A Less Good Morning America

Each morning, after a dog walk and shower I sit down to eat my oatmeal, drink a cup of coffee, and watch a little morning TV. It is a time for Rafa and I to discuss what we have on the day's agenda and catch up on current events and the weather. For a long time my morning TV of choice was the Today show on NBC. I like Matt Lauer, LOVE Meredith Vierra, and Ann and Al don't offend me too much. But what I realized after a while of watching Today every morning is that 98% of the show is spent talking about "what's up right after the break" and about 2% of the show is spent on actual segments. You don't really notice at first, it's easy to get lost in the casual banter between Matt and Mer. But when you only have 12 minutes to watch and are actually interested in seeing the segment they were talking about when you first tuned in...you f-ing notice that they don't ever get to it!

My frustration grew and grew until I finally did it. I switched to GMA. I loved Dianne Sawyer's good looks and easy way with the guests. I was developing a small but growing crush on Chris Cuomo, and I knew it was time to get ready for work when that insufferable d-bag Sam Champion comes on...the show is not without its imperfections. But just as I was settling into my new routine and new friends at GMA they totally changed everything!

I tuned in on Monday to see hat instead of a lovely, blonde Sawyers next to Robin there was this little elfin creature. Mr. Stephanopoulos looks like a child sitting on that couch and I would not be the least bit surprised if his feet don't touch the ground. And at the news desk instead of the handsome Mr. Cuomo there is this lady named Ju Ju who Robin called Choo Choo (like a train) at one point. No one can possibly like this new arrangement.

I don't know what I am going to do.

1 and 1

Last weekend was one of cinematic discovery for me, filled with highs and lows. Friday night I saw the much anticipated (by me) Sandra Bullock movie: The Blind Side. Now, I knew very little about the premise of this movie going into it, but I knew all I needed to. I, for example, knew that I cried tears of joy during the trailer for it (always a promising sign). My desire to see it was further strengthened after reading this from my old buddy A.O Scott at the NYTimes: " a movie made up almost entirely of turning points and yet curiously devoid of drama or suspense...(the film) plays this story straight down the middle, shedding nuance and complication in favor of maximum uplift." Ummm...Sold! Say no more. If I could only use one word to describe this precious little gem of a movie it would be: amazing (speaking of Precious...this movie almost erased any remaining horror and misery I had from see THAT movie). Sandra Bullock gave a spot-on performance as a wealthy, southern lady (a character I know a little something about. Hi Nashville friends!!!!) Combine her sassy ways with a heartwarming underdog story and you have the sleeper hit of the holiday season and my new favorite NFL Team: So long Eagles helllllllllloooo Ravens. Bravo!!!!

This, though, was just the beginning of my weekend o' movies. Fast forward to Sunday and I had plans to see the George Clooney pic: Up In the Air. This movie was playing at the Ritz which makes me hesitant from the get go...but I love me some Clooney. Further adding to my hesitation was the glowing review from Manohla Dargis who by most accounts appears to hate going to the movies. This hater of the rom-com and I do not tend to see eye to eye on what makes a great movie but I carried on with my plans knowing at least that there would be a yummy dinner waiting for me after the movie. Well, there I am in the theatre, freezing, but reeeally enjoying this movie. But something was afoot. I had an uneasy feeling throughout all of Clooney's high-flying adventures. Something told me that this movie was too pleasant and fun to watch for that snob Dargis to enjoy. And then....I understood. I don't want to spoil it for anyone but I wished I had just gone to see the Blind Side again. I just don't understand why Clooney is capable of Ocean's 11 and One Fine Day but continues to make drivel like this.

Foxy's Tale

After reading the outrage of my many fans I added to Annie's Christmas Book list. Thanks to the wonder of one-click at Amazon...Foxy's Tale should be arriving at my house in 4-7 days. Ed and Kelly, I would like some sort of commemorative champagne flute for my contribution to the White Wedding Fund.

Carly Pumpkin Christmas

As always, Thanksgiving was followed this year by a day of Candy House making. After last year's syscrapers of conspicuous consumption, we returned this year to simpler themes and more modest construction. Alex and I crafted a truly a classic red and green themed home with nod to Hanukkah ( a blue and white sky light).

We assembled the masterpiece in record time through careful planning, strategy, and cooperative execution. Really though, the house speaks for itself.

I have also gotten a headstart on this year's Christmas shopping. I will be heading to Costa Rica the day after Christmas this year and plan to arrive with a bag full of presents for Baby Annie. So far she is getting books. A few books I loved: Shel Silverstein, Where the Wild Things Are, and a new sure-to-be- classic, Nubs.

I heard about Nubs a few weeks ago on the Today show and started crying into my oatmeal at the heartwarming story of friendship, determination, and loyalty. It is based on the true story of a Marine and a dog he befriended while on duty in Iraq. The marine and the dog, Nubs, formed a special friendship during his stay in Iraq and when the Marine got reassigned to the Jordani border, little Nubs followed the trail of the convoy some 70 miles and 3 days to be reunited with his soldier buddy. Crying a little bit as I type that.

Despite Annie confessing a desire to make "dog soup" she really does love animals, especially canines, and I think she will really like this book!!

The 600 lb Vegetarian in the Room

I have successfully completed week 1 of my vegetarianism and I have survived, although not without consequences. The word vegetarian suggests the consumption of lots and lots of vegetables...well it has been my brief experience that being a vegetarian also includes the consumption of a lot of cheese, butter, and bread. The photo above is my dinner last night (recipe from SmittenKitchen), a sweet potato and chard gratin. It was delicious and dare I say better than bacon. Unfortunately, the dish would be more aptly named milk, butter and cheese, tossed with sweet potatoes and chard.

