I promise I've been posting

... Just not on here yet!

It's amazing how much time two jobs, classes and the sorority take up. But don't fret, if you want to see what I've been up to, follow my Twitter and the Mizzou Tri Delta Blog.

Also, the 2,500-word feature story I've been working on for Columbia's Arts & Entertainment magazine, Vox, will hit newsstands on Oct. 7.* If you're not in the Columbia, Mo. area, (And for your sake, I really hope you aren't. I kid! I kid! Well, kinda.) then check it out on the web at http://www.voxmagazine.com.

If you're bored in the meantime, I suggest going to the site and typing "Bingo" into the search. I promise, you'll enjoy it.

Well, I should probably study for this exam I have in two hours. Just thought I'd procrastinate a little more, and let ya'll know I'm still alive.

Trying to keep it fun and working hard to do so,

Lindsay

PS- In the name of fearlessness I chopped all my hair off! I'm still getting used to it...

* In light of recent word from my editors, my story has been postponed for another month. So stay tuned!

The love for family trumps the love for all else

My grandma died today. I heard the words. I typed the words. I read the words. I cried the words.

Yet no matter the way they're verbalized, it's hard to believe they're true. But, they are. My grandma died today.

Cancer. That's what did it. Cancer. And she fought it like hell, too. She had a way of making you almost believe she didn't even have it. She'd refer to her new chemo buzz-cut as "my sexy new hairdo" and her illness as "my annoying little problem." I never saw her cry. I never saw her weak.

A few nights before I left for New York, my brother Bradley and I visited Grandma Maria's house, a lovely (read: completely messy but I wouldn't have it any other way) little townhouse in Lake St. Louis. She moved nearby after my grandpa died exactly 5 summers ago. We drove around town, scoping out the best places to nab some dinner. Bradley was always slightly embarrassed to go out with Grandma. The last time they went out for IHOP pancakes she tried to get the young waitress' number for him while he was in the bathroom. No surprise there. That was Grandma.

We enjoyed each other's company and forkfuls of each other's meals for literally like 3 hours at Mimi's Cafe. It sounded Granny-ish I thought (Mimi's? C'mon that doesn't really scream awesome good kids' food...) as I pulled the Blueberry into the parking lot, but as Grandma knew best, it was one helluva great meal. And with every server that came our way, she beamed and boasted that her grandbaby was headed off to New York to work for a magazine and that I needed a good meal before eating ramen. Right again Grandma. And I knew she was right, I let her boast away. By age of 21 I finally realized, there's no stopping grandma when she wants to brag, so let her go. And secretly, I loved hearing it. She said everything I was too modest to say.

Rewind four months. January 2010. I spent a whole weekend at Grandma's over break. We sat around watching YouTube videos. I showed her the hilariousness of "Candy Mountain" and "Dane Cook." She showed me acts from a 60-year-old woman who does stand up comedy. We laughed so hard we cried. Then she scolded me for saying, "That woman is hilarious for being so old." Grandma was in her 60s. Woops. And when you think about it, 60 isn't really that old.

We laughed again. Hard. But this time she jolted up and made a sprint for the bathroom. The chemo made her bladder weak. She emerged from the bathroom yanking out a small tuff of fur (as we called it) from her head. "Annoying little problem," she joked.

"BZZZZ!" rang the timer on the dryer. I pull open the door and wrapped myself in the warm cotton sheets as I wrestled them out of the machine. She went to one side of the bed and I the other. "I'll show you how to make a bed perfectly. My Mom always scolded me if the corners weren't perfectly tight. Hospital corners, they're called," she instructed as we fluffed the sheet into the air.

"Gotta make it good, you know. I'm taking a Frenchman to bed with me tonight. He's a great kisser."

"Oh-mi-god Grandma!" Gilbert (or Jau-bear as we all called him in a French accent) is her woolly, white dog. Grandma was right. He's a tremendously great cuddler.

Rewind two months. November 2009. It was over Thanksgiving break when Aunt Nikki called to tell me Grandma was in the hospital, "We think it might be cancer." I grabbed Bradley, we hopped in the Blueberry and were on our way to West County. Aunty M worked as a nurse at St. John's and was sure to get Grandma some extra special care. We sat around her bed as she joked about how she couldn't wait to eat real food again (because of all the tests she had to drink these nasty fortified shakes).

But as it always was with Grandma, it wasn't about her. What had I been up to? How was my work? How was my school? Were there any new boys? Homecoming was finally over. I was back at Abercrombie for break, in fact, I had to leave in 45 minutes because I needed to go in for a shift. School was school, totally stressful, but still I was in line for another semester of all A's. Yes, there was a boy.

