tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-129977662024-03-19T00:59:55.685-04:00Life of a HarpyShe felt men should be the stronger of the sexes, but no one around her was stronger than she. She was the kind of man she was seeking... however she never gave up hope that her fervor would triumph in the end. She was almost glorious in that.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-92167884940392932322010-03-03T12:08:00.003-05:002010-03-03T12:11:05.014-05:00BAIHello readers, what's left of you. Apologies for lack of posting. The truth is that the Subway isn't interesting anymore. It's late, it's packed and often, it's canceled. Plus, Blogger is tired. Everything about it bugs me. So naturally, I've started a new blog. It's going to be awesome, here's a sneak peak: <a href="http://backofhouse.tumblr.com/">Back of House</a>. I'll be updating this a lot more because it's so. freaking. easy. Why don't you join me.<br /><br />I'm also doing some illustration on the side. It's <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/tartine">HERE</a>.<br /><br />Bon voyage!Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-1177920238846741402010-02-11T13:59:00.000-05:002010-02-11T14:00:07.943-05:00Live Blogging: BlizzardStyle- The next day: 8:30AM<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9czPaL9Wvn6jY6h1xTKgM7yPNWWy9zDQbcfrKp4AOAo8XECkJ-dAXInb3RHYVlgYhIOoKFaLsE1LcRS6Zl73UIC1bnuDJ3BXxbcSdKu_CL7fa0ZUGcQzGCySXGvgtE6tEnZqTeQ/s1600-h/IMG_0881.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9czPaL9Wvn6jY6h1xTKgM7yPNWWy9zDQbcfrKp4AOAo8XECkJ-dAXInb3RHYVlgYhIOoKFaLsE1LcRS6Zl73UIC1bnuDJ3BXxbcSdKu_CL7fa0ZUGcQzGCySXGvgtE6tEnZqTeQ/s400/IMG_0881.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437062671015925490" border="0" /></a>Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-64055890925437303072010-02-11T13:57:00.001-05:002010-02-11T13:59:19.185-05:00Live Blogging: BlizzardStyle- 5PM<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKiJX-lpK6dOjE7OCkSFNL1SmxLMtj8lOMgl0p1m5qsFxNRL5nW81q1_03ELBM0OaxYRMbT7De-J0d40o9vpW3cjt7Nmoe_qopgApMAkqw7dbR0N3SkmgCpEBLm5V1Ilzcy7xbQ/s1600-h/IMG_0876.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKiJX-lpK6dOjE7OCkSFNL1SmxLMtj8lOMgl0p1m5qsFxNRL5nW81q1_03ELBM0OaxYRMbT7De-J0d40o9vpW3cjt7Nmoe_qopgApMAkqw7dbR0N3SkmgCpEBLm5V1Ilzcy7xbQ/s400/IMG_0876.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437062446467983506" border="0" /></a>Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-81976140937123090272010-02-10T10:22:00.002-05:002010-02-10T10:24:17.263-05:00Live Blogging: BlizzardStyle- 8:30AM<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfQhsnXNloFWvYQCWjuRYBw4FCrDE1C6Fp_YNaU9cf0MPRVZjFvhrs2HuJ7-V6SvJQSYuMUQKTQGXTHqXrAnkWUVQvNyVnIPVmYpsG3DyJvSTbryjESYtGYTACJ1EritqtoJy7A/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfQhsnXNloFWvYQCWjuRYBw4FCrDE1C6Fp_YNaU9cf0MPRVZjFvhrs2HuJ7-V6SvJQSYuMUQKTQGXTHqXrAnkWUVQvNyVnIPVmYpsG3DyJvSTbryjESYtGYTACJ1EritqtoJy7A/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436635512472572370" border="0" /></a>Here we are at the beginning of the first Blizzard of 2010. The F train commute was its normal, slow self with the only annoying part being a thug playing his rapz out loud right next to my ear. I'm going to be doing a lot of commuting today, so updates to come.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-50024211520373787222010-02-09T12:49:00.002-05:002010-02-09T12:59:58.805-05:00Just in time for Valentine's DayThis morning on the train I was blessed to witness a conversation between a girlfriend/boyfriend about going home to visit her parents over the Valentine's Day weekend. It went a little something like this:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">(ed note: NOT attractive in the least, which makes this story even more unbelievable)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">:</span> I'd really like to spend some alone time with your parents this weekend, it sucks your sister's got to be there.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girl:</span> Well, she's going to be, and I'd like you to be nice. It's Valentine's Day, where else is she supposed to go?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy:</span> I don't know, it's not my problem. How about on a DATE?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girl:</span> You know she's not dating anyone.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy:</span> Yeah, exactly, because she's a psycho. She needs to be in therapy.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girl: </span>She's not a psycho, she's just single.