I do feel good that I haven't contributed to the death of any cute creatures this week I just hope those little critters know the price I am paying for their lives. I hope they will still love and support me when I don a sports bra and spandex for my bid on the Biggest Loser.

mmmm vegetables

When I was 12 years old my family and I took Thanksgiving on the road to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. My father, fancying himself quite the angler, led this holiday road trip so that he could be there for the renowned "bluefish run" on Hatteras Island at the end of November. During the "run" the waves are thick with schools of bluefish...a fisherman's dream come true and as I would soon learn, my worst nightmare.

I followed my Dad down to the beach one afternoon, rods in hand ready to catch some of these tasty fish. What greeted me on the beach was not the charming father daughter moment we both hoped for but rather fish genocide unfolding on the shores. Those asshole bluefish had chased the little croakers and spots onto the beach, and the barbaric fisherman were casting multiple lines hoping to rack up as many fish as possible during the short window of the run. There were fish flapping and dying, gasping their last breaths everywhere I looked. I started crying hysterically and frantically trying to return the fish to the ocean. It was all in vain, of course, and after a bit I fled back to the house and promptly became a vegetarian. I remained a vegetarian for close to a year I think (pretty committed for a 12 year old on a whim).

Well fast forward 12 (ehhh, 17) years and instead of witnessing fish genocide I read an article and then about 20 more on factory farming. This is precisely the type of topic I try to avoid knowing that it will make me so sad I won't be able to forget about it. However, if I don't know ANYTHING about I can happily eat my burger medium rare and live by the maxim that "everything is better with bacon". Well, no more. After reading these articles and seeing one picture of a cow getting ready to be bolted who could have passed for Rafa's cousin with those soulful brown eyes and shiny black fur, I could no longer revel in blissful ignorance. I am still working out the details of my vegetarianism (like might I eat meat if I know that it was pasture raised and slaughtered humanely) but until those issues are resolved no meat for me!

This Little Piggy Went to Fairmount...

I just want to push my face against those little snouts!!!!

Given the current hysteria over the H1n1 virus, I realize this post may be tough sell for some.

Every morning when I leave for work, I suffer minor heartbreak at seeing my little Rafa bear's face as he realizes that he is about to settle in for several uninterrupted hours of solitude. A piece of me dies each morning. I often think that I should get another dog to keep him company but Rafa has shown some slight tendencies toward unwelcome only-child behavior. Let's just say he needs a little work on playing well with others when they are in his house. We are working on this and definite progress is being made, but at present we are not ready to welcome another canine family member. But then this morning I read this and it got me to thinking maybe we could welcome a new swine family member!!!

They are cute, smart, obedient, and would take care of the issue I have when my trash fills up by sunday...but trash day isn't until tuesday. And I think this is way more practical than when I wanted to get a walrus.

Eat. Pray. Do As I Say.

Boone, NC (i took this pic with my new camera!)

Rafa and I are just back from a wonderful long weekend in the mountains of North Carolina. The weekend was just perfect: filled with friends, food, activities, simply gorgeous surroundings, and Rafa really came into his own as a mountain dog! Our days were spent hiking, eating, playing games, painting, doing yoga, and reading (just writing that makes me want to go back). Though the hikes were challenging and the game competition fierce, it was really the reading that caused the most hostility during the trip.

Specifically, it was the book that I am reading called "Eat. Pray. Love." that caused all of my travel companions to get all up in arms. Apparently, they have something against self-discovery and contentment. I have to admit that I, too, was skeptical about reading this book. You may not know this about me, given my pedestrian movie tastes, but I am kind of a cultural snob. I have avoided the Da Vinci Code like the freaking plague and if there is a book you don't want me to ever read...just go ahead and put that Oprah's book club sticker on it and consider it done.

One Sunday, a couple of weeks ago, I was strolling around Border's looking for something new to read and EPL was prominently displayed on one of the front tables. So I picked it up and read the back and decided to give it a go. Here I should probably admit that Julia Roberts is currently filming the movie version of EPL and this played a not insignificant role in my decision.


Anyway, the book is about a woman whose life falls apart and who then decides to travel the world looking to explore the concepts of happiness, spirituality, and balance. I tore through the section on Italy where she described, in salivating detail, all the meals and pleasure she experienced there. Next, we were off to India to spend 4 months in an Ashram. This part was, admittedly, less up my alley. Not sure I am into all that deprivation and chanting.

I am now onto Bali and hoping that this section brings the book to a close on a high note. Spoiler alert: I already know she falls in love and it has a true-life, it could happen to you fairy tale ending...also a factor in my decision to read the book.

I will report back just as soon as I am finished.

Hey Kids! Happy Friday!!

Although I am busily preparing to host a fete for family and friends this evening I wanted to take a moment to share something pretty special with you.

Did you ever wonder what it would be like if someone created a television show JUST for you. One that fit your interests perfectly? I have often lamented here and here that Hollywood is not meeting my cinematic needs...same goes for TV (excluding american idol and reruns of House). Well, no longer!!! Glee is here!!

Glee is my everything. Witty dialogue, genuine charm, and winning song and dance routines. Last week they raised the bar with the football team breaking out an "All the Single Ladies" performance in the final minute of their game.

If Julia Roberts does a cameo as the new drama teacher I will seriously lose my shit.

Crazy in Love

I want to be Beyonce. I have wanted to be her for quite sometime now. She is smokin hot, sings real pretty, is married to Jay-z, and is arguably a better dancer than I.

