Sometimes I am so busy taking pictures it does not occur to me that I should stop and buy the damn thing. This photo was taken at the Brooklyn Flea. They have the best collection of nonsense you can ever find. I always get so caught up in the whole atmosphere of the place that I make the mistake of not making a purchase.
I particularly love the hyphen in Teen-agers. It was if the word had just started catching on.
I am hoping this is still there next week. I was dying to see the inside of this book and of course was able to find it on ebay. It is a songbook from 1954! It can’t get any better, can it? The illustrations are to die for.
I take great comfort in knowing I can buy it there if the Flea is out of it next week.
Yes, all you babes with children out there, I am happy to announce that now NYC has a hotel dedicated especially to you: The Milf Plaza. What better recognition for all the women who have worked hard to stay in shape and look great after having kids than to dedicated a landmark hotel to them.
Some of you may be saying to yourselves, ‘Hey, I am a New Yorker, you can’t fool me, that is the Milford Plaza with the o-r-d retouched out.’ (sounds sort of like a Monty Python routine… fish license, anyone). I will say to you all, ‘No, no, no; this baby is for real’. We can thank Mark R. for posting this on facebook and Cathy S. (his lovely wife, and according to him the ‘highest authority’) for validating its authenticity.
When you see stuff like this you can’t help but think that someone at that hotel was having some fun with this. Or could it simply be serendipity that those letters all went out at the same time for the sheer purpose of entertaining the likes of people like my friends and I.
Now I can’t stop singing The Lullaby of Broadway (this commercial ran constantly back in the 90s – check out the talented staff and the price!)
There was a sense of gratitude amongst the crowd for the rescheduled show. DMB fans are a mellow lot. Walking the grounds, taking in the essence of the place, both Gary and I felt the exact same way. This vibe was – to quote David Byrne – same as it ever was.
The vendors sold the same beads, crystals, t-shirts and leather crafts that they did 30+ years ago. People were dressed pretty much the way they were when we were younger. The crowd still came to hear the music, hang with friends and be outside to soak in what makes them feel alive. Sure we were the people that a young couple came up to inquiring where the medical tent was; hell, we were the parents for g-d sake! But for the most part if I closed my eyes I could have been my daughter’s age.
And with her standing next to me, sharing the music, I was content as I could be. In these times when things move so fast and nothing ever seems to ever stay… the same, it was damn nice to feel like things were…
Patti Smith at Castle Clinton on a perfect summer night. Nothing like a free River to River concert. This joyous soul made it worth not getting tickets inside the castle. There were speakers outside and the vibe could not have been any more fun than inside the venue.
Today marks the day 26 years ago that Gary and I were married. The day was an amazing, sunny, 85 degree day (because we were married in a loft with no AC), Gary had a bird crap on his Armani suit the day before (which my mom told him was good luck) and we… ahem… sort of ran out of food at the buffet. (don’t ask). We still had a great time (there was plenty of alcohol and music)
The good news is, my mom must have been right because 26 years later I have crossed over to being married to him for more than half my life.
Scary, right? Hey, who else would indulge my ridiculous behavior to the point where he joined right in. This is the man who steps into scenes so I can photograph him in them, loves zombies and leaves me notes to let me know the dog has been fed and had her insulin shot. He tolerates my crazy antics, like losing a ring in the back seat of the car and still makes me laugh when I am acting like a crazy old hag. So what if his hearing is not what it used to be. I mean this man shares my love for the Odd Couple to the point that he once bought me a set of bootleg videos of the entire series. That’s love!
We celebrated tonight by going to dinner and seeing Paul Simon at the Beacon Theatre. As we sat in that beautiful place full of history, in the company of friends who we have our own history with, listening to the music that we raised our kids on, I thought… hmmm, THIS is what it is all about.
Not the traffic on the way in or the cancelled LIRR trains. Not his last minute work emergencies that almost threatened his appearance at dinner. Not the day to day hassles or the hectic pace. It was about sharing the music we love. In that jewel of a theatre that is so dear to us. In the city that we began our life together in.
The music was layered and sophisticated. ‘The only living boy in NY’ treated us to inspired new compositions mixed with old nostalgic favorites. The day melted away and we were just us. Doing what we love best.
Together.
Happy Anniversary G! (and yes I know this has been the best 40 years of your life)
(oh and of course a big thank you to my other husband, Dr. Jimmy, for getting us the tickets)
Ok, I admit it. There are a few musicians that can do no wrong in my book. The list is not long and I am very loyal.
Dave Matthews has been at the top of that list for quite awhile. Aside from loving his music, he is socially conscious, is incredibly offbeat (which we all know that I love) and I always had this feeling that he was just a really good guy.
This was confirmed this week in a post on Fab at Fifty. You can read the original post here. It is written by the founder of the site Geri, who I do not know but we happen to share a close friend. The mom in this story is the sister of one of my original girls from childhood. Truth be told, we were afraid of Jill when we were younger, but we have outgrown that – she is a lot less scary now that we are not 14 .
The story goes like this. Devon, a young lawyer was walking down the street in NY and realized that she has just passed Dave Matthews. She and her mom Jill are crazy Dave fans. She turned around and called his name and he stopped. She went on to tell him how she and her mom had seen him over 30 times and they love his music. Then she asked him to call her mom and…
he did.
Right there on the street he spoke to Jill because, well because he is a great guy.
Oh yeh, I SO want to ride the good bus. I mean, who wouldn’t? I saw this parked in a lot on 49th and 11th and had to snap a pic.
So here’s the deal on the good ole Good Bus. They operate out of Vermont and throughout the northeast. They have a regular schedule from VT to NYC and you can also book them for private parties. They welcome bachelor/bachelorette parties (I assume there is an upholtstery cleaning surchage).
So, my friends, when you are having a bad day, consider taking a ride on the Good Bus (yeh, I know, that should be their tagline)
Well, more accurately the drinks were on my poor friend. Literally.
You see the rather clueless and clumsy Maître d’ was serving us a tray of drinks when he forgot the single most important trick to serving… keep the tray parallel to the ceiling. It seems the laws of gravity escaped him.
I watched in slow motion as 2 vodka’s, 2 beers, a glass of wine (a really good pour I might add) and one ginger ale (for the designated) went flowing down the back of my dear friend. Sadly for him, the Maître d’ reacted in equally slow motion. Even sadder for him, he made the poor choice of trying to mop up the floor before making an effort to placate the patron.
Bad choice.
Bad to worse as the best he could do was tell us that ‘accidents happen’. Even after a pretty good tongue lashing from the irate husband of the sopping victim he still did not get the basic principles of restaurant groveling and could not come up with a way to make good on the disaster. Granted, said husband took perhaps a little too much sport in embarrassing the fool, but he was an easy target. To his credit he did agree to a round of drinks
At one point the entire restaurant was listening, the couple at the next table left and still neither he nor the owner (his dad, btw, who he told us was not in just minutes earlier when we asked) could figure out what to do.
That is when I could not help myself and jumped in. I felt bad for the guy for no reason other than he was just so damn STUPID.
“Listen”, I said, “Here is a little restaurant 101. Do anything to quiet the miserable customer. Buy them a round of drinks, offer to comp dinner for the dripping wet wife and pay for the dry cleaning bill. In other words… damage control.”
His response was somewhere between deer in the headlights and boxer who took too many hits to the head. To his credit he did agree to a round of drinks and dry cleaning at some point but unfortunately it was somewhere between too little and too late.
Fairly certain they spit in all our dinners before delivering the bill…
i could cry but i don't have time 