"Well go on... does he go to school with you?"

"No. He went to my high school. He works in construction now."

She high-fived me in front of the whole family, "Construction, huh?! I bet he's great with his hands!" My face went beet red.

"Oh-mi-God Grandma!" And well (I would NEVER had said this in front of the family) but Grandma was right.

Fast forward. Back to August 2010. Not even a year since my semi-public embarrassment and the beginning of Grandma's annoying little problem. It's hard (and hurtful) to think how much in one year I've grown so strong and she so frail. Frail but never weak. If there's anything Grandma taught me, it's to be a fighter.

It's to fight for what is right. Even after my Aunt went though hard times, my Grandma supported her. Family is family, no matter what mistakes they may make.

It's to fight for your dreams. Even when my own parents encouraged me to pursue a degree in teaching, Grandma encouraged me to do what I wanted, whether it was when I was 5 and wanted to go to Harvard, 13 and didn't know what the hell I wanted to do, 16 and wanted to be a psychiatrist or 21 and wanted to be a journalist in New York City.

It's to fight for what you believe in. My family wanted me to come home. But I knew Grandma's flaming German temper would kick in and even in a coma she'd find a way to scold me for missing out on my experiences in New York. So I stayed and experienced the beginning moments of my life as she experienced the last of hers. But now I'm ready to be home. I'm ready to jump in my daddy's arms and cry like I did when I was 8, when I first found out my parents were divorcing. Or like I did when I was 12, when he said he was moving far away to California. Or like I did when I was 20, when I was in so much pain from having my tonsils removed. (I'd say like I did the night before moving to NYC, but as we know I did that alone on my floor, next to the mini fridge he bought me.)

Now, it's time for me to fight to get back to my family. Because ultimately, the love for family trumps the love for all else. Even my love for this city. And it's OK, because Grandma was right. I belong in New York. And I'll be back in New York. But for right now, I belong in Missouri -- with a Bud Light in one hand and my Daddy's hand in the other. Because that's what us Schallons do -- Plus Grandma would scold us if we did it any other way. So we'll mix laughter with tears, eulogies with wildly ridiculous stories, Bud Light with wine (Because damn did she and Grandpa love their wine) and celebrate the life of my crazy, amazing, strong Grandmother.

So maybe soon, after a beer (or five) or a few days or maybe even a few years down the road, the words won't sting as bad. All I know is one thing: I've got to be a fighter. Just like she was.

Tourists.

Six months ago I was one of them. Sporting my A&F fur coat and skinny dark denim jeans and slung Coach handbag with pride, I lead the pack of my brothers, cousins, mom, step-dad, aunts, uncles, grandma, grandpa (basically a huge cluster of family members) off our party bus and into Times Square, which I'll embarrassingly admit that I called Time Square until I realized that sounded funny and Googled it super quickly to realize my mistake. Sure enough I did damage control in the form of instantly editing all the captions on my mobile FB uploads. Yeaaah.... moving on.

Gawking at the ga-jillion plasma screens overhead, we dilly-dallied our way in rows 4-maybe-5-across up to the red stairs to take a group photo. My cousin and I sang Empire State of Mind as we made our way there (ahem, OK so maybe that part hasn't changed a whole lot. See: My singing talent).

After probably pissing off any stray Manhattanites who for some reason needed to be in Times Square at 11 p.m. on a Saturday, we made our way back to the party bus and traveled back through Greenwich (I knew it wasn't pronounced Green-witch thanks to A&F's failure brand Ruehl) and by Houston (OK, I said it like the city in Texas, not HOW-ston... dumb tourist).

So yeah, last January was something a little along these lines as LIFE Magazine so kindly points out for us naive of NY: http://www.life.com/image/102281799/in-gallery/45631/how-new-yorkers-can-spot-a-tourist

Yup. I couldn't describe it better myself. The bright-lights-blinded kid who hopped off that bus had no idea just how badly she stuck out (Actually... I'm lying, I mean I was walking in a pack with my rather really embarrassing family, but you know what I mean).

Fast forward. I've lived in NYC almost 3 months now, and let me tell you, I now see the screaming "I'M A TOURIST!" signs I portrayed back in January. What a difference moving here makes. Let me divulge:

Telltale touristy traps I'm guilty of:

• Whipping out the subway map. Well actually, I don't believe in maps, rather I believe in getting lost and figuring out my way -- Yes, in true New Yorker fashion! -- but I'll let my friends pull out their maps when my phone's Google map app (totally less conspicuous) isn't working.

