Dear Steve Jobs,

As co-founder and CEO of Apple, Inc. I would like to share a few words with you. First, I love what you do. I love the computers you make and I wish I had an iPhone. I swear by my iPod and always immediately put in my earphones when I have the opportunity. Whether it be walking around, running errands, traveling, or sitting in my cubicle, those white earphones and I are in sync and probably listening to 'NSYNC.

However, as a girl on the go, I have to say that what's really killing my cool I-listen-to-my-iPod-all-the-time-because-i'm-a-city-girl vibe is when I pull my iPod out of my pocket to then have to untwist and untangle the white wire mess. I spend so much of the time I could be jamming to Pussycat Dolls just trying to get the R and the L separated. Isn't there something that can be done? We're living in 2009 where wireless is the way to go. Bluetooths are abundant and even my hair dryer and iron have retractable "cord keeper" features. There must be a better way.

Why not quit messing with the shapes of iPods (square shaped, spheric, etc) and give them retractable headphones?

See, look at this guy to the right. All he wants to do is brush up on his Kanye. He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and now has to begin the untangling process. I feel his pain.

I hope you seriously consider what I'm saying here. I'm just trying to keep Apple as the best it can be. I'll be first in line for the cord keeper version, I promise.

Thanks for your time,

Jamie

body language schmody language

The movie comes out in just a matter of days, the book has been something I've sworn by for years, but now that I really think about it, the entire concept of He's Just Not That Into You has been kind of a waste of my money! Silly self respecting girls like myself have made Greg Behrendt (the book's author) a very rich man for pointing out all the reasons boys don't treat girls right. I mean, haven't I repeatedly learned that for free in all my dating experiences? It doesn't seem right or fair that a MAN could make large amounts of money just by pointing out the things that boys do to make girls sad.

Maybe somehow it's women's faults. Women have become depicted as these horribly desperate people whose biological clocks are controlling their actions, making them creatures of desperation on a testosterone hunt (example: "I better snag a man before I get cellulite and crows feet.") It's a race against the clock that women are constantly fighting: freezing eggs, liposuction, Botox, etc. These things are used to preserve a woman's youth in the hopes that the men they worked so hard to get won't trade in for a newer model. It makes me sick!

Because of the evident desperation, men see women as a dime a dozen--easy to come by and easy to get. Chivalry is dead. We live in the era of one night stands and speed dating. Women's magazines are filled with articles titled "4 recipes that will seduce him," "What he really wants in bed," "Quiz: Are you in love or forcing it?" There are even full articles about decoding his body language! I am now supposed to read him through his body language to know if he's into me now? "uh oh! He's looking up and to the left! And now tapping his fingers! And now touching his ear and nose! It must be over." What happened to good old fashioned communication? Dating has become way too difficult for me.

In little ways I find myself buying into this though. More often than not, I find myself doing a quick left-hand-ring-finger-glance every time I see a cute looking boy. No ring? Great, I will try to get his attention. It's the maybe he's my future husband thought that creeps through my mind when a (cute and tall) boy gets on my train, opens a door for me (although this is extremely rare), or is standing in line in front of me at a coffee shop. I can't help it and I know I am not alone in this.

This has been a thought of mine for a while, and I have overheard a few conversations between women on the topic. Yesterday I heard two girls talking, "...And it was practically as if he was saying to me 'you're going to be single all your life and die alone. Bye.'" This has even happened to me. Feeling jaded, I am not the happiest and most fun flirter; I actually come off as a huge bitch sometimes. Flirting with a guy last weekend in a bar turned into me being actually kind of mean and him saying to me, "you know, you're never going to get a boyfriend if you act like that." Touché! hahaaha well what makes you think I want one, anyway?

So where does this leave me now, you may be wondering. Well, it leaves me wallowing in the fact that dating sucks. It leaves me still checking out the left hand ring fingers. It leaves me wondering if a cute and tall boy will open a door for me. I am a little more old fashioned than I ever thought I was. It leaves me having even more self respect in that I will never succumb to a one night stand out of desperation for male attention. I am weeding through the ones that are just not that into me and who I was never into in the first place. I will definitely NOT be memorizing the body language decoder! Most importantly, it leaves me deciding whether to see He's Just Not That Into You or My Bloody Valentine as I stuff my face with pistachio cupcakes on Valentine's Day this year.