This has only strengthened my desire to trade in my j.crew and crocs in favor of a leotard and some double sided tape:

Beyoncé - New Music - More Music Videos

Please ignore the annoying commercial before the magic starts.

WTF?!?!

Feel good film of the decade?? Are you f-ing kidding me?

I am not sure how, with all of the Oscar buzz and people absolutely fawning over the movie, that the warning never made its way to me. But seriously, SOMEONE should have told me that no matter what, no matter how tempting, no matter how many Oscars, that I should never, ever, under any circumstances see Slumdog Millionaire.

I think there is really enough blame to go around on this one. The misinformation campaign for this film is right up there with GW Bush and the tobacco companies. WHY would you show me a song and dance routine? You know I can not bypass a strong piece of choreography. Couple that with a catchy song (you're next MIA)... I didn't stand a chance.

And what about the people who actually saw this movie (friends of mine) who then did not immediately forbid me from ever seeing it. I am disgusted with you.

So I ended up watching this "film" on my laptop in the backseat on the way to VA for a wedding this weekend. Bad bad idea. 1 hour and 56 minutes of unimaginable suffering and 4 brief minutes of redemption at the end.

1 star out of 5. Despite a happy ending this film contains gratuitous filth, sadness, poverty, and despair.

Don't Make Me Use This!!!!!

As you may recall I have recently come under strong advisement by my father to purchase pepper spray...necessary arms for walking the Rafa at odd hours. After several empty promises to purchase and one actual lie about having purchased it- my safety-minded co-worker, Stacy, intervened on my behalf, and bought me some pepper spray.

JUST IN TIME as it turns out.

I was heading in from my evening walk with Rafa tonight only to be greeted by a mumbling, drunk, lunatic at my doorstep. I have no problem with having a few too many at dinner...it happens to the best of us. I DO, however, have a problem when that overindulgence leads one to believe that my front stoop is their home and that I am someone to whom they can speak crossly.

Rafa and I tried to ignore the loiterer but this guy was having NONE of it. He tried to ask me a question and persisted after I ignored him. I finally turned around to acknowledege him with my finger on the trigger ready to put liquid peppers right into his eyes if he pulled anything. He was speaking jibberish and I was in no mood to fight so I opted to cross the street and wait it out. But the creep FOLLOWED me. I then yanked on Rafa and pulled him toward the safety of a nearby restaurant. Fortunately, I am an in excellent physical shape and have no problem outrunning a staggering drunk guy.

From the safe harbor of the Belgian Cafe, I was able to call 911 (fool me once, bad guys...) and Philly's finest came right away and carted him off. If you ask me, he got off easy. Trust me - he did NOT want to mess with the business end of my pepper spray!!

Kitten and Cuervo

It turns out I am not the only internet sensation among my group of friends. Move over wedding dancers, step aside prison Thriller re-enactments, make room for Kitten and Cuervo. Please view the youtube clip below. It is a few minutes long, but please resist the temptation to think you've got the idea after a minute or so. This performance must be seen in its entirety to be fully appreciated. There is a special treat waiting for the listener at around 1:50.




Now this is a judge-free zone and I am pretty sure I was alowed to drink soda, eat candy, stay up late, and watch R rated movies starting at the age of three... but there is something both jarring yet endearing about watching an impossibly cute three year old sing of Jose Cuervo, bar fights, and cowboy conquests.

For a glimpse into the background of this youtube starlet check out her dad's blog . You may remember, he was also the man who brought us Foxy's Tale and has once before launched Kitten to stardom

BOOOO BIRDS!!!

I have only ever been the fan of one football team: The Philadelphia Eagles. Growing up, I don't think I realized there were other football teams...so great was the enthusiasm for the Iggles in my family. My father, upon moving to a remote mountaintop in Costa Rica drove 6 hours to the capital city to wait in line to get satellite TV so that he could follow his team from the middle of nowhere. Each conversation we have on the phone involves some discussion of the Eagles (what with politics and my love life being off limits for discussion). He recently expressed some dismay that I had not been "following the Eagles off-season moves very closely" and then went on to predict the Eagles will win the Superbowl this year (which they have never done) and that it was a safer bet than anything in the stock market. Sound advice.

The only problem with all of this?? I am no longer an EAGLES fan. This happened at about 10pm last night when I heard they signed that horrible, puppy-killing, sub-human beast Michael Vick. SOOO not ok. I actually feel sorry for Michael Vick he went to jail, he is broke, he needs a job. Whatever. You don't get to spend your millions orchestrating violent doggy-death camps and then go back to making millions. You should get the $12/hour or whatever they pay the person who cleans the cages at the city animal shelter. ughhhhh.

I have taught Rafa to sick balls whenever he sees a Michael Vick Eagles Jersey. Vick Fans: Consider yourselves warned.

photo courtesy of 13gb.com

With Love, Philadelphia

Philadelphia has many well-known attractions: the liberty bell, the Art Museum, Independence Hall, and of course the Rocky Statue. People in search of a history filled getaway often travel to the City of Brotherly Love to experience first hand the place where the Constitution was signed (and to see how freakishly small James Madison was).

Unfortunately though, the history and wonder of Philadelphia are often overshadowed by its rather grim current situation. Like this...and the nicknames "Killadelphia" and "Philthadelphia" have done little to encourage people to pick my town as their vacation destination.

