The Virginity Monologues

So, Anonymous (you know who you are....) recently requested a Chloe Guide to New York City. This is WAY too much to cover in one post. So I'm going to start a series of posts. To be finished when I damn well please.

Enjoy. Let me know if you have any questions/suggestions.

Because they are probably the most prominent factor in my life in New York City and I am a certified foodie, I'm going to start with restaurants.

My Favorite Restaurants for Dinner:

1. Garage on 7th Ave and Christopher St in the West Village. Live jazz every night of the week. Absolutely delicious food that isn't too overpriced and a waitstaff that has NEVER disappointed. The ambience in the place is also fabulous and the one time I got seated near the fireplace was basically the highlight of the year for me. This is where I chose to go for my birthday dinner and where I recently took Email Boy for his birthday dinner.

2. Smorgas Chef. Karen, Shannon and I just discovered this place on Saturday night as we wandered around the West Village looking for a place to eat (we are big on discovering new places). This absolutely adorable swedish place could not have been a better pick. Every one of us absolutely loved our meal and seriously, our waitress was potentially the best waitress I've ever had. The menu is fairly extensive too, so I can't wait to go back and try everything else, although it will be very hard to veer from the meatballs with lingonberry sauce (better than Ikea!) which essentially gave my taste buds an orgasm. We have been raving about this place for approximately 48 hours straight.

3. Milon- 1st ave between 5th and 6th street. It's on a block with lots of dive Indian places- where men stand outside and all beg you to come in. I was taken here by a friend, and have subsequently taken back many friends and everyone falls in love and goes back often. It's not high quality Indian, but it's abundant and it's delicious and it's insanely cheap. Everyone that works there knows me and always greets me enthusiastically and one man has even proposed to me. Tempting. Very tempting. The inside is decorated with a ton of red pepper lights hanging from the ceiling and you're so close to your neighbors you could acurately assess their brand of deodorant, but this only contributes to the racuous and fun vibe.

4. Vynl- 9th ave and 50th street (I think....). It's Karen and my fall back restaurant. This is where we go when we can't think of anywhere else to go. It's basic food, but delicious and it has music star themed bathrooms- Cher, Elvis, Dolly Parton and Nelly. It's not necessarily for a Night Out, it's for when you want to go someplace comfortable and welcoming.

5. I always struggle with where to go for Mexican. Mama Mexico is crazy fun and I would do nearly anything for their guacamole. However, I have yet to find anything on their menu entree-wise that I have fallen in love with. On the other hand, Arriba Arriba's taco salad is like crack to me and I find myself craving it on a weekly basis. The downside? Their guacamole is sub-par. In a pinch, I'll generally always choose Arriba Arriba, but sometimes the lure of the guacamole will send me to Mama Mexico....

6. Lemongrass Grill or Spice for Thai. They're two completely different restaurants. Lemongrass Grill is quiet and laid back, with extremely friendly waitstaff. The food is delicious and their dessert of coconut jasmine rice with fresh mango is taste-bud nirvana. Spice (University Place and 10th st) is a little more hip and a little louder with a really fun vibe, but always a wait. This is the first restaurant where I began to get a little more adventurous with food choices and for various different reasons, will always hold a special place in my heart. I've had a LOT of Thai in this city, and these are the only 2 places that I will go back to.

7. I've only been there once with Spatch, but Sala One Nine in Chelsea was a phenomenal tapas experience, even if it was where I met The Biggest Ass-hat in the Universe, The Italian. The waitstaff was very friendly (our waitress even warned me off about The Italian- I should have listened!!!!) and attentive and the food scrumptious and filling without being too much. The ambience was intimate and romantic and if she'd been feeling better, probably would have induced me to make out with Spatch. :)

8. Burger Joint- Le Parker Meridien Hotel. A not-so-secret burger place hidden in a corner in the lobby of a chi-chi hotel. It's a DIVE. But the burgers are oh-so-delicious. The menu is not at all extensive. Burgers, fries, milkshakes and beer are essentially the only items, but that's all they need. I've never gone and not had to wait in line FOREVER, or had to use every ounce of New York bitch that I possess to finagle a seat. It's always insanely busy for very good reason. It's just that good. There's always a debate that Shake Shack (Madison Square Park) is better, but I am firmly in the camp of Burger Joint and I won't be budged. Plus, Shake Shack can only be open during good weather since all seating is outside.

9. Lombardi's on Mott St in SoHo. This is a major tourist destination and is in virtually every guide book about New York City, but that's because the pizza is DELICIOUS. It's the oldest pizza joint in the city and it has a nice homey feeling to it, complete with red-checked tablecloths. Did I mention the extremely tasty pizza?