Not that I encourage this, but... if you really want to know the body language bullshit, check it out: http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/body-language/

shall we cab it?

Only a few circumstances get me to raise up my arm and hail a cab. I am an avid walker, bus rider and subway taker. But the circumstances in which I 'cab it' include: temperatures < onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0-0DOrvrpaT3gUd2kEJt7auWZqZKn3G1pXllpwYo3Nhba8YcqOsg8IXOuDyr9-euDpma_6iTq4NxYHRcIzrKS70yjKh8e25GUnRUVT5se_RZcaIzZztp334N0-E0w-E-BkK1anW2bxY/s1600-h/nyc+taxis.jpg">Thursday morning 3am. West side bar to my apartment:

me: have you had any crazy people in your cab? Any celebrities?
cabbie: yeah, I don't pay much attention to them. I had the mayor once. Very cheap
me: that's not good. So, do you have to go to cab school to drive a cab?
cabbie: yes, it's really hard. You are trained for 15 days, then have to pass a test of 100 questions and if you miss more than 20 questions you fail
me: what kind of questions?
cabbie: what landmark is on 84th and 5th?
me: the Met
cabbie: yes. What is the cross street for 800 5th Avenue?
me: umm somewhere higher than Abercrombie... 58th? 59th? 60th street??
cabbie: close enough. What avenue in Manhattan is parallel to (insert random street name) in Brooklyn?
me: oh... I have no idea. That is tough

Saturday 6:30pm, West side to the East side with Laina, 13 degrees outside

cabbie: What do you think of Obama?
Laina: we're hopeful. It should be interesting
cabbie: Hopefully he is a smart man, I mean you don't get smart from just reading a text book, you have to know about a lot of stuff. Avocado trees. Where do avocados come from?
Laina: California
cabbie: where do grapes come from?
Laina: California
cabbie: See those things in the window there, those products are killing people. See those chips, those are feeding people, people are hungry. Obama will help feed the hungry people
me: sending a text to Laina "WTF avocado trees??"
cabbie: blah blah blahh bllahh people in China speak Chinese, People in Russia...
me: speak Russian
cabbie: you understand??
Laina: yeah.... mmmm hmmm
the cab driver continues talking non-stop and I am not following him at all anymore. I can not understand a word he is saying except "you understand?"
me: sending a text to Laina "I bet he talks like this even when his cab is empty. Someone get this man a bluetooth immediately!"

Sunday 12:50pm, leaving apartment late to go to brunch at 1pm on Upper West Side

cabbie: What are you doing today?
me: going to brunch with some friends
cabbie: Girls or boys? Or both? How many?
me: Just girls. 4 of us
cabbie: So you left the boys at home?
I begin tuning out this conversation
me: uhhh.... yeah
cabbie: did they cry? *makes crying noises*
me: umm no
cabbie: so what is your boyfriend doing today, then?
Due to my lack of participation in the conversation, the cab driver has reached his own conclusions about my life and it seems weird to stop to tell him I don't have a boyfriend, so I go with it
me: oh, he's just at home
cabbie: So you have a strong boyfriend, how old is he? Do you satisfy him? Does he satisfy you? Who tires who out more?
me: umm I don't know. he is 26
I am such a liar. I call my friends and no one answers, so I fake a phone call
me: oh hey Amy, yeah I should be there in 5 minutes. Ok great see you soon
cabbie: look at all the snow in the park
me: yeah, it looks really pretty
cabbie: it looks like Obama and his mom. The dark and the white. hahah Obama and his mom. Get it? The dark and the white?
me: yeah... I can get out on this corner

SAD

My trusty source Wikipedia says:

Seasonal affective disorder (SAD), also known as winter depression or winter blues, is a mood disorder in which people who have normal mental health throughout most of the year experience depressive symptoms in the winter ... They may sleep too much, have little energy, and crave sweets and starchy foods. They may also feel depressed. Though symptoms can be severe, they usually clear up.

