August 2010

After accumulating another v-neck t-shirt , forgetting to grab my iced coffee while I am on the phone with my mom and then desperately gulping a glass of water when I got home this morning- I realize how unbelievably hungry I am. But instead of making food, that last bottle of wine from last night gets the best of me and I lay in bed to watch the Entourage from Sunday. After the show going by way too fast, I was forced to lay in bed and try to plan out a productive day from this point on. Thoughts of when I am going to go running, how much I don’t want to go running, what I should eat to give me energy- but all I crave are chips and salsa- are racing through my head. So I get up, go to the kitchen, and made, what I thought at the time, a brilliant hangover breakfast.

I began this process with my second favorite food- Oatmeal. I bring the rolled oats to a nice little boil, and then, thinking I need some protein, I add a scoop of whey chocolate protein powder. After a couple of minutes I notice it starting to really thicken up. So, instead of adding almond milk, I decided to add European Style organic plain nonfat yogurt, being that it is a bit more like liquid than regular yogurt. From the taste tests I was doing along the way, I was sure that I had just created a master-mind breakfast. I then topped off the dish with slices of banana to bring to life my tasty little nutritious dish.

The bowl was undeniable nutritious: full of protein, potassium, fiber and dairy. And to be honest, it was half way delicious. But really, just HALF way. It was one of those meals that are only good for the first 8 bites and then the taste just becomes unbearable. I don’t know if my stomach was so hungry that it did not know the difference at first or if it was just so sensitive that I couldn’t eat more than half of it. Either way, I don’t regret my experiment. I’m even going to leave it on the stove for Melanie to try when she gets home.

The real test, however, is about to be determined. Let’s see how my body runs after that half-bowl of vitamins. Wish me luck.


Chloe gets a treat when she goes pee-pee and poop-poop outside, young kids get a snack whenever they wake up from a nap, frequent Delta flyers rack up points whenever they travel. Our reward for working out: A tally on the wall of Fame/Shame.

As I was running upstairs tonight from my brisk run, all I could think about was how rewarding it was going to feel to tally my name in the Tuesday slot.

Three weeks ago, my lovely roommate, Toby, crafted an irreplaceable chart that we mounted above the full-body mirror, in effort to generate roommate support for all of us to workout everyday and hold each other accountable if there is a lack of exercising going on in the upper easy. The chart’s birth name: NTMT.

“Nickerson, Taylor, Melanie and Toby”

Yes I know, Nickerson isn’t technically a roommate- but let’s be honest, he is our adopted roommate. And aside from the embarrassment of flinging his arms in the park for the world to see and stare at, he is a pretty reliable hung-over running partner. As a group, we have come to agree that we enjoy Nick’s participation because of the textual proof that we all receive when he isn’t here to tally himself. In this fortunate case- he sends pictures of himself working out and we ‘tally his bananas’ for him (while laughing and question if he puts on gym clothes, takes a few proof pictures and then drinks Jameson).

We can usually count on Toby to be our early morning gym man. Melanie hits her alarm 3 times before she say’s “I don’t got nothin’ to do today after work- I’ll go after”. When that happens, there is no way I hit the A.M. run.

Regardless of when we actually get our bang of a work out accomplished, the scoops of protein this apartment goes through in a single day, or the ridiculous photo’s we receive from Nickerson- We all aim to avoid ONE thing- the feeling of seeing everyone else with a tally for that day and your name missing- lost in space of dead endorphins and fat asses.

Personal reward for working out, yes. Healthy lifestyle, sure. Better fitting jeans, absolutely. A sense of accomplishment, of course! But the real reward- Seeing your name tallied proudly on NTMT!
We are a grenade free zone….’GTL’ has nothing on ‘NTMT’!

