But I like it here....

Dan over at [redacted] recently wrote a post about moving back to New York City after living in Miami for a few years. I left the following comment about my fear one day moving back home:

Glad you're back. However I must say, being a born-and-bred New Yorker who moved to warmer climates myself, this worries me. Does this mean I'll end up moving back to the snow and sleet, too? Is every New Yorker's inevitable plight to move someplace awesome and warm, only to realize how much they miss the En Why See? Because I really, REALLY like it here in San Diego. :-/

Here is his response:

Put it this way, Danielle. If New York and San Diego were people, New York would be Jon Hamm and San Diego would be a Jonas Brother, and when the Jonas Brother saw Jon Hamm hanging out all nonchalantly on the street corner he'd be like, "What are you doing, Jon Hamm?" and Jon Hamm would be like, "Just waiting for you to fuck it up, Jonas Brother."

All I have to say is this: if San Diego somehow stops being awesome, or if I ever tire of wearing flip-flops to work (whichever comes first), and this results in me moving back to New York, Don Draper better have an affair with me.

New York v. San Diego, Round 2

I just got back from my yearly jaunt to the City of Awesome, and as per usual, I'm looking for apartments on Craigslist as we speak. Apartments with hardwood floors and tile countertops... apartments with backyards and palm trees on the property.... apartments that don't cost $2000/month to rent. Fear not my SoCal hippies, I will one day return to San Diego permanently, where I belong.

In celebration of this being my 201st post (God, has it been that long?) I've decided to do a followup of my very first post ever. Except this time I'll put NY up against SD in actual categories, instead of just declaring San Diego the winner. I feel it's fairer this way.

Weather: SD. Is this really a surprise? With temperatures a constant 70 degrees and sunny 362 days of the year, I don't see why anyone would ever leave. I sometimes think I would miss the change in seasons if I moved to San Diego, but then I think about all those winter days when I woke up at 6am to shovel my car out of three feet of snow, only to get it plowed back in an hour later. So yeah, I think San Diego wins this one.

Culture: NY. Only because I haven't spent enough time in SD to know otherwise. I spent a morning at Balboa Park this weekend, walking through Japanese gardens and taking pictures of Spanish architecture, and it was beautiful. But I didn't go inside any museums, so I can't really comment on them. Also, NY has several pockets of Chinatowns, Koreatowns, Little Italy, Spanish Harlem, etc. I haven't heard of any such places in SD--yet.

Food: Tie. I have yet to have a bad meal in my city of Awesome. The produce is fresh and locally grown, the fish you eat is probably caught that morning, and even the fast food is good. (Did someone say In-and-Out Burger??) New York is of course home to a million different kinds of food, and I have nothing bad to say about it. Ergo: tie.
Atmosphere: SD. Let's see.... dirty, gray streets and drab buildings, red brick apartment houses that all look the same, people pushing their way through crowds, beat up cars with music blasting from every open window, street signs that re so confusing that they practically guarantee you'll get a ticket, wet slush lining the sidewalks in the winter, foul smells emanating from them in the summer..... I'm gonna have to go ahead and give San Diego this one, if only for the fact that they have palm trees. And way more parking.

People: SD. I pulled into a gas station on my first day in San Diego just as a woman was trying to maneuver her way through some cars toward the exit. I backed up a few feet to let her through, and she stopped her car next to mine, opened her window, and yelled, "Thank you!!" while waving her hand wildly and smiling. You know what would've happened here in good ole New Douche City? I would've gotten a dirty look and a scolding about watching where I'm going. 'Nuff said.

I think it's safe to say which city has won this little contest. And it ain't the place where it's 57 degrees and raining today.


Many thanks to Liz and Nick for hosting me, and thank you to everyone else that made my trip phenomenal as usual =)

Gettin' my culture on

My friend Steve from Colorado/California came out to New York this weekend to visit his brother. Since I hadn't been to the MoMA or Guggenheim in years, we decided to take a little art tour of Manhattan yesterday. It's days like these that remind why I <3 NY.

