Ivins, UT

My location:



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Hello, friend.

The last time I took ibuprofen, I was in college. Advil makes my stomach hurt -- a lot. But I hear ibuprofen's what's best for athletic injuries (honestly, I wouldn't know, because I'm pretty much the least athletic person you'll ever meet). So I'm glad I have some with me. I've armed my tummy with dinner, two bananas and an apple. Hopefully that will help buffer the drug's side effects...

I mean, it's this or not being able to move my left leg.

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Dinner: chicken on mash and asparagus.

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Downhill, yay!

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Morning 9 mile hike. Um.

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Breakfast eggs.

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Two places I've always wanted to go: fat camp and Utah.


When I was a kid, I'd flip through the New York Times magazine (before it was T). My favorite parts of the magazine were the fashion pages (paltry two or three gorgeous pages...) and the summer camp ads in the back of the book. Maybe it's because I spent every summer from the age of 11 at the JHU-CTY math camp, but in the back of the NYT magazine there seemed to be this magical world of kids who went off to camp and had those life-altering young-adult-novel experiences. Canoe-ing, lanyard, campfires, I never really did that stuff, and could take it or leave it. To me, the most appealing summer camps were the weight loss camps. Those kids went away for a couple of weeks and came back slimmer, more popular, happier and cooler versions of their old selves. (Or, at least, that's what I told myself.)

So here I am, right now, today, sort of living out my childhood fantasy of going to fat camp. I'm here in Ivins, Utah, at the Biggest Loser Resort. No seriously, it's the Biggest Loser Resort at Fitness Ridge -- where "campers" eat 1200 carefully controlled calories a day, contraband is swiftly seized by Denae, the snack police, everyone hikes a bazillion miles, and we work out six hours a day. They're not joking around here.

So far, this is what's happened: Not that much.

I arrived at 4:30, got a briefing from the front desk, they gave me a handbook, my i.d. tag and room key, I dropped my things off in my room, and went for my initial evaluation (got weighed in (ugh), tape-measured, electrical-impedance bodyfat measured (bleurgh)), and headed over to orientation slash dinner, where they fed us pasta and confused the bananas out of me. I mean, it was a big bowl of pasta, I thought it was a test...

But it wasn't.

Apparently, there's no starving here and I can expect lots of yummy food (under 1200 calories, that is...). The food is great, I'm a huge salad bar fanatic so that totally works for me, and you even get dessert -- tonight it was a mousse-cake-type thing, but I can't be sure what it was made of since I'm pretty sure this is a non-dairy week.

Anyway, tomorrow we start at 6 a.m. with circuit training and I have to remember to fill my water bottles at the filtered water stations in the main building before we start... thank goodness I got the Camelbak (water backpack thing) -- first hike tomorrow morning is 4.5 miles to 9 miles, depending on how fast you make it to the top...

More TK. Here's to hoping I don't run into anything carnivorous with teeth or a rattlesnake this week.

They gave us pasta for dinner. This must be a test.

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The St. George Executive Shuttle.

Yes, luggage goes in the little white trailer in the back.
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Dear Paragon Sports:

Dear Paragon Sports:

To everyone who works on the second floor? You're lovely. If I ever need bike equipment, outerwear or outdoor footwear, I'll come to you, you guys rock my world.

To the woman in the first floor women's running department who wouldn't help me find a longline sports bra but cornered me and asked to put her commission stickers on my pile of purchases? And to the cashier who acted like I was invisible and didn't even acknowledge, respond to or even look at me when I said hello, thank you, goodbye and handed him hundreds of dollars for stuff I don't actually need? If you need me, I'll be at City Sports.

Seriously, I had half a mind to turn around and return everything I bought after walking out of Paragon today.

And then I went to Barnes & Noble, where everyone is nice, and I felt better.

Venessa sent me texting gloves. So naturally, I have to put 'em through a test-run. In Utah.

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I love themed things...

Especially if they're Gothic or remind me of anything King Arthur.

I just booked myself into a Gothic-theme hotel (situated in a former presbytery) in Paris.


