48 hours in Manhattan

We stepped off the plane at 8:30 Friday night, and stepped right back onto the plane at 8:40 Sunday night.

48 hours in New York rivaled 50 hours in Vegas. Regardless of the fact the flight was half as long, the city was equally as exhausting.

I guess I should back up and explain that this great big, exhilarating, New York weekend was my birthday gift. Yea. You heard that right. Because I'm not spoiled or anything.

A few weeks earlier that sneaky fella of mine sent me an airline confirmation.

Having never been to the BIG CITY (yea yea - insert gasp here, I am used to it) I had no clue what to expect. Of course, everyone passed along their long lists of Must See's and Must Eat's and Must Drink's and Must Avoids, but we pretty much decided to go into it with an open agenda.

The taxi ride from LaGuardia to the W Hotel may have been the most tortuous ride of my life. Tate decided to book our hotel in Times Square so we were in a central location to everything... which was fantastic, but also terrible, because Times Square is... well terrible, as I quickly learned. The concept of traffic flow (both by foot and automobile) seems lost on everyone there.

As soon as we got checked into our room on the 36th floor, we were back out the revolving door, in search of food. Thus began our first leisurely stroll (and by leisurely I mean, block after block after block), where we stumbled upon a little Argentinian place in Chelsea (how fitting). By the time we walked in the door, I was less than pleasant, and an eleven on the hangry scale. They immediately brought me my wine and a basket of bread and all was right in the world again.

Porteno did not disappoint, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who asks. But then again, they brought us complimentary wine after our meal too so I may be biased.

Can I pause for a second and ask if there is an over-abundance of Irish in New York, or if every other bar genre just threw in the towel and added a 'Mc' in front of their name and Guinness to their tap line?

After a few drinks at one of the local Mc'watering Holes, we decided we better call it a night, and trekked back to the hotel. Saturday took us to the 9/11 Memorial, and museum (a sombering experience, but I somehow managed NOT to cry, so there's a miracle),

When we left the museum we made a pact not to spend the rest of the day dipping into depression, and proceeded to wander around the city and saw EVERY OTHER THING THERE IS TO SEE IN NEW YORK CITY. No really. I think at the end of the day we had logged like 20 some miles. Thank god, for once in my life, I heeded advice and wore practical(ish) shoes.

And then I did what any sane female would do. Dawned 4" heels for a Broadway show that night. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, no? That's what I kept telling myself as we climbed the stairs to our balcony level seats. (We saw An American in Paris )

Guess where we went after the show -- yep, another Irish pub. Shocking, huh? I told Tate we had to get drunk and find trashy New York pizza joint for a night cap (hey, you're only young once) so we did just that. Lucky for us, the one I picked had a cocaine dealer out front, so we had prime entertainment for the 14 minutes it took us to scarf down the most delicious thin crust pizza and a few bottles of water.

Sunday morning it poured, which was perfect because we wanted to do nothing but sleep. We finally managed to get up and showered shortly before checking out of the hotel at noon. Leaving our bags behind we headed back to Chelsea for brunch (Tipsy Parson -- GO! So good), wandered the High Line, hit up Chelsea Market, then were off to Central Park and the last leg of our whirlwind see-it-all-do-it-all Manhattan madness.

As late afternoon rolled around and we hopped into the taxi to head back to LGA, I closed my eyes and sank into the seat. I had achy legs, and a happy heart. It's not that I haven't traveled to a hundred cities, it was moreso who I was travelling with.

New York City wasn't what I expected it to be. I anticipated huge, bustling, high action... it was big, and it was busy... but it wasn't unmanageable. I anticipated overwhelming, but we conquered it easily. Guess that just proves you never know til you try

Interested in where else I've traveled? Check out my wander page to find out more!


Oh hey. Again.

I think the only reason I'm back here is because I stumbled upon this girls blog, where she was telling stories about the ridiculous adventure that is known as "getting to Little Corn Island" (I know, I am bringing up Nicaragua again. Ugh, say it with me: Ugh.) And I was all "I REMEMBER THAT!" and then got disappointed that, while I remember it in my head, I never shared all those hilarious stories.

Or any story after that.

Or any of the not-so-hilarious stories, maybe the more serious stories, like the ones about when you date really poopy guys for most of your life, and then you are trying to learn how to date a not-so-poopy one and constantly teeter on the line of being psycho complements of your past? (I think us crazy chicks should at least get a nod, for being well aware of when we are toe'ing the line of crazy).

Maybe we won't dive right into those stories. It's been kind of nice not having the whole internet whispering that I'm crazy for the past 8 months.

On the flip side, I just ordered a windbreaker for part of my Halloween costume. It's going to be another great year of festivities. Can't wait to share.

Oh, and I've got a few more trips on the horizon. Like New York (for the FIRSTTIMEFFINALLY)... and oh Fiji... and London... and Paris...

Welcome back, buckle up and return your tray tables to the upright position... this is gonna be fun kiddos


Oh hey.

I actually wasn't kidnapped returning from Nicaragua 6 months ago (side note: was that really only six months?!)

I just... you know.... got busy with life, stumbled upon a semi-decent dude, took a few trips with him... haven't found out he's married or has kids yet, so I'm content with letting him stick around.

Went on one hell of a trip to Ireland with a couple of my closest girlfriends. (Getting home really was the equivalent of hell.)

All in all, not much else is new. Done a few minor projects on the ol casa. Celebrated the 7th year anniversary of working at the house of booze. Still continue to keep the mutt alive, despite killing every house plant I've adopted in the same time frame.

Liv's scans continue to come back clear. I don't know what sort of timeline cancer has where it just decides to give up and stop trying to come back, but I'm definitely ready for that.

It's weird to think I used to write here daily. That I had friends come stay with me that I met through here, that I have a best friend who I started talking to thanks to blogging. I kind of miss it, I won't lie. Maybe I'll start popping in telling a story here and there a little more often.

I know you're all dying to know what exactly I've been up to. Snapchat is such a cliffhanger.

Blogging's making a comeback, you know? Facebook said so.



Nicaragua fell into my lap.

I caught wind of great airfare, convinced a buddy of mine to join, threw our airfare onto my credit card, got my PTO approved, and went about my Friday at the office.

Over the weekend I decided on a few cities to visit, and the following Thursday morning we were wheels up to Managua.

Instances like this remind me how INSANELY lucky I am to live this life, and be able to up and leave the way that I did. I remember being in Belize and talking to a handful of backpackers who had been making their way up the coast, and every one of them raved about Nica. I couldn't wait to go find out for myself...



You know what's fun... waking up New Year's Day with the flu.

And no, I don't mean the whiskey flu. I wish it would have been that. I would have felt a hell of a lot better today, then. Instead I'm still battling a 99somethin fever, a headache best equatable to an over-inflated balloon pending pop'age, and a quarantine sign on my office at work!

At least it waited to strike until after all the NYE festivities. I can't be TOO disappointed, I did have a blast ringing in 2015 with some of my most favorite people!


To continue on my quest of never having to step foot in a bar on New Year's Eve, we hit up a friends house (apartment?) party, decked to the 9s in our sparkles and smiles.  It's hard to be too bummer about being sick when I've only got a few more hours in the office before the weekend hits!

I hope this year brings everyone the happiest of happy days, 365 of them!


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