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy:</span> Right, exactly my point. Anyone who's hasn't been on more than 5 consecutive dates in FIVE years obviously has a problem.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girl: </span>It hasn't been five years. And plus, before I met you, I hadn't dated in a while.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy:</span> Yeah but you were right out of school. You were 24. She's TWENTY-NINE.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girl:</span> It's different in New York, she just hasn't found anyone she likes.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy:</span> Yeah because she's a P-S-Y-C-H-O. Anyway, I'm going to make a reservation for the four of us for Sunday dinner. Us and your parents.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girl:</span> You have to include her, that's rude.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy: </span>I don't <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span> to do anything. She's not my problem.<br /><br />This is real life people. As I'm standing there trying to decide how to respond to this A-Hole's sweeping generalization of late-twenty single women on Valentine's day, I kept being knocked down by his blatant disrespect for his own girlfriend. First I looked at him, hoping to communicate disgust, pity and anger. Then I looked at her hoping to say: Your boyfriend is the king of D-Bags and I hope you flee this excuse for a relationship as soon as humanly possible. And lastly, to all my suitors out there, please take note of this undeniably romantic (and fun!) vacation said D-Bag boyfriend is planning. If all you singles could be so lucky.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-74520988412280103222010-01-29T11:10:00.002-05:002010-01-29T11:14:07.864-05:00Werk un-related postIf y'all are looking for something really fun to do on a boring Friday afternoon, you should go over to Lucky Magazine's Style Spotter website, sign up (super easy!), and then comment on my freshman post <a href="http://www.luckystylespotter.com/alpha/detail/58">here</a>. The perks to being a style spotter are really endless, and you will be contributing to my well-being 360degrees of separation-style. (PS- do this before Sunday)<br /><br />Next up: a subway photo of a thug with really really saggy sweatpants.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-7079893682851918312010-01-26T10:45:00.003-05:002010-01-26T10:48:42.306-05:00Rant RaveSubway-related post:<br />Overheard on this morning's F:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy: </span>So how's work?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girl:</span> It sucks. I hate it.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boy:</span> But you got a new position, right?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Girl:</span> Yes. It's awful.<br /><br />UnSubway-related post:<br />I just realized <a href="http://blisslist.typepad.com/blisslist/">ANOTHER one</a> of my favorite bloggers is back (um, maybe has been back for some time, which is even awesomer because there's that many more posts to read)Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-64146591462058235742010-01-22T15:02:00.000-05:002010-01-22T15:03:37.549-05:00Friday afternoon tweet: the perfect bun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqW17ULqWQCO_9pa17RIAqO8DZ77hReopcssvofCL46LHqvS2TvgnlYMh-FW_Bzd8XR0TU_kJrf6-wPvCkc8Uxm5MyTMWtiC6nZSuj9mshzPYqpSdZdmlaT03QIKguK3tLRI6tg/s1600-h/photo(4).jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqW17ULqWQCO_9pa17RIAqO8DZ77hReopcssvofCL46LHqvS2TvgnlYMh-FW_Bzd8XR0TU_kJrf6-wPvCkc8Uxm5MyTMWtiC6nZSuj9mshzPYqpSdZdmlaT03QIKguK3tLRI6tg/s400/photo(4).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429657301297005538" border="0" /></a>Those gloves ain't bad, either.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-579326353829719292010-01-21T10:59:00.003-05:002010-01-21T11:15:08.126-05:00A crowded subway is no excuse for unprofessional conduct<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08Pw06DNKcB3rN-gCc7WfvQJpdJBaP1ssv9upyrUs2FNyMWvWuKXSDuABCa_DGOtXjGuRMYardbOVAei0cb12qo9bqX5NaZTwjiWvBuwIAXNp0spJiMc_v0jNOa5u7_Nve7yexQ/s1600-h/UH024.