The Guggenheim

St. Patrick's Cathedral

The Museum of Modern Art

Steve


First picture of yours truly ever posted on this here web log

Andy Warhol

How I feel most of the time

Edward Hopper, one of my favorites

Frida Kahlo. Her work is amazing in person

Self-explanatory (Monet's water lilies)

Gustav Klimt. I actually saw an exhibition of his work in Berlin

Fantastic exhibition of the work of German artist Martin Kippenberger

The day started with randomly coming across a piece of the Berlin Wall in Midtown Manhattan. I for one had no idea it was there. Very cool discovery.

So crepes at a European cafe in Astoria, four hours at the MoMA, some Manhattan architecture, a hot dog from a cart, all kinds of moving and live art at the Guggenheim, dinner at a Thai place in the East Village, and a drink at a KGB bar. If anyone can tell me how to get paid doing those things, please share.

It's Friday! Do the Carlton dance!

Happy Friday, Internet!!! I hope you all do a little dance in celebration of this shitastic week being over. And if you had a good week, then you should still celebrate that it's over!!

Here's some things to help distract you from from getting any real work done today.

David Beckham looking muy caliente in an Armani ad. YUMMY.

If you're going to San Francisco.... please take me with you! One of my favorite cities in California.

There's a reason why people love San Diego.

Remember the scene in Men In Black with the alien spaceship? I'm neither confirming nor denying the accuracy of that scene, but let's just say it might be true.

If you haven't seen this video of Ahston Kutcher complaining about his neighbor's construction, please take a moment to watch the minute-long clip. Poor Ahston, being woken up at the ungodly hour of 7AM. The horror!

Okay, WTF is this? Seriously. Like we don't have enough enough people wearing Crocs in this world, we now want our dogs associated with this abomination of footwear? I guess since dogs can't wear shoes, the next best thing was to create doggy beds in the shape of a hideous rubber version of something the Dutch created many years ago. Here is the website from which this atrocity came. And I'm warning you, if you're going to that website to purchase one of these vomit-inducing things, you are no longer welcome on this site. I'm serious. (Ok, not really. But I think you get how much I can't stand this idea.)

So I tried to convince a friend (that's right, I called you out!) to see this movie last night but he refused. I tried for a good 10 minutes to get him to understand what a spectacular movie this is, how many awards it's won, that every single person I've spoken to that's seen it has raved about it. I had my iPhone out, ready to pull up a preview on YouTube, even looked up movie times in surrounding areas. But no. He didn't think it was a movie he'd be interested in seeing and basically told me to drop it. ::Shaking head:: I implore, nay I DEMAND that anyone reading this who has seen this movie leave a comment about how good it was. And if you'd like to go see it again or haven't seen it at all (like me) let me know. Because I feel like I'm the only one who hasn't had the pleasure.


And finally, I know someone who is going to the Superbowl. He is in Tampa as we speak, probably assisting his best friend, a photographer for NFL.com, in taking pictures of the players. AND! He will be seeing Journey live before the game on Sunday. I officially hate you, Steve. So much.
UPDATE: I just got the following text message from Steve in Tampa: "I just saw the little person from In Bruges." The level of jealousy over here has reached volatile levels.

Public service announcement

I realize I haven't posted in a few days, and I send my heartfelt apologies for the break in communication. But I have a very good reason. Actually, I have several good reasons. First, I've been pretty busy getting my room back in order. What started out as a simple paint job turned into some full-on construction. And it's not done yet. I promise to post pictures when the new hardwood floors go down in two weeks. Until then, you'll just have to trust that the room looks awesome so far.

The second reason for the hiatus is a little something called the flu. I'm pretty convinced I have it. Not only have I had a headache for 3 days, as well as a sore throat, runny nose and hacking cough, but there's another little present going along with this illness that makes it all the more fun...the kind of stomach ailment you get from eating the whole burrito (because you NEVER eat the whole burrito in one sitting), the kind of illness you don't wish on your worst enemy. Yeah. THAT kind.

But despite feeling like shit (ha!) I still managed to make it into Manhattan today to run an errand with my grandmother. All I really had to do was sit in the car while she went into an office building, so it wasn't that bad. I even managed to take some pictures. So while I try to stay hydrated and not cough up a lung, enjoy these pictures of my hometown. (All photos taken with my iPhone.)

