What Goes Around Comes Around

Opposite Ground Zero 

There are only a handful of world events that will take place in my lifetime that I imagine that I will be able to recall in weirdly vivid detail exactly where I was, what I was doing when the news reached me.

Sunday May 1st 2011 was one of these, and one directly related to another such event. I was getting ready for bed, in my hotel room in NYC, having spent a wonderful evening at the theatre and eating cheesecake. I switched on CNN, for background noise more than anything, when it very quickly became clear that something major was on the brink of being announced.

St Paul's churchyard

It was being reported that the president was about to make an announcement, tonight. Nothing was confirmed but it was reported that supposedly Osama Bin Laden had been killed, and the information that was coming across the newswires was that it was due to US military action.

I stopped what I was doing and waited. This was huge.

The morning after, there was no question about it. I had to go to Ground Zero. The pictures the night before, at the White House, in Manhattan, cities all over America, had been of defiant jubilation. The chants of 'USA, USA, USA' echoing into the night sky.

Reporter

But the next day, at the site that bore the awful pain of the event that started this all, there was no ugly bullish arrogant chanting by the keg-swilling frat boys. 

There was quiet relief. There was recognition that whilst this victory would not be the full stop to this, the gratitude that justice had been done for New Yorkers today was thick in the air. It is all too rare in this world that evil gets its comeuppance, so the sense of dignified karmic retribution was one to be thankful for.

Land of the free and home of the brave

I've written my thoughts on 9/11 before, about as eloquently as I am capable of, so I'm not about to rehash it here. But suffice to say, as I think is clear from my ongoing laments that I don't live in New York anymore, this city means more to me than any place ever has in my life, in ways I couldn't even have imagined. 

So to be there, for this moment of triumph over the spectre that has hung like deathly shadow over the city for the past 10 years, was very special, and something that I will never forget.

This was my last day in New York City this time, but I'm happy to say that it was easier to leave it this time. Because as my dad (that font of all wisdom!) always says, if you don't leave - you can't come back again. And I will... and it won't take three years next time.

No Sleep Til Brooklyn

 Brooklyn Bound

One of my favourite things in NYC is Brooklyn Bridge. I don't think I'll ever tire of its views, its stature, the fact that it is so unmistakeably New York. I love the twin gothic towering arches, the web-like suspension wires and the wooden rickety walkway with the rushing city traffic zooming over the East River underfoot.

Caught in a web 

One of my favourite things to do in the whole world is walk across Brooklyn Bridge, on a sunny day, end up at Brooklyn Bridge Park, and laze in the sun with this stunning bridge as a backdrop. Perhaps a little stroll up to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade for some more spectacular views of the city.

Showing the bridge a little love. Some say too much.

In the summer, Brooklyn Bridge Park plays host to one of my favourite things - its one of the sites in the city that has a free movie summer screening programme. There is nothing better than making the journey to the park after a long days work, kicking back on a picnic blanket with a hot dog and a classic movie. The screen is set up so the bridge is in the background and as night falls, you bask in the city lights and truly feel that there is nowhere else on earth you'd rather be.

Aw at the random cute couple.

Sadly, on this trip, it was too early in the year to catch one of those screenings, and too overcast and windy a day to do much walking. But even to wander to the centre of the bridge, and get inspired by the architecture. I have about a bajillion photos of this bridge but every single time I come I always find something new to catch my eye. It's so romantic, so breathtaking and so completely New York.

Which makes it so me.

Up Town, Down Town, Turn the Beat Around Town

Railtrack gardens 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yada, yada, yada. So you went to NY. WE KNOW. But what did you actually DO there?

That's what I imagine you (dear reader) to be saying right now. If not saying, thinking. And if you weren't actively thinking it, you probably secretly were deep down but you just didn't KNOW you were thinking it. So now you know, that I know, that WE ALL KNOW.

Capiche? Good.

 Diagram of bell sounds

 So here be some of the highlights of the stuff and ting I got up to this time round. One of the top things on my to-do list (that didn't involve eating) was to go and see the High Line Gardens. These hadn't been opened by the time I left and I'd always found the concept intriguing so was keen to visit in person.

It was quite a chilly and windy whilst I was up there, but the gardens were really pretty. One part that was particularly interesting was one of the Public Art installations on the 14 St Walkway (for that is where I entered the park). Here, Stephen Vitiello's 'A Bell for Every Minute' chimes the sound of a different bell recorded from somewhere in the New York City each minute, with a chorus of all the bells at the top of the hour. The above photo is the map of where each recorded bell sound is located physically. There were famous bells such as the Stock Exchange bell, the United Nations Peace bell, but also more everyday bells such as diner bells, bike bells etc.