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08Pw06DNKcB3rN-gCc7WfvQJpdJBaP1ssv9upyrUs2FNyMWvWuKXSDuABCa_DGOtXjGuRMYardbOVAei0cb12qo9bqX5NaZTwjiWvBuwIAXNp0spJiMc_v0jNOa5u7_Nve7yexQ/s400/UH024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429223520762234210" border="0" /></a><br />So this happened the other night. Actually, I think it was Friday night, which makes this story so much richer since we were on the cusp of a 3-Day weekend and it rush-hour. The time of night where g-d willing you're not next to a creep or a mother of three. So there I am on the F Train with 300 of my closest commuters, reading a post I had printed out from one of my favorite resurfaced blogs <a href="http://missdoxie.com/">Miss Doxie</a>. I'm crammed in the back corner of the train, leaning up against the door that goes between the cars, minding my own business when all of a sudden GAH we're at Bergen Street! (I love when this happens, it's like time travel. But not really). I elbow my way through the passengers until I hit a road block. Literally. Some twink had decided Friday rush hour would be the perfect time to jam her wooden screen-printing door gate contraption diagonal into the last car. I am talking, there was no going around this thing. Caos ensued as I imagined being trapped on the F Train until the next stop.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> What the what is this<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Random Man:</span> Yeah, I know, seriously<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">D-bag Artist:</span> (blank stare, most likely thinking about some theory on paying her bills with overexposed canvas and definitely not about people who actually sell their artistic souls for a living just to buy 2 buck chuck and candied pecans)<br /><br />My options were to climb through the middle of this thing, risking splinters and basic stuck-ness, let the A-hole artist win and surrender to Carroll Street where I would have the same problem in addition to humiliation, or get Olympical on her ass. Luckily for everyone, I was wearing pants (I know, take a moment), so like muthafuckin lightning I hurdled the wooden torture device, propelling myself toward the closing doors. I made it out alive.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-33105658815364958122010-01-19T09:57:00.003-05:002010-01-19T10:09:13.120-05:00Guest-ish post: CCC<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihD_CkPIcsHso-ExZUm65-QawUbExWtcLcKGstRpLcF9E5e1WmShkI1BS8e-FcJ5ftncnODxtH0ICqPe6fXZVPPTXqMesLy-8DsVG9zUeRHN9_zrDGiUPbIhdki0JGoRFxeSnV4w/s1600-h/photo-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihD_CkPIcsHso-ExZUm65-QawUbExWtcLcKGstRpLcF9E5e1WmShkI1BS8e-FcJ5ftncnODxtH0ICqPe6fXZVPPTXqMesLy-8DsVG9zUeRHN9_zrDGiUPbIhdki0JGoRFxeSnV4w/s400/photo-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428465904425183810" border="0" /></a><br />Yesterday while I was enjoying cleaning out my fridge, our friend CCC was commuting to work and snapped this shot along with this caption: <span style="font-style: italic;">the 4 train, completely empty except for me and this fat guy who also obviously hates his job that makes him come in instead of honoring civil rights</span>.<br /><br />I would write more, but I am too exhausted from seeing these babies perform:<br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3nemUkG1_AE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3nemUkG1_AE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />You might want to listen to their new album <a href="http://vampireweekend.com/">here</a>.<br />Happy belated MLK. Let love rule.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-17803811762145737202010-01-14T11:08:00.000-05:002010-01-14T11:09:04.295-05:00<a href="http://nymag.com/daily/fashion/2010/01/vogue_1.html">Oh snap</a>Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-22546008273482235292010-01-07T14:08:00.007-05:002010-01-07T14:20:17.789-05:00Forgive me Blogger, for I have strayed<span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:arial;">It has been a really, really, really long time since my last post. But in my defense, I have written something </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://greensandgroins.blogspot.com/2009/12/greens-groins-and-guest-granola.html">over here</a><span style="font-family:arial;">, and a little something </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://igottherunz.blogspot.com/">over here</a><span style="font-family:arial;">, and also took some time to complete </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://cargocollective.com/alisonmatheny">my career's work</a><span style="font-family:arial;">.