Tips For Visiting Macy’s Santaland (Trust Me, My Roommate’s An Elf)

The day after Thanksgiving, my roommate got a job working as a personal assistant for one of the biggest celebrities in the western world. This job has skyrocketed careers into stardom (David Sedaris, Zooey Deschanel). I was really excited for her. But it was also hard not to be jealous.

This week my other roommate April and I got a special invite for an exclusive photo shoot. Monday morning at the illusive headquarters, this was a serious perk of knowing someone in the biz! We careful coordinated our outfits and gleefully set off for our super star appointment.

Macy’s Santaland 2013

It was everything we dreamed and more. With lights flashing everywhere and none stop world class performances, it was a truly magical place to visit. Can you imagine working in such an environment? My roommate is so lucky!

bearperformance — These dancers are the most talented Build-a-Bears in the entire country! With a more demanding schedule then the Rockettes, they truly never stop performing until Christmas!

singingsnowmen — These snowmen were born to Christmas carol!

Before our photo shoot, we met some of our roommate’s co-workers. She works with some truly amazing stars.

Meet the Elves!

Here’s Spritz! Spritz is a resident reindeer expert. She is pictured here with replica reindeer of course, as Dasher, Dancer, and the rest are all intensely training this month. With exercise program designed by Spritz herself, this is the elf who gets the fab nine into shape for the big night!

Say hello to Squeak! Squeak is, of course, head of the Squeak Toy Devision. Catering to the critical under two market, she tests any and all toys that make noise when you squeeze them. Unknown to many, she carefully creates the sound frequencies of each squeak.

Look at you, Dewdrop! At the NYC headquarters, Dewdrop holds the crucial role as gatekeeper of the North Pole Village. She vets everyone who makes it to the Big Man. For the rest of the year, she gives tours of the workshop to local residents (mostly polar bears and seals), keeping the best of community relations.

Meet Brownie! Brownie is the one who brought us to our roommate! She eats nothing but different kinds of brownies!
Next thing we knew, we were sitting on the lap of my roommate’s boss, SANTA CLAUS! THE ONE AND ONLY!

santaandgirls — Roommates with Santa! Like our matching dresses?

Yes, my roommate has become an elf for the month. It’s very complicated and she signed a contract to not speak publicly about the transformation, so I don’t even know the full details. She goes by Silver Bell. She eats gumdrops for breakfast. She’s the one who brings Santa his cocoa. Now you see why I’m so jealous!

You can get your own “exclusive photo shoot” just like I did! Macy’s Santaland is located on the 8th Floor at Macy’s Herald Square on 34th Street. It is absolutely free to visit Santa and even free to take pictures if you bring your own camera! They are available for purchase as well.

TIPS FOR VISITING MACY’S SANTALAND

Be late to work today! Weekdays are much less crowded than weekends. If you can manage a Monday-Friday visit, that’s the best. There was hardly any line when we went at 9:30AM on Monday morning.
Relish the wait! The wait part of the experience. There are so many things to look at and adorable details along the way to enjoy!
Look at the clever detailing of the sign when you get off the Santa Land Express (yes, a train ride is how you get to Santaland!)
Stay Positive! Remember your kids pick up your energy. If you’re stressed out and frustrated by the long wait on a Saturday, they will be too.
Get creative! Play games in line! Sure, you could just plug your kids into an iPad game, but what about a more classic game of iSpy? You’ll never find a better environment for it! How about having everyone in your party list reasons they belong on the Nice List?
Don’t take it too seriously! If your kid won’t stop crying at the crucial moment, take a deep breath. A less than perfect picture is not the end of the world. Laughing about this, rather than getting upset, will make the experience so much better for you, Santa, and most importantly the child. Crying pictures can be hilarious!
Make it fun! Ask the elves questions! They’re not just there to keep the line moving, most of them have a blast interacting with visitors. Elevate the magic for your children and they’ll take it farther than you can imagine!

The closer you go to Christmas, the busier it gets, so if you want to avoid crowds, head to Santaland ASAP!

It is truly a magical place, even visiting as an adult (I mean “tall kid”, that’s what elves call you). Santa is sweet as pie. He truly takes special time with everyone who sits with him. Silver Bell has come home many night with touching stories about the wonder, kindness, and humanity that he embodies.

