My First Fashion Show

Believe it or not, I’ve never been to Fashion Week. 

Well,

Not until this year.

I went to the Rachel Zoe show on Thursday.

And.

It was

Fabulous!

I mean, not just the show, but the whole experience.

I’ve been dying to go for years.  It’s just that, at first, I didn’t know how to score a ticket.  Then, I got shut out a few times.

Last year, I went to Fashion’s Night Out.  That was awesome.  I bought Chanel nail polish.  All I could afford last year.

Walked so much, that I got huge blisters on the bottoms of my feet!

Well, anyway, the show was very exciting. 

Although I was on the look out, there were no celeb sitings.  Well, aside from Rachel Zoe and her cute hubby.

Aside from the near fainting spell from not eating dinner, and near wipe out from my seven inch peacock suede Daffodile Christian Louboutins, I was in heaven.

And I can’t wait for February!

Is That Who I Think It Is?

Last week I was sitting in my car, waiting for six o’clock, when it would be legal for me to park my car in that parking space for the night. 

New York City parking rules.

I often do this because I am parked right outside my door.  I wait about half an hour.  While I wait, I keep busy listening to the radio, blogging, emailing, making phone calls, and people watching when I run out of things to do.

The people watching is fun, and sometimes I see folks I even know.  On this particular day, I saw three people walking together on the sidewalk that I was parked next to.  Two guys and a woman.  One of the guys was sucking on a straw.  He kind of looked like P Diddy or Puff Daddy, or Sean Combs, whatever his name is this week.  I think Diddy sucks on straws.  The woman with him looked like his baby mama.  The other guy with them looked like a bodyguard.

All of this was going through my mind as they were passing.  I was wishing I could have gotten out of the car to see them more clearly.  But I couldn’t leave the car there, for fear of getting a ticket.  Then, I thought, “Take a picture!  Take a picture!”

I whipped out my phone and fumbled with it.  By the time I got it going, they were ahead of me with their backs to me.  But I figured I’d take a pic anyway. 

Well, you know how when you are trying to take a great picture, and you think you are?  But just when you are about to, you click, and then there is a delay before the camera to actually takes the shot?  And then you end up with some wacky photo of someone picking their nose?  Anyway, I didn’t think I’d get a good pic of Puffy, maybe just his back.  But… I clicked the camera while they trio had their backs to me walking away.  And, for some strange reason… just as the camera engaged, they all three, turned around and looked in my direction.  My camera snapped at the exact time that they turned around.  And took the picture shown on this blog.

I analyzed it, and analyzed it.  Was it really him?  I wasn’t sure.  I was too emotionally invested, at this point, to decide.

So, I thought I’d get other opinions.  I texted the photo to family, who never responded.  Then, I just forgot about it.  Two weeks later, I remembered, and showed some folks the shot and asked who they thought the guy looked like.

Puff Daddy, they said.

“Yey!!! Woo hoo!!”  I screamed.  “It was him!  I was really him!!”  I was just so excited that I had actually saw Puffy in person, no matter how long after the fact it was.

Shoenniversary

I recently went on a Shoenniversary to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale with my BFF’s Sookie, Pam, and baby Tara.

A few years ago, my niece, Pam, suggested we go to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale to celebrate the start of summer.  She had never been, and we thought it would be fun.  And it was.  I think I even blogged about it.  You can take a look at past blogs if you like.

Anyway, we had so much fun, (we purchased about ten pair of Louboutin and Manolo Blahniks combined) that we decided to go every year.  So, this year rolled around and we found ourselves back at Bergdorf Goodman’s shoe sale.  This time, we also added a visit to the Christian Louboutin store on Madison Avenue.  They were having their bi-annual sale as well. 

I was in shoe heaven at our Shoenniversary.  And so was baby Tara.  She was happy as a clam.  Perhaps we’ve created another shoe-aholic.

Although, I really wanted to purchase that day, I didn’t.  For some reason, I just couldn’t find anything I loved in my size.  I was sad, but my wallet was happy.

I thought, "I made it through without buying!  Maybe I’m making progress with my shoe-aholic-ism.  Yay for me!"

