Conan in NYC

For those of you who don’t know, last fall I interned at Conan in Los Angeles while I was there for a semester. I had an incredible time, which you can read all about right here.

This past week Conan taped four shows (back where he belongs) in NYC to celebrate the first anniversary of his new show on TBS. My boss from Conan reached out to me and a few other past and present interns to help and work the show because they would need all hands on deck. Naturally, I accepted and drove home from school to work the last two NY shows on Wednesday, November 2nd and Thursday, November 3rd.

I was fortunate enough to be the costume intern for those two days, and was asked for specifically by the costume designer himself. Prior to arriving in the city, I had read online that Conan would be officiating a same-sex marriage on his show for one of his long-time staff members. It wasn’t until I arrived that I found out the costume designer, Scott, was the groom to be. I had the pleasure of working alongside Scott on the day of his wedding, and it was such an incredible experience. I also got to meet his wonderful fiance (and now husband) David. They are both such sweethearts. They truly deserve each other and a lifetime full of happiness. The wedding itself was very sweet and emotional. It was touching. Most of the staff had crowded into the aisles and doorways of the Beacon Theatre to witness the ceremony in person, and I was one of them seeing as I was working with Scott. It was truly something incredible.

Working with the Conan staff is always a blast. Not only is it a lot of fun, but it’s a great learning experience as well, and an excellent chance to build relationships and network. I got to meet some great people, and get back in touch with others. I also got to see one of my previous bosses, Andy Cohen, as he was the guest who walked Scott down the aisle to the chuppah.

I saw the Conan blimp, met Will Forte, exchanged glances with Jon Stewart and was in the theatre to witness the first same-sex marriage on television. It’s safe to say it was worth missing a few classes.

 

East Coast Quake

Today was a day that will always be remembered as the day the Earth kind of stood still. For today, the East Coast experienced a 5.9 earthquake. To be exact, the quake originated in Virginia and was felt in various states such as New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. When the quake hit, I happened to be sitting in a hair salon getting my hair did. My hairdresser didn’t feel it, but I did. First the chair started shaking and I mentioned “something is shaking” to which my hairdresser replied “It’s the vent. Sometime’s it takes a few minutes but it will stop.” But then I noticed the mirrors were shaking and that’s when the women in the back room yelled out “the room is shaking!” and that’s when my friend who works in Washington, DC texted me “EARTHQUAKE.” This is when I knew what I was feeling wasn’t just native to New York. So I took to Twitter, naturally, and found out more information in mere seconds than I could have by watching the news for 20 minutes. Friends of mine from various different states commented on the shaking they felt which indicated that it was felt in numerous states up and down the East Coast. Then, the jokes began. There were plenty about the debt ceiling physically collapsing because of the quake as well as pictures of the “devastating aftermath” that just had a lawn chair lying on the ground. I laughed…a lot. The one thing that angered me about this whole earthquake business was that everyone in New York was all like “oh snap! NY had a 5.9 quake! OMG!” well, New Yorker, no…no we didn’t have a 5.9 quake. You see, Virginia had a 5.9 earthquake…we just felt it here in New York. Come on! We’ve already got the best pizza, cheesecake, hot dogs and public transportation, let’s not hog something that rightfully belongs to a different state!

Now, for those of you who didn’t experience this little milkshake of a quake, it went a little something like this:

“Hey, I think the chair is shaking.”

“Yeah. That’s weird.”

“Maybe a train is passing.”

“Must have.”

And that was it. The way I would describe the brief shaking that lasted all of 15-3o seconds in NY was like the experience you get when you’re sitting in your car, stopped in a turning lane as all of the other cars plow past your vehicle and there’s that little WOOSH feeling. Either that or it’s the brief, subtle shaking your house has when you life a few blocks away from a train station. So, it wasn’t anything life-threatening–thank goodness–around these parts, but it caused some minor damage in certain areas. A friend of mine who lives in Virginia told me a few pictures fell off her wall and her glass of water spilled over on her nightstand. Nothing that a few nails and a paper towel can’t fix. I’m hoping no one had any damage greater than that, and at the moment no casualties have been reported.

