There’s a truly special bond that forms between an art director and a copywriter. It’s a deep partnership that can only develop after pouring your heart (and the better part of your evening) into a project that will ultimately be nit-picked and/or disregarded altogether. So when my favorite art director, Julie, told me she gave my name to a guy at McDonalds I was not surprised.
Last night after picking up some Micky Ds a rather unkempt classy man started hitting on Julie. Instead of giving her name to the admirer (because real names are reserved for men who harass at sit-down establishments obviously) she gave the first name she could think of: mine. He began shouting “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie” out into the streets of Jersey City trying to get her to return and go to dinner with him. (I’m a little bit fuzzy on his approach because she obviously already had dinner. Maybe he wanted to get her a sundae for dessert? Or one of the promotional toys in the happy meal? But I digress.) As she ran – like literally ran – away, he continued to call out after her, filling the street with a chorus of my name.
After hearing this story I can say conclusively that a) I love Julie even more, b) I am going to start giving out her name at bars just for the hell of it, and c) I’ve now made my mark in Jersey City so I will no longer be going there to visit friends. Unless of course this guy wants to buy me dinner. I mean a girls gotta eat. Amirte ladies??
It seems that 21 Drops new line of perfume really works to target the modern woman’s frenemy. Each scent has what they call “curative properties” to help you combat whatever ailment you might be feeling.
So to get on board with their passive aggressive approach to health, I’ve drafted a small list that might help you narrow down your gift selections.
For your most uptight friend who swears she’s not uptight: Equalize
For that overachiever in your office who’s always coming in early and staying late: Sleep
For your favorite lush. Who am I kidding? Just bring it to your next boozy brunch and spray it around the place: Hangover
For that annoying guy who makes everyone uncomfortable at office parties: Abstain
For your friend who needs to get a lil somethin’ somethin’ (may also work for friend in category 1): Passion
A recipe for an interesting evening: Abstain + Passion. Spray into a crowded bar and watch it unfold.
Unfortunately they haven’t come up with a curative oil to make me an overnight billionaire who travels the world for sport and can eat whatever she wants so I will not be accepting any presents from 21 Drops in the near future.
“The first step — especially for young people with energy and drive and talent, but not money — the first step to controlling your world is to control your culture. To model and demonstrate the kind of world you demand to live in. To write the books. Make the music. Shoot the films. Paint the art.”—CHUCK PALAHNIUK
11am kickboxing doesn’t annoy the people who live downstairs as much as the herd of elephants that live upstairs annoy me.
My neighborhood Starbucks have nearly perfected their disaffected-customer-service-worker scowl. Not even a hint of a smile or a slip of the monotone. Impressive.
The closing of Borders on 2nd Ave sent me spiraling into a cave of depression so deep that the only remedy was for me to buy $70 worth of books and one moleskine notebook I found hidden behind an old Valentine’s Day card. Thank god someone pretentious (who undoubtedly calls themselves an artist) had the foresight to hide all the good ones in ironic places.
Buying said books has all but guaranteed that I won’t read the one I’m supposed to for book club. It’s written so poorly that I actually checked to see if it was the Mexican prequel for Twilight. It’s not.
Contrary to popular belief, the people of Murray Hill are literate.
In life, you will always have to work in a windowless office when the weather hits 60 degrees in February. And it will always start snowing on your day off.
The only people who eat at Shake Shack on a cold Saturday are 21 year olds on a walk of shame. Well, and me.
I’ve been suffering from some serious insomnia this past week. So serious that I actually cleaned my house on Monday night. No joke. The funny thing is that when I’m not watching every single thing on my dvr, again, I’m having the weirdest dreams. Ever the analyst, I decided that I wanted, nay, NEEDED to know what the helter skelter of last night’s dream meant. Potentially it could unlock some secrets as to why the burden of sleep is weighing down on me like the final rose ceremony on the Bachelor (who will he pick???) Here are the results.
Over-arching symbols decoded by the insightful people at Dream Moods:
Elevator - Descending in an elevator, suggests that you are being grounded or coming back down to reality. It also signifies setbacks and misfortunes.
Dancing - Signifies freedom from any constraints and restrictions. Your life is in balance and in harmony.
Toddlers - You are trying to still satisfy repressed desires and unfulfilled hopes.
