Open Letter: To All Mannequin Manufacturers

Dear Mannequin Manufacturer:

Hi.

I can understand adding the nipples to those lifeless bodies that showcase the fashion of the day behind large plate-glass windows. Nipples are cute, perky, and add some sexiness to the inanimate form. It makes the passer-by perhaps stop in front of the window and say, "hey! look at those boobies! Oh, and what a cute sweater, maybe I shall buy it and my boobies will look so pert!" I am sure that happens all the time. Plus, no one wants to have a mono-boob and the addition of the nips does indeed prevent this embarrassment.

But, I have to say that adding a well defined RIB CAGE on recent mannequins is not a wise choice on your behalf. In fact, I daresay that now you have gone too far. Visible ribs are totally gross, unsexy and unnecessary. Sure, maybe I wish that my rib cage were a little less "hidden" beneath my internal layers of...um... "insulation". But this rant is not coming from a point of jealousy. Really, I mean it. It comes from a point of caring. Maybe, instead of parading a troupe of emaciated waifs on your pedestal, you could try experimenting with a variety of body shapes. *Sigh. I know that will never happen in today's "anorexia gloriosa" culture. But know this: instead of looking at said mannequin and thinking, "Oh, cute! I want that!" I think "Man, get that girl a sandwich STAT." And I keep on walking. Thankfully, I know that the mannequin will not follow me.

Happy New Year.

Love,

Interravision.

P.S.: Loved Kim Cattral in that movie you made. You should make more who look like her. For real.

Holidaytastic

I have never worked before for a company whose busy season falls around the holidays, so my 10 years in the workforce have been blessed with nice long Christmas breaks, sometimes lasting as long as 2 blissful weeks. Sadly, this is no longer the case. November through New Year's Day is peak season here in NYC and the city is packed with tourists needing the services my company provides. Oh, and I don't technically get any vacation days in my first 12-months in this job.

I am fortunate this year to be able to take off Christmas Eve and the day after Christmas, giving me 5 consecutive days off. I know this is more than a lot of people out there, but still it feels short-- especially since I wasn't able to take any time over Thanksgiving to see my family. I have been working at full speed these last several weeks, so I am practically foaming at the mouth to have a few days to relax.

We'll be heading to Connecticut where the folks have rented a house for a week. I am ever so grateful not to have to fly anywhere this Christmas, so that should make the time that I do have away from my desk all the more enjoyable.

Speaking of things that are enjoyable, I made the most awesome Christmas cookies this past Sunday, and had some fun testing the macro focus function on my camera:

Brush with Celebrity

Since I started working in Manhattan a few months ago, I was on the lookout for my first celebrity encounter. See Robin Williams a few feet away while filming a movie, doesn't really count since he wasn't out in the wild with us normal folks. I wanted to see a celeb au naturel.

My colleague told me, look when you least expect it. OK. I guess I don't typically run in the kind of circles where I would actually expect to see a celebrity (such as the hottest clubs or prison), so that pretty much means I am constantly on the lookout. Not in a stalker-weirdo kind of way, I assure you. Really.

So imagine my delight when walking into the elevator of my office building, take out lunch in hand, I run into (almost literally) Alan Alda. You know! ALAN! Mr. Alda! Of M*A*S*H fame! Man, I loved that show, except for the awful laugh track. You know, this guy:


If you can believe it, and I am sure you can, upon entering the elevator, a fellow passenger says, "Hey! You're that guy from M*A*S*H! Alan, errr...Mr. Alda just smiled weakly and said "yes." I should have taken this cue (that's actor speak for "sign" you know) that he wasn't up for much conversation. But once everyone else had gotten off the elevator, and it was just me and the celeb, I felt compelled to say something...anything! So I said, in my most polite voice, "I don't suppose there's anything you can do about this Broadway strike?" For those of you unaware, 27 shows are dark on Broadway due to a strike of the Stagehand Union. This is making my life (well, work-life) rather miserable right now. And Alan...err, Mr. Alda, must be a theatre going man, ney? A man who loves the stage and a man who is pining for the end of this truly ridiculous and rather petty argument. Right? His response:

"I don't know anything about that."

Huh. OK then.

DC March 05

I recently stumbled across some digital photos I took on a trip to DC in March 2005. "Hey!" I thought to myself, "These are better than I remember!" So now, LUCKY READERS, I share them with you. God knows why I didn't blog them back then.

Oh, and P.S., sorry I haven't written. This Broadway strike is killing me! I am drowning in refund requests....

Happy Halloween!

I am not doing anything special for Halloween this year, although I did just get to hit the matinee of Broadway's Young Frankenstein which was pretty good but not really worth what some folks are shelling out for a seat (upwards of $400 for seats that are Just OK... lucky for me I got to go for free...it's a work thing).

