The Giglio

In celebration of Italy's win of the World Cup, I and my friends A and A went to the annual Feast of the Giglio. New York is home to several feasts put on to commemorate Italian saints. The most famous one is the Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy. But another great feast takes place in Williamsburg, where a 65ft. statue is carried through the streets.

The feast is in honor of San Paolino the patron saint of Nola who saved the town from Arab invaders. If you look closely you can see the arab invader on the platform.
Carnival games and rides are staples of feasts in the tri-state area, but my favorite part is the food.

Sausage and Peppers, Pizza and Kebabs and other crazy delicious street food.

Mmm. Meat on the grill. A classic smell of summer.
My favorite are Zeppoles.

Delicious deep fried batter covered with powdered sugar. Heart attack inducer? Maybe. Heaven in a paper bag? Definitely.

Working Girl

I've been wondering for a while now how to broach the subject of my employment. I am generally against writing about work. As if we haven't learned enough times already, it will only get you fired. And for all the funny, weird and annoying things that happen to me, when I sit down to write about them they lose some of their luster. As if under the florescent ligths and grays walls of the cublicles, everything is amplified, but in the cold clear light of day the same slights and the bizarre conversations are cut back down to size.
John Lennon said life is what happens when we're to busy making other plans, I would just amend that to say life is what happens when we're not at work. I took my job because I believed in the mission of the organization. At college graduation, all of the speeches encouraged us to use our extensive educations, prodigious intelligence and massive student debt to change the world.
A nice sentiments, but how does one go about doing that? A few weeks ago, I read an article in the times that quoted a resident of the rapidly shrinking coastal islands of Louisiana as saying, "I used to think I could change the world, but now I realize, it's changed me."

Lady? in the Water

Elijah Wood? Is that you?

Resolution

I don't make New Year's resolutions. I don't care to lose weight or stop biting my nails. But it's come time to make a change. I've been thinking about this for a while, and I know that it's been negatively affecting my life. My family hates it; my friends make fun of me. Strangers stare at me on the street. It's ruins my appearance and it ruins my reputation.
Confessions of a sloppy eater. I've gotten grease stains on my clothes and crumbs in my hair. I've walked around with powdered sugar from zeppoles all over my shirt. (Hey they don't call it a shelf for nothing.) It was funny when I was a little girl. Inconsequential when I was a teenager. Understandable when I was a college student. But now? It's gross.
The last straw came today when I got a sandwich at lunch. I couldn't wait of course, so I ate it walking down the street. Only to realize three minutes later that I was getting big greasy drops of olive oil on my pants accentuated by ciabbatta flour dust. I had to walk around the rest of the day like this. People looked at me funny.
From now on, I'm going to sit down and eat my dinner like a grown up.

Why the South scares me.

I was accosted by a group of southern kids in Washington Square Park today. They were taking a survery of some sort. Despite the fact that my eyes were looking at a book and I appeared, by all accounts, to be reading not one but two of these kids came up to me and wanted to ask me some questions. The first time I said I was busy and the second time I said I was reading. This kid had a serious southern accent that I had previously only heard on tv, and part of me wanted to believe he was putting it on. But his big blue eyes were lit up with what can only be described as the light of the Lord. There was this flicker of confusion on his face, like reading was clearly not a good enough excuse to not talk to a stranger. I was curious about what these questions pertained to, but not curious enough to be berated for being a liberal, non-believing, fag-lover. (Ok I have no idea if that is what they were all about, but I automatically distrust anyone who lives outside of a 75-mile radius of New York. Who do you think elected Bush? Twice.)
Any way upon coming home I decided to do a google search to see if I could turn up anything. One of the kids was wearing an Auburn University shirt, so I decided to start there. I couldn't find anything about a survey, but I did find this. Ok, the guy who wrote it is seems like a nice enough chap, but that's not going to stop me from making fun of it.
First of all they fell into the Manhattan Apts trap. Everyone I know who has gone to this agency has had a nightmare experience. Everyone. But it is kinda funny that they are shocked that realtors charge a fee. $3000 is pretty steep, but no one I know even complains about realtors fees anymore. We're just so used to being raped up the ass like that. (Maybe that's how we become fag-lovers in the first place?)
Also college students need it explained to them that a train line has two tracks that go in opposite directions? Really?
The best way to get a job in New York? Southern Charm. Unless that's a code word for blowjobs and connections, I'm not sure it's going to take you far.
But the do's and dont's list is the best part.
Don’t make any jokes regarding race or sexuality. You never know
You never know!? You never know!? There are so many things wrong with this, I don't know where to start. Yes, clearly the reason not to make racist, homophobic jokes in the workplace is because you might offend one of those n*****s, kikes or fags. But it's totally cool behind closed doors with your cracker buddies. And again, college students need to be told this? So much for southern charm.
Don’t interrupt the producer while he is having an important conversation with the DP to ask if the thing we’re having tomorrow is a party or a meeting.
I assume this one comes from personal experience.