• I'm guilty of sometimes calling the 1,2,3 the red line. Or the 4,5,6 the green. Or the ACE the blue. It's just easier. In my defense I've never been to Boston. And in STL we have ONE line: the Metrolink, which we tend to stay away from at all costs. It's just easier and I've never heard of this "rule" until now. But seeing as I will do anything to escape my Midwestern label (aside from losing my Cardinals and Anheuser-Busch pride) I guess I'll be sure to avoid calling 'em colors.

• I got stuck in a rotating turnstile chamber thing (or whatever the hell they're called) the first time I tried to push through. I conceited to being a new New Yorker and asked the MTA guy to let me through the emergency door. I never made that mistake again. As far as my swiping skills... well, they're getting better, but I swear I just always get jinxed cards. Really!

• I ordered a Cosmo. So sue me. I never had one before, and I like Carrie Bradshaw. There. I said it. If that makes me a tourist, so be it. But, honestly, I really would rather a beer.

Tourists traits I trash on and thus reasons why I belong here:

• I've never been much of a celeb stalker, and frankly after 3 months of interning at a magazine, I've come to realize celebrities are just like you & me, minus the privacy. It's kind of cool knowing that you aren't one of those psycho fans who creepily snap shots of stars strolling on the streets. You catch a glimpse, you smile and you text your bestie from back home. Then they text back how much they envy your life. In reality, you've actually got it better than the celebs. Fancy that.

• I've always known that Times Square was in Midtown. I think my east coast relatives were at least kind enough to explain that much to me at some point.

• I still haven't been to the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, and many museums because of the sole fact that they are touristy and I'd way rather save money and do what "the locals" do.

• I've never liked slow walkers. I've been known to power drive the dawdlers walking along Maryland Ave. out of my way when I'm occassionally usually late to class. And big groups of dawdlers. Oh.My.God.Get.Out.Of.My.Way. Freshmen? Ugh. Tour groups? Ugh. Ugh. Times that by thousands of teetering tourists... Ugh. Ugh. UGH! New Yorkers run (literally!) on little patience, and it seems if I hadn't before, I certainly now have that attitude down pat.

• "Real New York-Style" food. I've done the famous stuff. The John's Pizzeria. The Ray's Famous slices. The Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs. The Little Italy dives. The Junior's cheesecake. The Magnolia cupcakes. What I've learned most? Sure, John's is the bomb. Nathan's famous is, well, famous. Magnolia's got great icing. Little Italy is sure cool. Junior's chocolate cheesecake is near orgasmic.
  
  But: Hole-in-the-wall pizza is cheaper and (sometimes) better, and if the place has no air conditioning it's probably got some of the best damn "Real New York" slices around. And: I don't care if it's not sanitary, street vendor hot dogs are always legit, and also like $2 cheaper. That adds up. And: For me, pasta is pasta. Little Italy is cool by all means, but really you just go there for the atmosphere. No one place really stands out, and I've had comparable dishes at the Olive Garden on Mid Rivers Mall Drive. And: No real New Yorker actually eats cheesecake. Are you kidding? Do you know the caloric intake of one of those slices? It's all about Pinkberry (#64 for sure. Check!) "It's totes the best hun-cal-fro-yo." (Tell me you know the video this alludes to please... if not, be ready to LOL at this YouTube vid Cosmo recently posted.) And: If real New Yorkers want a cupcake, chances are they're just popping into their local neighborhood bakery, not trekking to Greenwich or Midtown for one.
  
  That's the real deal when it comes to New York food.

• I've been to all 5 boroughs. (Ahem, #56. Check!) Queens was awesome. The Bronx was alright, then again it was daytime. Staten Island's South Beach was tolerable. Brooklyn will probably be my home at some point. Manhattan will always be my true love.

It's a shame really, because tourists only see the shiny exterior of what New York has to offer. They stay in their fancy hotels and above ground in cabs and never get to experience the true gems that really make New York, well, the best city in the world. Same goes for those who've been born and raised in the posh luxury apartments, who've shopped 5th Avenue like it was the local Wal-Mart all their lives.