*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Since I'm not technically on the train, let me think up a story of something that has happened on it since we last met. Oh, I've got one. (see how quickly that happened, New York MTA, I tell ya) One snowy snowy morning I was riding the 6 (gasp at foreign trainline) home from the Upper East (gasp again at foreign neighborhood). I'll be honest, everything was a little foggy, I was wearing faux-rubberized pants (never good before 10am) and in desperate need of a mocha and an asprin. Yet, because I am civilized, I was blocking out the surrounding tourists and general happenings of the first car by listening to the soothing sounds of my iPod and reading a very in depth Law Journal (true story, I swear). Because of the aformentioned conditions, I was not paying attention to the homeless woman in worse shape than myself fending off other passnegers a mere 10 feet from me. As I looked up to see what all the commotion was about, I see the homeless (smelly) woman in my blind spot about to clock me WITH HER BROKEN SNEAKER. If it were not for her stench forwarning me of the impending blow, I would have been a goner.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This is why you should never ride the 6. The end.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >*Note: "complete" might be the wrong word. "start" might be the right one.</span><br /></span>Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-14009942311409443532009-12-29T09:18:00.001-05:002009-12-29T09:18:59.574-05:00I ain't goin down like thatThis morning it's a cool 27 degrees with a windchill of about zero at approximately 35 mph. A perfect morning for the F train to be broken down at my stop. After already experiencing the freezing first hand earlier when I decided to start training for the half marathon (more on that later), I knew there was no way I'd make it to the next subway stop on foot.<br /><br />Well gentiles, Christmas came late this year, as there was an uptown bus--heat a'blazin--waiting for me. Comfortably nestled in a window seat, I was just about to rest my eyes when a large woman boards exclaiming:<br /><br />AW NAH, AWWW NAH. I AIN'T GOIN DOWN LIKE THAT!11!<br /><br />I'm assuming this public outburst was directed at the F Train itself. Clearly agitated, the woman sits down next to me as her friend (?) starts to complain about the ratio of raised metro prices in relation to the number of broken down lines. Again, mama exclaims:<br /><br />GIRL, YOU HAVE LIVED HERE LONG ENOUGH TO KNOW--THAT'S JUST HOW NEW YORK CITY ROLL! .... I like your coat.<br /><br />This, my friends, is the portrait of a true New Yorker. Accepting of her home's constant berating, medicated and motivated to rise above its challenges, all the while holding an appreciation for winter fashions.<br /><br />That's just how we roll.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-4104176325118872009-12-23T11:30:00.001-05:002009-12-23T11:32:13.864-05:00Guest photo: CCC!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_QEZFqihEq7gA1jU3d4uRl3ZSn90PsWpaDKv4YoU0h029gQbE-RT8UCXs3NSFxD5ShfHTgCqcnJkhhQRla2JotvREHlM_WpAzB7oZbmHlNJ9qxxSbUliV4mg4HkuzmwIZcz7Vg/s1600-h/photo(5).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3_QEZFqihEq7gA1jU3d4uRl3ZSn90PsWpaDKv4YoU0h029gQbE-RT8UCXs3NSFxD5ShfHTgCqcnJkhhQRla2JotvREHlM_WpAzB7oZbmHlNJ9qxxSbUliV4mg4HkuzmwIZcz7Vg/s400/photo(5).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418470017682061010" /></a> I'm pretty sure this woman has been visiting <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/">this website</a> and making every. single. thing. on it. Not a bad idea if you ask me.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-71617899216501858562009-12-21T16:36:00.002-05:002009-12-21T16:39:31.200-05:00I'm in a Cab<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHYuYTxrYJNizmNg0_WBxc-PX9PrpiVdQ91_pqxTQ70PtKeJR5gv3DBcF22ca3u2JvMOuXVSEYpvouKa_6LzTJxu-lauWdYAGy3zgXqJaFIWAzi3wqWC1xqa3TA2tk4_BDCvOkw/s1600-h/in+a+cab+yall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHYuYTxrYJNizmNg0_WBxc-PX9PrpiVdQ91_pqxTQ70PtKeJR5gv3DBcF22ca3u2JvMOuXVSEYpvouKa_6LzTJxu-lauWdYAGy3zgXqJaFIWAzi3wqWC1xqa3TA2tk4_BDCvOkw/s400/in+a+cab+yall.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417806750642090866" /></a> Coming to you live from an expensed cab on the Upper West. Getting a cab in this town in this weather this close to the holidays is virtually impossible. Not to mention the snow drifts you have to hurdle as you interject yourself into oncoming traffic. My main gripe with cabs are drivers who insist on pressing on the gas before your whole body is in the vehicle. Ironically, this just happened to me. There's nothing that gets your blood moving faster than the fear you will be left for dead in the dirty street slush because you were too encased into your knee-length poofy coat to tumble far enough inside. But alas I am alive and have almost arrived at home base, where I will make a B-line for the elevator before any fashionista can spot me looking like a snowman.