I need some cof…

I need some coffee.


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Furniture Facelift

You know what I love? The Apple Store. I was having some problems with my 6-month old iPhone 4 so I made a Genius Bar appointment, proved that my home button was unresponsive and walked out with a brand spankin’ new phone. I didn’t even have to whip out the gay sass that I’ve often needed to get what I want out of customer service. I could have used some sass to upgrade to the white version but you gotta pick your battles, ya know?

You know what I hate? Walking out of the Apple Store with a new iPhone and having to revert to my last back-up. When I brought the new phone home, I synced up with my computer and realized that the last time I backed up my phone was June 14, four days before my epic dresser adventure with Kera. You all remember how I planned to transport, sand, stain, and paint my dresser and nightstands, right? Well, it was a success. My grandparents bought the pieces in the 1960’s and I inherited them when they retired to Delray Beach and I moved into my first apartment in Hartford. After a few years of saying how I wanted to refinish the pieces,Kera pushed me in the right direction. She offered her truck, he father’s shop, her assistance, and some booze (because what’s a tool belt without a beer in hand?). The 1960’s mod style dresser is now a fabulous retro avocado/lime green (shocking, I know) and the nightstands are sanded, primed, and awaiting a creative idea.

Now for a little metaphor: the whole process was like shedding a layer of skin. Taking a piece of furniture that I’ve had for 5 years, re-imagining it, and using my own physical labor to accomplish the refurbishment was the perfect therapy to kick the move to a new city. Because I put creative and manual work into it, it was much more therapeutic than going out to buy a new dresser…and it’ll look freakin’ awesome in my new apartment!

So, while I lost all the great photos of me in booty shorts, a tool belt, and power tools in hand, here is the before and after:

I should go into furniture refurbishment, don’t you think? Anyway, 3 days until the move!


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Can anyone suggest a hotel in Astoria? Preferably near the Broadway stop. My parents are coming to check out my new hood next weekend and they need a local place to stay. Comments would be greatly appreciated!

…oh, I know you’re all dying to see how the dresser came out. It looks amazing. Now I just need to sit down and debrief on the whole lifting/sanding/staining/painting experience. Hold tight.

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Project Time!


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A Proper Introduction

As I said before, moving to New York has provided me the chance to reconnect with many old friends (I even get to meet up with a childhood friend from Israel this fall!). As I suspected, the move also provides me with the opportunity to make lots of new friends! My darling friend Abby, who I worked with for a year in Hartford and is now working an incredible job that has landed her in Spain on business, has taken it upon herself to make sure I meet lots of cool new friends when I move to Astoria (while she is not living in New York, many of her college friends are). Here’s how Abby introduced me to her friends:

Jared is the kind of guy who will call you on a Saturday morning and say “come join me and my ADORABLE dog Lucas on my blanket in the park while we listen to the free Jazz concert that only a few people know about.  Don’t worry… I brought wine.”  He is a wonderful, talented, caring, and giving soul who has an amazing tie collection, great taste in coffee, and listened to my bitching and soul-searching rants for an entire year.

Again, maybe it’s because of the crazy transitional period I’m going through but Abby’s words really touched me- there’s something very powerful about hearing a respected friend’s description of oneself. The description is succinct but accurately describes what I achieve to be.  Maybe I should change my about page? Needless to say, I’m excited to reconnect with old friends and make new friends…11 days to go!

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Grown Up Problems

Two weeks from today is my final day at the theatre where I began my career three years ago. Two weeks and one day from today I load up a truck and move to Astoria. The pressure is certainly on; I’m tying up loose ends at work, packing up my apartment, canceling my utilities in Hartford, and trying to make plans with all of my Hartford friends before I leave town. As much as my wonderful parents are willing to help me through this process, I find myself eager to make my own arrangements (emotional support is always welcome, though).

About a year ago, I read this article in the NY Times about adulthood; evidently, my generation holds on to childhood much longer than our parents and grandparents. It makes sense- in today’s economy and competitive workforce, it’s not as easy to land a job and set up financial independence, meaning there are more and more college grads living with their parents. We also hold onto our childhood by getting married and starting families much later in life (my parents were married, had purchased a home, and had their first child by the time they were my age!). While I’m definitely not ready for marriage or a baby (the pup fills that void), I love the idea of financial independence. It’s just so sexy, isn’t it?! Even though I haven’t really lived with my parents since high school and I’ve been in the professional work force for over a year, my parents still help me financially here and there. I have a savings account (what anal retentive gay Jewish boy doesn’t?) and this is what savings accounts are for, right? If I have to dip into it to cover some moving expenses, then I’ll know that it was my work brought me to New York. It’s funny when you catch yourself handling grown up problems without your parents by your side- yelling at the dentist for not explaining the charges, arguing with a boyfriend, filing taxes on your own, researching the safety of a neighborhood. Ah, I’ve just got to enjoy every moment of it!

Hey, I’m holding on to my childhood too: when over-stressed by all this transition, I’m still allowed to snap at my mom like a 13 year old and, thanks to Obama Care, I can go back on my parents health insurance while I wait for my new benefits to kick in. I’m also about to paint my dresser a vibrant lime green. And hey, if they want to rent the moving truck for me, who am I to refuse?

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And here’s (some of) my life in boxes

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