Then there’s all of these snooty Californian earthquake connoisseurs with their noses in the air saying (in a french, wine country accent) “zis was no earfquake. Here in Cali-for-nnnia we have zee biggest earfquakes you will ever zee or feel. They shake le grapes and make our wine go bad.” And then the East Coast responds with, if you had snow you’d build underground shelters. We’re not used to quakes! We don’t have earthquake safety instructions glued to the hotel bathroom mirrors–we have emergency snow routes.

Just A (Long) Thought

Here’s a thought: what is it with graffiti? I mean, it’s art, I get it, but seriously what’s in it for you? I mean, think about it. Who just wakes up in the morning and says “hm, I’m going to risk my life by climbing to the top of a suspension bridge so i can put my John Hancock on display for all of NYC to see!” well, i definitely don’t. Regardless of why people do it, I just want to know why they consider it worth the risk. It’s the whole drug thing, isn’t it? You know, the reason why underage kids drink alcohol and businessmen chase cocaine: the thrill of doing something illegal–it’s a risk. I mean, I like a good risk myself, but only if I know there’s a zero percent chance I could get arrested for it…or die. For example, I occasionally will make a right on red when no cars are coming and it says no right on red, but I will never carry a machete in my backpack to an airport. I will eat Pop Rocks and chase them down with cola, but I won’t take five pain killers and chase it with a glass of Ramona Pinot. So, back to my question, why do graffiti artists tag billboards, bridges and other sky-high structures? Especially when there’s a lot of money to be made in the customization of shirts, hats and boxer shorts with bright colors and fun designs at Bar Mitzvahs and sweet sixteens across the nation. I mean, isn’t that the logical choice? The only risk there is that you have to deal with snotty 12 year olds and the occasional drunk uncles, but hey, you’re guaranteed a paycheck. Oh, and there’s a significantly less chance that you’ll fall to your death…although some of these party halls do have high balconies. Just stay in the middle of the room.

Justin Bieber: Breaking Hearts & Ruining Commutes

It has come to my attention, via Twitter, that the puppy of pop, Justin Bieber, will be in New York City tomorrow to promote his new perfume ‘Someday.’ He will be on hand at MACY’S in Herald Square for the release. Now, for those of you who don’t know, MACY’S is basically across the street from Penn Station where thousands, probably millions, of travelers rush in and out to get to their desired destinations. Seeing as Justin Bieber caused a riot and basically shut down a Long Island mall last year for an appearance, I think it’s safe to say that even the enormous, full city-avenue size of MACY’S Herald Square doesn’t have a capacity large enough for the Beliebers.

What does this all mean? Basically, commuting will be absolute HELL tomorrow. Sure if you like walking into your office covered in glitter from bumping into the handmade sign of a 13 year old girl on the subway, then your day will be fabulous! But for most, your day will begin with a crowded, boisterous, shrieking commute–and for once that high pitched sound you hear on the subway won’t be from the rust on rust, metal on metal, train/rail contact.

My Grandma

This summer I am interning in NYC, so instead of commuting every morning I am living with my grandmother in Manhattan. I did this last summer as well and though it is sometimes a pain having a 80 year old roommate, I love my grandmother and she is quite the fun and quirky individual to chat, dine and live with 5 days a week. Just last night we were sharing a dinner while watching Access Hollywood when a story about Fran Drescher came up. My grandmother then informed me that two years ago she went on a blind date with Mr. Drescher, Fran’s father. I suppose having a famous daughter wasn’t good enough for her. The two of us then took a trip down to the gym in the bowels of her apartment building and I must say it is a lovely gym. There’s brand new machines/equipment, individual televisions, free-weights, machine-weights, exercise balls, steps–the works! I took a seat on the bike and watched a repeat of Glee for a half hour while she tried to figure out how the treadmill works. I heard a lot of beeping. After a few minutes she began to inspect every machine and piece of equipment in the room. I went on to do some weights and gave her my headphones so that she could watch Glee.

