Genetics at work

My life is boring because I have the flu. So I'm lame right now. I've watched 20 hours of Lost (with a brief hiatus for the presidential debate) in 3 days. But here is a text that I got from my kickass little bro earlier today:

hey how are you? are you feeling any better? i don't think they want the tv anymore...but random tho but you have to go on youtube or something and listen to britney spears new song called womanizer...its sheer brilliance as usual lol!

And of course he's right:

Sick days and VP candidates

So, the first sick day I've taken in years and what happens? The world's most famous hockey mom shows up at my work. Not that I'm super upset about missing the future VP runner-up (boo yeah), but it figures that it would happen the day I'm not there.

My day instead of playing paparazzi/press release aficionado because of Mrs. Lipstick? Watching over half of the first season of Lost (because I like to hit these things at the height of their popularity, obvi), coughing up what's left of my lungs, and, the best part of the day, having my comment chosen for the Gossip Girl Final Reality tally of the week by the Daily Intel (the best recap of the best show ever). All and all, I like to think I still came out on top.

UPDATE: Bff Mof J's response to today's story -- "Your body subconsciously rejected Sarah Palin! That's awesome!"

Saying goodbye to the House that Ruth Built

Anyone who calls themselves a sports fan has to admit that today was a sad, sad day in the world of professional baseball. Love them or hate them, the Yankees are a baseball institution, and Yankee Stadium has been a symbol of victory even before the man himself pointed to the outfield and indicated exactly where his home run would land.

I will always look fondly upon the stadium -- not only have I spent many birthdays and warm summer nights there, but it was also the bright spot in my morning before trudging off the subway at 161st Street and wandering up towards Grand Concourse and my first real job. And when I was there, I always recalled my collective history: Not only I, but my father and my grandfather sat in those very seats and watched the Yankees bat and pitch and field their way into baseball history.

So of course I jumped on free tickets last Monday, thrilled that I would be able to appreciate the stadium one last time before it closed for good. As I arrived (a bit late -- top of the second inning), broadcasting on the screen was the question of the day: "What Britney Spears song would you most like to hear?" Listening to Jeter, Posada, Rodriguez and Abreu request "Baby One More Time" really put everything into perspective. Never a fan of building a new stadium, I now finally realized what had taken me years to discover: without progress and change, we run the risk of losing ourselves in a certain image -- as well as shaving our heads and attacking the paparazzi with an umbrella. So bring on new Yankee Stadium. Maybe the Yankees comeback will be all we ever hoped for and more.

Why did the chicken cross the cubicle?

Did you know that you can order your friends a singing chicken telegram?

Because my coworker found that out the hard way yesterday.

Hot coffee and giggling mayors...

I have very mixed and difficult feelings about Mayor Rudy Giuliani. Ok, so I'm clearly not the biggest fan, but I do appreciate that I probably wouldn't be living where I'm living without all the work he did cleaning up this city, I certainly wouldn't be working where I'm working if it wasn't for all of his efforts to strengthen the city after 9/11, and honestly, look at his policies and you kinda get the feeling that he's batting for the wrong team. So, despite my qualms, I can't help but like the guy, even after my bitter disappointment in him after the RNC.

So I am about to (gasp!) partially defend America's mayor by questioning whether or not his laughing spell about Obama's experience might not just have been his tendency to giggle at rather inappropriate times. I never would have said this before, but I had an interaction with him today that suggested that our man Rudy just may be a congenial, happy guy who likes to laugh. At a press opening this morning, I was standing a mere 3 feet away from Mayor Giuliani when he accidentally spilled some coffee on his hand. As proof, here is an image of Rudy and the offending coffee:

I noticed that no one was rushing to his aid, so I grabbed a napkin and quickly handed it to him to wipe off the coffee. Rudy looked at me with eyes that conveyed thanks, but then giggled like I had just tried to organize his community.

So Mr. Giuliani, thanks for the hope that your laughing spells are merely a way to express gratitude, and you are welcome for the napkin.

Above and below

Yesterday, for brief moments, I was both 70 feet above and 70 feet below street level.

In the morning, my image, as well as my coworkers', was projected onto the side of the NASDAQ market site in Times Square. To check out pictures, go to: www.printroom.com/pro/nasdaq. Choose the date (9/11/08), the event (911 Families' Association) and the password is 9T3PXCR4. The pics are pretty cool.

That afternoon, myself and those same coworkers ascended a ramp 7 stories to lay a flower where the North Tower of the WTC once stood. It's amazing that on the same day that I was so large on a screen, I could also feel so tiny and obsolete.

America's Pastime: Downtown Edition

An actual exchange at my office this morning:

Me (to CEO): Did you get those names for tomorrow?

CEO: No, not yet. Right now I'm trying to figure out who this guy David Wright is.

Me (incredulous pause): The baseball player?

CEO (blank stare): Maybe?

Me: Um, yeah. Mets. Third Baseman. Really good. Very famous.

CEO: hmmm. uh oh.


5 minutes later -- email from boss: Emergency. Come the museum now.

I love my job.

No longer sure I want to live abroad...

Wow! My first blogging experience ever. Not gonna lie... a bit nervous. I'm Hailey and I live with Lauren. I have provided her with fodder for previous blog entries, including a windowcard featuring The Hoff and a late night 6 block trek with a $1000 Crate & Barrel loveseat.