Manhattan Skyline

59th Street Bridge

59th Street Bridge (AKA Queensboro Bridge)

Lexington Avenue

Grand Central Station

Park Avenue

Farewell Shea Stadium

In a New York state of mind

It snowed here on Friday, a good few inches. Enough to slow down traffic and force me to clean the flakes off my car. And I loved it.

I don't know what's gotten into me this holiday season, but I'm finding myself loving New York all over again. Slushing along the sidewalks of Manhattan and jumping over puddles on Friday literally put a smile on face. I thought about how I spent last Christmas (doing cartwheels on the beach in San Diego) and decided right there in the middle of Union Square that I would never again spend the holidays away from home.

Fun fact

So I recently got into 30 Rock. And I have to admit, I love it. It's funny, sarcastic, smart, and I pretty much want Liz Lemon's job. But did you know...

...that Tracy Jordan's house portrayed in the second episode of Season 2 is not actually in New Jersey, but in Malba, Queens? Malba is a very VERY rich neighborhood that happens to be right across the bay from my humble 'hood. And that big Tuscan style house they showed? I jog past it all the time and marvel at how gorgeous it is.

Did you also know that that's also the house they portrayed as Colleen Donaghy's Florida home in this season's Christmas episode? It's true. You can see the sewage treatment plant across the Long Island sound in the show.

After a little snooping on the interwebs, I found out that a gentleman named Peter Oppedisano owns the house. (That's him in the above picture.) It makes me wonder who on 30 Rock knows him well enough to be able to use his house on the show....

“New York: the only city where people make radio requests like 'This is for Tina - I'm sorry I stabbed you'"

Someone made a comment to me the other day that went something like this: for a blog that sports the Manhattan skyline as its header, I don't talk much about New York unless it's to say something negative. I'd like to say this is untrue. But looking back at previous posts wherein I mention The Big Apple, I'm not very kind to it. What can I say? I guess the badge of being a true New Yorker is talking shit about it.

Seriously though, I took that comment to heart. I tried to sit down and write a list of things I love about New York. I thought back to all those summers I spent in Europe and tried to remember what I missed most about the en-why-C. I even thought back to when I was in San Diego (GASP!) and tried to recall if there was anything I missed. Here's what I came up with:

Five-dollar manicures. I got a mani-pedi in SD and it cost me $30. I nearly choked on my Arrowhead water. The little salon in my neighborhood charges $15 for both, $13 if you come Monday-Thursday. I've never been to another city where it's that cheap.

Food. Not so much the food itself, but the variety and selection of it. If I left my house this very second and drove 15 minutes to Astoria (the heart of Queens, in my opinion) I could have my choice of Greek, Italian, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Mexican, Cuban, bar-and-grill, Turkish, Indian (northern and southern), Croatian, Bosnian, Irish, Indonesian, Vietnamese, German, BBQ, and a place that serves 100 different kinds of crepes.

The subway system. Yes it's crowed and dirty and sometimes filled with crotch-grabbers. But it's efficient and uncomplicated. You can get to pretty much anywhere by train and/or bus, and you can hop in a taxi for all those other places. Not to say it's perfect, though--you still can't get from Queens to Brooklyn or the Bronx without going through Manhattan.

You'll notice I didn't mention Central Park or the Empire State Building or the museums or Broadway. Yes, all those things are wonderful. But I've traveled a lot. I've seen a lot of museums in my day, most WAY cooler than the ones in NY. I've been to parks that have live volcanoes and flying monkeys. I've been to the tops of church towers and gazed down at cities with red roofs and old forts. I've taken boat rides around islands with private beaches and 400-year old churches. I've watched performances in theaters that royalty built. I've toured castles and shopped at open-air markets where people sell live pigs and handmade garden tools. After all that, the Statue of Liberty seems...well, boring.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not impressed by New York. I recognize its coolness, its urbane air and metropolitan feel. I love the diversity and how everyone seems to find their niche here. But the novelty has worn off. New York used to be a place where artists and musicians gathered to create art. It was a place where radicals and forward-thinkers sat in cafes, smoked cigarettes and discussed the war. It was a place where ideas were born and anything went. Now it's filled with trust fund babies living in million-dollar apartments and a Starbucks on every corner. Those radical thinkers have been replaced by hipsters, and the only ideas coming out of the city are how to get rich. Throw in an enormous sense of entitlement and a "fuck you" attitude, and that's how Manhattan welcomes you.