As I spend an unnecessary amount of time putting on my tennis shoes and thinking that I need to drink more water and stretch, which is all a distraction from actually walking down those five flights of stairs, warming up the 4 blocks before I get to 5th and 72nd- where I know that I have to start running because I have now reached Central Park- I have come up with (which, I’m sure is impossible) a new way that I want to blog.
I do my best, off the wall thinking when I run. If I could find a way to translate my running thoughts into words and then publish a blog…. Hollywood would probably be sending me scripts to read for the next box hit.
First of all- I ran with Melanie’s ipod, and I have to expose her- She listens to Justin Beamer! But then I have to admit that I have been singing “Baby Baby Baby” for the past 20 minutes.
I spent a good part of my first run thinking of how funny it would be to have cords coming from the templates in my head that would turn into my blog. And then I notice someone recording me running toward them, 15 minutes later a tourist taking pictures got me in the shot, and NO lie it happened again. All I could think was that I should have wore my better running shirt. Aside from thinking about what I am going to wear out tonight, how many calories I have already consumed for the day, generally my runs are filled with thoughts about the people in my life- past, present, and future.
As my endorphins are at the highest I come up with a brilliant way for people that are camera thieves to prosper. You put on running shoes, act like a runner in the park, stop at a couple of strangers taking a picture of themselves (myspace style) and graciously offer to take the photo for them with the entire skyline in the background…..Back up real far and then TAKE-OFF! You are in your running shoes they are in heels. Not only do these thieves get new cameras, they have the entertainment of going through last nights dirty photos. I do not say this to promote theft- I say this for you tourist: Do not let runners take your photo!!!
At this point I make it back to the apartment (1 hour and 20 minute run). I am stretching my shins to avoid the terror of my life, shin splints- and I see this old Jamaican lady walking by with 2 heavy bags. I notice her cane hanging out of her other bag, so that is a trigger that she is really struggling. After she gets 3 steps away I couldn’t stop but help her. Took her bags and walked her 6 blocks to a 92 year old ladies apartment. My assumptions of the cane were correct- she for sure needed it.
As we walked and she told me about her family and the weather in Jamaica, I Iearned that she has been in NYC for 30 years, she takes food to this ladies home, stays with her for 2 days at a time to keep her company- and her name is Euthoriam (of course I asked how to spell it when she told it to me).
When I thought that my day was at its peak, Euthoriam was safely and happily where she was going- I was prancing back to my apartment and stumbled upon a side-of-the-street stand with homemade jewelry. Like I said, during my run I was planning out what to wear, and with that I envisioned a particular necklace, which I did not have. AND there it was! I browsed and chatted with the man, Allan, for a while then ran home to get money and Melanie, and of course Chloe tagged along.
We scored on some pretty legit accessories, bartered some sick deals and made a nice little friend, Allan.
Looking back now- almost 4 hours ago- I was really pushing myself to go on this run. It was almost Florida hot on this island today. Not only did I get a kick-ass work out, amazing scenery in the best park in the country, prevented readers like you from having your camera yanked, helped out Euthoriam, a fascinating Jamaican woman, scored on a necklace, bracelet and 2 pair of earrings- I have a new project: Figure out a way to connect this with me while I run.


I am now way into my third week living New York City. It was only my first weekend that I decided that it was a no-brainier: I had to be a blogger! The reason that I have kept a journal since 2nd grade is because I have found over the years that I am always telling stories, mainly because I somehow manage to get myself into situations or come across people that are worth telling about. It was clear after my first weekend in NYC that I would not be at a shortage of stories to share. From my mom freaking out about me going to Underground Bingo in Brooklyn; having neon colored markers of art all over my body for days; brunch, lunch, and church all in the same attire for 3 days straight- This was definitely something that required a little more exposure than my locked up journal that is hidden securely under my portable closet in our one- bedroom life that Melanie and I share.

The most valid excuse that I had for not starting my blog right away was that I needed to have an iphone 4 so I can capture the moments in pictures and blog it right away. For that, I let a couple of good weeks slip through my fingertips. However, it was that magical iphone 4 that pushed me off the blog cliff.

I go out for my first Thursday Happy Hour after work. Pretty tame, mildly exciting, nothing outrageous. We go to Brother Jimmy’s for a company gathering in which not one of us work at this company, and I start ordering Margarita’s with Mr. Boss, which turned out to be the most delicious, whipped fishbowl of a margarita I have ever experienced. Long story short- next part: My Blackberry feel into the toilet and lost what little bit of life she had left. Blackberry went ALL black.

I couldn’t say I was too disappointed, being that the first thing I wanted to do was go to an Apple store that night to get the new 4. Following the advice of the good angel on my shoulder, I went home with Melanie instead.

Friday morning I rush over to the 5th Ave. Apple store. Dash through the trendy glass doors, skip down the winding stairs and prance straight up to the first little Apple guy that I see. His name was Danny. “I need an Iphone 4” (Yes, like this:

I tell him the details of my story, he says they have them in stock, listens to my tall tale, laughs and banters with me. Then says… BUT the line starts upstairs. I think to myself, and say out loud: “That line outside that wraps back and forth and looks like the wait for Splash Mountain at Disney World on a hot day in July???” There is NO way. I just assumed that was a field trip of sight seers. Nope! That is the line for the iphone 4.

For some reason Danny continues to listen to me ramble about how foreign I think this is. He allows me to use his fancy iPhone 4 to call other Apple stores to see if they at least had State Fair, Superloop lines to wait in. As we are going through this, an older man by the name of Zack comes to us and begins the same questionnaire process that I just went through. When he discovered that there was not a separate line for AT&T subscribers he began to throw the “I’m not happy with Apple service” tantrum. I’m not sure at what point a manager walked over to inquire about the upset- but shortly after, he granted access for Zack to get an iphone4 and have it activated because he quickly came over from work in his suit and was hot and bothered. Being that I stuck around and already made friends with Danny, the Apple associate, I gave the “what about me eyes?” He must have took the bait. And I was in!!!

I was literally taken behind the ropes, ones that I liked to call the VIP ropes, and was made an honorary iphone 4 owner. And then thought to myself- This is like Disney World! (but with a free fast pass).

So- Thanks to my run of bad luck, exciting come backs, and the iphone 4 my life is now accessible for all to read. Enjoy!