Pomegranate, from Mom

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Beyonce is my nail soulmate


My friends Erin and Heather have been telling me about Sakura Nail Spa's Calgel manicure for MONTHS. Calgel is a thin organic gel overlay that's super-popular in Japan (and is only starting to eke its way into the States) -- it doesn't chip or peel, lets your nails breathe, and lasts for ages, until your nails grow out. Since I'm going to Utah for a week (and the last time I went to a spa for a week my nails bit the dust in a matter of days -- something about the dryness of the desert combined with lots of nail-ruining exercise...), I thought I'd give it a try, so I headed down to Sakura's Lower East Side location after work today for a red Calgel manicure.

All of a sudden, in the middle of it all, my manicurist looks up at me and says, "Beyonce came in today. She had a Calgel manicure and pedicure. She sat right here."

Freak out.

Beyonce's Minx manicurist also did my nails once! Obviously B and I are nail soulmates, ha ha.

Turns out Ms. Knowles had a Calgel mani-pedi in shade #31, a dark red-purple-maroon-sparkly color. I got #17, a brighter candy apple red. Yay. Sakura rocks, I love my Calgel and I can't wait to see how it holds up in the wild wild west...

Funniest thing I've read in a long time

And excellent pie charts.

Black Friday, Lucky Brand.

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Lunch at Tiffany's is the new Breakfast at Tiffany's

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eBay brick-and-mortar opens tomorrow!

First Look: VMAN 16 Winter 2009

He hates Hershey's

"Hershey are the US firm responsible for two of the most egregious international crimes against chocolate: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Hershey's Kisses. For those of you fortunate never to have these confections so beloved of American kids, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups look like small chocolate quiches. The filling has a an abidingly awful flavour that only someone brought up entirely on a diet of bubblegum and Dr Pepper's could love. It combines nuttiness with a greasy, cloyingly adhesive quality in a way that calls to mind squirrel vomit. Hershey's Kisses are, if anything, worse. It's illogical to name a confection after osculation but terrifying in a deep, Freudian way to make them resemble individually wrapped poodle turds." - Tim Hayward in The Guardian

Look what just arrived in the mail!

Rob Pattinson and Taylor Lautner water bottles! Amaaaazing.

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Diddy on feet

From Andrew Goldman's interview with Diddy in the November issue of Elle.

ELLE:
> I hear you have high foot standards for women. True?
DIDDY:
> People are too loose with feet. When I look down, I don't want toes hanging over the front of the shoe, looking extra long.
ELLE:
> So, what if a beautiful woman has a six-inch-long middle toe but it is tucked into a nice pair of custom-made shoes?
DIDDY:
> I don't care if she's Charlize Theron. I'm definitely not messing with any woman with a six-inch-long middle toe.

From Maureen Johnson's NaNoWriMo pep talk email:

"Australia is comparable in size to the continental United States, but almost everyone lives on the coast. So it would be like having Los Angeles, and then New York, with almost nothing in between. Nothing except for monsters, that is. Because almost everything that lives out there in the middle of nowhere can kill you. 97% of the snakes in Australia are poisonous. The spiders are the size of washing machines, but it's the tiny ones you have to watch for. It's all teeth and venom out there. So just put a huge "here be dragons" in the middle of your mental map and you'll have a pretty good picture of Australia."

Munny Munny Munny

Kidrobot's Munnyworld exhibition opens today!

Armani

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Who says romance is dead?

me:
> (spotted the new wedding ring)
> david, did you get married?
david:
> yes, i got married on monday.
me:
> just this monday?
david:
> yes
me:
> where'd you get married?
david:
> city hall.
> she had an optometrist appointment downtown.

Hello Mr. Mushroom man.

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New Costco opens today at 116th and FDR!


I popped by yesterday for a walkthrough and it is amaaaazing.

Barbie Twilight Dolls hit stores December 12th

This is what I want for my birthday.
(I am totally kidding.)

Something is wrong with this picture.



This (above) is part of one of my friend's Facebook updates this morning.

In the last year I know tons -- at least a dozen -- of people around my age, mid-level professionals in media, who've canceled their cable or gotten rid of their televisions because they can't afford it.

I don't know why I find this so shocking, but I think it's crazy.