There you have it. My New York. I rarely miss it when I'm gone or love it when I'm there. (Except maybe when I'm eating sushi with a side of chicken tika masala.)

Mombar Restaurant, Steinway Street, Astoria

How to annoy me

Tell me one more time that NYC's water supply is one of the cleanest in the world.

Right. Which is why we've had a Britta since the 1990's.

I know people think NYC is the best city in the world, but c'mon

So Ashlee Simpson and her eyeliner-wearing husband Pete Wentz had a baby yesterday. It's a boy, 7 lbs. 11oz. and 2o 1/2 inches long. And they named him Bronx Mowgli Wentz.

OK, first of all, his middle name is that of a character in The Jungle Book. The only thing I have to say on that is, why? Secondly, his initials are B.M.W. Which is fine if you're Carmine Gotti or one of Pamela Anderson's kids. But an emo baby? Is that even legal? Isn't this some violation of the Emo Code? "Thou shalt neither own, nor name one's child after, a German car or expensive champagne."

So instead of naming their kid Audi or Tears of Heaven or James, they named him Bronx. After a borough in New York City. One they have clearly never been to, or they would have realized that naming their child Bronx is the equivalent of naming him Crack Ho or Glock Rocker. Do Ashlee and Skinny Jeans have any idea what the Bronx is like? Aside from that cool Zoo and the occasional chicken parm hero at an awesome Italian restaurant (and the Yankees, but let's not go there), I'm not seeing the appeal of naming your kid after a place that strips more cars than women. I have lived right across from this borough my entire life (LITERALLY, like right across the water) and I rarely venture into the Bronx. I once went to a Yankee game and parked IN HARLEM. My memories of the Bronx include being stuck in endless hours of traffic on the Whitestone Bridge and kids peeing on the McDonald's. It's pretty much a place I pass through on my way upstate or anywhere not on Long Island. Or when I feel like being stuck in traffic. Have I mentioned the traffic?

So why the Bronx? Really, I'm curious. Why not Manhattan or Queens? At least Victoria Beckham named her son Brooklyn after a cool borough. (And even I won't suggest that they should've named their son Staten Island, that's just cruel.) Did Ashlee and Sideswpet Bangs meet in New York or something? The only explanation I can think of is that Baby Emo was conceived while his parents were stuck in traffic on the Cross Bronx Expressway. ONLY explanation.

Typical night in the South Bronx

Higher education

Last night at a bar in Queens

Me: What's that guy's name?
T: Which one?
Me: The one in the sweatpants.
T: They're all wearing sweatpants.
Me: Yes...yes they are. The one on the left.
T: That's J.
Me: Ah OK. I thought maybe I went to college with him.
T: Um, probably not.
Me: Why do you say that?
T: Because I'm pretty sure he didn't graduate high school.

How I fell in love with San Diego (or the post wherein I link to 18 websites)

My first-ever post on this blog was about how much I love San Diego. (And I've definitely mentioned how great it is more than few times since then.) In that very first post, I promised to get back to just why I heart San Diego so much. Well here it is, kids: the story of how I fell in love with "America's Finest City." (If it were up to me, I'd call it "The City of Awesome.")

Way back in 2000, I moved onto the 13th floor of Warren Towers, Boston University's biggest, most prison-like dormitory. It was there that I met the uber-cool Liz. Liz and I always talked about moving out to California after college, but I up and abandoned her in 2002 when I transferred to a school back home in New York. Liz went ahead with our plan and drove across the country to San Diego, while I managed people twice my age at a department store and thought law school might be fun. (Not so much.)

Fast forward to the fall of 2007 when I was looking for post-grad jobs. I stumbled across the San Diego Public Defender's Office website and happened to notice a blurb about a winter internship program. With nothing better to do between semesters (and remembering that I hadn't seen Liz in, oh, 5 years) I thought, "Thirty degree weather, or spending a month on the beach...hmm...." A few months later, I was hauling my suitcase up to the second floor of this sweet house in Mission Beach, a block away from the ocean:

The house

A friend from school had also applied for the internship, so we joined forces and spent a month jogging on the beach, walking on the beach, doing cartwheels on the beach, and drinking on the beach. We also did things like drive to La Jolla and walk on the beach, and drive to Torrey Pines and walk on the beach there, too.