Checklist: Normal mental health throughout the year? Not sure about that. Sleep too much? Yes. Little Energy? Yup. Sweets? Ummm I've been having a late night love affair and spooning a bag of Tootsie Pops for a week. Yep, I am pretty sure January brings out a little SAD in me. I can't quite figure out why I excitedly ring in each new year only to start hating it 3 days later. January is cold, we're expected to do things "better" in the new year--as in give up sweets and junk food and exercise more. But that's the last thing I want to do. I am still having Halloween and Christmas candy hangovers. Wikipedia says that us SADies will crave sweets and starchy foods. So why are we fighting our instincts?

Speaking of instincts, the animal kingdom knows what's up. You don't see Pooh and Yogi Bear suddenly passing up their junk food guilty pleasures for some stupid mixed greens and low-cal dressing on the side. Nope, in fact, they do the exact opposite and binge to store energy in fatty deposits to survive the winter. This is seriously what I want to do. Pig out on ice cream, cookies, cupcakes, pack it in and then crawl under the covers to sleep the rest of the winter away because bears know that this season is not even worth being conscious for. I'm with you, Teddy Ruxpin!

There is an underlying little pattern of my complaining about weather, I realize that and it's the SAD speaking, I tell you! But it is so dang hard to get out of bed when it's dark out, walk my Vtamin D deficient pale ass to work, wipe the snot icicles from my nose, sit in my cubicle until it gets dark, eat some vegetables, slip on the ice on my way home, get a memo that my building's HOT water will be shut off. Great. This is pathetic. Where's the nearest cave? I hate January. It's not even half over. I'll just be eating Tootsie Pops and peanut butter by the heaping spoonfuls counting down the days until February....

ps.

My cab driver tonight told me he was frustrated by how slow his night was going since "everyone is afraid to go out in bad weather."

fair-weather friend

Being a Seattle native, one might think I was bred with immunity to rain. Looking back to my memory images from childhood, umbrellas don't seem to be there. I remember putting my hood up and climbing on the condensation filled, perfect for tic-tac-toe fogged up windowed yellow school bus, heading to school ready to kick ass in heads up seven up during indoor recess.

However, these days I find myself becoming a rain wimp. As a New York City perma-pedestrian I always have an umbrella (sometimes two) in my purse because you must be prepared for all weather. As prepared as I might be, I have also become the lame, literal fair-weather friend who cancels plans because of precipitation. But I've come to realize that it's not just me and my reasoning holds some validity.

On the Saturday before Halloween there was a dog costume party scheduled at a nearby dog park and I had to see dogs in costumes, I mean who can pass that up? I checked the website and remembered it saying that if the weather was poor the party would be rescheduled for Sunday. I left my apartment in my hooded jacket and Uggs, raced to the dog park only to find one teensy chihuahua in a pink tutu looking slightly embarrassed with that OMG I thought this was a costume party and it's not look on her face. I came across a crumpled flyer taped to the fence saying something to the effect of "because of scary weather the dog party will be on Sunday." I looked up to see a haze of grey clouds. What's so scary about that? Was there a hurricane or tornado on the horizon? Why is it only me and overdressed chihuahua who are brave enough to be out on this doomed Saturday?

Or a year and a half ago after a date to the movies with the guy I was seeing, we came out of the theater to find torrential downpour. We ran and jumped over the puddles to the nearest bodega to buy an umbrella and with chivalry, he walked me to my train. However, he failed to give me the umbrella for my post 6 train walk home. Now, in in hindsight, I'm not so sure he ever meant to give it to me like he said he did. I got off the train at 86th and Lexington; paused in realization that I was both hoodless and umbrella-less and grudgingly walked to my apartment on 82nd and 1st. For a split second I envisioned myself as Britney Spears in her Stronger video but that daydream quickly vanished once I was aware of my mascara streaming down my cheeks and I was having trouble keeping my pants up. After only a few measly blocks I was so soaked I could have shampooed and conditioned my hair out on the corner of 84th and 3rd.

