greenlight district

Google really gets me.

Every year when I go to the GREAT New York State Fair, I make sure to get a handwriting analysis test. I find these about 98% accurate (past example: "You are comfortable giving and receiving compliments - hullo!), funny ("You have the ability to handle large scale operations" - huhhuh!) and also flattering ("You enjoy creating happiness for others." - correct, like with my treats). Well, I've found a new machine to reinforce my path of self-definition/discovery when the State Fair is on hiatus: Google.

Directions: Go to Google. Type in: [your name] (space) is (space, this is an important space, it makes all the difference in accuracy) then see your results. A hot, cool, bossy, blonde, vegetarian Lisa? Change "cooking" to "baking" and we're golden.

Buying panties in bulk is underrated (and other discoveries)

And no, I'm not talking about buying 5 for $25 at Vicky's, where's the fun in actually CHOOSING the specific pairs of underwear you want to wear anyways? I mean visiting your local Duane Reade (or for you out of NYCers, your drugstore or 'mart of choice) and picking up a 5-6 pack (7 if you're lucky) of undies. I did this for the first time in at least the last decade yesterday* and got much satisfaction out of it. I would suggest Joe Boxer for those gals in a pinch and near a KMart (aka in Astor Place). I was super satisfied with the end product: a perfectly packaged bundle of "low rise hipsters." (Sounds like the L train after last call heh heh) They were also surprisingly sexier than I thought they'd be...that might be because they were essentially cheap and flimsy. But I digress.

The other thing I have discovered this week is Pandora. I know what you're thinking: "WHERE WERE YOU ALL THIS TIME, LRAP??" Or maybe: "I thought, since you have mad dj skills, Pandora would be your virtual playlist playground-will you spin at my son's bar mitzvah?" I know this is new in the same way that Twilight was a brand new concept to my sweet/indie/artist/hipster friend Sarah Wolfe to whom I had to explain my job and the Jonas Brothers to. I think that my iPod has been feeling the heat from PDors as it has been playing some ridiculously sick mixes! Just now I put it on Shuffle and it played: Hanson, old school Britney, Nelly ("Pimp Juice," duh), and M.I.A. It usually tries to sneak in Celine Dion Xmas songs or all of that Goldfrapp, Artic Monkeys etc I have that I don't like to listen to on my commute. Don't worry, iPod, not even the magical Pandora can replace you.

And lastly, rounding out the green element: TV Carpooling! My friends and I don't have minivans and kids to take to soccer practice, but what we do have are TVs and shows we mutually appreciate. So our resource saving "pool" is a little bit different; instead of all watching our prime time programs alone we get together for weekly viewing parties! Gossip Girl with the Mulberry Broads, Idol/So You Think You Can Dance with the Chelsea boys - anything Twilight related with Annie, a trashy reality show once in a while with Molly Mouse. Not only is it a great way to save electricity - instead of several televisions/lights/etc on in three/four households, you have one -  but it's the best way to indulge in our group guilty pleasures. I also recently met someone who told me about a "Guacamol-Off" she had where everyone contributed their guac recipes to the party. Um, Gossip Girl Guacamol-Off to kick off the season 3 premiere anyone?

*this is what happens when you work in Jerz, live in BK and spend 85% of your week outside of your apt leaving no time to do laundry. I don't really expect any of you to need stashes of prepackaged panties otherwise...

My prayers ("Are you there, job? It's me, L-Rap!") are finally answered

For as much as I like to make fun of people/my friends for actually having jobs, it's all in good fun/Regina George Mean Girls behavior. IT'S BECAUSE I'M JEALOUS! I know people think "work sucks," but guess what - I LOVE to work, and as much as I did enjoy having a little break from it at the beginning of my hiatus, I really don't want to be unemployed. I'll gladly trade my couch for a cubicle, my granola bars and free bagels that were just going to be thrown out for actual foods - my sweatpants for REAL pants!
Well, greenlighters, the time has come for your beloved L-Rap to claw her way out of the working class with her real j.o.b. (that starts tomorrow - AH!) If you've been listening to me bitch, moan, and cry  following the saga of the whole interview process that I've been through and/or noticed that I've been living in a cave the past 5 weeks, I first apologize for being a gloomy gal, second thank you for your unwavering love and support that got me through this time, and third invite you out for drinks and dancing to celebrate my entrance into the working world and say good bye to my slaveage to minimum wageage!