Well, the folks at gophila.com have had ENOUGH! They have launched a rather clever campaign to lure tourists to the city. Touting attractions such as out BYOBs, our World Champion Phillies, and our friendly gays. The campaign includes billboards and TV ads that are seriously funny and catchy. Now here's the problem: THEY ARE IN PHILADELPHIA!! I, a resident of Philadelphia, do not really need much in the way of persuading to take advantage of what my city has to offer. I am no marketing expert but it seems to me that the placement of these ads might be more effective if located in places that ARE NOT Philadelphia.

So as a courtesy to gophila.com and as a declaration of pride in my city I am sharing these efforts with you via the border crossing world wide webs!!

Come visit!!!

GrammarStar

In case you haven't heard the news, the Great Recession has come to an end! Well it has if you work for Goldman Sachs anyway. I have spent the last couple days lamenting my lot in life and my unearned millions. "Why", I have questioned, did I choose a life of public service over a lucrative banking career (the fact that Goldman has never floated a 7 figure offer my way is neither here nor there). It is my understanding that Goldman has been able to end its recession by employing the best and brightest in the field of finance. Now here is where my "I'm gonna go work for Goldman" plan hits a major snag. NO ONE would call me the best or the brightest when it comes to finances. I like to think that I am pretty adept at addition, subtraction, and multiplication. I can even usually figure out the appropriate gratuity for a check in my head. But when it comes to things like long division, fractions, or managing my personal finances I am pretty much useless.

So realizing that finance is not where my skills lie, I was left to ask myself what am I truly good at? In what areas am I the best and the brightest? The answer I arrived at (or should I say the answer at which I arrived...) : GRAMMAR. My grammar pedigree is undeniable. I was the recipient of the prestigious Carlisle E. Snively Award for Excellence in English. My superior skills allowed me to pass out of 9th grade grammar. My sentence diagramming skills are known and revered the world over.


Now the tricky part...How can I parlay this skill into a life of private jets and multi-million dollar bonuses? Comments, suggestions, and consulting offers welcome.

No Vacancy

Sincerest apologies for my absence. I don't even have a great reason for denying you regular insight to my impossibly exciting life. There has been lots of fun stuff going on but some not fun stuff (i.e. work) has kept me from sharing with you! I have been to the country, to the races (hopefully more on this later) and have transformed my 1 bedroom apt. into a boarding house of sorts.

My cousin Jenn is staying with me for two weeks while she works as my intern (that's right, not only am i NOT an intern...i HAVE an intern). She has been assiduously checking things of my to-do list at work while I made long overdue hair and doctor's appointments and tend to some vacation planning for 2010. If it weren't for the living arrangements I'd wish she could stay indefinitely...I am sure a solid internship such as this one would more than compensate for her not finishing high school. As for that living situation: COZY. I live in a one bedroom apartment which feels big enough for Rafa and me about 60% of the time. That percentage tends toward zero with an extra guest. We have inflated a queen sized air mattress in the middle of the living room which has turned that area into a quasi-moonbounce. This makes maneuvering in the space challenging but Rafa LOVES birthday-party feel of both the moonbounce and the slumber party guest (more faces to lick in the morning).

All in all, I think the experience is going to be a good one for all involved but it is very time consuming having to entertain a 17 year old so bear with me for the next week!!

STAY AWAY!!!

Since Rafa entered my life I have ventured out in my neighborhood at hours previously unknown to me (before 7am and after 10pm). And as I have mentioned here , this has led to some interesting but rather disturbing encounters. Even after Rafa and I survived the naked dude, creepy encounters persisted. Enough to definitely make me leery of venturing out of my apartment at odd hours.

So, I relay these and other stories to my father over the phone last week. My father is not one to overreact. In fact, his response is typically so laid back some might mistake it for neglect or indifference. Apparently, though, telling your dad that creepy men are approaching you at night is enough to get a reaction. After a completely not kidding conversation about whether or not I would consider purchasing and carrying a gun on my walks, he settled for pepper spray.

He called the next week to follow up to see if I had purchased the agreed upon pepper spray (i had not....Wawa doesn't carry it FYI). In the intervening week, he'd had time to think up some alternative self-defense strategies for his pumpkin. Had I considered carrying a big, heavy umbrella with me, he asked. I explained to him the impracticality of walking a puppy while carrying a giant golf umbrella/weapon. (I kept to myself the other downside of looking like a total lunatic and thereby canceling out and cuteness Rafa adds to my image!). I promised him I would get the pepper spray ASAP.

While out walking Rafa the next day my phone rings again....Big B two days in a row (mind you he has now called me more in this month than the last 4 months combined).
CB: "Hi Dad".
BB: "Carly I have been thinking about your safety some more"
CB: "OK"
BB: "You carry your cell phone when you walk right"
CB: "Yep"
BB: "If that guy comes up to you again, I want you to pull out your cell phone and stick it right in his face and take a picture and say STAY AWAY!!!!"
CB: "OK Dad. Will do"

I kept to myself that I would have to pull out the cell phone, hit MY PIX wait for it to load, get the perp in sight, and then forcefully ask him to stand closer to the street light b/c this thing doesn't have a flash.

Here Comes the Sun. Or Not.

One day it started raining, and it didn't quit for four months. We been through every kind of rain there is. Little bitty stingin' rain... and big ol' fat rain. Rain that flew in sideways. And sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath. - Forrest Gump

I have been thinking variations of that sentiment since what feels like forever. The calendar says that it is the middle of June. A cursory glance out the widow, however, says early March. WTF weather?!?! It feels like it has been gray and damp for eternity. And, frankly, I have had enough!