When was the last time you saw Santa? Did you look forward to visits as a child or get scared? Ever been to Macy’s Santaland?

more info about visiting Santa at Macy’s:
http://mommypoppins.com/macys-santaland-nyc-kids-best-times-to-go-santa-photos

A Rude New Yorker, Like, Totally Messed With Me

Striding down a sidewalk on the Upper West Side, we are a buzz of brainstorming. The world around us blurs, our conversation becoming micro-focused. Rarely do we converse with such intent. We’re beyond the usual gossip, beyond updates of personal life. Hands fly in abandon, gestures to illustrate meaning beyond vocabulary. A dialogue between two best friends, delving deep into plans for the future. Hopes, dreams, goals followed by strategies and game plans. Charlotte and I are in the same place: both walking down Broadway, both looking for change. Not straining our eyes for dropped dimes in the cross walk, no, I’m talking life-altering change. This year the urge escalated from want to need: we now need change. We’re both a bit terrified of it, but having your best friend by your side makes you braver.

Having each entered our late twenties, it’s as good a time as any for a career re-evaluation. In true millennial form, neither I nor Charlotte know exactly what it is we want to do. We are speaking a stream of consciousness, what ever pops to mind may produce something with potential. Not thinking before I speak is highly unusual, I only feel comfortable doing such with people I trust. Unplugged and uncensored, we’re in rare form.

A nondescript middle-aged woman passes us on the street. I would not have noticed her, but as she passes, she speaks directly to us. My jaw drops. Charlotte doesn’t hear what she says, assumes it’s something nice, and flashes this stranger a well-wishing smile.
“Thank you for your unsolicited input, ma’am!” I yell at the woman’s back as she hurries down the street. Charlotte looks at me and sees my face contorted in shock.

“Wait, what did she say?” Charlotte asks, alarmed.
“She said, ‘If you stopped saying “like” so much, maybe you could get better jobs’!”
“Are you serious? That’s what she said?”
“Oh yes she did.” I reply angrily.
“I smiled at her! I thought she said something nice! I can’t believe she said that! What a bitch!”

It was a true Rude New Yorker moment. A moment that made it apparent I am not a true New Yorker. A true New Yorker has no other response to such a butt into personal business than a bellowed, “FUCK YOU!” I chose simpering sarcasm. My mother taught me the cliché, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” My mother, who abhors the over-use of the word “like”. Her entire family does. I felt ashamed. If my relatives heard me at that same moment, I imagined their reactions would be similar to the woman. Though having manors, they would keep the thought to themselves. Suddenly I felt as if (not “like”!) I was letting down my entire family.

While Charlotte runs through a string of shoulda-saids (“If you stopped butting into other people’s conversations maybe you’d be less of a bitch”), I recall family dinner conversations. My mother and aunt devote entire courses to discussion of the deplorable depleting vocabulary of my generation. Their biggest pet peeve is (I’m, like, totally serious) the over-use of the word “like”. Now I have been publicly called out as part of the problem rather than the solution. How will I ever look them in the eyes again?

Charlotte carries on (“Since no one LIKES you, of course you hate the word!”), as I fall to deeper in a downward spiral of thought. Could I be a bigger disappointment? I’m flailing to find a career that holds any future, failing to find a man who deserves a place at my family dinner table. Now I can’t even speak my native language properly! I don’t even have that! I’m a disgrace to my family name!

All this from a passing comment from a busy-body stranger.
I speak as I please to my best friends, I don’t care if you LIKE it!

Honestly, I’m glad for this encounter. This ill-mannered woman made me realize I need to be in better touch with my family, even if I am a disappointment. Add that to the list of life-altering changes. Now excuse me while I make a phone call to both my mother and aunt and dazzle them with impeccable vocabulary and laudable syntax.

What was the last “unsolicited input” you received from a stranger? Do people do this outside NYC?

December 5, 2013February 27, 2015

The Passing Fantasies of a Hopeless Romantic

Yesterday I noticed a man on the street waiting for the light to change.

“He’s cute,” I thought and smiled in spite of myself. I couldn’t help it.

“You noticed a cute guy!” I patted myself on the back, “I’m so proud of you! This is a great step! Maybe now that the weather has chilled and the cold (and cuddle) season is upon us, you’re ready to come out of dating hibernation!”

We stood at the cross walk together, this stranger and I. Side by side, I basked in the vague flutters of attractions that have long lain dormant while he remained completely unaware of my existence. I rather liked it that way. So far, so safe.

He turned his head to survey the traffic and I noticed something tucked behind his ear. I barely managed to stop myself from flinching.

“Ugh, a cigarette! Gross!” Then I found myself smiling again as I realized, “Wouldn’t it be great if all smokers kept cigarettes behind their ears? A badge announcing this dirty habit to all the world? Instant turn off.”