The other New Yorkers in my midst have the same mentality. When rain is forecast, everyone on the train has their umbrellas in hand ready to pop open at first raindrop. This scares me. My fellow pedestrians, I say to you: Rain is not going to kill YOU, but your umbrella is going to kill ME! More often than not, there is a man who is carrying one of the long cane type umbrellas and he is swinging his arms the normal back and forth way, therefore his umbrella and the pointy tip is swinging back and forth turning into some sort of pendulum torture weapon ready to stab an innocent victim: me. This is especially scary on stairs. I think it is very important that people do not do this. So much so that I once voluntarily put myself in harm's way and allowed a mild stab so that the umbrella carrier would realize the danger he was creating. I hope he learned his lesson. Even B. Spears, my baldy homegirl's weapon of choice is an umbrella ella ella ey ey! Yikes!

The reason I am so obsessed with rain and weather is because it was forecast to snow today and it has been, but it makes me nervous! I have been talking about it since Thursday and I warned my friends that if it snows too much I am going to stay in. I went to a movie and once the closing credits started, I had to fight the urge to run to look out the window to see how much snow accumulated.

My poor-weather bravery I once had as a child has diminished. I hate that I catch myself saying things like "oh, I'm not going to the party. It's supposed to rain." But really, can I be blamed? Who wants to knowingly be umbrella stabbed or have water logged pants that barely stay up or have an overdressed chihuahua?

the baggage claim game

I remember those golden travel days of yesteryear when I could quickly check in my suitcases, breeze through security sipping my grande nonfat no-whip white chocolate mocha, then I'd buy Cosmo at Hudson News, give the plane a little "trusty plane" good luck tap when boarding (it's tradition) and then enjoy my in-flight meal and watch a movie with the headsets the airline provided. This was the way I traveled back in the good old days of my teenage years.

Now I have to dish out $15-$25 just to check a bag. The airlines are forcing me to pay more than my self tanner and hairspray are worth just so I can travel with them! I have to rid myself of any liquids I may have "accidentally forgotten" in my carry-on bag; I refuse to do the Ziploc bag thing because it just seems so dorky. I have to take off shoes and practically strip naked to get through security, have to use 4 of those stupid white bins to get all the stuff organized correctly for the x-ray machine, by the time I get to the gate I am still readjusting my clothes and can't afford Cosmo anymore. I give the plane my "trusty plane" tap, board the plane and then I begin to starve to death since I now have to pay for anything more than the bag of spicy pretzel mix the flight attendant slams on my middle-seat tray table.

Let's be honest. Flying is awful. It has lost all of its glamour and excitement. Sometimes when going through security I have a daydream that this is me stripping down to enter a concentration camp. Morbid, I know. But it is pretty bad and it will probably continue to get worse. Perhaps they will start charging passengers for the required seat belts or install credit card machines for those passengers wanting to use their overhead lights. 50 cents to use the onboard bathrooms?

But I must say that the absolute WORST thing about traveling is the baggage claim. For paying $25 to check my bags, you'd think some beautiful male model in a captain's suit would personally deliver my suitcases to me but NO. I have to fight to even get a view of the bags which are haphazardly thrown on the carousel. As soon as that orange indicator light goes off, people suddenly go loco. The pushy people crowd around the metal conveyor belt blocking the less aggressive travelers' views and access to retrieve their bags. My after-Christmas baggage claim experience was the worst. Continental, WestJet, Alaska AND JetBlue were all on the same carousel and it was PACKED like 6 people deep just to get a glimpse of the shiny moving metal. I walked around the circle looking for a sparse area and BINGO! I found the perfect spot...or I thought. I failed to realize that a father-son duo was blocking anyone else's view with THREE Smarte Cartes! I couldn't see anything, I couldn't go anywhere, my bags could have gone around 7 times but I was blocked by this idiot Crocs wearing duet. The dad loaded their carts one by one and the son would push them back behind me bumping into everyone apology free. I still could not get any closer to the carousel's edge. Anytime there was 6 inches of space, someone else out of nowhere would swoop in and steal the spot that should have been mine! This always happens to me. I don't understand why people can't stand back a little bit so others can see. Is it a race that no one ever told me about? This man literally put his red Croc foot up onto the ledge of the baggage claim to further block anyone or anything that might come in his way!