It was really pretty to listen to and the sounds fill the space and echo out into the city. Definitely worth a visit.

Nomnomnom

I ate a loooot of food this trip, despite having (I think) contracted tonsillitis which flaired up for the duration of my trip. But, true to form and trooper that I am, I didn't let it hold me back from literally eating my way around Manhattan. The above photo was taken by my friend at the height of the tonsillitis pain, and I was eating the only thing that could possibly have soothed my throat at that time.

Rice pudding.

I don't normally like rice pudding but the only place IN THE WORLD that I will eat it is at Rice to Riches. On this occasion I chowed down on the cheesecake flavour with an Oreo cookie topping. Divine.

My fave 

No trip to NYC would be complete without a snap of my favourite building in the world, naturally. Our hotel was only a few blocks from the art-deco masterpiece that is the Chrysler, and we had a pretty awesome view of it out the window of our room. Bonus.

I wanna dance! 

 I also really really wanted to see another show on Broadway. While I was living out there I saw many shows (including one memorable occasion when I stalked Mario Lopez at the stage door and he completely blanked me. BAD Mario Lopez.) and they are always wonderful. This time I saw Billy Elliot. The storyline was so moving, BOY can those kids dance and of course, I loved the Elton John-penned score. My only gripe is that sadly, Americans just CAN NOT do a Geordie accent. Hell, I can't even do one and I'm British. I mean, they tried their best, but I couldn't understand what the heezy they were trying to say half the time.

Shame, as it was otherwise awesome. Think I'll try and catch it in the West End and see if the British version is better. (I think, probably, with the natural accent advantage)

Cheese? CAKE?

And of course, no evening at a Broadway show is complete without dessert at Junior's after the show. Junior's cheesecake is a New York institution. When I lived over there, whenever my boss and I wanted to sweet talk someone into doing something for us at work, we would run across the street to Junior's in Grand Central, buy a brick-like slab of their gorgeous cheesecake and use it as bargaining collateral. Worked every time.

Their slices are the size of my face, this was a chocolate mousse cheesecake and though there was willing (dear god was there willing), try as I might, I just could not finish it. SO GOOD.

When can I go back?

Anxious

 It's been a looong looong time. Too long.

About a week before I was due to fly out to NYC, the first time I'd been back since I lived there, I started getting really anxious. What if I went back, and it wasn't as good? Or it had changed? My time there was so completely life-changing, and I truly feel that I've never felt like I belonged, that I fitted in, that I was meant.to.be anywhere else but there. It's the most amazing, beautiful city and I love it like I've never thought I could love a place before.

True dat.

On the plane, as the captain announced we were about to start making our descent into Newark, I practically had my nose pressed up against the glass, my heart was thumping in my chest, just waiting for that view. As we broke through the clouds and the plane brought is in to land, I had to swallow the lump in my throat as the relief rushed over me that I was BACK. Back back back back!

Bright lights bigger city

I needn't have worried. Of course there are bits that are new, and slight things that have changed (pedestrianisation of Times Square being one of them - brilliant idea) but from the moment I landed I felt the same as I ever did. I felt right back at home, with a spring in my step and a lift in my heart. I got that magical buzz back that I just can't get anywhere else.

Intersection

It was an amazing trip, I caught up with old friends, visiting some old favourite places and some new places along the way. There is a lot more for me to show here on the blog. But I just wanted to kick off by saying that it seems that although I've been away for three years, I feel like I will always belong there. And that is such a relief.

Going Back

I can't believe this was taken just over 3 years ago. It blows my mind.

I'm so excited. You may have guessed why. I'm going baaackkk! 

Sadly, not forever. Just a holiday, after Easter. But it'll be my first time back in NYC since I left in September 08, and therefore likely to be quite emotional. 

But I don't want to spend my whole time there blubbering like a big girl - I'm also SUPER excited about visiting some of my old favourite places: Bubbies, Brooklyn Bridge (♥), Guggenheim, Central Park in the springtime, cannoli in Little Italy, maybe a little Magnolia visit for old times sake and then a stroll along Bleeker, Banana Republic/J Crew/Sephora at non-redonculous prices, a show or two on Broadway, Cafe Wha?: MY GOD the list is endless!