The light changed and I headed toward the subway on the opposite corner. As did the smoker. As did nearly everyone crossing the street. As he stood directly in front of me amid the pack of people rushing down the narrow subway stairs, I noticed the object tucked behind his ear was not in fact a cigarette. It was a pen.

Attraction resurfaced along with the twinkle of intrigue. Who puts pens behind their ears? Is he even aware it’s there? He has the look of a bookish, absentminded romantic, and since I’m too afraid to talk to him, that is how he shall always remain, frozen in my memory.

Maybe he’s a writer. Maybe he always tucks a pen behind his ear so it’s assured to be accessible. Maybe he’s a poet who must scribble lightning bolts of inspiration when ever and where ever they strike. Maybe he’s a playwright writing a one act that takes place in a subway car, starring two shy strangers.

Forget the reality. The butt of the pen featured the iconic design of the American flag. A pen likely picked up gratis. He probably just went to the bank, hurriedly endorsed several checks. No, I shove those sane thoughts from my mind. He’s an architect designing a modern town house for the editor in chief of The New Yorker!

I stood next to him on the crowded subway, grasping the pole and projecting fantasy after fantasy on this poor, unassuming man who couldn’t have been more oblivious. How easy it would be to start a conversation, the pen a perfect lead in. But I didn’t want him to be real, with flaws and hopes, heartbeats and heartaches. I’m not ready for a real one yet.

All I want from men right now is to use them- as a fun game to play on the subway. Is that wrong?

These are the fantasies of a hopeless romantic. This is how yours truly spends her train rides objectifing gentlemen.

A post like this seems so simple. A silly description of a brief New York Minute. But it was easy, and rather fun to write. Please let me know if you enjoyed it- would you like to read more like this?

December 2, 2013October 22, 2014

Thanksgiving in the Nation’s Capitol

I spent Thanksgiving weekend in Washington DC. No, I don’t exactly have family there. My friend Anne has lived in DC for four years. For four years, every time I saw her (mostly in New York), I said a variation of this: “I would love to visit you! I need to make that happen!” I meant it too, and yet it never happened. Now that Anne is likely moving to NYC in 2014, I was seriously running out of time. A deadline- alas, that’s so often what it takes to get me in motion.

Our friend Julia, who lives in LA, had a conference in Baltimore the week of Thanksgiving. Anne, Julia, and I have been friends since we were little girls. Our friendship can legally buy cigarettes and watch porn now. Eighteen years of friendship means these girls are truly like sisters to me. As an only child, siblings are a part of family I had no choice but to choose myself. Perhaps the best choices I’ve made in my life. Thus it was like I was visiting family in DC. Everything fell into place and three girl friends gathered in our nation’s capitol for Turkey Day.

The one and only time I visited this city previously was on an 8th grade class trip. Myself and 30 of my pimply, pubescent classmates traipsed around countless monuments and sites. What a contrast to my experience this time. The day after Thanksgiving, we strapped on our walking shoes, bundled up against the lower-than-NYC temperatures, and dedicated ourselves to playing tourist.

The National Monument framed by a enthusiastic segue tour. Yep, you see that correctly, these tourist are wearing Batman and Superman outfits complete with capes that billowed in the wind. I wanted to judge them for their choice of transportation, but I love any one that choses to laugh at themselves. Plus this tour group put a big smile on my face. Be less judgmental- perhaps a New Year’s resolution?

This picture is an exact replica of one I took on a disposable camera in 2000. Why do we take pictures like this? A google image search would yield thousands far superior. I want to prove I’ve been here? I want to post it on my blog? Well, here we are.

The reflecting pool between the Monument and the Lincoln Memorial was partially frozen over. Something tells me ice skating is strictly forbidden. We stood and watched a little boy hammering his foot against the ice, the result a leg-size hole and one soaked shoe. He did not fall in. I wonder how often that happens!

This World War II Memorial had yet to be built the last time I was in DC! Completed in 2004, it was a long time coming. Respectful, eye-pleasing, if impersonal was my impression, but we only walked through. So many memorials, so little time- the sun sets so early this close to the winter solstice!

It’s quite a trek to the Jefferson Memorial, but it was worth it. Glorious in the waning sun, the columns catching the light and casting shadows. The day after Thanksgiving is a rare occasion when it the place is not flooded by school groups and tours. Anne told a great story of coming to this memorial with her boyfriend and having a simple kiss greeted with a dozen 8 year-olds cheering, “CONGRATULATIONS!”

