Beach Badge Bingo
"You have to pay to go to the beach?" screeched the BFF over the cell phone. "I thought you would have to pay for parking, but the beach?" "You have to pay," said the friend from Brooklyn. "We don't really need to go to the beach." "Seriously," said my mom as I told here we would need to pay to go to the beach. "Seriously?" I think y'all get the point. People don't understand why we buy beach badges to go onto the Jersey Shore. And honestly I don't know why either. Which makes it even harder to explain it to friends and family. The first time my peeps from the City came to hang out I had to explain the infamous beach badge. And believe me, there were way more questions than answers. See I used to live in Florida, and I'm sort of spoiled when it comes to beaches. The water is warm and the parking is pretty reasonable. Ah, the good old days of St. Pete beach and Treasure Island . Then there was Miami Beach and Key West -- you can see how I would get spoiled. And even though Austin is land locked, I spent my summers on the Gulf Coast in Corpus Christi. Not to mention I've been to the beaches in California.
So I'm no newbie when it comes to the shore, just one when it comes to Jersey's. Even today, as I headed to the beach, I found myself standing on the opposite side of the boardwalk talking to the BFF on my cell phone.
That's when she screeched, "You have to pay to go to the beach?" Again, I tried to explain the badges and the traffic and the bennies.
That's when I agreed with her that it sucked. Then recanted, "I'll get a season pass or whatever it's called; it'll be cheaper in the long run." At least I hope so.
Season Beach Badge: $50
Tank of gas: $30
Train ticket to NYC: $20
A summer escaping bennies on the Jersey Shore: Priceless
Song I can't get out of my head: Pussy Cat Dolls, "Buttons"
And it begins ...
It has begun. When "the others" begin to invade us. When they start to take over our restaurants, our shops, and our parking spaces. Yes, my friends, it has begun. The invasion of ... the bennies. At least with the invasion of the Fantanas, I get surgary orange soda. But with the bennies, I mostly just get a headache. OK, so they are not all that bad, but seriously, can you not block the driveway? Now y'all know what I'm talking about. People tried to warn me about it; they told me it would change in the summer. They tried to tell me that the Shore would magically triple in population during the summer. I didn't listen. I figured it would be no big deal; I mean I did go to the largest university in the United States with more than 50,000 students and 20,000 faculty and staff. So what were a few more people during the summer, right? Wrong! Totally wrong. I really had no idea. They seem to come from everywhere and invade everything. So to help you with the summer, here are some tidbits I've learned about the Jersey Shore: 1) Speedos should be reserved for professional swimmers and water polo players. Really, guys, board shorts are so much nicer. 2) Guys, those girls didn't date you in college or high school -- please give it up. It doesn't matter how many hurricanes they've had. No, really, I hear the stories and then I might blog about them. You wouldn't want that, would you? 3) The "frat daddy" quota nearly triples during the summer. Now, don't get me wrong, I have some dear friends who were in frats, so I'm not dissing frats. You ladies know what I mean when I say "frat daddy" they're a specific breed of "gentleman." 4) Beware of drunken people walking down the streets in dark clothing coming back from bars on Main Street. No, really, you never know when one might slide off the sidewalk. 5) And finally -- if all else fails, take the train to the City and invade their territory. It's what I do. On iTunes: "Almost Famous" Soundtrack
The greatest (fashion) show on earth
I ran off and joined the circus. Ok, I didn't. But I did hang out with Ringling Bros. on the latest Good Life magazine fashion shoot. Elephants and zedonks and models. Oh my! We (designers, photographers, editors, stylist, models) headed to Trenton last Thursday to meet with the circus. Once there, we had two hours to set up and then less than five hours between the two performances to get everything shot. A normal shoot (not including set-up time) can go for more than seven hours, but this had to be done quickly. In that small amount of time, we needed to get 10 intricate shots: Some shots called for performers, others included animals, all had beautiful clothing. So without giving too much away, here's a behind-the-scenes sneak peak at the upcoming fall fashion spread.  Beth walkie talkies to the art director to see when the models are needed on the floor. On top of her head sit three hats that will be used in a later shot. -----------------------------------------------------------------  Our model, Nadia, gets prepped by stylists and hair and make-up upstairs in the skybox at Sovereign Bank Arena. -----------------------------------------------------------------  Models, Eileen and Nadia meet with Hercules (Joszef Pakucza) before the first shot of the day. -----------------------------------------------------------------  Model, Nadia, flips though the current issue of Good Life while chatting with the art director, Harris, before the elephants are brought to the main stage. -----------------------------------------------------------------  The three models, Eileen, Nadia and Alex, are introduced to the elephants under the supervision of their trainers. -----------------------------------------------------------------  Zelda, a zedonk, her trainer, Adam and model, Eileen, pose for the last shot of the day. A zedonk is half zebra, half donkey. Heard at the circus: Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" done like musack
Where is Broad Street?
