve never been, you should really see it for yourself. Cathedral ceilings in the main atrium, cavernous hallways, it really looks like something straight out of the movies. In fact, it has been in a lot of movies: 1981 film Blow Out, the 1983 film Trading Places, the 1985 film Witness, the 2000 film Unbreakable, the 2010 video game Heavy Rain, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Season 2 Episode 7, and the 2015 film The Visit. (Thanks Wikipedia).

Anyway, after leaving the station, we went to my parents’ house for a home cooked meal. I cook at home pretty often, but nothing beats a meal cooked by mom! Plus, I can revert to my childhood ways and assume that if I bring my dishes to the sink, they will magically be put in the dishwasher! (Thanks Mommy!)

We went to bed relatively early, because we had a big day of Fall Festivals the next day. Unfortunately, by the time we got ready and hit the Wawa (DUH), the Fall festival was over!!

ALWAYS stop at Wawa. Even if it means missing the festival.

It was only from 11 am – 2 pm. What kind of rinky-dink festival is that!? I was horrified. I guess that’s what the suburbs are. Or what children’s festivals are. Luckily for us, even though the festival was over, most of the props were still out and available for photo opps, which is really all that matters, obvi. #DoItForTheInsta.

We took some photos, walked around a bit, then headed home for a midday siesta, and for the emoji boyfriend to do some work. The markets never close!! Ok, they do, but it seems like they don’t. Sigh.

That night, we hit up the local delicious Chinese food place, where we stuffed ourselves and in true suburban style, did not walk at all, except to the parking lot where we got in the car to drive home. What a perfect night.

The next day we went home separately because I require beauty sleep, which does not go well with emoji-bf’s plans to take 7 am Amtrak, thankyouverymuch. I took a 3 pm Septa and rode home with the plebs.

Moral of the story? Autumn is more fun in the suburbs, but in this day and age (cough cough GLOBAL WARMING cough cough), you should probably wait until December, and not October, to experience fallen leaves and boots.

Great props. Sephora adding some ambiance. Also notice my flip flops.
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Miscellaneous

Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show

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Stock up on your Halo Top ice cream pints and boxes of tissues, the self-loathing train is approaching with a vengeance. Tonight is the self-hate night of the year: the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Gone are the days of curvy Tyra Banks and NEVER are the days of human-looking women walking the catwalk, tonight is the night for unattainable body goals and 89 million dollar bras with so many diamonds they are sure to cut open your woman parts with one wrong sashay at the end of the runway.

Personally, I LOVE watching the show. In fact, I watch it ever year. I love to hate it. Maybe I just hate myself so deep down to my core that I force myself to watch how ugly I am compared to these fineee ladies, pushed in my face for an entire hour. Maybe I just like women walking in 6-inch high heels and 50-pound wings, waiting to watch them fall. (This never happens, it’s pre-recorded and you can only find the bloopers online). Maybe it’s because I can’t wait to see the musical guests, Leslie Odom Jr., Harry Styles, Miguel, Jane Zhang and Yundu Lu. Ok, it’s definitely not that because I only know one of those people. I really don’t know why I watch it, but it’s like a car accident and I am the worst rubbernecker of all time. I can’t help myself.

In these trying times, when the news every day is about yet another man abusing his power and treating yet another woman like a useless piece of chattel, there is no reason why I should enjoy yet another man (Ed Razek) in charge of throngs of underwear-clad ladies.

But again, I can’t talk too much sh*t because I f*cking love every second of it. Not only do I watch the show in its entirety (one of the only live TV events I watch all year long), but I also follow the news stories and events leading up to the show. As I mentioned before, the show is taped a week before it airs, so there is plenty of news and hype for weeks before the TV affair.

There were a few major pre-show news stories this year. The first was that since it was held in Shanghai for the first time, there were multiple people whose visas were denied, Katy Perry and Gigi Hadid being two of them. Katy Perry was banned for wearing a dress with sunflowers, and Gigi Hadid for apparently mocking Asian facial traits online. They are serious online stalkers over there in the visa office. I’m actually pretty impressed with their research techniques.

The second “major” news story was when Chrissy Tiegen tricked the internet into thinking she was going to walk in the show. The whole thing unfolded on her Instagram story, beginning with saying how she was nervous about the show, and then how she was getting in one last quick gym session. Then began her hilarious pleas that she was in Shanghai ready for her fitting but no one was answering her calls or emails. But then the best thing yet happened, she asked the twitterverse to photoshop her into a pic of all of the Angels. And the internet delivered in the best way possible. Times like those make me love the world wide web.

Anyway, the third and biggest story was that, yet again, the VS show will not have a single plus-size model. And by plus-size, I mean anyone over a size 6, maybe over a size 4. You know this is a problem because even Fox News is talking about it. This year, Ashley Graham, super famous plus-size model with 5.7 million Instagram followers, photoshopped a picture of herself with wings on, captioning it “Got my wings!” and the internet freaked out, thinking that perhaps VS had changed its ways. But no, no such luck. As Fashionista writes, it “seems so silly when you consider that the plus-size market here at home is growing at twice the rate of its straight size counterpart.” In fact, their main competitor, Aerie, is in the middle of a huge campaign to post photoshop-free ads by using the hashtag #AerieREAL. Victoria’s Secret’s only hashtag that comes even close to that is #TrainLikeAnAngel, which I think was meant to bring attention to physical fitness and healthy lifestyles. In my humble opinion, it just brought attention to the fact that VS Angels have 10 hours a day to work out, because it’s literally their jobs, as opposed to us “real people” who sit at desks watching their workouts on Instagram. Not exactly the same thing.

Again quoting Fashionista, and maybe I’m biased because the writer of the piece (Hey Tyler!) lived in my college dorm, “[Victoria Secret’s] entire marketing scheme is built upon tapping beautiful young women with millions of even younger, highly-impressionable followers. No one is asking Victoria’s Secret to give up its bevy of statuesque Angels — but perhaps it is time they consider widening their view of who is worthy to don their lingerie.”

And I agree. I think it’s time. I’d sure watch it! Then again, I watch it anyway.

In summary: Guys, I’m not sitting here telling you I’m not going to watch tonight. I’m going to watch the hell out of it. And I’m going to cry salty tears until my self-loathing turns my caramel chocolate Halo Top Ice Cream into salted caramel chocolate Halo Top Ice Cream. I’m going to live tweet the whole thing (Follow me on Twitter!). I’m going to talk about it all day tomorrow. And I’m going to swear that I will take up a new gym routine and #TrainLikeAnAngel for real. And then the next day I’ll give up because that’s what always happens, and I’ll make a new resolution on January 1 to train more, and hate myself less. And the vicious cycle continues.

But then I will remind myself that it is not my job to look like an Angel, it is my job to live the YOLO lifestyle like a regular 30-year-old millennial in New York, and to eat ramen every day because I don’t have a personal chef and that’s all my student loans payments will allow. And I’ll have to settle for that. See tonight on twitter, hopefully Adriana winks at me.

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