When I was in middle school I remeber reading this short story by Ray Bradbury. I can't remember what it was called but it told the story of a planet where it was only sunny once every 4 years (or something like that). Every other day it just rained or was dark (again, I can't remember the title so I may be taking some liberties with the details here). Well, on the day that it was going to be sunny, the kids at school were getting ready to go outside for recess and soak up enough glorious sunshine to get them through the next interminable rain spell. That was all well and good for everyone EXCEPT THE GIRL THEY LOCKED IN THE CLOSET.

I feel like that little girl right now, like I may never see sun again.

Bravo, Bravo!!

Check out that botox!!

About a year ago I was sent a link to a website called Stuff White People Like. I, being white, found much I could relate to on this list such as #85 The Wire #53 Dogs and #87 Outdoor Performance Clothing.

I would like to focus this post on # 28 Not Having a TV. I have lived without a TV before and even when I have had one I don't really watch a lot of TV. When I do, it is usually tennis or reruns of Scrubs and House. Now there are a bunch of reasons....I am bad at remembering to do stuff (like watching a show on a specific day at a specific time) and b/c my attention span isn't really great enough for TV. Even when I try to watch TV I found myself doing other things like right now when I sat down to watch Barefoot Contessa but instead am writing this blog. Oh yeah, I also like feeling intellectually and morally superior when I can inject a smug "no I didn't see it...I don't really watch TV" into conversations about pop culture.

Whatever, that is all in the past now. NOW I have The Real Housewives of New Jersey. I don't care about books or blogs anymore. Bravo has given me Theresa, Dina, Caroline, Jaqueline, and Danielle. They are in a word: Brilliant. Unlike, Bravo's previous attempts at this Real Housewife genre in NYC and the OC, this one really captures the lifestyle of these women. And as a result, it is nothing short of addictive. Like crystal meth addictive. I was late for my birthday dinner because I could not pry my mesmerized body away from the TV.

I have seen a few minutes here and there of the other seasons and found them to be unwatchable. The women were horrible and above all phony. The entire episode featured these broads posturing and flaunting for the TV. NOT JERSEY though!!!! All that over the top stuff is real!! And theses women KNOW they are ridiculous. They are tan, they drive ridiculous cars, they have accents, and they pay CASH!!!

I am going to use my new DVR to make sure I don't miss an episode. I freaking love it.

Another Year, Another Birthday

Last Saturday marked yet another anniversary of my birth. It was the 24th such anniversary (do not believe those slanderous haters on Facebook masquerading as "friends" so that they can malign me with their talk of "last year of your 20s" and other lies).

The day started a bit on the rough side. Rafa-bear and I went for our morning walk at about 5:45. Our route typically takes us just around the block...long enough to get the business done and get back in bed! On this morning we crossed the street in order to avoid the french fry land mine that is my neighborhood cafe after a Friday night (rafa bear has yet to learn that feasting on the buffet of street garbage in my hood does not really agree with his system). I digress...the move across the street turned out to be incredibly ill-fated. While rafa was sniffing around some grass I heard a man's voice. It being 5:45 on a saturday morning, it was very easy to hear. So I reflexively turn toward the voice and see a tall dude standing there, as irony would have it, in his BIRTHDAY SUIT shaking what his mama gave him. I screamed and yanked Rafa away toward the safety of our home. I alerted my neighbor who was outside and asked him to call 911. He didn't seem to get what all the fuss was about. THERE IS A NAKED MAN ON THE CORNER he seemed more amused that mortally threatened.

Anywho, the day was nothing but up from there!!! A trip to the gym, shopping for a birthday frock in Center City, a great dinner, and even better after dinner dancing with great friends. Nothing says 24 like bottle service and go-go dancers!!! Paparazi shots below (sorry, no photos from the morning walk):

What up cuz? what up gangsta??

I believe this the down low portion my Up High In the Middle Down Low signature move.

Seriously?

A few days ago The Sean Sullivan decided it was time to make good on our blog crossfire promise. The topic of choice My Rafa (the tennis player not the puppy...there is no other side of the Rafa Puppy debate). As a courtesy, I was sent an advance copy of the proposed post. I will quickly recap it here since TSS fails to appreciate the beauty of word economy. He posits that Rafa is good maybe great but he is missing the oh so important X factor. He takes his stance further than our typical wine and whiskey fueled Rafa vs. Federererer debate. He comments not so much against his abilities as a tennis player but his abilities as a sports hero for the generations. He conspicuously makes no mention at all of his simian good looks...I guess some things are just untouchable. In short, my counter to his argument is a resounding: BOOOOOOO.

Four years ago, I was living with my family in NJ (yes this is a recurring theme of my 20s) and happened upon a 19 year old Rafa playing an early round match at the French Open. At the time, I was neither a tennis player nor fan. It just happened to be on TV. I was transfixed. The clam-digger wearing Spaniard had me totally spell bound. Not just with his tan body, awe-inspiring arms, and out of this world fashion sense...but with his game! He was into it! He was scrambling cross court hunting down every single ball. Corner to corner, if it was returned, he was going to chase it. Good shots elicited ferocious fist pumps and guttural yells of VAMOS!!! His desire to win was palpable. It was incredibly compelling and addictive. And that my friends, is how a tennis fan was formed. I watched the rest of that French open where he won his first slam title and rolled victoriously in the red clay of Roland Garros. Don't you tell me, Sean Sullivan, that he is no star!

All this before I learned of his compelling backstory. Never left Mallorca unlike so many young tennis stars who leave their families to go train. His uncle is his coach. The kid is NOT EVEN LEFT HANDED yet plays geniuously!! His game and his humble and honest sportsmanship has caused me to watch almost every slam match he has been in since 2005. I subscribed to the Tennis Channel and got DVR to watch this guy play!!