And just for funtimes, let's take a look at a rundown of my work history:
Putt-Putt Miniature Golf Course (later renamed Putter's Paradise): Summers '01, '02, '03 - pay: $6.15/hour, benefits: all the Smartie's and Choco Taco's you can eat and free games for your friends
American Eagle Outiftters: short-lived summer job in 2002 - pay: $5.40/hour, benefits: 40-60% discount, ability to add "excellent t-shirt folding skills" to resume
Journey's: the minute I turned 16 until I left for college (2002-2004) - pay: I totally forget I just remember that I got laid off for a short period and then rehired for a higher rate...probably $6.50 then $7/hour, benefits: 35% off, special 50%, also ability to survive in any working environment that included: sexual harassment, working the storefront while different managers hung out in the backroom committing statuatory rape, stealing shoes, smoking pot, taking pregnancy tests, gambling, napping, fighting/throwing shoeboxes at significant others, cheating on fiancée, pooping in a box to send to another store.
Gadzook's: Summers '02, later in '04 to help them liquidate while the company went bankrupt. pay: ?? prob around $7/hour, benefits: a discount, becoming well accquainted with the Playboy line of clothing and accessories and the people that purchase said items
Pastino's (later renamed Rosario's, now closed): Summers '04, '05 - pay: $3.30/hour + tips, benefits: really good free food
NYU Phonathon: first few months of freshman year, pay: who cares, it was the WORST JOB EVER with no benefits except getting the chance to harass dying NYU alum
Media 4 Humanity: 2004 - 2005 - pay: internship, so just warm fuzzy feelings for doing good, benefits: two personal assisting jobs each $10/hour
Oren's Daily Roast: 2004 - 2007 - pay: $8-11/hour + tips, benefits: Nothing to snark about, really, truly the love of my service industry life! Made some of my best friends here and became a serious coffee snob from working here...
Dogsitting: 2005 - present - pay: good, benefits: getting to know dogs like Chester and Austin-pants
Interview: 2006 - pay: internship, benefits: free mags, indie cred, and paid freelance transciption work
Brooklyn Bread: 2009 - pay: $6.50/hour + tips, benefits: bagels, ability to master paying rent, utilities, and loans each month on less than $800 gross income
Assorted real jobs: Ryan Basic's & Sexy Beast, Entertainment Weekly/EW.com, Shecky's, lots of freelance writing

Me and my Pop Culture Addictive Personality Disorder take on Twilight (and lose)

"Oh shit," I thought when I finally watched Twilight - when I realized exactly why I had been avoiding cracking open the book or Googling "Robert Pattinson." It's because I can't just simply enjoy such a sweet brand of cultural phenomenon and move on, if I fall for it then I live and die for it. My name is Lisa, I have Pop Culture Addictive Personality Disorder, and Twilight is my new drug of choice.

I'm like those alcoholics that can't hang out at a bar without funneling a bottle of tequila and lighting themselves on fire. I put some of the blame on the enablers I call my "friends" who should have known this before exposing me to Stephenie Meyers' trite teen drama and Robert Pattinson's chiseled (LIKE OUT OF MARBLE) gloomy gaze. Look at the facts: when I was 11 every girl my age was into Hanson or NSYNC or BSB or whatevs, but they all got over it. I'm the one that carries the torch a decade later (and cough cough, fucking met them and interviewed them no big deal cough cough) I've had similar relationships with others: Degrassi/The N, many a TV show that I've watched in its entireity over a weekend, JT , BritBrit - but quite possibly my lovelust for Twilight is even more potent. (KINDOFLIKETHELOVETHATEXISTSBETWEENBELLAANDEDWARDTHETRUESTLOVEINALLTHEWORLD)

So eff all of you for letting me watch the movie and read the books. I'm a few pages away from the end of New Moon, and I'm already clammy (or "palpy" as they say) for Eclipse. I sped through Moon just so (SPOILER ALERT) I could sleep at night knowing that Edward and Bella reunite. Although, I'm savoring the last 100 pages or so and don't know how the story ends so don't blow it for me. This is because I won't be able to handle it if something bad happens and they aren't together anymore. Um, no joke. Scary, I know. Help.

It's cool, Robert Pattinson, you can just keep staring at me like that, it's no big deal. It's not like my hands burn with a hundred fucking suns of passion to run my fingers through your impossibly beautiful locks. And your stubble is, like, whatevs, it's not like I die inside imagining what it would feel like to scrape against my cheek while you were whispering sweet nothings into my ear, you asshole.