10. Amy Ruth's- 116th and Lenox. This restaurant has 2 strikes against it, you have to haul your ass all the way to Harlem to go there, and it was introduced to me by Scott. That being said, this is some damn good soul food. The mashed potatoes are real, and the fried chicken is everything that fried chicken should be. There's always a line and the service could definitely be better, but oh man- it's worth it. Much better than the more famous Sylvia's.

To Come:
Favorite Brunch Places
Favorite Dessert
Favorite Things to do on Saturday/Sunday Afternoon
Favorite places to Hang Out
Favorite Bars

Let me know if you y'all have any other suggestions.

Today's Title from: New York, New York by Moby

Labels: New York

I've gotten frighteningly attached to New York. So much so that if often feels like a limb is being severed when my plane takes off. Everyday that I am away from it, I am reminded of all the things that I miss.

1. The convenience of the subway. Yes, you read that right. Holiday traffic and bad weather makes driving here an absolute nightmare. I've spent more time in a car than doing basically anything else, except maybe sleeping.

2. Heat. It's cold in New York. And it's frighteningly cold here. But in New York, my building is heated by a boiler, which we have no control over. Often the heat spewing from the radiator in the corner of our living room is so intense that we open the window. This is the standard form of temperature control in New York City. Here, in Smalltown, USA- people have to pay gas bills. They are worried about them being too high. Thus, their heat is generally turned down low. Thus, I am ALWAYS cold. I sleep with a sweatshirt and socks on, with about 3 blankets on top of me. I miss being warm.

4. The bodega's on the corner and the ubiquitous pizza places, when you're in the mood for a quick slice.

5. Men who find me attractive.

6. People who understand that bigger hair isn't necessarily better.

7. Single people over the age of 24.

8. Noise. I can't sleep in the total calm and solitude. I need street noise. I need noisy neighbors. I need car alarms and garbage trucks.

Labels: New York

I've started about 3 different blog posts in the last few days, but haven't had time to finish any of them and now they all seem irrelevant anyway, due to my freakishly short attention span.

In a few very short days I will be traveling for 7 1/2 hours (no direct flights from NYC to my hometown if you can believe it) and re-joining the ranks of the Suburbanites for a week. I will drive a car (not a manual, my favorite, however, because everyone in my family drives automatics). I will go into very large grocery stores, and perhaps have a panic attack at the sheer amount of open space. I will not miss the strong tourist presence on every street corner, but I will miss the hustle and bustle that infuses me with a zest for life everyday. I will run into people that I went to high school with and I will probably hate every single second of it. They will feign excitement at my life- but really they will be eyeing me as if I have every STD on the planet because I have not yet turned my uterus into a baby-making factory, or secured myself a ball and chain, otherwise known as a husband. I will spend too much time trying to snuggle with my sister's new rat-sized dog. And I will have trouble sleeping because I will be going to bed approximately 5 hours before my normal bed-time. I will hold my nieces and nephews as tightly as possible every opportunity that they will let me. I will feel like a terrible daughter because I will be so excited to get on the plane to return to New York, while my mother will struggle to hold herself together at the airport. I will have a ridiculous conversation with my step-mom regarding 'goals' for my life. At some point, my father will make me feel like I'm not good enough. At some point, I will want to punch my brother in the face for being a judgmental, self-righteous prick, who has never been nice to me.

I will remember all the reasons that I spent my whole life fantasizing about living in New York City and be proud of myself for having made it.

Today's Title from: Home by Michael Buble

Labels: New York

I'm realized that my life is very small- geographically.

The island of Manhattan is about 2 miles wide, by about 10 miles long. It's not very big. And I often find that I can't remember the last time that I left it. Now that I am no longer dating/fucking Scott, The Man Who Lives in Queens- I am fairly certain that the last time I crossed the East River was to go to the Mets game in October. And I definitely haven't been to Jersey recently, I know I'd remember that.

I do pretty much make the best use of space on my home island though. Cam lives at the very top of the island (a mere $8 cab ride from me, LOVE it. And yes, we had an enormous fight and then really fabulous make-up sex, so he's back in the picture and is becoming awfully attached to me, it's very interesting!). Karen lives in Spanish Harlem, so I've got the East Side covered. I work smack in the middle of the island on 42nd street. And my favorite place to socialize is the West Village- around 4th street. I don't get down much further than that though, unless I'm drinking in the Lower East Side or shopping in SoHo.

But really, the beauty of New York is that physically it might be small. But everything we could possibly want/need is right here within the 2x10 mile radius that is our world.

Except my family.

And The Cheesecake Factory.

