ATL Cribs

One of my most creative, talented friends, Meredith Leach McBrearty - interior designer and handbag creator, must have been smoking crack one day because she asked me to send her pics of my crib. You can see how I upgraded from my dorm-room to a somewhat legitimate apartment. Thanks for all the kind words and inspiration, Mere!!!

http://hautehappystyle.blogspot.com/2010/01/single-in-city-ii.html

Pretty as a Peach

New York was such a whirlwind that I barely had time to write on my adventures. Actually, I'm just not sure I can share any stories without offending an inordinate amount of people. At the end of September, I packed up my dorm room and moved to Atlanta via Cleveland, Ohio (had to make a pit stop for a wedding). I'm mostly settled into my new digs at The Earle, Less money, and more square footage. I also managed to land a job at an art gallery...less money, more responsibility...which atleast made schooling worthwhile.

As for the city of Atlanta. I pretty much knew what I was getting into, but what I didn't realize is that it would take me so freakin' long to learn my way around this city. Maybe it's because every corner contains another ugly-ass condo building and similarly ugly-ass strip malls. I actually have a good sense of direction, only needing guidance the first time to a new destination. But not here. Not only do the drivers suck, and the traffic suck - - the street names suck, making the whole getting around town experience more miserable. How many Mills, Paces, Ferrys, and Peachtrees can there be? Howell Mill, Moores Mill, Brandon Mill, Paper Mill, Northside Ave, Northside Parkway, Northside Drive, New Northside Drive, North Pole, Powers Ferry, Johnson Ferry, Old Johnson Ferry, Paces Ferry, East Paces Ferry, West Paces Ferry, NEW Paces Ferry, Heards Ferry, East Wesley, West Wesley (say that 10 times fast), West Peachtree, Peachtree Battle, Peachtree Hills, Peachtree Way, Peachtree Circle, Peachtree Parkway, Peachtree Park, Peachtree Dunwoody...and I haven't even seen one fucking tree with a peach on it!

Atleast now, I am no longer maneuvering the city streets in my father's hunting truck. I'm now back to the good ole camry. Less cool, more gas mileage.

Ode to Helena Christensen (Alternate Title: BFF to the End)

Oh Helena, Oh Helena you cruise down the streets
on the West Village asphalt with your long slender feet
each day, for the past 10, I'm on my stoop, and you casually pass
to your crib 2 doors down, with a tight, tiny ass
sometimes at my "office", you will also stop in
for a coffee with milk, and a glimpse of the Ginge?
A stalker you must think me - no just your new best friend
So we smile, nod and wave, bff to the end.

Scholastic Fantastic

My existence in New York thus far has been pretty relaxed, not to say that the dawn of classes on Monday is going to make life frantic, but I am actually looking forward to having a full 8 hours of my day filled with something other than coffee shop lounging.

Earlier this week I received a confirmation email telling me where and when to show up for registration. At first I didn’t think anything of it, but then panic started to sink in. I haven’t been in a classroom in over 7 years. Do I need to go shopping for a first-day-of-class outfit? Do I carry a backpack or a satchel? Do I sit on the front row? Back row? Or just blend in? What kind of school supplies do I need? Yes, I said supplies (now dredge up memories of your favorite pencil grip w/ matching eraser tip). For some reason this bent me out of shape so much that I emailed the school director to ask. I could hear them laughing all of the way downtown from their high fallutin' office on the Upper East Side. But seriously, I’m not showing up w/ a 3-subject notebook when everyone is bringing a laptop. But then again, do I bring my laptop? I have quickly discovered that you are a complete loser in NY if you have a PC. My Toshiba could be the laughing stock of the Contemporary Art Class.

Shortly after the confirmation/registration I received an email for my first school “mixer.” More on that next week.

Pride

Successfully directing a city newcomer to his destination.

The Mobile Office

A few things I have learned/have questions about not that my office is mobile:

1) Is there a kosher amount of time that one can use a cafe's free wifi services without making a purchase? It is sort of like using a gas station's bathroom...I always feel obligated to purchase something if I use their facilities. I inherited this from my mother. This morning I went to one cafe, spotted some computers, so found it safe to make a purchase (coffee and a muffin). I sat down, got situated, only to find that they don't have wifi. After consumption, I sauntered the streets looking for my next haunt, and went to a stand-by. But I felt obligated to purchase another coffee. So before entering I threw away my 1/4 drunk costa-rican blend. Now I've been sitting in the same cafe for a good 2 1/2 hours, and have spent a total of $10. I felt I should stay and eat lunch too.

2) Making friends - In NY, space is tight, so it is not uncommon to share a table with a stranger. However, this can sometimes be awkward, especially if this person stares at you blankly with a copy of Romeo and Juliet in their hand, and then proceed to smack their food. It's nice to have the computer screen to duck behind. However, this morning I didn't have the computer screen, and managed to make a new photographer friend.

What to Expect When You're Not Expecting

You can expect that I’ll first be confused, then pissed off, and then run out of the store in tears, all the while forgetting to grab my purchase. Then when I have to turn around and go back into the store for my stupid hand soap, you can expect me to not talk to you, glare in your face, and expect you to also throw in a freebie for basically calling me fat. You can also expect that I’ll never be back to your store. “Oh!” she says, “well maybe it’s the sweater.” “Oh”, I say in my head, “maybe it’s your face, or your mom, or your mom’s face.”

You can maybe expect me to possibly hang up this sweater jacket…forever.