I am feeling nostalgic for the Halloweens of my youth. I grew up in a little pocket of Stepfordesque tranquility outside Washington DC called Hillandale. Lawns were huge and well tended with large oaks, pines, maples and birch trees... perfect for hiding Halloween goodies and pranks. The neighborhood was flooded with kids, and since it was a pretty small area, you knew everyone and who lived in each and every house and they would greet you by name when you rang their door, "Ohh Terra, you look like a pretty princess this year!" The only thing we had to worry about was avoiding the neighborhood terrors, the Solomon brothers. Man, they were mean.

Halloween was a big event for adults and kids alike. The adults went to parties; I remember a photo of my Mom and Dad, still married at the time, dressed up and playing some game where they had to eat marshmallows or doughnuts off a line of string while their hands were tied around their backs. I think my Mom was dressed like a brick wall and my dad was a carpenter.

Speaking of my mom, she made us elaborate costumes on her sewing machine. The most memorable for me was this awesome clown outfit she made for us.

I remember vividly that last Halloween I went trick-or-treating. I was in the 7th grade. I dressed up as a mime in a store-bought costume. I knew at the time this was it, I already felt too old to be participating, it was the last time to run around a neighborhood and score free candy. By then we had moved and running up to houses of strangers wasn't nearly as fun as it was in Hillandale.

I used to hoard my candy. Paranoid that my sister or brother would come into my room and steal my stash, I hid it all over the place like a squirrel preparing for winter. Behind books, in pockets, under pillows, inside the stuffing of a teddy bear, in a crevice of a floor board, anyplace that would fit those tiny Hershey squares. Then, after a few days, I wouldn't remember where I put the little pieces of chocolates and colorful rolls of smarties and come June I would find a piece of stale, old candy, long forgotten. Sure, I still ate it.

Lucky for me, as an adult, I made friends with (mostly) ladies who also have a good time throwing a festive costume party now and then, and not always waiting around for Halloween to do it. The downside is that none of these lovely women live close by anymore. Hey, anyone know any normal, fun, nice, exuberant and bright women who live in Long Island who want to throw a party? Tell them to call me.

Happy Halloween, friends.

So Good! So Good!

The Boston Globe said it right (to the tune of one of the Sox's theme songs Sweet Caroline):

I didn't let myself believe it was actually a possibility to take it all the way until the last pitch was thrown last night. Sure, I hoped. Sure, I had faith. But I didn't let my mind conceive of the eventual winning moment. I thought it would jinx us by doing so.

I know some people think it's all a stupid joke, this baseball madness. But I, for one, dig watching a group of people (in this case, men) pull together and perform amazing feats of athleticism, endurance, and skill. I love baseball and think I always did, although I admit during the times when I lived abroad I didn't give it much thought. Baseball is the best Reality Show happening on TV. Drugs, injuries, fights, breakups and reconcilliations, winners and losers... baseball is so much more than a bunch of guys standing around a grassy field waiting for an occasional burst of action. Plus, we must consider the baseball food of choice: hotdogs. Who can deny the pleasure of a loaded Fenway Frank? No other hotdog tastes as yummy.

Who do you love more? The self-proclaimed Idiots of the 2004 championship or this, as described by Jason Veritek last night, Band of Brothers? There are shining moments of each, for certain. This team does seem more polished, more skillful, and certainly wears more expectation on their shoulders. I adore Mike "Mr. Double" Lowell and hope that Theo and the management keep him on the team and, for the love of all that is good in this world, DO NOT take the ripe apple recently fallen from the Yankee Tree, Alex Rodriquez. A-Rod would mess up a very well developed chemical balance that this team has achieved. I am so pleased they named Lowell the series MVP. Unexpected, for sure, but well deserved and timely, as mid-game A-Rod's defection from the Empire was announced on National TV in the middle of the freaking World Series. Coincidence? I think A-ROD wanted all in Red Sox Nation to know he is "available".

I also loved that late last night, after the closing credits and the parting shots of champagne drenched Sox players, the first commercial of the break featured Derek Jeter hawking his perfume called "Driven". It just struck me as funny.

This year's celebration for me is much different than 2004's, that's for sure. In '04 I lived in the heart of the action, Boston's Back Bay. After the final out, I ran outside, camera in hand, and was immediately sucked into the lifeforce of Victory. Sure, most the revelers were BC and BU students who probably never watched a Sox game before their freshman year, but who cares? The energy in the streets was exciting.

This year, now living in New York, in my Long Island outpost, my sleeping sweetheart (who calls himself a Yankees fan) snored quietly as we clinched the title. I sat in my PJs and sent and received excited text messages from friends and family who also count themselves as members of Red Sox Nation. For the first time since moving to NY, I really really wished I was there, back in my Boston neighborhood. Even just for that moment, to experience the win with other fans, as excited as I was.

How many days until Spring Training?

What the...?

Can someone please explain to me how this works? It's FREAKING ME OUT:

http://www.milaadesign.com/wizardy.html

(thanks Mom!)