 Stealth

But I also have a huge long list of things that I want to do that I haven't done yet. Balthazar, Abraco, Momofuko, and the recently re-opened for brunch (BRUNCH - only my most favouritist thing!) Minetta Tavern are just a few of the places I want to eat my way through. And of course since I left, there's Topshop NYC to check out (and laugh at the extortionate prices), and I'm desperate to see the High Line Gardens.

Miracle on 34th St

Basically I have way too much stuff to do and not enough time to do it. Some editing will be needed.

But it's going to be magical, amazing and beautiful. I can't frigging wait.

Come on America, Make Me Proud...

Star Spangled Banner in stormy skies - Liberty Island Feb 08

I'm excited. I'm so excited. 

Not in my lifetime can I remember an American election being so important, and meaning so much to so many people, both in America and beyond.

I have been following the race to the White House all through my time in New York in the past year, and even more avidly since I came back. It was my link back to my second home, and I felt invested in it.

Above anything else, this election, has been so inspirational. It has made me so happy to hear reports of states predicting unprecedented voter turnouts. So many people feel so passionately to come out and queue up, in the longest voter lines, to stay in line for hours, because this matters so much. So many people are expected to vote that states are actually concerned that there may not be enough voting ballot papers, or that the lines will be too long and they just won't be able to accommodate the sheer number of people that want to vote before polling stations close. 

Obviously these resource problems aren't what is making me happy, and I hope that it all works out, but the fact that so many people are planning to exercise their right and their goddamned responsibility to vote. To change the nightmare of the last eight years, to have their say, to find their voice. 

It is such a welcome change from the voter apathy that makes me so mad.

Come on America, make me proud.

I know you can do it, make the change we can believe in....

Mr Obama's new home?... Please?

I Just Came to Say, "Goodbye, Love"

I am hoping through the dark clouds, light shall break and bring a bright sky...

As the sun sets behind the Flatiron, signalling the end of a late summer/early fall day, so, too must my time in New York come to an end. 

I am writing this in the UK, back at my parents house in Bournemouth. 

I cried all the way home.

Leaving New York is the hardest thing I have ever done. 

Maybe I should be grateful that that is the hardest thing I have ever done, I don't know. It didn't make it any less painful. It hurt more than leaving home to go to uni.  It hurt more, and gave me more anxiety than you get when you're a little kid and you've gone and lost your parents in a big crowd.  It hurt more than when my ex-boyfriend told me he didn't love me anymore, despite all I'd given to him.

It hurt more than anything, because I've left a part of me behind there. This year, I came to New York confused, about life, about love.  About what I wanted, about who I was. 

New York so easily, so effortlessly showed me what I want, what I need in order to survive, in order to feel more alive than I've ever felt. 

I see my future path so clearly.  My old life and my old concerns feel so small, so insignificant.  The things I have done in this city, the amazing year I've had, in the most amazing place with all the amazing people I have met have produced in me a new sense of self.  I now walk with a self-assured strut, no longer looking down at the ground.  I feel like nothing can stop me.

And even though a part of me got left behind in New York, it's ok.

Because I'll be back there to get it.  And then I'll never leave.

You'll see.

Nine Eleven

In memoriam

I've been thinking about what I was going to write here all day. Everything I thought of sounded trite and cliched. What is there to write about 9/11 that hasn't already been written? Everybody remembers where they were when it happened. It's the one event that has defined my generation.

I'm British, and obviously I had been sad and felt awful, scared and confused when it happened. But it happened in America, somewhere I had never been, and whilst I appreciated the impact of the event on the rest of the world, I was always acutely aware that it was still something that had happened somewhere else. I was 16 and I couldn't even begin to get my head around something like that, on that scale happening to me, my town, my country.

WTC

I remember this day last year. I had arrived in America, in New York, a mere four days earlier. I was already beginning to fall in love with the city: its vibrancy, its energy and its attitude. But it wasn't home yet. I was still a tourist, and as such, standing in front of Ground Zero and reading the tributes to loved ones lost, and witnessing grown men breaking down in tears... as such, I realized that day that I was the worst kind of tourist: a tourist of peoples grief.

I had to leave, I couldn't stay, I felt dirty and ashamed. I had no right to be there, who was I to be there? The events that day had affected me in some way sure, in as much as I am a citizen of the world, but all around me was the real cost, the real pain. I couldn't even try to relate to that. 

Today, I sit here writing, and trying to identify how I feel a year on. After a year of living in this city, this most beautiful city. This city that has been everything to me. This city that is home, and always will be. 