I decided this weekend that I must share a certain event with the world (read: readers of Lauren's blog). At 3:00 on Sunday Lauren and I went to play tennis in Central Park. I haven't played in probably 5 or 6 years. We had an end court so we wouldn't constantly have to chase balls into other peoples' games (although we did send 2 over the fence).

About halfway through our hour, I began to talk to Lauren as we played because a) I talk a lot, and b) I play sports better when I don't concentrate (and by better I mean, less than average but better than awful). After about 10 minutes I was approached by a (foreign... possibly eastern European) man from two courts over who was playing tennis with his teenage daughter.

Man: "Ees very nice what you say and all, but it de-concentrate me. So..." (makes motion with his hands to represent a mouth closing and then proceeds to use his hands to pinch his own lips together).

Now I like to think I am a generally respectful person and had he come over and politely asked me to be quiet, I would have apologized and gladly done so. However, he decided to be unbelievably rude. I was already in a bad mood and while I have been taught to kill people with kindness or to not respond because it generally isn't worth it, I couldn't let this go. So I said...

Me: "You could have said please, thank you."

And off he goes, glaring and de-concentrated. I probably cracked up for at least 5 minutes.

While this story is not terribly thrilling, it really made me appreciate being raised with manners (although sometimes my temper wins out when necessary). It's these people who give credibility to the stereotype that New Yorkers are mean. And it's not even us!

So the moral of this story is... I don't swim in your toilet, so don't pee in my pool. And use please and thank you and you will go far... at least when I'm on the tennis court next to you in Central Park.

I'm still thinking of an unrelated thing...

My apologies for not updating often this week. It's a tough, busy one at work and I feel like any posting might just be depressing. So, I'll be back in the swing of things soon, and I'll get my roommate to guest blog about our experience with foreigners at the tennis courts this weekend :-)

P.S. If you are around a television on Thursday morning, I'll be on any and all business channels at 9:30am, as we are opening the NASDAQ market. Check it out if you can. If not, please give a minute, or 30 seconds, or even 10 seconds on Thursday to just think about what small thing you can do to make this world a better place, so that our kids never have to look at a giant hole in the ground like I do every day.

Everyone's my friend in New York City

I hope to never forget how completely random and yet thoroughly entertaining this city can be.

Imagine the apartment (rather, about 4 apartments put together) of two former hippies -- Willie Nelson-type hippies who have an eclectic array of decorations, ranging from Jimi Hendrix posters, mild pornography and "Say no to [some] drugs" signs to "God Bless America" banners surrounded by signatures and photographs of the Twin Towers. In this apartment, for just a moment, I truly felt like the world (or at least this country) could really come together in peace.

The crowd was a collection of former Rescue/Recovery workers from the WTC site, myself, and (seriously) this guy from Finland we had met that day and asked to join us. The mission was to hang the gigantic American flag that once graced the side of One Liberty Plaza off the roof of the aforementioned hippie's apartment building. This ceremony is repeated every year, one week before September 11th, and is concluded on the following weekend by lowering the flag and folding it military style while the streets are blocked and residents look on. Random? Yes -- for me to be there anyway -- but this is how I live my life. Besides, everyone at this event was wonderful and generous and I figure Finnish guy off the street was way more out of place.

I only had my camera phone, so the pictures aren't the greatest quality, but you can get the idea nonetheless:


The view from the roof -- where I helped hang the flag



The flag hanging off the apt building



A visit from NY's Bravest, who came to cheer us on :-)

If they wanna look, we can give em an...encore

P.S. (meaning pre-script) The title shout out is the aforementioned Brit Brit ringtone. In this song, she also rhymes "freakshow" with "peep show." Definitely the most brilliant lyricist of our time.

Yesterday being the last REAL day of summer (if you can't wear white, it's summer no more), a few of us decided to trek out to Astoria to relax by the glorious Astoria Park Pool. Had I known about the Astoria Park Pool before yesterday, this probably would not have been the first time I made this journey.

Whilst (yes, whilst) lounging in my oh-so-retro Esther Williams bathing suit (thanks Daddy Likey!!) a friendly female police officer wandered over to our group. Always the one to sit up and give my full attention to authority figures (I attribute this as the reason I never got in trouble in high school, despite various indiscretions), I thought that I should take note. What I was slightly unprepared for was not her message, per se, but the frank way in which she delivered it: "Listen ladies, just so you know, there are a bunch of perverts around here. They are gonna go over to that ledge and take your picture. When you see this happen, do not approach them, but know that this behavior is not ok. Let me know, I will take care of it." Lovely. It's not that this only happens in New York, but it is the probably the only place where police officers introduce it as a complete certainty.

The best part of this was, not 20 minutes later, my friends and I noticed one of these "perverts" (cleverly disguised as a well dressed woman with a $300 camera and a press pass) aiming her camera right at us as we blissfully swam away our last moments of summer. Seconds after we spotted her, the police officers leaped to their duty, seemingly ready to destroy her expensive camera if she didn't leave immediately. But (and here is the "only in New York" part) the most interesting thing that moment was not the eminent arrest of the woman taking pictures of park dwellers utilizing their final summer day, but the two young men, not 10 feet away from this display, staging an epic star wars light saber battle. Almost exactly like this:



After this, perverts were a complete afterthought. George Michael Bluth would have been so proud.