It was refreshing to be in a city where I had utterly no familiarity. That hasn’t happened in far to long, when I stopped to think about it. Washington DC is so full of iconic images. Any car ride or walk we took, there was something to see. Round a corner- there’s the Capitol! Look out the window, oh, there’s the White House!

So glad I finally made it to DC, while I still had a lovely host to stay with!

It’s plain to see I had a wonderful holiday. Which begs the question- How was yours?

November 26, 2013November 21, 2017

10 Reasons I’m Thankful for Blogging

Thankful I Write

1. To have a creative outlet, one that I have absolute, unchallenged authority over, AND I can easily share it with thousands of people? Where else does one get that at age 27 (and for FREE)?

2. Blogging allows me to entertain while ~~being kinda smelly~~ in a ratty t-shirt, no make-up, and bed-head. I can make you smile while exerting next to no physical effort. For an actor, this is jaw-droppingly awesome.

3. Every time something awful happens, and I’ve had my fair share of such times, I take comfort in the fact I can blog about it. When I feel helpless I find power in entertaining you. If I can help someone feel that they’re not alone, it makes it all worth it.

4. It has improved my writing exponentially. It’s so evident and actually cool to see: Here’s how I wrote about my first NYC break-up in Fall ’08 “My Life As a Chick Lit Blurb“. This was the first post where I took pride in the writing. Here’s how I wrote about my most recent break-up in Fall ’13 “‘It’s Not You, It’s Me’: A Deluge of Breakup Clichés“. Speaks for itself.

Thankful I Read

5. Inspiration from other NYC bloggers, for instance:

Jen Glantz writes with humor, charm, and relatability. I love that despite obvious beautiful, wit, and intelligence, she’s struggling to find a worthy guy in this city too. Phew, it’s not just me! Perhaps most inspiring is her drive: she just published an e-book All My Friends Are Engaged and she’s doing all the PR herself!

Tracy’s dedication is remarkable. I’ve never seen her miss a day! This blogger recruits New Yorkers from all different walks of life to write all aspects of NYC: food, fashion, dating, events, you name it. Editor and frequent contributor herself, she’s successfully made blogging a full-time job- how inspiring is that?

Author Jody just celebrated her one year anniversary in the Big Apple. Here she shares her unique and universal struggles in calling this city home. Spoken with poise, point-of-view, wit, and honesty, every post is a pleasure. She brings me back to my first year in New York City, but she’s certainly a better blogger than I was back in the day!

6. Bloggin has inspired/forced me to use Twitter, which I’m just starting to enjoy and I know is a very useful tool. Big thank yous to @FrankMCardillo, @catching_zee, @emmylanepotter, @sowensphoto, @KristieLee06, @TollyW for making tweeting fun rather than a chore. (Follow them and you’ll see what I’m talking about!)

Thankful You Read!

7. Shortly after every post I publish, I receive a text. My best buddy Tyson gives me immediate feedback on everything I write and I adore this. Occasionally an acquaintance tells me they my blog, a sense of pride and warm fuzzy feeling accompanies each confession.

8. Then of course there are those of you who comment right here! Despite the fact that I’m not so great at commenting back! Often your comments make my day:

9. I can’t forget those of you who I know are out there but never reveal yourselves. Thank you for the sense of mystery you provide. You know I love drama, suspense, and I’m just happy you’re out there. Hey, I’m vaguely anonymous too, so I can’t blame you for choosing to be so too!

10. I’m really close to reaching the 2,000 followers mark and that utterly blows my mind. I am thankful to have almost 2,000 people on my side. To have 2,000 people give a shit what I have to say. To have 2,000 people even know I exist! Thank you so much to each and every one of you!

Most importantly, I’m thankful you read this!

Let me know why you’re thankful for blogging! This Thanksgiving week I plan to share some more things I’m grateful for.

November 22, 2013October 22, 2014

Just Desserts: Chocolate Is A Girl’s Best Friend

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend goes the cliché.

I beg to differ.

Have diamonds laughed with you so hard you both peed a little? No, it’s too unlady like. Are diamonds going to celebrate your job promotion? No, they say, “Why do you need a career when you have me?” Are diamonds going to hold your hair back when you vomit? No, they’re too refined. Will diamonds come over with ice cream and sit with you in pajamas as you cry? No, they can’t handle the ugliness of your cry-face and lack of sparkle.

Chocolate is a girl’s best friend.

My heart was broken. It was well on the way to healing. Then he shat all over it. Now my heart is infected and I’m in recovery all over again. This is a gross metaphor, but it perfectly describes my feeling. And explains why I’ve been relying on my best friend so much these days.
I’m waiting for the subway. I used to wait for the subway when I was dating that asshole. This is a totally viable excuse to get a Reese’s from the newsstand.

