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Captain’s Log: Hurricane Irene

28 Aug

Hurricane Irene swept through much of the east coast this weekend, flooding low-lying areas from North Carolina to Massachusetts and leaving hundreds of thousands of people without power. New York City was hit hard. Well, pretty hard. Sort of. I mean, it was really windy and it rained a lot. Here is my harrowing tale of survival.

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Today in Journalism…

25 Jul

Co-worker: Are you shooting in Columbus Circle today?

Me:  I was planning on it, why?

Co-worker: Gigantic smurf in the middle!  You will be able to shoot around it. Continue reading


29 Jul

So GQ recently ran this amazing Q&A with Bill Murray.  It’s incredible for a number of reasons—length, style, journalist-celebrity repartee, the fact that he mentions lying on a marble floor in Venice—but what’s most incredible is that fact that it happened at all. Bill Murray doesn’t talk to journalists. Or anyone, really.  He’s kind of weird.  If you’ve ever seen the movies Broken Flowers or What About Bob, this won’t surprise you at all.

But what we didn’t know until now is that he has a 1-800 number that you can call and leave messages asking him to do things. Things like…agree to be interviewed for a GQ article.  Or if you’re me and Marc: hang out with us.

You see, Marc will be here in October and while I’ve already “met” Bill Murray (read: I saw him in the street and made eye contact but nothing) he has not. So we’re going to call his 1-800 number and ask him to do something fun.

We don’t have his 1-800 number and we don’t know what we want to do with him. Whatever we decide, we’re not sure how to convince him to do it. We have one fact on our side (Bill Murray and I grew up in the same town) but other than that, we have no way to convince him, via 1-800 number, that we are more awesome than anyone he will ever meet. (Even though we are.) But we will triumph. Oh, how we will triumph.  Unless of course we fail.

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The City That Never….Wears Pants

26 Jun

(this is a reinactment)

We live in New York. Sometimes crazy stuff happens. Tonight….

Molly: I was running in Central Park and a man with no pants started waving his…man-thing…at me. Then he started chasing me. I ran away and found cops. I spent two hours in the Central Park police precinct filling out paperwork and writing a statement. I pressed charges and may have to appear in court.

Claire: I went shopping in Soho. I bought cute new underwear. Then I came home and helped Molly deal with the shock of her encounter by reinacting it with a zucchini. I broke a nail.

Notes from the Dog-walker

19 May

Is it the present day and are we still alive?


Then it’s time for a NEW blog series!!!

Every day, Claire’s dog walker leaves a note detailing that day’s walk with Aggy*.  We now take it upon ourselves to create better notes than the ones he leaves reprint them here.

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All By Myself (I Want to Be)

11 May

Molly and Mazall are out of town, which means that for 36 hours I have the apartment to myself. Solitude is a rare treat in New York—there are people with you on the subway, people with you on the sidewalk, people with you in a cab (the cab driver!), people with you at work, people with you at restaurants, people with you at bars, people waiting in line before you in restrooms, and when you come home at night there are people waiting for you with complaints about boys and requests for a manicure.  One of these people is probably wearing stretch pants.

So when you find yourself alone, you really have to take advantage of it. I only have 36 hours to myself and so far most of those hours have been taken up by sleep and/or work.  But I’m using the few remaining hours to their fullest.  Here are some things I’ve been doing, re-inacted by the dog, Aggy*

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I wish there were a J Crew store near here…

17 Apr

the 'hood

So I’m not sure if I mentioned it here or not but in December I moved to Harlem. Then the New York Times wrote an article about me. You can find it here:

“Harlem: No Longer Majority Black”

Also, I filled out the Census.