Let's, for a moment, consider one of the "Stars" you present as a counter to My Rafa. Tiger Woods??? Agreed, he is a great golfer...probably the best ever. But is is a TOTAL freaking snooze-fest. I mean talk about boring. I have never seen him throw a club, yell, curse and he certainly does not enter the course with anything resembling blood-lust for Mickelson. Much like my Rafa, he goes out there and plays his best game hoping to win... not hoping to destroy and embarrass his opponents. I for one, really appreciate and enjoy the fact that My Rafa seems to lack the affect that besieges so many professional athletes. He seems absolutely genuine in his desire to win and his gratitude and humility when he does.

He is also wayyyy more attractive than any of those other fools you mentions.

Advantage: Nadal.

Inexcusable and Indefensible

I apologize for being so delinquent in getting this post up. I have big news to share (albeit belatedly) : IT'S A BOY!!!!

My months long search for a puppy to call my very own has come to an end. I've had to deal with allergic idiots and crazy dog people to get him but I was steadfast in my resolve and the pup is, at long last, here.

Unsurprisingly perhaps, his name is Rafa. My Rafa from Philly brings me even more joy than My Rafa from Mallorca. We are early to bed and early to rise and spend our time walking around the hood eating trash off the ground (Rafa) and sticking our hands down puppy throats to retrieve trash (Carly Pumpkin). He is universally a hit...adored by people and dogs alike (except for that homicidal Scottie at the dog park).

Like peas and carrots me and my rafa are...and for those of you wondering, he absolutely, unequivocally adores my dog voice.

Be Still My Beating Heart

I used to be a faithful Idol watcher, texting in to support the likes of Kelly, Ruben, and Fantasia. Fantasia's "Summertime" made me cry and Kelly Clarkson's lyrics still guide me to this day. My allegiance to the show, however, has waned in recent years. But 2009 is the year of the Idol come back!!!! Tonight we find out who will be in the final and I am giddy with anticipation.
I am sure you all have been waiting with bated breath for me to weigh in on this topic. Here's my rundown of the contenders:

Adam Lambert: is a freak. I like him sometimes but generally I think he screams too much. And I hate scream-y music.

Danny Gokey: I do not like Danny Gokey. He can sing but he is boring. booo Gokey.

Kris Allen: Oh boy do I love me some Kris Allen. He is a better version of the Guy Who Sings Cover Songs (GWSCS) at the bar in college. Girls really love GWSCS and I was no exception. You with your moveable hair and your acoustic guitar. Watching KA's version of Heartless last night, I was transcended to 2002 and my senior year in college. I began wondering if he was going to be at the Alpha Delt late night.

The Idol version of The Guy Who Sings Covers Songs, though, seems to have some distinct improvements over the orginal (jackson rohm at my school). His failure to call out drink orders during his performances seems to suggest that he is not a full-blown alcoholic. His being married also might suggest that he is not teeming with college-town STDs. And finally, his career certainly appears to be on a better trajecotry than the guy who sold out Stadium (the bar...not an actual stadium) at Miami University.

I am really pulling for you Kris.

Summer Summer Summer Time

Check out all that nature growing!!

The past few days in Philadelphia have been less about crisp spring days familiar to late april and more about the mid-90s blazing sunshine of late July. Whatever, I will take hot and sunny over cold and grey any day. The onset of this weather meant a return to doing everything outside. Trading in the gym for my bike and the sofa for my garden.

This weekend I took my bike out for its inaugural spin of the season (and survived...panting and sore...but I survived) and toiled like a little bee in my garden. The transformation of urban dump into urban oasis does not come easily. While in the country this weekend I stopped by the garden store and stocked up on all kinds of plants (well really only the kinds that grow in the shade). I then spent most of Sunday toiling in the earth. I was sweating and covered in dirt but was unflinching in my committment to bring the change we need to my little patio. After all the plants were in the ground I grabbed my LL Bean canvas, marched down to Whole Foods, and with the air of smug superiority befitting someone who spent all day greening her home with the the dirty skin to prove it, shopped for some food for dinner. The evening wrapped up with friends, fish on the grill, and some chilled rose! not bad.

Keep on Keepin On

It took the first 25 years of my life before I could write this statement honestly: I like running. This was not always the case, in fact wasn't even close to the case for most of my life. But as I have mentioned on this blog before, I really kind of dig it now. Gets me outside, gets me moving, gets the good ju ju flowing. This, however, does NOT apply to running on a treadmill....or so I thought until recently.

My natural gait tends to be somewhat jerky and more than just a little duck-footed. Not exactly a stride well-suited to the NARROW confines and steady speed of a treadmill. But lately I have been giving that long-overlooked machine at the gym a chance. And I kind of like it! I have to listen to my ipod to combat the boredom (i am earbud free when I run outside). I also have to stay focused on looking straight ahead. My natural tendency to try and peep everything that is going on at the gym leaves me feeling nauseous and dangerously close to tripping when I am on the treadmill. But the ability to just run for 30 minutes with no stoplights or exhaust fumes offers its own special charm.

Overall the treadmill gets 3 out of 5 stars!!

April Showers Bring May Flowers

Debris and Despair








This past weekend in Philadelphia was the epitome of spring. The thermometer hit 70 degrees and all activities were moved outdoors. Drinking, eating, exercising, and just sitting are all more enjoyable when done outside on the first REAL spring day of the year. I myself had 2 dinners and slightly more than 2 glasses of wine outside.