The beach by the house. (And the roommate. And the beers....on the beach)

The beach at Torrey Pines

But seriously... San Diego is wonderful for more than just its beaches and great weather. Having spent a lot of time in Europe, I'm very used to a laid back, relaxed culture. And people in San Diego exude nothing but that, as evidenced by the plethora of outdoor cafes and beach-side shops. New York City is so obviously the opposite of that culture, which may be the reason I keep looking to escape it. San Diego has exactly the kind of mellow atmosphere that's hard to find in my hometown.

Also... the food. Oh my God, THE FOOD. Not just the variety, but the freshness of it all. No wonder everyone wants to move to Southern California--you can get a fresh avocado year-round! Here are some of some my favorite local eateries:

• Ocean Beach Pier Cafe. Everyone I know kept raving about the lobster tacos at this place, so of course I had to try them. I mean, come on--a taco with LOBSTER in it Does it get any better? (Turns out, it does--when you eat three of them.) The lobster was so fresh, it practically melted in my mouth. There was just the right amount of cabbage, and the pico de gallo wasn't too overpowering. I'm not sure exactly how they make the cream sauce that gets drizzled on top, but it added just the right amount of lime to the meal. The tortillas ripped a bit too easily, but I think that can be attributed to the speed at which I devoured them. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: BEST. LOBSTER. TACOS. EVER.
  
• Every sushi place on Garnet Avenue in Pacific Beach. Not one place disappointed, and I'm pretty sure we tried them all. The Garnet Sunset Roll at Haiku was unbelievable--I had never before tried Jalapenos on sushi, and it blew my mind. The Volcano Roll at the same restaurant was the most elaborate sushi roll I've ever had, and trust me when I say I've had some elaborate rolls. They brought it out on fire. And the taste.... oh the taste. The heat caused the cream cheese to melt around the rice and crab in a smooth, creamy sauce, while the avocado gave it a cool element. While this was our most-frequented sushi spot, another good one is Kabuki Sushi. The prices were right, and the atmosphere was very laid back--one of those sushi bars where the boats of rolls float around a little river and you just pick up the plates you want.
• Speaking of Pacific Beach, no post about San Diego would be complete without mentioning PB Bar and Grill. This was probably the place where I spent the most time. The entire establishment is open to the outside, with heating lamps for the those freezing-cold 60-degree nights and umbrellas for the three times a year it rains. Happy hour is every day from 4 to 8, and there is always some sort of special on appetizers or beer. I recommend the sampler platters that include one of everything, and the 2-for-5 beers. With over 30 beers on tap and just as many flat screen TV's around the place (showing every single sports game on IN THE WORLD), I can honestly say this place has something for everyone.
  
• While we're talking about beer, we have to talk about the Karl Strauss Brewery in La Jolla. This microbrewery/restaurant not only has the best Ahi tuna I have ever tasted, but serves over 20 different kinds of their own beer. I ate there twice while in San Diego, and both times I ordered the beer sampler: six half-pint glasses of the beers of your choice. My personal favorite was a summer ale that tasted like banana.
  
• And Ralph's. Ah, Ralph's....only the best supermarket on the planet. I have never purchased better (or fresher) salsa and guacamole than in your store, Mr. Ralph. I salute your superior quality of produce and your ability to sell liquor and shampoo in the same establishment. Of all the venues I have named, I miss you the most.

I've covered the weather, the atmosphere, the beach and the food... I guess that leaves Shamu, the biggest zoo in the U.S., the 15 museums in Balboa Park, the surfing, and the seals in La Jolla.

They were pretty cool

So that's how I fell in love with San Diego: I spent a month there and saw everything. I drank coffee with brown sugar and watched the surfers on Mission Beach. I walked the piers in Ocean Beach and Pacific Beach and rode a bike from Mission to La Jolla. I smoked a hookah at Sinbad Cafe on Garnet Avenue and requested the best song of all time at The Shout! House in the Gaslamp District. And just a few months later, I went back for more: after my last semester of law school, I met a friend in my City of Awesome and we spent five days relaxing at his uncle's vineyard in Ramona. If that doesn't make you want to move there, you'd be hardpressed to find something that does.