It's nuts that in the United States of America, mid-level professionals, people who went to top-ten universities, hold graduate degrees, and are well-known (and even a little famous) in their fields can't afford tv in New York. I mean, I know that there are greater crises in this country -- hardly anyone can afford out-of-pocket health insurance or healthcare, tons of people can't afford to feed their families, millions of people are losing their homes because they can't afford their mortgage payments... but what's crazy about the TV phenomenon is that it's, well, TV -- it's practically a national pasttime. And it used to be free.

Even in the third world, people can afford TV. And employed, middle-class New Yorkers with "good jobs" can't afford to make a cable payments every month?

There is something very wrong here. Either with salaries or cable prices or both.

I cannot even begin to explain the drama with an order I placed with Acne online.

It's been a MONTH of back-and-forth, back-and-forth.
What is going on.
I don't even want it anymore.


Carts carts carts

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The new Costco Harlem atrium

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A sea of shopping carts, brand new!

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Fashion Victim.

Raakhee's gingerbread man cookie cutter (left). My gingerbread man cookie cutter (right). Sad face.

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A Chat with Trussardi / VMAN

Manicure in Essie "Aperitif" -- a little dressier in preparation for tomorrow night's festivities.

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The best fries in New York, at The Breslin, according to Alain Ducasse.

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From "Juliet, Naked" by Nick Hornby

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I know that... that love is supposed to be transformative." Now that she'd used the word she felt her tongue loosen. "And that's how I'm trying to look at it. There. Bang. I've been transformed, and however it happened it doesn't matter. You can go or stay, and it will still have happened. So I've been trying to look at you as a metaphor or something. But it doesn't work. The terribly inconvenient fact is that, without you around, everything slides back to how it was before. It can't do otherwise. And I have to say, books haven't helped much with all this. Because whenever you read anything about love, whenever anyone tries to define it, there's always a state or an abstract noun, and I try to think of it like that. But actually, love is... Well, it's just you. And when you go, it's gone. Nothing abstract about it."

Bon Jovi holiday greeting cards.

True story.

Persimmons, from Mom.

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G's Facebook status:

"I kept saying, 'Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me,' because I had to get to the catwalk, but she just kept posing. So I pushed her. It was only a few stairs."

Late bloomer.

I'm convinced, mostly because I didn't start getting my wisdom teeth until I turned 30, that I'm a late bloomer. (At least in some things, like, uh, wisdom teeth.) If I am a blanket-statement late bloomer, that would explain away why I'm so crap at dating -- while all my friends have been entrenched in dating-pandemonium since high school -- and I go years and years and years in between even being interested in a guy.

HOWEVER: In just the past seven days I've developed insta-mini-crushes on a DJ, a tech blogger and an actor.

This feels crazy. It's been years since I've met a guy I've found even vaguely attractive. I think my hormones are trying to tell me something.

32 is going to be an interesting year. I can already tell.

Skittles

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This is what I've done trying to find a winter coat.

I've lost my army parka. Arg.

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Personalized Uggs from Lord & Taylor.



Rocking my world.

Detroit pictures from my camera.



While we were in Detroit, David kept telling me over and over again that it's super-lame to take photos of abandoned buildings, especially the train station.

I. Don't. Care. The train station is an amazing building, it's eerie and abandoned. It's gorgeous.

Also, by now you know I am slightly obsessed with the Heidelberg Project. I can't get enough. I could just look at these pictures for days, they make me so happy.




The Photo.

This photo of me and Jon Bon Jovi was taken only SECONDS before I blurted out, "I've loved you forever," and ran away.

Stay tuned while I continue to chronicle all the deeply uncool moments of my life.

Bernhard Willhelm's take on the New York Post

One of my favorite designers, Bernhard Willhelm, made a shirt with part of the New York Post logo. Hm. Doesn't look like he likes us very much. I hope I didn't somehow offend him when I interviewed him a couple of years ago...

Croque Madame from Financier

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My new bread box...

... In which I will not be storing bread.
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"Observe Everything. Always think for yourself. Never let other people make important decisions for you." — from Bad News by Edward St. Aubyn