It was not all play though. I took advantage of the warm weather to take on some serious spring cleaning. I moved into my current apartment because it was close to work, allowed dogs (more on that soon hopefully), and had access to a private patio. Well, apparently the prior tenants did not place as a high a value on outdoor space as I do....this thing was a dump. A hot mess under all sorts of debris and overgrowth of plants and leaves. I, though, was fearless in the face of such a challenge. With a rake, some work gloves, hours of HGTV in my memory, and a triumphant spirit I tackled that outdoor monstrosity head on. I cleared, I swept, I shoveled, I planted. I toiled for hours and ended the day feeling exhausted and satisfied. Even today's shift in weather from spring back to soggy cold was not enough to dampen my spirit. I comforted myself knowing that those new little plants of mine would be happy for the drink!

It still needs a little in the way of greenery but I think I am well on my way to refined outdoor city living!

AFTER
PS I would welcome suggestions of plants that can grow without a ton of light!

Tweet Tweet

I am not sure if writing the post I am about to write makes me incredibly tech-savvy or a gigantic loser with far too much time on her hands. But I felt I needed to join the public debate on the new facebook layout. That's right, I am blogging about facebook being too much like Twitter.

When FB first rolled out the new format it appeared that everyone was quite up in arms. To be honest, though, I didn't even notice. Everyone said Facebook should stop trying to be Twitter and just be happy being Facebook...uhhh ok, whatever that means.

But now I get it!

So,, the new FB layout with its constant stream of updates seeks to keep me informed with up to the second information about my "friends". Well one of my "friends"is this kid I went to middle school who was nice and nerdy when he was 11 but is now a huge tool whose status updates invariably make mention of his mixed marshall arts workouts. He is also fond of posting pictures of his tattoos and him and his "boyz" standing in front of cars. In between his grueling workout and photoshoot schedule he managages, somehow, to find the time to take EVERY FLIPPING FACEBOOK QUIZ IN EXISTANCE. I know what city he would be, what animal, even what sex position he would be. I can not ESCAPE him. FB has me trapped in this kid's world! I used to find his occasional updates really amusing but the incessant stream has made me numb and annoyed.

I hate you new facebook.

This Desert Life, This High Life

I am back from a long weekend of desert sun, friends, and nuptials. The setting was beautiful, the bride was stunning and there are few things I like more than spending time with the girls (and guys) of Kaleidoscope.

The Desert (as those in the know call it) is an interesting place. It is unbelievably pretty: clear blue skies, bright sunshine, palm trees and spectacularly unexpected mountains shooting out of the ground. It is also a town home to Bob Hope Highway, Dinah Shore Way, and the Sonny Bono Cocourse at the airport. Juxtaposed with the gorgeous natural setting are some interesting man made touches: big boobs, big cars, big hair, and big pools in the middle of the desert.

The Kaleidoscope crew also added their own touches to the desert. There were ninjas, pizza parties, pool parties, weddings, and Little Lynch dressed as a Corona-bound Lime.

An undeniably great time.

Like Night and Day

The best I could do, I might not be ready for TMZ just yet

This past weekend has been a study in contrasts. On Saturday night, I met up with some old friends from the town I grew up in. Whoa. Lots has changed. I spent the evening in smoke filled bars and swung by karaoke night at the local bowling alley. Tagging along for part of the evening was an acquaintance of my old friend who goes by the name Balls. It should surprise no one that Balls was wearing baggy jeans, white t-shirt, and had a rap sheet thicker than the phone book. Though I did not get to bowl, I did play a very successful round of spot that mullet. Overall it made me pretty flipping happy that I never, ever have to go there again.

I pleaded with my friend to flee early on Sunday morning back to the safe and familiar confines of Philadelphia (calling Philadelphia safe should offer a sense of the misery experienced in Pottstown). It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon so my buddy Luke and I grabbed a seat outside at Parc (no bowling or karaoke). Facing out toward Rittenhouse square, we people watched and snacked on mussles, salad, and wine. Unfortunately, Balls couldn't make it but we did have Chris Matthews and Carson Kressley(check out the paparazi shot I snapped...I also did what any classy gal would and emailed the local gossip reporter)!

A.O. Scott Finally Gets It Right

Today is the first day of Spring. Although, it was snowing a touch this morning my excitement has not lessened. I am ready to retire my coats and spend longer outdoors than just the time it takes to walk, shivering, to and from work. I am looking forward to an end to this workweek and a sunshine filled weekend in the country.

I can think of no better way to get things started than spending Friday evening with my gal J. Ro. Jules has a new movie out tonight, and while I love all of her films, this one was apparently enough to make even that insufferable A.O. Scott crack a smile. A little dose of romance and espionage in the city and then to the country for food, family, and dogs!

Stay tuned for the review!

Live and Learn

Over the last several months I have spent time socially with a fella from New York City. In addition to being geographically undesirable he was allergic to a myriad of things. Most importantly, dogs. As my wise uncle Cheetah said upon learning of this disability "it's a non-starter. don't bother". Well, I unwisely did not heed the Little Cheetah's advice and found myself spending more time on a bus that I am comfortable with and postponing my search for dog.

Well I have finally come to my senses and gotten my priorities in order. See ya later sneezer-boy and helllllo little puppy. The search for a furry companion has begun anew!

Please feel free to send me any small to medium sized adorable pooches you may come across.

Peace, love, and puppies.