Off on a tangent Issue #20 Philly state of mind I know, I know. I haven't blogged in a while. And much like "my dog ate my homework," my excuse is just as lame. I've been busy and tired. I know, I know. I can hear my mom saying, "That's no excuse, young lady." Well Mom, you're right. So why have I been tired? Well work has been hectic, as has my personal life. So here's a little story of why yours truly is so tired. It started last year when the BFF decided to go back to grad school and applied to places all over the U.S. She recently accepted an opening at a school right outside of Philly. So last weekend BFF, BFF's mom and I had a single mission -- find her an apartment in three days. Simple, right? I mean, I found mine in a couple of hours; I was totally sure we would be able to do this. It was going to be an adventure: We would see her school, meet some of her future classmates and see a bell. We were in Philly after all, where they keep the history. Here you go, the Cliffs notes version of my weekend in Philly. Get some popcorn and settle in: 1) I get directions off Google Local that say I would be there in about and hour and a half. I proceed to throw whatever is clean into a suitcase, get my keys and go. I follow the directions all the way into Penn., no problem. But then it tells me to exit at 309. 309? Really? Wait, 309 would put me near Hershey, Pa. That's no good. I look at the map, I look at the directions, I look at the map again. There has to be a mistake. I finally realize that 309 is not an exit number but a highway. Awesome. 2) We constantly get lost. It seems like the roads change names even when all you do is go straight. It's like *poof* sorry the street you were on just expired; enjoy your ride on the new street. Half the time it seemed like the map didn't even match the city. 3) We go to this restaurant named Houlihan's that I proceed to constantly call hooligans. We were meeting one of her new classmates, and I looked like a dork constantly calling the restaurant hooligans. Hum ... that would be an interesting name for a place. Scalawags and hooligans. Anyways, BFF and BFF's mom went to the ladies room, leaving me to sit with the new classmate all alone. On any other day I would have tried to make polite conversation or at least asked a half decent question to jump-start the dialogue. But oh no, not that day -- that day I had the verbal skills of Beavis and Butthead. I think I mumbled something about being tired; I'm not too sure. So there we sat in that awkward silence looking away from each other. Rockin'. Because that's the kind of impression I need to make on a dude I'll be seeing for the next two years. Way to go Lucy. 4) We see the history -- OK, so we see the outside of Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell from the side of the road. Both are cool. You know, you look up, stare at the old stuff, think about our founding fathers and all that stuff. 5) They leave at 5 a.m. to go to the airport. I decided to wait in philly until 11 a.m. Know why? IKEA. Yes, people, I stayed in Philly just to go to IKEA. I was already there, I figured I would go and spend more of that money I don't have and should be saving for gas. But, much like MySpace, the place is addictive. I'm like a junkie feeding a fix in that store. And let me tell you, shopping at IKEA on three hours of sleep is never good. You think you need all that crap from the Market Place, but you don't really need rubber ice trays shaped like stars. You really don't. So you're asking, "What about the apartment?" Well, we found her one, and it's really cute and really inexpensive. What every college students need, plus it's near the train, so we can avoid that whole getting stuck in the circle around City Hall in Center City again. (Remember that scene from "National Lampoon's European Vacation"? That's pretty much what it was like.) OK, enough about Philly; the next one will be about Jersey. I promise. I know y'all are laughing at me thinking 309 was the exit, but come on, like I knew they meant Exit 339. And I know it's long, but I am making up for the dog eating my blog. You know what I mean. On the iPod: Nothing; it needs to be charged.