And if all goes according to plan, I'll eventually end up living there. Hopefully somewhere close to here:

My ass is not your stress-relief ball

Growing up in the big city teaches a girl from a young age to watch her back. Watch your purse, you never know when someone will try to snatch it from you. Watch your jewelry, don't wear expensive necklaces or earrings on the subway. Speaking of the subway, never take it alone at night, don't ever walk down the street alone, never count your money in public, avoid bad neighborhoods, don't leave anything in your car, and lock your doors. This is all excellent advice. In fact, if I had taken some of this advice more seriously, my car wouldn't have been broken into and I would have never gotten in the middle of a Blood-Crip war and shot that guy. (Just kidding.)

But for all the times someone warned me about getting raped or killed, no one ever said to me, "Watch your ass, it's gonna get grabbed." No one ever sat me down and warned me that riding the subway during rush hour meant dirty men with greasy hair pushing their crotches into my back and groping my nether regions. Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't enjoy the feel of a landscaper who's just gotten off a 12-hour shift in 90 degree weather rhythmically swinging his entire body into my back with every move of the train, the tantalizing mix of body odor and fertilizer mingling sensually in my nostrils, his heavy breathing caressing my ears... no, this is not the problem. The problem starts when he decides the perfect resting spot for his tired, overworked hands is my ass. And the problem continues when he feels the need to stretch his shovel-holding fingers and grab said ass. THAT, my friends, is where the problem begins. When did it become OK to put your hands on an unsuspecting woman for your own personal pleasure? When did it become commonplace to grab a stranger on the train, on the street, in a club, just because you feel like it? I'm sure the same guy who grabbed my crotch a few months ago would not appreciate a random dude grabbing his crotch. But I feel like these men who enjoy grabbing won't learn.

Last year, my cousin got to first base with a stranger on a crowded 7 train. It was not consensual. When the subway doors opened, she pushed him out and he hit his head. It was pretty awesome. But what did he do? Looked at her with this shocked look on his face, as if she was the crazy one. "I grabbed your ass and you have the NERVE to push me? Ugh, how dare you?!" Two weeks ago at a lounge in Queens, a guy came up behind my best friend, put his hands on her waist, and told her she was beautiful. When she politely said she was engaged and pointed to her fiance standing across from her, he pulled her closer and looked directly at her fiance and said, "Your girl is beautiful." When my friend's fiance went bat-shit crazy on the dude, he had the nerve to act offended. Like it was perfectly OK to manhandle someone's girl in front of them and expect them to laugh it off.

Well, dude (and all other gropers out there), let me tell you something: it's not OK. In fact, it's disgusting and disrespectful. Putting your hands on someone else's body is one of the most offensive violations of human dignity. It is a complete invasion of someone's personal space and sense of privacy, and in some cases punishable by law.

I realize that socetial norms are shifting in today's world. The more overpopulated a city, the less expectation of privacy. But that doesn't mean we should expect less human decency. I hate to use the slipperly slope argument (mainly because it's a diatribal excuse for some of the most ridiculous theories) but it seems to make sense here. Forty years ago, if someone so much as brushed past a woman the wrong way in a restaurant, he would've gotten a pocketbook over the head and a stern talking-to. Today, an ass-groping is usually met with a roll of the eyes and is looked at as a minor inconvenience. If it becomes OK to grab someone's ass without fear of reprecussion, then what's next? Strangers walking up to strangers and kissing them? Men unzipping the dresses of old women in the street?

So. I beg you: the next time a stranger puts their hands on your butt or brushes past your boobs in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable or sticks their tongue in your ear (yes, that's actually happened to someone I know), say something! Smack the idiot! Report him, curse him out, do something to make him realize that what he's doing is not OK. Because I don't know about you, but I don't really want to see an old lady get undressed in the street.

Back in the city

So I took the bar exam in July. That was fun. When I recovered from wanting to gouge my eyes out with a pack of index cards, I decided to have a completely different kind of fun. So I packed my bags and set off for the Motherland....the land of wine and food and familiar faces, and a constitution that I would not need to know....the land of pristine Adriatic beaches and towns built in the 1600's and zoning laws that meant nothing to me. For several glorious weeks, I swam in waters bluer than the sky, watched live performances in an arena built in the 1st century AD, and hung out with people who didn't know what "sui generis" meant. It was fantastic.