Today, I went to Ground Zero again after work, and sat across the street watching the sun set. 

I can't really put my finger on it, but I didn't feel like a tourist this time. I felt like I had a right to sit there, take a moment, and realize how precious this city is to me.  And I can relate to that as much as, and as fiercely as any native New Yorker.

I love you, New York. Now and forever.

xxx

The Story of Why I am a Bad Blogger and What is to Become of Me

The important thing to note here is the sky. I did not make this up.. the sky was a brilliant brilliant shade of purple. Irrelevant to this post, but oh so true.

I am a bad blogger. There's no getting away from this fact. I last wrote something on July 14th. JULY FOURTEENTH. That's such a lifetime ago I don't even remember who I was then.

I was toying with the idea of writing some posts and dating them in the past so it would be like I'd been a good blogger all along.. but that's not the truth. And I've recently discovered I'm incapable of lying. And also, plus, additionally, there's reasons why I haven't sat and done this for a while.

First one was that my lovely sister Eleanor (or as I more affectionately call her - EEnor, in the style of an ambulance siren.. yeah, long story) came to stay for a whopping two weeks. That's a long time.

If you see this girl, shout EENOR EENOR at her in the street. She loves that.

We did lots of things, I think I literally showed her every area in New York City. We went rowing in Central Park, where we discovered that Eleanor can not row. At all. For a moment, I thought she'd got it down, but then I realized we were rowing into a rock.

Row row row your boat. Or at least attempt to.

So also, we ventured to Strawberry Fields. Where we witnessed a super wicked argument between two hobos. I mean, you can't make this shit up.

Hobos not pictured.

We were cultural and went to my favorite museum... Guggey:

If you're in NYC, go here. Go, like, yesterday. It's great.

And got topical in Times Square:

November 08: It's not just a right. It's  a responsibility.

And lastly we cracked out the Soprano's catchphrases in Little Italy. 

Fugheddaboudit... CAPICHE?!!

There's literally nothing Eleanor loves more than a cliched Italian-American catchphrase.

How YOU doin???

As you can see we had lots of fun. 

And as for the other reasons as to why I am a Bad Blogger... it's because I have to go. I have to leave. I have haul-ass out of this town so, so soon. 

And I really don't know how.

No Sleep Til Brooklyn

The city of blinding light

Yeah, so, let's catch up. After brunch on Sunday, we went across the street to sunbathe in possibly the best park ever. Brooklyn Bridge Park. I believe I have gone on, and on.. and indeed on, about how much I love the Brooklyn Bridge before.  But I feel these things can never be said enough. I LOVE BROOKLYN BRIDGE. Lovelovelove.

Heaven looks at you from the Brooklyn Bridge

And Brooklyn Bridge Park, is just spectacular. It's sandwiched between Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges, with this stunning view of the city. In summer, it is one of many places in the city you can catch a free outdoor movie (one of the many reasons I frigging adore NY in the summer). I did this on Thursday night, sobbing my wee little heart out. The reasons for this being threefold: a) the movie was 'Stand By Me', which never fails to get me crying, b) the view was just so so beautiful, through the sunset and then when all the buildings lit up and c) I had forgotten to bring my GODDAMN CAMERA! If that's not a reason to cry like a bambino I don't know what is.  

But don't worry, I'll go see the next good film there and bring that camera if I have to physically staple it to my forehead. Then you'll get to see what I mean.

Inspired by our movie outing, my friend Bex and I felt compelled to come back, on a sunny Sunday afternoon and drink in all the park had to offer. The sun, the view, the atmosphere.

Quenching a thirst

If you're wondering what all that water is coming out of the side of the bridge, don't worry.  It's part of some crazy-ass art thing, man-made artificial waterfalls. I think, at the moment, there's six of those bad-boys at various points up the East River. *Shrugs* I don't think I get it, but GOSH-DARN it's exciting!

Bex in the city

Sunday was so perfect for sun-bathing. I had my iPod in, there was a regular breeze to take the edge off the heat, and all I had to do was turn my head to the left to feel super happy.

And to feel at home. 

Never.Been.So.Happy

The Brunchfast Club: Bubby's, Brooklyn

DUMBO - Bridge-tastic - and not an elephant in sight

It's been a while since I went for brunch.  No, actually, scratch that.  It's been a while since I went to brunch and remembered to bring my camera.

