it's useful being top banana in the shock department.

i'll never get used to anything. anybody that does, they might as well be dead.
–holly golightly

breakfast at tiffany's is one of my all-time favorite movies. i know that's cliché and so blair-waldorf of me, but there's just something about it. audrey hepburn is brilliant and beautiful, mickey rooney is the most offensive, and it includes some of the sweetest scenes that i just adore.

to compliment this love of mine, i just finished reading fifth avenue, 5A.M. an account of the making of the film, and its subsequent effect on women in cinema. it was fascinating. though our new-millennium sensibilities are so immune to it, the fact that holly is a high-class call girl didn't sit right with most people in the early 60's. marilyn monroe even turned down the part based on it's questionable morality. but really, holly is a carrie bradshaw prototype who directly profits from her sexual exploits and glamorous lifestyle instead of just writing about them. even better, she's the prototype for most 21st-century single gals in new york; lots of boyfriends who keep breaking her heart, no real furniture to speak of, a best guy friend with his own sexual and relationship baggage, bad at cooking, never been to the library, i could go on and on. it seems to me, that what stuck out in the 60s as a morally skewed woman is now a pretty accurate portrait of today's everygirl.

so thanks, holly (and audrey, of course) for making it okay for us ladies to have wild parties in our own messy apartments, cats with no names, and of course, $50 for the powder room.

you could always tell what kind of a person a man thinks you are by the earrings he gives you. i must say, the mind reels.

outro.

beautiful. genius.

thanks for getting me through most of 2007, girl.

melting.

this, one of my all-time favorite sesame street songs, is my one and only comment on the state of new york at the moment.

jambo!

mean girls in the white house

someone's a genius.

current obsessions.

chipwiches
this bastard brother of the ice cream sandwich has always been my aboslute favorite. i dare you to find an ice cream truck treat more satisfying. recently, i discovered coolhaus, a home-made chipwich truck that rolls around the city, serving homemade cookies and fantastic ice cream flavors to chipwich enthusiasts like me. i plan on stalking them as soon as i can peel myself off the couch.

it is also because of said discovery, that my best friend cathleen, a culinary genius, decided to make home-made chipwiches this past week. the result is pictured. TELL ME you're not jealous. i dare you.

winnie the pooh

what am i? five years old? whatever. it's not like i'm getting tigger tattoed on my lower back or anything. i just saw the movie yesterday with the little girls i babysit and absolutely fell in love again. it was so simple, so sweet, so clever, and it didn't smack of franchise like so many re-makes and sequels do these days. i also found this book at the used bookstore while i was home in new hampshire. only $5 for a copy from 1954. too good. i plan on saving it for my children one day.

the samuel french off-off broadway short play festival

my theatre company produced a play in this years fest called bubble & squeak, written by evan twohy. out of 1100 submissions, 40 plays were chosen for one-night-only performances this week. about 15 or so are then moved onto the finals and around 6 of those get published by samuel french. our show premiered last night and was selected by the judges to move on to the FINALS on sunday! we're all incredibly excited. and the show, in case you're wondering, was absolutely brilliant. i'll be real you guys: nothing is better than the sight of your best friend with cabbages in her pants.

there and back again.

it's been awhile. my most profound apologies.

but i've been busy. busy in the sunshine and the nottoohot heat. busy with barbeques and lakes and trees. busy with my best friends in the world and my beautiful family. i've been home.

i'm obsessed with where i come from. it's this combination of nostalgia, safety, fresh air, and the overwhelming feeling that i have nothing to do and everything to look forward to. that is new hampshire to me.

and so i spent the last week indulging myself; swimming in the lake, picking blueberries, grilling burgers, staying up sosolate, internet-stalking people from high school, laughing too hard, eating too much, scouring the little stores downtown for fun things to bring home (case and point: a copy of the jungle book from 1915), visiting all my favorite places, slapping away mosquitoes and moths by the truckload, seeing plays, and relishing in the fresh, clean summertime that new england is so good at.

but i'm back now, and ready to get on with my life here in new york. except it's entirely too hot to do anything real so i'm sitting in the air conditioning writing this blog and wishing i had a lake to jump into.

we don't enjoy giving directions in new hampshire - we tend to think that if you don't know where you're going, you don't belong where you are. –john irving, "a prayer for owen meany"

my life.

manhattan.

chapter one. he was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat. oh, i love this. new york was his town, and it always would be.

boom. there's gonna be fireworks.

here's the thing about july fourth.

independence day is one of those non-familial holidays where everyone's goal is to party in the best way possible and maximize the shit out of the celebration. now don't get me wrong, i love a party as much as the next lady, but there is something very stressful about this mentality. halloween and new years are the largest, scariest examples of this (as one of my favorite authors, sloane crosley discusses here) but the summer holidays–memorial, labor & independence day–have their own, faux-laid back version. as a child i could settle for town fireworks and a hot dog, but as a sortof adult, i feel a certain obligation to make a big deal out of things like this. people are skipping off to the beach, to the lake, hosting elaborate bbqs with backyard firework displays. i am happy for these people. i envy them their relaxation, their sunshine, their fresh air. however, try as i might, i never feel like i can live up to them or their travel plans.

but this year, in the stuffy, toohot city, i managed to find my own, improvised holiday cheer; patriotic brunch, the astoria pool, an enviable dinner menu, rooftop fireworks, homemade cocktails and the greatest of companions made my jealousies melt away. it was fun, festive, inexpensive, and we didn't even need a jitney to get there.

so here's what i have learned: no holiday will ever be a disappointment if you spend it with drunk fools who know how to bring their potluck A-game.

my god!  how little do my countrymen know what precious blessings they are in possession of, and which no other people on earth enjoy!  –thomas jefferson

what's the matter? haven't you ever seen a great man before?

happy 4th everyone!

currently, i am upset about the following: that i am not at a beach, and that i don't own a barbecue. hopefully, the astoria pool and the boyfriend's famous burgers on our brand new ikea grill pan will remedy these unfortunates, but for now, i can take solace in this, the single greatest musical movie ever made, 1776.

first produced on broadway in 1969, 1776 tells the oft-spoke of tale of the signing of the declaration of independence, in colonial philadelphia. it stars a beautiful, fiery william daniels (mr. feeney of boy meets world fame), a young blythe danner, and john cullum. it is packed full of whigs, candlelight, quill pens, cane fights, horseback riding and glorious song & dance numbers. I LOVE THIS MOVIE. it is the weirdest, greatest addition to the american musical theater. at one point, nearly 45 minutes go by without anyone singing, the longest song break in any musical ever. the best part is? i own it.

i cannot wait to celebrate the birth of our nation tonight, post-fireworks & feasting, of course.

revolutions come into this world like bastard children - half improvised and half compromised. – ben franklin