Well, that was a month ago.  Yesterday, I returned, to the Bergdorf Goodman shoe sale.  It was still going on!  And the prices were further reduced. 

Oh, it was so much fun. 

I tried on a pair of crystal Jimmy Choo’s.  OMG!  They were beautiful and $2000.  But for half price, they were a steal!  They were exactly my size and looked fantastic on.  Only, they heels were wobbly.  So.  No big deal, right?  They were gorgeous!  I was considering them, but I didn’t purchase.

Something made me leave the building without doing it.

I emailed my BFFs, this morning, the following:      

I have a confession to make...  I re-visited Bergdorf's shoe sale yesterday.  

Without "yous guys"

Made it out alive.

Without buying anything.

Even though now EVERYTHING's 50% off.  

Even the LOUBOUTINS!

Really low stock.  

But still some good stuff, according to me!

 I've been thinking about it ever since.

Even though I made it out alive, I thought about them all night long, in my dreams, and again this morning. 

That’s not healthy.

And that’s why I shouldn’t have gone.

A Date With Santa? Umm, I Don’t Think So!

I mistakenly went back on a dating site. 

Latinos Dot Com.

The only hits I have been getting are 100 year old short, fat, bald, great grandfathers from the middle east.

Really?

What’s up with that?

Not that I have anything against short, fat, bald, great grandpas, but I am just not attracted to them.

Some of these guys are not that old either.  Some are maybe a few years older than me, but boy are they not attractive to me.

The younger ones, I really am trying to stay away from.  I’ve dated younger, and it doesn’t work for me.  I wanna be the young one in the relationship!

The ones my age.  Well, they don’t want someone their age.  They’re going 20 years younger.

Recently, I received a wink from a member of Latinos Dot Com. There was no picture, but the guy looked really good on paper.  All his stats were good; age, job, location, etc.  And he wasn’t illiterate.  His personality seemed nice as well.

So, I wrote him back.  We exchanged a few emails and I was getting a little excited.  I got up the nerve to ask for a photo.  Before, I received the photo, he asked me out for the next night.  I didn’t respond, but was seriously considering going.  I started trying on outfits, shaving my legs and even considered doing my roots for the big occasion.

I thought, “What the heck.  Who needs a picture?  It will just cloud my view of the guy.  Is how someone looks really that important?  I am going to stop being shallow and just go for it.”

I checked my email.

He had sent pictures.

Santa Claus in July!

Willie Nelson’s father!

Great grandpaw Joe!!

Ugh!

No freakin’ way!  I’m not going!!

I’m not doing my roots for this!  Forget it!!

So, I didn’t go.

So, now what does this mean? 

Does this mean I am doomed for the rest of my life?  That I will be alone unless I settle for Santa Claus?

Maybe so.

Oh Rats!

Today I had to run some errands during lunch hour.

I had to go to the bank, pick up sunscreen for my trip (yey!), and grab a salad.

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was bright, the weather is getting warmer, I was able to zip up my favorite emerald green Prada pencil skirt this morning. (Thanks Weight Watchers!)

So far, it’s a good day.

So good, in fact, that I was practically skipping down the street to the bank, in my stunning turquoise blue spring coat, black suede platform wedges, and my Chanel rhinestone shades.

As I was saying, I was frolicking across 23^rd Street. Suddenly I spotted a small animal running towards me, trying to cross 23^rd Street as well!

Is it a cat?

Is it a dog?

Is it a squirrel?

Oh no! I think it’s a …

Dare I say it??

… RAT!?!?!

Yes. It is!!!

And it is coming right for me!

Then it swerved to the right. I swerved left.

Then it swerved to the left. I swerved right.

I wasn’t walking anymore. I was sort of jumping and screaming at the same time.

Then it came B-line for me.

Right in the middle of crossing 23^rd Street, I started skipping, hopping, and screaming simultaneously.

Can you get a visual?

That thing came so straight for me that I jumped over it to avoid it running right up my black suede platform wedges and emerald green Prada skirt.

There I am, hopping and screaming in the middle of the street as cars waiting at the red light!