Call me the weirdest person ever, but I love the little things like a humid day on the subway platform and my small one bed, one bath studio that houses me and my 3 roommates. I feel like these experiences are the staple of NYC. It's a city you have to work your way up in. And only those who make it from the ground up (16 floors up to be exact...) and can survive a less-than-desirable start in the city, can honestly one day value whatever is it that the city bequeaths, whether it be a shiny new pair of Manolos or strong sense of self and accomplishment. What do I hope it bequeaths to me?

Is it selfish to hope for both?

At least there's two things I know: At least I know that TIMES has an "S" on the end and yes, these bright lights really do inspire you. Tourist or not.

A Fun & Fearless Fourth

I'd like to note that today is the 14th. This is sad news. Why? Because I leave in exactly one month (Cue shutter here). I know, right? The thought of leaving terrifies me more than the thought of my 17 year-old brother driving my car around right now... Well, I guess that's one reason to be happy to head back to the Midwest.

But that's just a side note. No need to be sappy yet because Fun & Fearless doesn't worry about the future (that much) ... F&F girls live in and for the present. And presently, life is FABOOSH. (Don't know the term? Then you seriously need to read some Perez.)

4th of July. For me, 4th of July is when summer feels like it has truly set in. Summer wakes up for the Fourth. Hot dogs. BBQ. Fireworks. Friends. Bikini tops. Beaches. Water guns. American Flags. Red, white & blue. Outdoor air. Float trips. Ice cold beer. Popsicles. Daisy Dukes. Jorts. Melting ice cream. Warm beads of sweat. Tingling goosebumps from walking back inside to A/C. Pride. Freedom.

Even the busiest of New Yorkers surrender to the celebration. They disconnect from their tellies and desktop screens, pack up their bags and leave worries behind for a frenzy-filled holiday in the Hamptons. The shoddiest of beaches fill up with the aroma of fried bologna and slimy sunscreen as teenie bikini clad teenagers and Family Guy-esque households invade the bays to catch some rays.

4th of July in New York is more than fun. While it may not be floating down the Meramec River in Wal-Mart swim wear shouting at your buddy to Natapult a frosty Natural Ice your way -- AKA the annual Independence Day river-rafting/camping trip my besties have donned Freedom Fest -- it's celebrated in true NYC fashion. Bigger and better than the rest of the (er, I was going to say world, but that's not really fitting) country.

But first for you New Yorkers who have expressed your curiosity for float trips, here's last year's example of Missouri's finest 4th festivity:

Yes, we sleep in tents. Yes, it rained last year. Yes, I woke up in a puddle. Yes, it was completely AWESOME.

It's fun. I promise.

Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest/#23 Visit Coney Island.

What's more American than a hot dog? Answer: 15 men (and 1 woman!) force-feeding themselves as many dawgs as humanly possible in ten minutes. Yup, that's pretty American all right. Let me give you a tid bit of BG history:

• Origin: July 4, 1916 -- The year Nathan's Famous opens on Surf Avenue in Coney Island.
• Occurrence: Every 4th of July except in 1941 as a WWII protest and 1971 as a civil unrest protest. Did I not tell you? Americans love our hot dogs. Our beloved FOJ food choice clearly holds more regard than we all thought.
• Coverage: ESPN reserved full coverage rights of the contest in 2004. It's been broadcasted live annually since. And yes, just like the MLB there's the MLE -- Major League Eating.
• Record: 68 hot dogs and buns. Currently held by 4-time running champion Joey Chestnut. I can't even be snarky here. That's just mind-blowing.
• Competition: The rivalry between Chestnut and previous title holder Takeru Kobayashi (you know the amazing eater from Japan) is fierce. So fierce in fact that Kobayashi was arrested this year for attempting to storm the stage after Chestnut's victory.
• Sponsors: None really matter other than Pepto Bismol. I must say, that's some great corporate sponsorship on their part. Some athletes get shin splints, these guys get indigestion. I get it. And so did they. Bravo Pepto! Smart marketing.

Here's what the scene looked like on Surf Ave:

Luna Park

When us Midwesterners hear "Coney Island" we automatically think of Luna Park. Movies such as Uptown Girls (remember the tea cups!) have shaped our opinions. Don't blame us; blame the media. Well my MO'ers... they are not one in the same. Coney Island is the whole she-bang, and Luna is just the amusement park.

The Park is a little different than the Six Flags/ Disney World get ups I've attended in the past. It's really small. Like size wise, it's comparable to the local St. Elizabeth carnival back home in the Chuck (OK, maybe just a smidge larger). And also like a carnival, there's no admission fee, every ride is paid for separately. So we threw back a few bucks on the some of the oldest and most awesome carnival rides ever -- The Cyclone and The Wonder Wheel.