Today's Title from: New York by U2

Labels: New York

There is a lack of space in Manhattan. This conclusion asserts itself in many ways- the kitchen in my apartment, the scant few inches of space for my body at a table in my favorite Mexican restaurant, sidewalks in mid-town during rush hour, Rockefeller Center during the Holidays and Fairway.

Fairway is a semi-gourmet grocery store with teeny tiny aisles and masses of customers. On a normal Saturday/Sunday it is unbearable (my best friend, Karen, has yelled at more than one person during her weekly shopping expeditions here). The Sunday before Thanksgiving was a previously unexperienced level of pure, undiluted hell that should be reserved only for inmates on Death Row. At one point it literally took me 10 minutes to navigate 10 feet and resulted in not one but TWO screaming matches with other patrons. One of those screaming matches was with a seriously fashion-challenged bitch (she was wearing a hat! I have a very strong opinion on hats and it's that no one should wear them except for my best friend who is the ONLY person I know that can pull off a hat as a fashion statement. All the rest of us should wear them only as a means to keep warm and then remove them as soon as they are no longer necessary), so I don't feel one iota of regret about that. I had planned to buy some fruit and various other nutritional and healthy snack items. I walked out of the store with ONE item- lite havarti with dill. And that's only because the cheese section was not filled to overflowing with people. I spent the rest of the time banging my cart into the backs of other people (its very difficult to gauge the distance between the person in front of you and the metal bar at the front of the cart. The result is a LOT of bruised ankles) trying to just get to the checkout and then standing in line while Karen finished her shopping.

It was UNPLEASANT. To say the least.

I will be finishing my thanksgiving shopping at Fresh Direct. Thank you very much.

Despite the holy terror that was grocery shopping yesterday, it was a very therapeutic weekend for me. I spent a lot of time with my bestest of friends, I went shopping and fit into a size that I haven't fit into in a LONG time and I got a makeover at Sephora that made me feel beautiful again.

Todays Title from: Angel by Sarah McLachlan

Labels: New York

Well, I'm on Week 4 of man-less, fried food-less life. The food- I'm getting used to. The lack of sex? Not so much. I thought that maybe the insane amounts of working out would help to curb that specific appetite, but it seems that it just increases it. Who knew?

Today, I have to take my brand-new boots to the shoe repair guy (one of my best friends these days), because on Saturday night, as I walked from Union Square to Webster Hall for a KT Tunstall concert, the stiletto heel slipped in between a sidewalk crack and broke. At first, I could kind of walk on it if I was careful. After the concert we went to a movie only a few short blocks away and I managed. By the time we left the movie, the heel was broken enough that I couldn't even walk in the shoe. I had to remove the shoe and then walk the streets of New York in just my stockinged foot trying to catch a fucking cab, which it turns out is quite difficult at 1:00 am on a Saturday night in Union Square. It was not one of my finer moments.

Did I also mention that I was recently hit by a bike messenger? I walked in between 2 cars to cross the street and as I stepped into the street- POW- he ran right into me, the basket on the front slamming directly into my stomach. Luckily there is plenty of padding there.

There's always a debate about when a person becomes a 'New Yorker'. My friend, Andy, says you have to live here at least 5 years before you can call yourself that. But I think it's the experiences that you have here that make you a 'New Yorker'. You can live here 10 years, but never really experience the city (i.e. never ride the subway), thus never truly becoming a 'New Yorker'.

I feel that I can safely call myself a New Yorker.

Labels: New York

So, True Life on MTV last night was about 4 people moving to New York City. It was a laugh riot for me and my roomates, all of whom moved here from someplace else and have struggled and fought like demons to make it here.

Every single person on the show had absolutely, completely unrealistic expectations about moving to this city. They all expected jobs immediately (within a week). They expected apartments to be big and spacious and affordable. They expected doormen and an immediate and thorough knowledge of the subway system through osmosis. Easily, the funniest part of the show was when the spoiled little rich girl was on her way to a job interview and asked someone else on the train if it would be stopping at her stop, and they informed her that she was on her way to Brooklyn and that she needed the F train going in the opposite direction. She said (in a Valley-girl type voice, imagine Cher from Clueless), "There's an F train, that goes in another direction?"

God, that's hysterical shit. It's called Uptown and Downtown, sweetie. Read the fucking signs!!

It was an interesting hour of television and reminded me so much of my first days here and how absolutely terrified I was and determined that I would not be heading back home with my tail between my legs in resignation. Most of the cliches about living here are true. The people are rude. The sidewalks are crowded. We wear a lot of black. The cost of living is extremely high, even McDonalds is more here.

But making it? It's the best damn feeling in the world.

Labels: New York