Maybe everyone is worried about travel procedures continuing to change for the worse and are afraid that if not claimed quick enough they will be penalized with some sort of "you took too long to get your bag" fee. Who knows. I wouldn't be surprised.

emerald v. apple

I'm at the tail end of my extended 12 day Christmas/New Years vacation extravaganza in the Emerald City of Seattle and have noticed some matters for comparison vs. the Big Apple.

The beginning of my stay in the Northwest took place during the aftermath of a major winter storm which dumped large amounts of snow throughout the area. This became a disaster for the NW. Maneuvering through the snow was impossible resulting in no mailman, UPS man and most importantly, no garbage man! Trashcans stood at the end of driveways for days containing Christmas waste: wrapping paper, styrofoam peanuts, Christmas dinner leftovers, etc. I researched the crisis online, looking at 2 legit Seattle news websites and found articles titled "Many Still Waiting for Garbage Pickup," "Wait for Trash Pickup Continues," "More Delays in Trash Collection." This image was repeatedly used to represent the story:
I mean.... Are you kidding me? Trashcans standing nicely upright, no trash overflow. How is this considered one of the top 5 stories for a major city??

It just doesn't compare to the mountains of trash that greet me as I step outside my front door EVERY DAY.

Something that is always difficult for me to deal with when I visit Seattle is what I call the "friendliness factor." For example, while paying for a purchase at the downtown Seattle GAP store, the overly friendly faux-hawk employee guy continuously talked to my mom and I the entire ringing up process. The basic customer service question "did you find everything ok?" quickly evolved into "anything exciting going on today?" How was I supposed to answer that? Does he really want to hear about how I'm starting to get really annoyed at how hard it is for me to find a pair of black boots that I can walk normally in? I don't really want to share that kind of information with friendly faux-hawk. And why is he insisting on creating this conversation when he has a line wrapping around the sale tables? He is beginning to teeter the line between engaging the customer and plain old inefficiency. In New York, I consider it good customer service to receive a split second of eye contact when the little hooligan behind the counter shouts "Next guest ON line!" Yes, it is customary to say "on line" rather than "in line" and I've never understood it, but that's another story. What is comes down to is I can see both sides of the "friendliness factor" because interaction can often be awkward with a customer. The difference is that people on the west coast insist on breaking the ice, while east coasters just do the bare minimum of the service they have to provide. No one ever said service must come with a smile.

Grocery shopping in Seattle is ridiculously easy. You grab a cart, walk around the store to fill it up, pay for what you chose, push the cart to your car in the parking lot, drive home and unload. Grocery shopping in New York is a little different. You grab a basket, fill it up only until it becomes too heavy, put a few things back because it is too heavy, pay for what you chose, carry all your bags 5 blocks home to your apartment, walk up 6 flights of stairs, collapse once you get in the door, hands feel like they are permanently stuck in claw form from the heaviness of the bags. So what I noticed from this comparison is that because grocery shopping is so easy on the west coast you can do it in your sleep and that's why when you go to your local Fred Meyer store you will see people shopping in their multi-colored flannel pajama pants. ZzzZZzzZZzzz...

Basically what it comes down to is things are much easier in Seattle than in New York but that is pretty much common knowledge. People are friendlier, you can drive anywhere (including to get your morning coffee at the Starbucks drive-thru window) and it is much more laid back. In the case of emerald vs. apple I have to say that the apple can be a little rough around the edges and not always in the perfect form. It can bruise easily or even be rotten on the inside, but is one of the world's favorite fruits. The emerald is a real beauty. It is clean, green and sparkly, a truly beautiful gem! Both are great places to live and visit but going from one to another is a bit of an adjustment, even if only for a vacation.