My grandmother asked me if I would be interested in playing Mah Jong with her and some of her friends one night a week. Of course I said yes. Gosh, I’m maturing so fast!

Subway Etiquette 101

If you aren’t grateful for this blog yet, you should be, because nearly everyday I head out into the battlefields of the earth, the scum of the city and a rat’s paradise with an all-you-can-eat buffet of scraps and used Metro cards. Yes, I am a daily Subway rider and I’ve got the sweat and water-stained shoes to show for it.

I also have pictures.

You see, I have decided that there is no better way to spice up my morning commute than to take some risky photographs of my fellow train-goers. Let’s just get one thing straight, when I say “risky” I don’t mean nude, I just mean the people I take photographs of, with my trusty Blackberry Bold 9700, don’t know I am taking photos of them. Therefore, if they realize just what I’m doing while I “search for service” beneath or above ground, I very well may get shot (with a gun, not camera) 0r beaten up considering many of the people I snap photos of appear to be the weapon-carrying type…or at least a pocket knife or two.

Every morning or evening that I hop on the Subway or rail road I keep my eyes peeled for the oddly dressed and possibly just opressed commuters who truly need a “What Not To Wear” intervention, or at least a shopping spree somewhere other than a 1920′s vortex they stumbled upon in a dream. Very often I don’t have to search to hard because there people seem to just find me. I guess it’s a gift, or perhaps a sign, that I should keep doing what I’m doing, and when the time to stop comes I will know it…or it’ll just hit me, like a ton of people hitting me.

I watch for all sorts of people: the lonely kind, sitting alone on the railroad downing their third mini bottle of wine from a four pack in under 30 minutes; or the homeless kind, making their way from car to car on the Subway claiming they’re a WWII veteran looking for some change or food…even though they don’t look at day over 35, and every kind in between.

So brace yourselves, AdDITKs, because you are about to embark on a journey so risky, so shameful and SO shocking that you very well may call your relative who is a big-time book publisher and tell them that A Ditk’s Subway Etiquette Series is the next great coffee table book.****

****Note: I encourage you to do just this. Movie producers are also acceptable.

So swipe your metro card and grip that metal hand rail tightly because my own little “Subway Series” starts…now.

 

This man did me the justice of giving me a preview before I even got onto the Subway this morning. As the train made it’s stop, I peered into the window right before my eyes and the last thing I EVER expected to see was a barely-there tank top and a set of nipple rings. I feel sorry for that girl directly in front of him with the stylish bun, ear buds and blue top. I’d hate to see what she’s seeing, oh but wait, let’s do it anyway:

There we go. Now that’s more like it. The man decided to give that poor girl a break and face me instead. Oh, happy day! I now had the pleasure of realizing that he had a scissor malfunction, or simply mowed over his shirt, leaving is t-shirt to rot in tank-top hell. Honestly, at this point why even put anything on? Just to say you’re wearing a shirt should you stop into a 711 and be questioned on their “no shirt, no shoes, no service” policy? C’mon man, I know you’re at least wearing pants but those nipple rings violate state code in just about every state, and providence,  known to man…including Puerto Rico. Also, regarding the cross around your neck, I know I’m Jewish but even I can speak for the good man JC when I say he is DEFINITELY not happy about your choice of outfit this morning.

Here’s hoping we never cross paths again, barely-there-tank-top-man. Unless of course you’re wearing leather chaps or a fur vest, because that is something I can write A LOT of material on.

Next up, ELTON JOHN?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!??!?!

No. Not even close. Though I think Elton does fancy that shape of sunglasses, just not the camo and plaid duo with the bucket hat to match. Honestly, I don’t know how I managed to capture such a picture-perfect photograph. Not only was this guy looking right at me, but he had absolutely no clue that I was taking his picture, and everyone knows that a clueless man = the perfect candidate for a creeper Subway photo.

That’s all for now, but TRUST me, as long as there are trains pulsing above and beneath this earth, there will be funky, poorly (or barely) dressed people gracing my presence to capture in timeless, priceless photographs.

Let’s just hope I’m still alive to post the next few photos I snap.

-A Ditk