Halloween is a notoriously chocolatey time of year. I indulged, I’m an American with a weakness for candy corn! It’s part of my culture!

It was getting to the point where my teeth hurt. I knew the next step after that is an expanded waist band. No thank you, no I can’t have that. Even my Dread Diet (remember that?) from the New York State Fair was failing. I had to take it farther.

The Monday after Halloween, I cut processed sugar out of my diet. I would allow fruit and milk sugar, but that was it. My goal was to make it stick to this until Thanksgiving.

I lasted all of ten days. Which isn’t terrible.
It was just too hard to give up both men and chocolate at the same time. A girl needs a vice. Sugar seems to be the best bet.

But I am changing my sugar consumption. No more shitty candy bars, no mindless, mediocre candy corn. I’m currently settled in celibacy. Yes I am. For the first time since arriving to NYC I have no interest in dating. I don’t see that changing until my demonstrated feelings of anger and bitterness subside somewhat. Until I’m no longer writing things like “All men are assholes.”

Thus I get to make the absolute most of my one sweet indulgence!

Starting with a dessert date with my roommate at Cafe Lalo.

This cafe is adorable. The ambiance is so warm and inviting, it’s lovely.

And so are the desserts.

So much selection. It took us quite a while to decide on two to share.

Apple Crumb Cheese Cake and Mississippi Mud Cake. My two new best friends. Positively delicious.

There my be a lack of dating stories here at New York Cliché this holiday season. Can I make up for that with Dessert Dates? Any recommendations of sweets I must try?

November 19, 2013December 7, 2015

The Post I Wrote Instead of “The Other Woman Part 2”

Her mouse hovers over the “Publish” button. She spent the last half hour editing a blog post. She carefully crafted paragraphs, structure, sketching a scathing portrait of her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend. The woman who ostensibly stole her first love from right under her nose. There was no way to write about it artfully, no amount of metaphor or syntax can sufficiently mask the subtext: She’s a twat and he’s a douche and they deserve each other! The words (exactly 800 of them) make the hurt she still harbors, the humiliation still chipped on her shoulder, as clear as the current string of glorious fall days in New York City.

The post is all ready to go. Titled: “The Other Woman (Part 2)”. Tagged: 3rd wheels, all men are assholes, all women are crazy, betrayal, betraying your best friend, bitches, boys suck, bro-code violation, dating, ex-boyfriends, relationships, stealing boyfriends, trust your gut. Spell Checked. Edited, more thoroughly than many other posts.

She hesitates.

Something isn’t right.

“Does it cross the line?” She asks her (gorgeous and brilliant) roommate to read it. She gets a second opinion from her (hilarious and ingenious) friend Simon, who happens to be online.

She knows it does but she needs to hear it.

“Well, it sure is honest,” says her roommate.

“It’s vivid, I’ll give you that,” Simon says.

She knows she can’t publish it.

That’s not it. She could publish it. All it takes is a tap of her little finger. There absolutely is a part of her that would enjoy putting it out for the world to see, in all its truthful, biting, gory, glory.

She knows she won’t publish it.

She might not want to admit it, but she knows there is something of an ulterior motive in the post.
That’s not acceptable in her book (blog).

She saw this other woman the other day. Showed up at the book release party of a mutual friend and who was there but the little minx, fortunately sans boyfriend. A primal feeling overwhelmed her, unlike anything she had experienced. Her fingers itched and she realized she wanted nothing more than to punch this bitch in the face. To physically beat her for the humiliation, the battles of self-doubt, the pain, the disrespect, the dishonor, the bullshit of it all. Instead she stone-walled the siren, ignoring her completely except for one moment when they passed each other on the stairs. Eye contact was avoided but she couldn’t control the wave of disgust that spread across her face from such close proximity to such an odious creature.

She’s never punched anyone in the face before. Never punched anyone period. Part of her longs to know what it feels like. The pen is mightier than the sword, goes the cliché. She’s a writer not a fighter. Months of intense physical training would not change this fact. Sticks and stones will break your bones but words will never hurt you. A cliché everyone knows carries no weight.

She can make words pack punches. Give her passion, paper, and she has the power to eviscerate. Just ask Harry about the message she sent him upon learning he was now banging the girl he once claimed to think of as a sister. She knows she has this power. And with power comes great responsibility. (Right, Uncle Ben?)

She won’t abuse her power.

She won’t blog-punch anyone.

She publishes this post instead.

Do you think I made the right choice?

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