Therefore, my new (ir)regular feature of The Brunchfast Club, has only had one post. And don't you worry, I'm ashamed.  I had to forgoe the nightly lashings a few weeks ago as people started to ask questions at work, but I've since been punishing myself on the INSIDE. Promise.

To rectify matters, I made a super special effort to pick up my camera today. Because today we were going to one of my most favorite of places.. the DUMBO neighborhood of Brooklyn.

'DUMBO?!' I hear you cry. 'What the HEEZY?! Isn't that an elephant?!' Well, yes, and NO. DUMBO, in New York actually stands for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. No jokes.

And it's just lovely. But more about that in another post. (The very next one in fact).

We're here right now to discuss more important matters. Like brunch.

In DUMBO, there is a place called Bubby's.  

That baby loved Bubby's longtime

There's actually two branches of this eaterie - the other one being in Tribeca, Manhattan.  The one in Tribeca (which was where I saved celebrity lives) is always insanely busy, with a queue round the block to get a table.  The one in Brooklyn, the one with which I was to grace with my presence this very day, is not as busy.  For a start it's bigger, and so can cope with more people, and second, it's in Brooklyn. 

However, the important thing is the food is just the same.  And so is the coffee.

Ahh coffee, how I love thee

When we sat down, I was torn. I wanted so much. I wanted eggs, I wanted pancakes, and I wanted some form of meat goddammit! And what to drink? It was over 80 degrees outside, so I wanted water (obv), but then they had a special on their citrus juice presses, and looked just the thing to quench my thirst, but WHAT OF COFFEE?!?!? For the LOVE OF GOD, SOMEONE think of the COFFEE!!

Luckily for me and my gastronomically-confused brain Bubby's had the answer. The Griddle Special. This consisted of my choice of pancakes or french toast (pancakes, clearly), sausage or bacon (er, hello, pancakes and bacon is like peas and carrots... but much, much better), eggs however you like (I always say scrambled because I still don't know what things like 'sunny side up' or 'over easy' actually mean), and CRUCIALLY, your choice of coffee or tea (if you don't know what I chose then get out. Now. Seriously).

GENIUS! All my worries were solved, I had pancakes, I had eggs, I had BACON! And more coffee than you could shake a stick at all for the what-can-only-be-described-as SEXY price of $14. All I then had to do was order a lemon and lime citron press and I was laughing. Literally. (You know I meant literally.)

So there you have it.. BUB-TASTIC-TIMES! And don't worry, I have plenty more brunch places to show you through the medium of the bloggy-wog before my time here is up.  I will never forget my camera again.*

*Famous last words.

Happy Independence Day (or, How Too Much Sangria = Minimal Photos)

Happy Fourth of July!

So yes, this weekend, I believe it is common knowledge that it has been American Independence Day Weekend.

I also believe that it is common knowledge that I am in fact, British.

Nevertheless, my adoptive home for this year, could not have been happier to have me celebrate their national holiday with them. Which I did, in spades. And sangria. Lots and lots of sangria.

Apart from, apparently, you DO NOT sit on the American flag and use it as some sort of beach towel. That's what is known as desecration of said flag, and makes a lot of Americans very unhappy. Lesson learned!

So, where did all this merriment take place? WELL! I went to a party at Water Taxi Beach in Queens.  There was music, artificial sand, sangria (oh lord was there sangria), chicken, burgers and (my new favorite thing to eat) chili dogs. I mean, really, MEAT on top of MORE MEAT!?! If that's not the most genius thing you've ever heard, well, I just don't know what to say. 

However, before I drank my body-weight in sangria, I did think to take a picture of the amazing view we had from across the East River:

Mid-town skyline (check out the red white and blue Empire State)

Unfortunately, that's all you get from me on the photo front because, I then proceeded to drink sangria until 5.30am. Which seemed like a good idea at the time, but turns out, my stomach had other differing opinions on the subject.

Possibly never drinking sangria again...

Very possibly.

Escape to Fire Island

Anchors away..

By the last weekend of June, I was stressed. Work had been too busy for me to think straight, I had not left the office before 8pm for a long time. By the time I got home, I was so tired I went straight to sleep. I was tired, I was hungry, I was burning the candle at both ends.

In short, something had to give.

That Saturday, I got up early (against my bodies wishes), got a train, and then another train. And then yet another train. Two and a half hours later, I got a bus. And then a boat.

By 12pm I was on Ocean Beach, Fire Island. Exhausted but happy. I lay down on the warm sand, and felt the cool ocean spray on my face, and the breeze in my hair.

And then I promptly fell into much needed slumber. For four hours.