A few fun facts about the Wonder Wheel:

• Opened: Memorial Day in 1920.
• Weight/Height: 400,000 lbs./150 feet tall (the tallest wheel at the time it was built).
• Capacity: 144 people.
• Features: 16 swinging cars & 8 stationary cars.
• Interesting fact: Declared an official NYC landmark in 1989.

Of course we rode in the swinging car and... it was a little bit scary. Not going to lie. The Cyclone? Also scary. It had such tiny seats and was so jankety I thought we would fly the tracks at any moment. But no worries, I kept my hands in the air like a true thrill seeker and managed not to lose my "sunglasses or weave" like an overhead caution sign warned us to secure.

Macy's 4th of July Firework Show:

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. This 26-minute show featured more than 40,000 fireworks over the Hudson River. Crowded in an great dock spot on a pier at 13th Street, we gathered a pack of blankets, American flags and the cutest red, white and blue outfits we could find. And in the spirit of America, we put our patriotism on parade and our awful singing to the airwaves (ahem, #73 Bust out a chorus of 4th of July's best patriotic songs).

It was a Fun & Fearless 4th to never forget.

Top of the Rock

My little (OK not so little) cousin graduated from high school this summer, so all (well, most) of the fam was in town. As you've seen in some previous posts, I got to knock off a bunch of the touristy attractions on my F&F bucket list. My aunt (who lives right next door in Jersey) is awesome about making sure she helps me whittle a few down every time she makes a trip into the city.

So aside from seeing Promises, Promises, eating some AH-MAZING pizza at John's Pizzeria, hanging out in Times Square with the Naked Cowgirl and feeding our sweet teeth at M&M's World...


... we also went to the Top of the Rock!

For those of you unfamiliar, the term means traveling up to the roof of Rockefeller Center, another one of NYC's most well-known skyscrapers. Rockefeller Center is home to NBC studios, Radio City Music Hall and Rockefeller Plaza where the enormous Christmas Tree stands every winter. It's def an awesome touristy area for all of the above.

Let's play Tori Tour-guide. You're visiting NYC and you ruh-eally want to go to the top of a skyscraper. Well, really there's only two to choose from. So which do you pick? The Empire State Building or Rockefeller Center?

Is flashy and recognizable important to you? If yes, go to the Empire State Building. Name-wise, there's really nothing that compares to it. NYC will always be known for ESB and tourists will always flock to ESB. That and it's a damn cool thing to say you've stood on top of. If no, Rockefeller Center won't let you down. It's still pretty dang flashy, just doesn't have the Facetime that ESB has been privy to all these years. (Thanks a lot King Kong.)


Are you in it for the view? If yes, the best view hands down belongs to Rockefeller Center. Not only can you actually look over and see a killer view of ESB and the Chrysler Building, you also have a clear shot view of Central Park. It's farther north than its catchy counterpart, so there's less metal and steel obstructing your view of greenery grandeur. I also happen to think you can see Times Square more easily, but that could be debated. If no, ESB still has a pretty bomb view, you just can't see uptown as well.

Do you mind long lines? If yes, stay away from ESB. The wait takes forever. First you wait outside. Then you wait to buy your ticket. Then you wait to get into an elevator. Then you are taken to the 80th floor to sit and wait for another elevator that takes you up six more stories (if you're lucky and healthy, sometimes they'll let you walk the stairs up. But I warn you, it's a challenge). Then, finally you are at the Observation Deck. 2 hours later. If you pay more, you can go up even higher. To floor 102 to be exact. (Hope you're not afraid of heights, but then why would you be asking Tori Tour-guide if you were...) If no, 30 Rock's line is much, much shorter. You buy your ticket in hardly a line at all. Go up the elevator to the 66th floor. Hop an escalator to the viewing decks on the 67th, 69th or 70th floors. Voila! I think we waited more for my grandmother to arrive than we did actually walking through all the lines.

See: Alexa (my 13-year-old cousin) lounging.

Instead of: Morgan and I surrounded by people who don't understand the concept of personal space.

Are you on a budget? Doesn't matter your answer here. This is a toss up. For an adult ticket, both cost around $20, which isn't too bad in terms of New York tourist attractions. Now, here's the kicker. If you want to get through ESB's lines faster, you can buy an express pass. And if you want to go higher than 86 floors, you can pay $15 more to go to the 102nd floor. Is it worth it? Well, that takes us back to the question of "Are you on a budget?"