I could see people looking at me and giggling, but I couldn’t help it. There was nothing I could do. It was goin’ down.

As I passed the rat and made it to the opposite street for safety, I was still screaming a little, giggling, and jump skipping. Then I made several grossed out, ewww body shakes.

More pedestrians on the corner saw it and were also amused.

Some bald, leather jacket, motorcycle guy turned to look at me as I approached the corner of 23^rd Street and 3^rd Avenue. He chuckled. “Wow, that’s something you don’t expect to see!”

I turned to him and agreed.

Have the rats now left the subways and taken over the streets? Do we have to step aside as THEY pass?

The streets are not big enough for the both of us Mr. Rodent!!

Another leisurely lunch hour stroll gone to shit.

Dude Where’s My Car?

I lost my car on Saturday.

Well, it’s ok.

I found it.

But from the time I lost it to the time I found it, I think I grew 20 grey hairs.

I parked my car on the street on Friday afternoon. I always park my car on the street. Sometimes I forget where I put it, but it hasn’t happened in a while.

It’s a common problem. And easy mistake to make when you park in a different place, on a different block every day. The days sort of end up running into each other and then you forget.

Anyway, in parked on Friday afternoon on my block, a few Avenues west of my place. I had to really maneuver my car into the parking spot, since a huge white truck was double parked next to the car in front of my spot. It was a really good spot.

On Saturday, I was headed out to Long Island to see the family. I was running really late and it was cold and raining out. I started walking to the car. Only, when I got to the street where I thought the car was, it wasn’t there.

Hmmm. Maybe it’s on the next street over.

I walked over to that street. No car.

Maybe it’s on the next Avenue.

I walked over to that Avenue. No car.

It’s raining and cold. And now I’m beginning to panic.

Where the heck did I park the flippin car?

I had to stop and think.

Think!!

Maybe I’ll have to hail a cab and make him drive me round and look for it. I was getting fatigued.

It was also getting later and later. It’s almost not worth going anymore. As it was, I was running so late.

Maybe I should just turn around and go back to the apartment. But, I’ll have to find the car eventually. I may as well just keep looking.

Then, as a last resort, I prayed. I’m not the most religious person, but in times of need like this, I figured I’d give it a shot.

I prayed to the saint who helps you find lost shit, Saint Fenurious.

Suddenly, I remembered the big white truck. That made me remember the street it was on. The car wasn’t on one of the streets I was looking on. It was on my street! The street I live on.

I headed back towards my street.

As I turned the corner, there it was. My sweet car was sitting there waiting for me. Winking at me, as it always does.

I sweetie! There you are! Thanks for waiting for me!!

My faithful car was patiently waiting.

I unlocked the door and jumped in for warmth and dryness.

Thank you Saint Fanurious!

Hunger Pains

My BFF, Yenta Hessa, emailed me on Wednesday. “I have tickets for Hunger Games tomorrow night. Wanna go?”

“Sure!”

So, yesterday, we were off to the games.

Unfortunately, I haven’t read the books, so I really hadn’t a clue what it was going to be about. But then again, I love that.

We went. No waiting on line for 17 hours. We just walked in.

We probably should have gotten to the theatre a bit earlier, because although we had tickets, most of the seats were taken when we got into the theatre. But, in true BSM fashion, we scored fantastic seats.

Most of the movie was a lot of fun. But about three quarters of the way through, I started to be bored. They were in the woods a really long time.

And my butt started to hurt. And I started to wish I was on my couch in my pajamas.

You know, people are annoying at the movies. I remember, when we were young, my father would get into a fight every time we went to the movies. All because the people who went were stupid. After a while, he stopped going to the movies all together.

I got some popcorn and I ate it quietly. But the woman next to me brought her own treats. In a plastic bag.

You know what that means, don’t you? Every time she reached into the plastic bag, it crackled at about 90 decibels in a quiet movie theatre.

It really kind of distracted me from the hunger. And I couldn’t concentrate.

So, aside from my sore butt and my noisy neighbor, I managed to enjoy Hunger Games.

Today, my sister, Sookie, asked me how the movie was.

I said, “My butt hurt.”