So You Think You Can DATE NEIL?

I'm dogsitting the lovable Austin-pants, which means that for the week I have a pup, a sweet pad in Soho and a subscription to Time Out and New York mag. This week's Time Out is obvi about Valentine's Day and has Judah Friedlander and a bunch of other single NYers on the cover with a dating guide inside. I scanned the little pics thinking I'd come across at least an ex or someone a friend had boned. But to my SHEER DELIGHT the only familiar face I spotted was the beautiful blonde Neil Haskell, a finalist on Season 3 of best-show-ever So You Think You Can Dance and someone I had an immense reality TV crush on! He is a great dancer and was very personable and funny on the show. My roommate sometimes sees him and other SYTYCDance hotties at Broadway Dance Center and I knew that Neil was in Alter Boyz off Broadway, but didn't know his relationship status (um, or really sexual orientation for that matter, he's looking for a lady. Go for it, Annie) until now. If I wasn't a happily married woman I'd be all about it, but since I can only look, mama needs someone to touch. Please date Neil (pictured right)! Check out his profile and email this pirouetting stud muffin. (And someone please check on Travis and Ivan while we're at it)

If you're still not sure whether or not you'd enjoy seeing Neil with his shirt off, here are some stalkery pictures that should quiet any doubts. And maybe watching this video of him and his limber levitating pelvic region will further seal the deal:

Even a feminist can love her Kitchenaid Mixer

Increased domesticity is one of the obligatory symptoms of working from home and spending 90% of your time in your apartment, you actually start to shed the dormitory-induced inability to nest and start teaching yourself how to play house. You learn new things like how to jiggle your ancient toilet's handle perfectly until you hear the familiar ::plink:: You buy giant phallic squashes and cut them up and make soup out of them.  And you stop being afraid to do things like bake, which I think I was for awhile.

That sounds totally weird - but understand, baking was always kind of an ominous female force in my family. I grew up in the most heteronormative (hi, I was a double major in Journalism and Gender & Sexuality Studies at NYU) household where mom raised kids and cooked and baked and cleaned and dad manually labored and brought home the money that made ends meet and I was the overacheiving first born daughter who did theater and school stuff and fought about curfews and when I could go on my first date while my brother played sports. There were many things that separated me from the female members of my family but it always manifested in baking, which was a central theme and the glue that brought together all family gatherings. My Mom, Gramma, Aunts, and cousin would bake DOZENS of different varieties of cookies for Christmas and New Year's, no less than five different types of pies for Thanksgiving, breads and more sweet treats for Easter, and specially tailored cakes for everyone's birthday. I always felt like the baking gene missed me, like every other lady in my fam tree was born with a whisk in her hand and the ability to bake from memory and I was some independent non-baking weirdo who no one would ever pass down recipe cards to or ever ask to bring cookies to supplement a tray.

But then I moved into my first apartment and something clicked. My roommate and I had a holiday party and I decided to make my own tray of cookies. They were such a hit (duh) that I made more for a friend's New Year's party. The rest is herstory as we say in the feminist biz. This Christmas my boyfriend answered my vegan baking goddess dreams and gave me a gorgeous TANGERINE KitchenAid mixer, the moneyshot of all kitchens and the only appliance that's possibly more serious a gift than a ring (in the words of one wide-eyed friend, "wow, you guys really love each other") Being the woman-of-the-90s that I am, I think that I thought I was supposed to take my cues from Annie in Father of the Bride and freak out that my boyfriend gave me something to use in my kitchen, but then I (and he) had to remind me that, um, this was something I really wanted - fuck the rom com stereotype of not being able to bake delicious treats and break glass ceilings all.at.the.same.time. And also, what fembot hasn't picked up (subscribed to) Bust recently - reembracing domesticity is so the new feminist frontier! Come on. Where else would stuff like this come from? My baking gene wasn't ingrained but stumbled upon. It was Googled and substituted with organic whole wheat flour and ground flaxseeds and vegan chocolate chips, and it wasn't like what I had grown up observing and eating - (but it will probably be what my kiddies will one day munch on, and you'll be able to find the recipes on my Brooklyn-Mom-healthy-eating blog). My family can keep their Italian cookies, decadent pies, and rich cakes - I am a budding vegan baker in my own right. And hopefully they'll make some room at the table for something I've baked up one of these days.