Awake after four hours sleep on the beach

Fire Island is a long thin barrier island off the southern coast of Long Island. It is 30-odd miles long, but only 0.25 miles across.  It has many villages and hamlets, each with their own atmosphere.  I went to Ocean Beach, which is the self-proclaimed 'heart' of Fire Island. 

Fun in the sun = elaborate beach-ball yoga. WHO KNEW?!

It has lovely shops, restaurants and bars. I ate fresh seafood, and delicious ice cream. 

I literally cannot remember the last time I felt that relaxed, and happy.

Main St, Ocean Beach

It was a much needed break, and I came back to NYC with all my aches in my shoulders, and all my worries, and all my stress melted away.

It had only been one day, but it felt like a week.

I will be back there!

Giggedy Giggedy

Cooling off before Death Cab

You know, you wait bloody ages for a bus right, and then what happens? Three come along at once.

Well that's pretty much what this week has been like, except instead of buses, it has been gigs. Or giggedy giggedy's as I have taken to calling them. I might stop that. I get some funny looks.

This week, I went to not ONE, not TWO, but THREE, amazing shows.

First up was Tuesday whereby I went to Brooklyn to see Death Cab for Cutie at a great NYC venue, McCarren Park Pool.  It's this disused pool, used for shows and other fun stuff such as free cinema screenings and shiz. If there is a better idea of what to do with a disused pool in this world, then I certainly haven't heard of it. 

ObSCENEities

Isn't it cool? It has a great vibe, and also, as we were waiting for Death Cab, as it was outdoors, you got to see the sunset. Which is always one of my favorite things to do. It reminded of me of being at a festival. Super fun times in other words. Highlights of the gig for me have to be when they did Soul Meets Body, and Follow You Into The Dark. Sent.Shivers.Up.My.Spine. Really.

McCarren Park sunset = Better than you.

So the gig was going well and stuff and ting, but then.. THEN! The weather took an alarming and abrupt turn for the worse. In short, a mother of a T-storm was heading our way. And as we were outside, and the wind was picking up and the rigs that the lights were on were swaying alarmingly, the gig had to stop about 15 mins before the end. Shame.

But I did get to watch an AWESOME electrical storm over Manhattan. No pictures of that, because a) I have no tripod and b) it was raining so hard, and there was no frigging way I was getting out my camera for what would have been poor excuses for pictures at best.

Next up, was the very NEXT DAY. I went to see The Kooks at Terminal 5.

First of all, before I get into it all, have I ever told you guys, that I love you BIG TIME?!?!?! No? Well here:

I made this for you, because I love you BIG TIME. BIG.

Now you'd best appreciate that, because it was harder to do than it looks. TRUST.

And also, now that I've got that off my chest, I have officially done my good deed for one post, and can now spend the next 10 minutes going on about the thing that has been mostly on my mind since I saw The Kooks.

How

Much

I 

Love..

Want..

Heart..

Would do anything for...

Luke

The 

Kook.

And that's not an exaggeration. Seriously, LOOK AT HIM!!:

Literally. My ovaries just skipped a beat. DID I JUST SAY THAT?!?!

Ok, maybe you can't see from that picture, but it was the best I could do when I was having serious hyperventilating issues from being so close to him. HE WAS WEARING A HAIR BAND FOR PETE'S SAKE!!

And for those who think he's not all that, you don't understand! You weren't there. That guy has serious charisma and sexy gee-tar skillz. And can rock a hairband without looking at all gay. Which is no mean feat. I don't think I can even do that, and I'm a GIRL!

Even his silhouette is TEH SEX!

I could actually just eat him. Swallow him whole... WHO AM I!?!

Aren't you crazy kids glad I pre-empted this disgusting display of obsession and admiration for a man I've never met with that lovely 'trip-the-hearts-fantastic' picture!? Yes, I thought so

And now we shall never speak of this again.

And FINALLY! The last giggedy giggedy (It'll catch on I tell you) of the week was The Fratellis on Friday at Webster Hall.

Webster Hall is a great venue, and I had lots of fun playing with my camera there before the band came on.  I think it was an old theater or something. Anyway, it's a lovely old building and reminded me of the ghost house at Disney. Therefore I played with the shutter speed on my camera, to make all the people look like ghosts. 

My friend Chris is on the left in red. And a ghost. Apparently.

And then The Fratellis came on and blew all the cobwebs and ghosts away with their cheeky Scottish faces. Oh and they sang songs too.