What does Tori Tour-guide recommend most? If name dropping is important to you, go with ESB. Nothing else will satisfy your thirst for a "brand name building." But if you're looking for what the typical tourist wants: awesome city views + something that won't break the bank, then opt for 30 Rock. It'll rock your world. Pun intended.

Number 39

39) Sing Empire State of Mind on top of the Empire State Building.

I still can't believe I did this ... AND I can't believe I'm putting this on here! I seriously don't think I've ever been more nervous in my entire life. OK, that's maybe not true, but I was still QUITE nervous. I almost forgot the words!

But anyway... enjoy. Hope you like my, er, singing... The tourists thought it was funny, I think. Or weird. Probs the latter.



Oh and I forgot to mention: It was 4th of July weekend. Two hour wait.

The. Observation. Deck. Was. Packed.

A few weeks worth of words

Oh. Em. Gee. How is 4th of July this coming weekend already? Shwhaa? OK so now that June is almost done and out, I reaaaaally need to catch ya'll (totally not NYC talk, I know) up to date with the insanity otherwise known as City Life.

So I guess we'll start the way I always do, but THIS time I'll actually give you as much of the run down as I can ... not just stuff on "The List." Seriously, I really need to just spend less time on PerezHilton.com -- I admitted in class today that it's my biggest guilty pleasure -- and spend more time jotting on here all my daily shenanigans.

Week 5 -- Fun & Fearless List:

2) Go to a Broadway show.

Promises, Promises. Well, I promise you this, it's a show definitely worth seeing. First, get your tickets from TKTS and please my touristy friends, avoid the Times Square location at all cost. There's another location in the South Street Seaport down in FiDi. (That's my new favorite way to refer to the Financial District ... me love abbreves? Never.)

A short run down of the plot: Set in the 1960s, young Chuck Baxter (Sean Hayes), a low-on-the-totem-pole employee at an insurance company, is willing to do whatever it takes to climb the corporate ladder -- even if that means loaning his one bedroom apartment to his unfaithful superiors who are looking for a little one-night action away from their Mrs. Throw in the lovely Fran Kubelik (Kristin Chenoweth), a waitress at the company cafe with many a problems of her own, and it's one delightfully funny tale of romance and work, shaken and stirred into the perfect blend, that I must say packs quite a punch (That can also refer to Chuck's drink in the Hi-LARIOUS bar scene).

What also made the musical? My aunt having to explain the meaning of "pervert" to my 7-year-old cousin. Ahhh, another reason why marriage is nowhere near even a consideration. (I mean... what Fun & Fearless girl has the time for that!?)

Check out more about the show on the official web site.

View leading up to the Broadway Theater:

Outside the theater with my ticket!

A sneak peak inside the theater before show-time. Shhhh. Cameras aren't allowed inside.

32) Take a picture with the Naked Cowboy.

Well, actually the Naked Cowboy hasn't been roaming the streets lately seeing that he is in the midst of a legal battle. It's a modern day (naked) country-western battle for Times Square stomping grounds and Trademark infringement with none other than she-version of the Nakedness himself: $andy Kane, The Naked Cowgirl.

Heart-shaped booby pasties, a decorated guitar, a constant flip of the bird and all, this former "entertainer" looks like she might need to put her recent earnings from laughter-ridden tourists toward a new suit. Or at least a decent bra.





Read more about the controversy here.

42) Eat a hotdog, pretzel and Philly cheese steak from a street vendor.

OK, so I've been warned about eating food off the street. It's contaminated. It's been sitting in the dirty, bacteria-infested air. You'll get sick. There's been so many reports on how bad it is for you. Etc.

You know what I say to that? Wah wah. It's delicious. I love hot dogs. I love pretzels. I've yet to see a Philly cheese steak cart actually, but I have gotten a mean street bagel. And guess what, I'm alive to blog about it. Next cart visit? Foursquare keeps telling me there's a taco truck nearby... um, YUM!


61) Go to a Good Morning America Concert.

Let's be honest. I'm generally not exactly thrilled to go to class. Especially when it requires me to take off (precious) days at the office. But the past Friday was an exception. After waking up at THREE AM (only because I naturally procrastinated my paper due that morning, woops) I got ready and headed off to Central Park's Rumsey Field. Arrival time -- 6:25 AM. I hadn't had my morning cawfee. My hair was unwashed. But, there I was surrounded by the lovely 18 other Mizzou journalism ladies in my program, standing maybe 10 feet away from Good Morning America's concert stage. The coolness factor totes trumped any crankiness factor.