You've Gotta Play to Win *

A few years back I was working in DC as somewhat of an indentured servant. I worked insane hours for a pittance of a salary and was forced to stick around by the promise of a year end bonus which would enable me to pay the debt I'd accrued during the year just to maintain my lifestyle. This lifestyle consisted of an apartment I could NOT afford and way too many ghetto fabulous nights out (nights of revelry following payday...pretty sure that line is going to bar me from ever holding public office).

I searched for a way out. Yes, I tried the conventional routes of searching for a new job and contemplating a move to the islands. But I knew there was something else, a promise of something more. Powerball.

I passed my time thinking of how I would spend my riches, what car I would have, who I would give a million to, where I would go on vacation. I realize these are not uncommon fantasies but I checked hotel rates and availability. I was committed. I signed up for the Powerball emails. Just the promise of a multi-million dollar windfall and the happiness it would bring seemed almost enough...and the chance that maybe next time they would be MY numbers.

In the last two days, 2 separate winning tickets for millions and millions of the rich stuff have been sold outside of Philadelphia. Makes me think it's time to get back in the game....

* The original post failed to acknowledge my Powerball teammate Chrissie Walsh. Ms. Walsh has been referenced in other posts but was regretfully ommitted from this one. Please let the record reflect that she not only purchased tickets and agreed to share her winnings, she also helped me research plastic surgeons and was going to be my roommate at the Four Seasons during recovery from our lotto-financed Extreme Makeover. My apologies.

Carly Couch Philadelphia

This weekend was full of friends, food, wine, history, fun, and gem-colored coats. By Sunday, though, I was pretty much useless. Confronted with a day on the couch and a stubborn state of conciousness, I had to do some serious entertainment planning. After scanning the 100 channels I receive and coming up empty handed, I turned to trusty On Demand. Oddly, this service was populated with films I had never heard of or with unappealing titles (and I just watched Baby Mama last week...wonderful). I was tempted by Meryl Streep and pretty shots of Greece but didn't think my head was quite ready for 2 hours of Abba hits, so Mama Mia! was ruled out.

I hesitantly pulled the trigger on Vicky Christina Barcelona.

Now, I don't really like these artsy films in general. And I know from experience I don't care for Woody Allen movies (Matchpoint? kill me.). But for some reason I was intrigued. Although it was off to a slow start I really got into it! It was full of pretty people and pretty places and essentially was like a thinking-person's rom-com! Smart and satisfying!! Penelope Cruz was great and in my opinion deserving of that Oscar (though I only saw one of her competitors: Marissa Tomei in The Wrestler whose performance I could not fairly judge b/c I hated every moment I was in that theater watching that offensive movie).

Four Stars!

Dispatches from Costa

Dora the Explorer

It's been so long, I hardly know where to begin! Well, since most of my recent absence was due to a week-long trip to Costa Rica, I suppose I'll start there. It was a week of adventure, relaxation, and LOADS of family time. Some highlights are below:

ADVENTURE ON THE HIGH SEAS

A few days into my Costa Rican holiday, my father suggests that we go on a little fishing trip. Sea, Sun, catching things that I could later eat....it all sounded GREAT to me. The morning was perfect, sunny and warm. However, the calm of the morning belied the dangers I would soon face!

They day went roughly like this. Captain Bob and I (with the help of skipper Bing) scooted off shore approximately 12 miles searching for mahi mahi or marlin. I had visions of a delicious grilled dinner and possibly catching something big enough to stuff and mount above my bed (the fellas love a sporty chick). Unfortunately for us the fish were a little too sneaky that day and were able to avoid all 12 of the lines we had in the water. After about and hour of pleasant circling we headed in.

It was almost at this exact moment that the winds decided to make their presence known. At first it was great fun bouncing over waves. I sat in the front of the boat and yelled "wheeee" everytime we hit one big enough to momentarily eject me from my seat. What started as a few cheap thrills quickly turned to straight nautical distress. There were 10 foot swells, 50 MPH winds (captain bob's estimation), and white-caps as far as I could see. I began singing the Gilligan's Island theme song in my head.

As I was clutching on to the side of the boat for dear life, my father leaned around to ask if his eldest (and dare I say favorite) daugter was doing ok. I gave him the thumbs up (I didn't actually think I was going to die and indicating any fear would have brought on mockery I was not prepared to deal with). He acknowleged the thumbs up and said "Good, wanna see if you can get some photos of this!!". Uhhhhh sure dad, let me just release the grip that is keeping me inside the boat as opposed to the watery grave below and capture a few candids.



CORTEZ 1, CARLY 0

When I lived in Germantown there was a dog next door named Conrad. Poor Conrad was kept outside on my neighbor's porch in all manner of inclement weather. Each evening when I would come home Conrad would poke his little (ok, rather large) snout through the fence to say hello. I always gave Conrad a large biscuit and a warm greeting. Sometimes, I would give Conrad a special treat and slide him over some leftovers from dinner. One evening I gave Conrad a delicious lamb chop. I placed it down for him on his side of the fence and went to give him a "Good Boy Conrad" pat on the head. At this point, Conrad forgot all of his neighborly graces and tried to devour my hand.

Lesson learned: do not pet unknown pooches on the head when delicious treats are placed before them.

Fast forward: Costa 2009.

I was taking a friendly photo shoot of my favorite Latin pooch Cortez. To compliment him on some really excellent shots (see above) I went to pat him on the head to say "Bueno Pero Cortez". He then went in to finish what Conrad had started and had my whole hand in his mouth in a split second. CHOMP!!

Primitive first-aid was immediately administered: Bactine. Bandage. WINE. allllll better