Thursday, December 9, 2010

A Little Bit Wicked

With the east coast winds whistling through the streets of Manhattan, it seems about time I got my blog up and running. Frankly, sitting down at a computer seems like a much better option than wearing earmuffs and 12 jackets just to walk to the grocery store. I don’t need Jell-O that badly. In any case, since moving to New York City is August, I’ve been squirreling away anecdotes and stories which I expect to be the primary content for updates. Without the colourful characters I meet in passing (or some of whom I seek out intentionally), I’m not sure I would have enough fodder for the blogosphere.

At this point, I should probably give my first shout out to Kristin Chenoweth, Broadway icon and my personal theatrical inspiration. It was Thanksgiving week when I took a walk down to the local library and picked up her biography, ‘A Little Bit Wicked.’ Since then, I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m not saying it is Kristin’s fault, but I couldn’t put the book down and now my sleeping patterns have been thrown into the proverbial cauldron of doom. Yes, it’s my personal Oz without the ruby slippers. The downside is I’ve since finished the book, but the upside is I devoured every tasty morsel and can safely say she is topping my list of favourite celebrities. It is thanks to Kristin that I’m up at this late hour kicking off the blog. My own memoirs will certainly reflect my gratitude.

Though I don’t want to give away the farm in this first post, I can’t help but kick things off with a quick picture I want to paint for you: Imagine a man, probably 5’9”, wearing a black unitard (think “circus weightlifter) and black fishnets. His hair is tied in a low ponytail and he wears running shoes that match this whole ensemble (I know! I don’t know what shoes I would wear if I put that on the morning, but this gentleman never waivers from his fashion choices). He runs through the community, dodging traffic and weaving through pedestrians on sidewalks. This is life in New York. You can wear anything you want while running through the streets... especially if you’re late for your male burlesque show.

I’m getting ready to head home for the holidays and I’m thrilled to already have a packed agenda with time booked in for all of my family and friends. Wouldn’t you know, as I draw ever closer to boarding that plane, the infamous signs of a cold have begun to surface. I blame New York’s aromatic and somewhat polluted air supply, oh, and the million plus tourists touching the door handle of my favourite Starbucks. Well, it’s not like all of the city’s visitors are going to that location, but still. Anyone sniffing on 3rd and E 41st, I’m watching you. Just saying.

Anyways, I’m off to the airport on Tuesday and have visions of the TSA doing their full body scan and seeing into my nasal passages to witness what the Sudafed has kept from their sidelong glances. Perhaps I’ll go with the manual pat down this time – it couldn’t be more invasive than trying to get up close and personal with the Rockefeller Centre Christmas Tree.

Above: The Rockefeller Christmas tree four days before it was lit

Above: The lights are on! I know it doesn't look that busy... but that's the power of 10 optical zoom.

Now, for what might just be my favourite part of the blog… Random quotes I hear while walking down the street!

This one comes from my December 8 walk down to the Fashion District.
Here's the scene: Man on the street, leaning against a building... quote: “You’re not the problem, Frank. I think we both know that.”

Personally, I want more information… but that’s the beauty of catching random parts of people’s conversations. I can make up any scenario I want… like maybe Frank is the runner in fishnets and Kristin Chenoweth’s book is the problem because Frank hasn’t been able to get his workout in due to sleep deprivation. Hey, it’s New York. Anything could happen.
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