Alpaca sweaters (apparently not in Dream Dictionary so sweaters will have to do) - To dream that you are knitting a sweater, symbolizes your creativity.
Yellow - Symbolic of intellect, energy, agility, happiness, harmony, and wisdom.
Barefoot - Being barefoot indicates poverty, lack of mobility, or misunderstanding.
If I’m interpreting this correctly, I’m free and happy but I also need to come back down to earth and satisfy some unfulfilled dream. Oh and I might be poor and incapable of moving. Quite right; nothing would be a setback quite like immobility or poverty.
Also, as I’m reviewing this list I’ve made some conclusions of my own. Mostly I am self-conscious about the fact that these six items paint me as a dancing hippie taking elevators and knitting sweaters with children, not in the child labor way but in the hobby way. Actually maybe I just gave the children the sweaters, which would explain why I’m barefoot and apparently below the poverty line. It’s also great that I’m happy and all, but I should be using my creativity to satisfy some hopes and dreams, like never seeing an ugly alpaca sweater again. Maybe that should be my new dream?
Ya know, I’ve really answered some big questions here and I’ve also realized a repressed desire. Well played, Dream Moods. Well played indeed.
Not sure why but everyone goes all angry bird on Valentine’s Day. Single or attached I’ve always enjoyed the holiday, though that may be because I’m perpetually single and any day that encourages the overconsumption of candy is all right in my book. Regardless, I am a fan. So when my coworker presented today with the why-doesn’t-she-love-me-back blues, I so graciously decided to share something I love with her: chipotle. Crazy? Yes. Pathetic? I hope not.
My love story with Chipotle goes waaaaaaay back; all the way to 11th grade when Chipotle could only be found in Colorado (woop woop square state represent!) Like most young loves I was uncertain at first, but what started as an acquaintance progressed to an admiration, a friendship, and eventually a love. I’ve had first dates there, I’ve had birthdays there. I even pined for it when I was abroad. And it’s always been there when I need it most.
In the end what keeps me coming back isn’t the great food (though I could write sonnets about the carnitas); it’s the memories and the way it reminds me that the little things really do make up a life. And isn’t that all you can ask for in something, or someone, you love?
Every day, no matter where you sit in the organization and what you’ve been asked to do, you’re in a position to initiate things. Ideas, seminars, journals, newsletters, blogs, new software projects, better sales pitches, partnerships that will change the game.
When you initiate you come up with the idea and get it rolling. You don’t need permission, because if you create something great and someone loves it so much that they want to grab it from you, that’s fine – you’ve created something of value, and you can go on to the next thing.
7:14 – Arrive to dinner too early so I decide to peruse the sale rack at Steve Madden. Decide that most shoes aren’t appropriate for me as I’m not interested in stripping or doubling as the jolly green giant.
7:28 – Walk into Spitzer’s while talking on the phone. Get annoyed with some guy because I think he’s trying to talk to me (ugh, I hate when guys with ill-fitting hats hit on me) and brush him off; realize he’s the bouncer and just needs to see my ID so I sheepishly fork it over. Also, take note that eye cream must be working if I’m getting carded.
7:50 – Determine that the pot o’ meatballs should work on two levels: deliciousness and catering to my love for all things mini.
8:15 – Burn my mouth on said meatballs. Patience is not a virtue I was given.
8:55 – Walk over to the event with my roommate, Hillary, and our friend, Brianna to see Hillary dance.
9:15 – After taking multiple pictures of every fashionable person in the bar, the photographer asks my jegging-wearing self if I’d like him to take a picture of me. Charity, yes, but I accept anyway and do my best this-happens-to-me-all-the-time pose.
9:55 – Flash mob breaks out and I decide to abandon my dreams of advertising and pursue a career in dance. Hillary and I will turn our apartment into a dance studio where we will eventually choreograph the next Lady Gaga video. NBD.
10:15 – Attempt a semi-drunken dance move and realize that I lack any real talent in dancing and the training will probably interfere with my drinking. Immediately abandon dream.
11:50 – Come home to realize that my DVR didn’t record tonight’s episode of Gossip Girl. Cry. Wonder why I ever left my Monday night up to chance.
11:53 – Try to regain composure but realize I have no remaining dignity for Monday and go to bed without putting on eye cream.