The MTA is so wretched, especially on the weekends, that you can’t help but wonder if there’s a better way.
THERE MUST BE A BETTER WAY.
Sunday afternoon I found that better way. I jumped on a Citibike (or 2) and bicycled from Queens to Brooklyn.
Bike Queens to Brooklyn
Sure, it took about two hours, but the train might’ve taken that long too. Plus, I controlled ALL the manspreading on my vehicle. SHOWTIME was me with my face in the wind belting out showtunes as I rode over bridges. Read More
4th grade was when my love of theatre began. At age 9, my friend Tracy and I wrote a play called “The Two Little Blue Riding Hoods”. It was a dark comedy inspired by the fairy tale and our outerwear. We replaced the wolf with a giant chicken and thought we were so hilarious the whole school needed to see it.
Once upon a time, long, long, ago, I co-wrote and performed a play without any plague of self-doubt or procrastination. Definitely sounds like a fairy tale.
There’s something incredible about the plays children write, rehearse, and unabashedly perform in front of the entire school. Is there anything more genuine, adorable, hilarious, and horrible all at the same time?
I saw a weird, wonderful play last week that was all about exactly this (and so much more).
The Fourth Graders Present an Unnamed Love Suicide
Originally posted March 2014. Still the most awkward phone convo of my life!
I hardly ever talk on the phone these days. If I do, it’s either work related, my parents, or my BFF whose wedding I am in this coming June. Boys never call anymore, ever. It’s pretty much a rule. Can you even remember the last time a boy (who wasn’t your boyfriend) called you, apart from a perfunctory can’t-find-you-oh-you’re-at-the-other-Starbucks-on-46th-and-7th sort of call?
The age of texting has all but eradicated the once infamous Awkward Phone Call. This was something I happily believed, until my phone rang last Sunday.
Last Sunday I had the most awkward phone conversation of my life. Considering how little I talk on the phone, it may hold that distinction for quite some time. It was about 2PM, I was getting ready to leave the house for a late lunch date. In typical Mary Lane fashion, I was running late for said late lunch date. When my phone buzzed, I looked eagerly at the screen, hoping it was my date texting that he was running late too. (Both habitually late? We’d be perfect for each other!) But my phone wasn’t buzzing from a text. Someone was calling me.
“Hello? No one’s really called me since phones stopped being this big!”
Not my mom, not my BFF, but my friend Jeff. Jeff? Why the hell was he calling me?
Exiting the Jefferson Avenue stop of the L Train is like walking into an outdoor art gallery. This area of Brooklyn is Bushwick and it best known for its street art. The collection of murals in this area even has a name:
The Bushwick Collective
The Bushwick Collective is the largest display of street art in NYC. If you love urban art, it’s a must-see.
This is just a small sampling of what I saw on a 15 minute walk around the area of Jefferson Ave. There’s literally awesome art around every corner and much of it frequently changes.
Every Friday I feature some fleeting moments from my week that made me stop and think, “I’m so lucky to live in NYC!” And maybe some others that made me think, “Bahaha this city is ridiculous and I love it.” Here we go for (the longest week ever?) the first week of April…
It’s April and it’s forecasted to snow this weekend. So I shouldn’t be surprised the Rockefeller Ice Skating rink is still open. You still have 10 days to go channel your inner Adam Rippon in this iconic location. It officially closes April 17th (if it’s still snowing then…I don’t…can’t…ahhhh). Okay, but the best part of this photo is that I shot it on Easter and you can spot the Easter Bunny chilling out after delivering all his eggs!
On 8th Avenue in Midtown on a Thursday night, I looked up and saw a light show in a otherwise unremarkable office building. I saw no signs of life on the floor, heard no music. I have no idea what was going on (an exercise class? Karen in HR’s 50th birthday?) but it made me smile. Read More
So sometimes you might get home at 11:55PM after a 14 hour work day. Feeling positively drained, with your bed crying out to you louder than any baby on any subway train.
I’ll let you in on a secret- this New York Cliché must sleep, even in the city that never sleeps.
Nothing else anywhere in Manhattan compares to the experience of walking down Canal Street.
“Handbag! Handbag! 10 dollas!”
This is the quintessential New York cliché Canal Street refrain. Step foot on Canal Street and you are guaranteed to hear it.
Why? And what does the “Handbag” talk mean?
There’s a booming knock-off designer handbag business on Canal Street. They’re known for having the best looking fakes. But because of trademark laws, they can’t proudly display their wares. So people stand on street corners yelling “Handbag! handbag!” waiting to take interested buyers into a back room with piles of faux Chanel and Gucci. Read More