Pretzel with a side of drama, please
OFF ON A TANGENT Isssue #33 So the drama This whole drama thing was supposed to stop in high school. No, seriously guys, why hasn't the "Laguna Beach" drama ended? I thought the older I got the less drama-filled my days would be. The less crap I would have to deal with, leaving me to think about more serious matters -- like how to pay for gas. But oh, no. The drama has not left; it's just had a facelift. Gone is the high school clique, college drunken nights, parents not understanding you during your teen years drama. Gone is the US vs. THEM of high school drama -- here to say it the US vs. LIFE drama. So you're asking where all this is coming from. Well, while at the mall this weekend I found someone who was as sick and tired of "the drama" as I was. "Drama," the girl behind the counter said, while shaking her head and handing me a plain pretzel. "I thought it would end after high school." She gave a hopeful look my direction, as if being older I might have some words of wisdom. I didn't. "I thought it would end after college," I said while taking my $1.23 in change. "But apparently it's always going to be like an episode of 'The OC.' " She smirked and gave a little head nod before returning to talk to her co-worker. DRAMA is more and more becoming a dirty five-letter word that seems to stick with us long after high school and college end. I foolishly thought it would stop, or at least simmer down, after I entered the real world. I was wrong. At times I find my life to mirror a telenovela. You know, those Univision soaps where everything is ultra dramatic and in a language I don't understand. Much like my own life. Good thing I don't have a gardener, or I would really be in trouble. If pretzel place girl is reading this, just remember you may have drama, but it's not as bad as 'The OC.' Unless your gold digger of a mom is sleeping with your ex-boyfriend who beat up your current boyfriend whose best friend is in love with your best friend. If that's the case, I can only give you this advice: buy Phantom Planet's "The Guest" so you can have a theme song, and make sure Ryan is wearing a clean wife beater. On the Ipod: Better than Ezra, "Friction Baby"
Lucy + iPod 4 EVER
In the last couple of days I've gotten a lot of comments on my blog profile information. Manly on how I can be in a committed relationship with an iPod. The thing is, I'm finding more and more of my friends in committed relationships with technology. I have to wonder if this is a product of our environment. If my generation is looking elsewhere for commitment when our relationships go south. My friend's in a serious relationship with her laptop; they have been together for years. One night I admitted my love for iPod to her, and she in turn told me it was OK, that she too had a love, and it's name was iBook. Another is in the honeymoon stage with her new record player. Before that, she was in a committed relationship with her MP3 player. Now, she scours the streets of NYC early Saturday mornings for vinyl to spin. Every time she plays a new record, her eyes widen like a child's on Christmas morning. She loves her record player, and it loves her. iPod and I found each other when I moved to Jersey. I finally found him at the Target in Howell last year. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. We go everywhere together, the train, the subways, the laundromat, the grocery store and even work. I buy him accessories and fill his hard drive with music. I make sure his battery is charged and have him protected in a case. In return he gives me unconditional love and music. And like a marriage certificate, we have a binding legal contract. If he ever stops playing music or hurts me, I can have him fixed or replaced. That's more than I can say for my exes. Now, you're asking what this has to do with Jersey? Until I moved here, I didn't have iPod, and I didn't think I really needed one. Then I took my first trek on the trains, and I knew I had to get one. It was further confirmed when I rode the subways in the City. It's moving here that pushed me to get iPod -- and honestly I don't know how I lived without him for so long. On the iPod: Death Cab for Cutie, "Transatlanticism"
Worth a thousand words ...
Random Jersey Photos I have this bad habit of carrying a camera around with me wherever I go. To the point where I was nicknamed "stalker-azzi" by some fellow interns a few years ago. I'm one of "those" people who take photos at any moment, not just birthdays and holidays. You never know when you'll need a picture of bagels in a suitcase. (See below.) So, it's only natural I give you these five random photos and the Jersey stories behind them.  I don't know what these pink flowering trees are, but they're beautiful. They're blooming everywhere I go. I love them, but I wonder if I'm allergic to them, like everything else in Jersey. No really, I have some serious allergies, to the point where my doctor said I was allergic to the whole freakin' state. ----------------------------------------------  Funny story. On a recent trip to Jersey, my mom's coworkers requested she bring them back "real bagels." We ordered three dozen from Bagels International in Bradley Beach and picked them up only hours before she needed to be at the airport. After they were packed into plastic bags, we put them into regular shopping bags for her to carry on. We realized it was a lost cause, so I offered up my suitcase to her. She got some strange looks from security checkpoints and I got some bad news: My luggage smelled of onion. Yuck! ----------------------------------------------  Florida plates that say "I MISS TX" in the Jersey snow. So totally me. ----------------------------------------------  While on the Good Life fashion shoot last year, we photographed the models sitting on a plane. Here, the art and photo directors, with the help of a kid, pushed the plane in place. ----------------------------------------------  When I first moved here, I stayed in Jersey City for a while. I took this randomly from a pier before boarding the Path Train to Manhattan for the first time. On the iPod: Steve Perry, "Greatest Hits"
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