Yes, our professor got the hook-up for the first of our three media visits that day (the others included ProPublic and the Wall Street Journal). VIP bracelets for the Alicia Keys concert. And let me tell you, in the words of my favorite (guilty pleasure) celebrity blogger Perez Hilton -- Alicia looked FABOOSH (read: fabulous). I mean like really FABOOSH. Not only was she glowing from her very talented stand-by makeup crew, but also the glimmer of her baby bump slightly popping through her romper.

Her rendition of Empire State of Mind sent chills through my blood and made goosebumps prickle on my skin despite the sweltering heat. I even (embarrassingly) made it on TV! *Side note: the camera guy told us to do this awkward sway clap thing, where, well, anyone who has rhythm (read: most normal people) would look totally cool and fun doing it. Me? Not so much.

Look for awkward teal shirt & headband girl at 0:14.

Told you so.

Of course my camera died at like the beginning of the show, so here are some otherwise "borrowed" photos from my friends' FB albums:

A bunch of the girls from class before the show.

Natalie, Mallory, me, Jessica, Morgan.

ALICIA KEYS!

Thanks to Kat for her awesome DSLR camera.

We really were so ridiculously close to her.

It's OK. You can be a little jealous :)

46) Visit Katz’s Deli.

This awesome delicatessen is no secret in NYC. Tucked away along the dives of E. Houston in the Lower East Side, this famous gem is well-known for it's pastrami sandwiches and links (is that what they're called?) of salami. It is a bit pricey at $15 - $18 a pop for a sandwich, but the meat is hot off the grill and cooked to perfection. Jessica opted for a burger and fries and gave her seal of approval. The plus for her, a burger is much cheaper.

Also totally great about this place: they serve matzo ball soup. If you've never had matzo ball soup, find a Jewish friend and ask for a recipe. So good.

Photos of famous celebrities and politicians such as Bill Clinton and Rudy Giuliani line the side wall. On the other side is the food counter. Now, when you first walk in, the scene is a little overwhelming. There's 5 or 6 different lines forming, a single one for each server behind the counter. What I recommend, and what you don't first realize they have, table service. Get a waiter. Ask their opinions. Sit down and enjoy the fact that you have no idea which line serves fries, which serves drinks, which has the condiments, which has the sandwiches, etc. The counter is a mess unless you're a Katz's veteran. Otherwise, the extra tip money is so worth it.

Cool thing No. Whatever: Katz's is also the famous deli in Harry Met Sally. You know the famous line. "I'll have what she's having." And you know what, when you're in there, you want what everyone's having. It all looks just so damn delicious.

Here's the menu. Let the mouth watering begin.

82) Go antiquing/ vintage clothes shopping.

Brooklyn is home to a many cool people and things. The Brooklyn Bridge. The Brooklyn Museum. Coney Island. Steve & Miranda's place. Household automobiles instead of cabs. Michael Jordan. But the non-Brooklynites are unaware of some of the most legit vintage shops housed by this mostly residential area. After chatting up a local bartender last night, Jenny and I were told we needed to visit northwestern Brooklyn. Just to check it out. Our 'tender (a 10-year Manhattan inhabitant) said he always swore up and down he'd never leave Manhattan, yet after moving to Brooklyn not long ago, he swears he never wants to leave.

So we took his advice. Hopped the L over to Bedford Ave., the first stop in Brooklyn, and wandered around. What we found: it has some ritzy boutiques and some crazy vintage stores. We're talking vintage, vintage. Also Jenny taught me a fun TV Anchor trick -- scour the blazer rack at the Salvation Army. Ten times cheaper and half the time the tacky-on-the-hangers actually make flattering on-screen attire. Who woulda guessed?

Either way, saw some cute stuff. But, I ended up making a trip to Union Square's Nordstrom Rack before class and got myself the slouchy bootie flats I've been yearning for. Only $40. Not a bad find in this city. Really.

******

The stuff you've been waiting for:

No Fun & Fearless girl sticks just to a list. We deviate. We wander. We explore. So here's what I've done on a whim, on someone else's list, by recommendation or just by getting lost. I'm sure I'll forget to tell you some of the things. And most of these probably deserve posts of their own. But in a nutshell, I'm going to attempt to fit in all the notable stuff I've left out the past few weeks. Here goes everything... (in order from longest ago to most recent)

Meatpacking District Excursion:

If I haven't clarified this, I'll clarify now. My roommate Jenny and I are the only two of the bunch to have an unusual work schedule. I have three-day weeks. She works weekends. Thus, we both Mondays and Tuesdays off together. So what we like to do is pick an area/ neighborhood and wander it. No destination in mind. Just get lost and see where it takes us.