Aside from a visceral need to escape New York, my other reason for going Home was to oversee the transfer of some of my family's land. Even after it became clear that the property issue would not be resolved in a timely manner (in a Balkan country? I'm shocked!) I decided to stay. And I waited. And nothing happened with the property. So I drank some more wine. Still nothing. Two weeks turned into seven, and before I knew it, my mother was telling people I'd moved to the Motherland. I took that as my cue to come home.

So here I am. Back in New York. The land of Noise and Dirt and all things gentrified. (Although I must admit, eating sushi again is pretty awesome.) Just in case there was any doubt, here's how I know I'm back to my REAL home:

(1) I boarded a plane in Europe listening to fabulous women in scarves speak foreign tongues and watched gorgeous men wearing loafers drape their arms around said fabulous women; I landed at JFK listening to overweight tourists in flip flops complain about how they couldn't get a decent burger in France.

(2) I went out last weekend and got lost on the way home. I called a friend and explained where I was, using phrases like "Sunnaco gas station" and "motel sign that says '$29.99 an hour." A few weeks earlier, I would've said things like, "The cows with the horns, in the field with the pond, by the train tracks" and "The church.....no the other church.... no, the one at the bottom of the hill."

(3) I've done nothing but watch TV on demand and on the internet since I've been home, as compared to making pasta from scratch and carrying buckets of water from a well.

(4) I successfully explained the Jewish holiday of Sukkot to a friend instead of explaining how Jewish people marry Catholic people all the time here in NY, and it's perfectly acceptable.

(5) Yesterday while walking on the Upper East Side, I found myself saying the following into my cell phone: "Wait, so he called his therapist and she said what?" Just a few short weeks ago, I would've found myself saying, "Wait, so which beach are we meeting at, the one where you can fish, or the one we have to walk a mile to get to?"

I suppose it's good to be back. But not really.

New York v. San Diego, Round 1

It's no secret that I love San Diego. If I had to pick my favorite 5 cities in the world, SD would definitely be on that list. I mean, what's not to love? The year-round temperate weather, the beach, the restaurants, the fact that obtaining prescription drugs without a prescription is mere minutes away, I could go on and on. But I think my favorite thing about San Diego is its laid back culture. I find that people in that city are just generally pleasant to be around. (Except for the bums. They are generally not pleasant individuals, but we'll get to them at a later point in time.) No one seems to be in a rush to get anywhere. People will gladly stop and give you directions (the correct ones), bartenders will make sure you have a cab, and drivers will stop in traffic to let you cross the street even if they have the right of way. I'd love to see a native New Yorker try that last one on a NYC cabbie.

Now don't get me wrong, I love New York. It's my hometown, the city that never sleeps, the place where you can order a pastrami sandwich and a hooker at 2am, both will be delivered to your door and neither charge will appear on your credit card statement. I love the energy, the culture, the sense of self-righteousness that it instilled in me at such a young age. But oh my God, am I ever sick of the "fuck you" that New York seems to constantly be screaming at everyone. There is this continuous sense of competition, an omnipresent "mine is bigger, better, and cost more than yours, and therefore I am better" mentality that is making me run for the beach. Throw that on top of a culture built on rudeness, on waving your middle finger at anyone that doesn't move fast enough for you, on thinking that it's acceptable to scream "fuck you and your [insert racial slur here] sucking mother!" to a stranger and have no one look at you twice, and you can see why I think it's time to move on.

On to a place where I can wear my flip flops to work, where I don't have to wear a suit to court, where "sorry I'm late, I was surfing this morning and a huge wave knocked the shit out of me" is an acceptable excuse to give your boss. To a place where the sushi is fresh and the tacos are made with lobster, not because it's fancy, but because even the bums appreciate good lobster. On to a place where the millionaires drive hybrid cars, not because it's cool or because they can fit into more parking spaces, but because they actually care about gas prices and the environment. Onto a place where I can cross the street and call someone's mother a whore, and actually hear a woman gasp in horror.