So some time in Week 3 (IE - most likely a Mon. or Tues.) we decided to hit up the Meatpacking District. It's known for its rich nightlife and swanky eateries. So we got lost and this is what we found:

Actual old, real meatpacking factories.

The corner of Little West 12th St. and 10th Avenue. Soon to be our favorite nighttime hot spot. Also soon to be realized the entry to the High Line Park.

Cute, little cobblestone streets. Reminiscent of Main Street St. Charles with an older, more historical feel.

A&F Marketing. For all my friends with the company, this photo's for you. See, in the retail world of Abercrombie & Fitch, it's not hard to see that we really don't do billboard marketing. The customers sell the brand via the logos they bear on their clothing. Needless to say, when I saw this ad, I nearly had a heart attack. It really does exist.

An art gallery. I wish I could have taken more photos, butttt that seemed like a quick way for us to get kicked out of this awesome exhibit.

Then we stumbled our way back into Greenwich on accident. But we weren't upset. We found:

Christian Loubotin -- Designer of the most fabulously crafted footwear ever:

And we snuck a peak at the lady inside who was walking through the store like she was shopping Payless's BOGO deal. Like it was NBD at all that she was wandering barefoot, examining only the finest pairs that caught her fancy. *Sigh.* Maybe one day, we thought.

Carrie Bradshaw's Brownstone Stoop.

Even though she lived in the Upper East Side, Carrie's stoop was shot down in Greenwich Village -- only a few blocks away from where the real SJP lives!

Does it look familiar? (Photos via Google Images)

When I make it big one day, this is the neighborhood where I'll live. Fosh.

After-work strolls through FiDi:

Nothing is worse than being cooped up in a mini "apartment" when a big, busy world is at your doorstep. So, naturally, the roomies and I make it a mission to get out of the apt. as awf-ten as pawssible. And thanks to Allie's celeb fanaticism and constant Twitter updates from OLV (On Location Vactation -- they tweet movie and TV filming locations!) a lot of these leisurely strolls turn into hectic prancing down the narrow walkways of FiDi searching for the next celebrity to grace our neighborhood. I might not have seen any movie stars yet (Allie has!) but hopefully one day soon I'll spot more than just their trailers!

Film Crews for Something Borrowed starring Kate Hudson parked at Water & William.

Look for this scene in the movie!

Production Signs for a TV show called Lights Out, located literally a BLOCK from our apartment:

NYC Media Site Visits:

Like I said previously, our summer journalism class isn't glamourous (however you look at it, even if class IS in Times Square, it's still class) BUT it sure does have its perks. The obvi being Alicia Keys, but also just as (almost) great were these visits:

Wall Street Journal. (Shout out to Alecia Swasy, the best journalist WSJ has ever seen. Also known as the best writing professor at the J-School. It's OK, I've already gotten my grade so it's not sucking up, right?)

FOX News. Didn't get to see Bill O'Reilly though. Um, Shucks?

CNN. We got the to tour a bunch of sets and even saw the stage for the presidential election coverage. NEATO!

Just chillin' in Nancy Grace's desk. NBD.

Central Park Adventures:

If I could pick one favorite place in NYC, well, that'd be Central Park. Hands down. It's beautiful. It's green. It's enchanting. There's always new people to watch and a new secret grassy spot or bench or rock to find. I haven't even seen half of it yet. But what I have done: found the most amazing boathouses, like, ever. And for about $3/person, you can go on a double date (or in our case an awkward gaggle of girls), row-boating away on the lake.






Little Italy:
It's the cutest little alley only a street and a few blocks long that's filled with stings of lights, corner gelato shops, the glorious wafting aroma of garlic and butter and cheap accessory stands. It's loud and touristy ALL the time, but its got a vibrant energy about it. All and all, thumbs up -- but be willing to accept some not-so-great table service from the servers if you're with a young-looking group.

******

OK, so that gets us caught up in (mostly) full to about week three. It's late. I'm a wittle sweepy after last night's midnight showing of Eclipse (EEEE! I KNOW!). And secretly I've been working on this post for the past three nights. What can I say, I'm picky about what I put in print ... and I'm eager to just publish this already. If I go into week four, well, that might take a-whole-nother three more days to write.

Until next time.

Keeping it Fun & Fearless & (as Jessica added on for me) Fabulous!