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-10835279096884473322009-12-16T12:33:00.003-05:002009-12-16T12:41:27.188-05:00Santa won't you bring me the one I really need won't you please bring my baby to me e e yeah.So this weekend I was making a special appearance on the A Train when this happened:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEuQTdEb8XKZicCqwxZIALVx22DZ9c9c8QXOGQs8BrpVR24m0oZqakmAR_fy3sIxAtw1Jg3vhTH-LFFKJUX6-UZ5F2VRPfNb5HC1Beplf7hjSxKDlGAoSIu6UOxkunzBD6ayBhA/s1600-h/photo(2).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 376px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEuQTdEb8XKZicCqwxZIALVx22DZ9c9c8QXOGQs8BrpVR24m0oZqakmAR_fy3sIxAtw1Jg3vhTH-LFFKJUX6-UZ5F2VRPfNb5HC1Beplf7hjSxKDlGAoSIu6UOxkunzBD6ayBhA/s400/photo(2).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415889110622698962" /></a> Take a moment to let that marinate. <br /><br />This woman was obviously going to SantaCon in a holiday bousteire (this is how I spell it), erect Santa hat (with baseball cap interior for extra hold!), reading glasses (nothing gets you jazzed for all-night beer consuming like the NYT), a fur coat (want), and <span style="font-weight:bold;">A GOLD SCRUNCHIE PEOPLE</span>.<br /><br />I'd like to focus on the gold scrunchie. Did she purchase this to match the rest of her outfit? Did she buy it at American Apparel? Does she wear this on other non-Christmasy days? Because I don't know about you, but when I'm thinking of the finishing touch to my just-slutty-enough costume, the first thing that comes bounding into my head like Rudolph out of the North Pole is a gold scrunchie. <br /><br />Eggnog for everyone.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-54012080941416498252009-12-15T16:58:00.002-05:002009-12-15T17:04:32.430-05:00Not Ha.Okayso again, this post is not on/about the Subway, but <a href="http://nymag.com/daily/fashion/2009/12/manhattan_dude_who_refuses_to.html?mid=fashion-alert--20091215">this</a> is <span style="font-weight:bold;">hilarious</span>. Specifically because I have been wearing my size Large men's sweatpants from Modell's for 4 days straight.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-37852630757445659962009-12-11T09:12:00.002-05:002009-12-11T09:19:01.369-05:00Poofy coats and other stuffed winterwearI lived in New York for three long winters on a vintage (read: old and dirty with broken buttons) JCrew coat and various felt-like insulation models. Last year I broke down and invested in a knee-length double-lined grey poofy coat (with hood!) from Brooklyn Industries. It is not flattering. It is not fashionable. It is the warmest piece of outerwear I own.<br /><br />In my immediate vicinity on the train 15 out of 18 people are wearing poofy coats. Riding the train with the poofy coat can go either way. On one hand you are basically in a cream puff force field of heat which is very beneficial when you are positioned near small children in strollers or sleeping homeless (?) adults with a twitch. On the other hand, you are encased in your own personal thermos, have virtually no sex appeal and take up a third more surface area when sitting, a very touchy subject to the personal space conscious. But bottom line you are warm/sweating so when you exit the train and are hit with below zero windchill straight out of Lucifer's bedroom, you're mostly happy. For about 30 seconds until your face freezes off.<br /><br />While some weaker souls could make the same argument for the UGG boot, I have yet to crumble to their stylistic level. To me, UGGs are worse than Crocs. They are completely devoid of personality. They are the poor man's athletic sneaker with nude pantyhose. Yet they are lined with the synthetic fur of a sheep. You don't care if you step in a huge icy puddle of mud mixture. You could also take out someone's kneecaps in one swift kick. Will this be the year I cover my entire body in padding?<br /><br />For now I will relish in my choice of survival over style while maintaining a firm position on shapeless boots. However, if I'm not lounging on a beach somewhere with a fruity cocktail in the midst of early retirement in three years, I might become on of the converted.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-92548868228426152009-12-08T10:46:00.003-05:002009-12-08T10:48:04.325-05:00Tuesday Treat: Guest photo from OkaySamTo: Harpy<br />From: OkaySam<br />I thought of you when I saw this guy on the N Judah the other day. Cornrows, glasses <span style="font-style:italic;">and</span> a mustache? <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVb5O-NnI76U0WhhwiKmNKQZURAX9emvcgk09XZmOHziDSDhK_x6W8Qw4RC5JHYlOJkhk2oOHXjZI3kxZOkf1abb6OvLzg_LtJfC6s9Qo9KTN2PySX_FrTmn9wXvrbiubq39Uriw/s1600-h/oksam.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVb5O-NnI76U0WhhwiKmNKQZURAX9emvcgk09XZmOHziDSDhK_x6W8Qw4RC5JHYlOJkhk2oOHXjZI3kxZOkf1abb6OvLzg_LtJfC6s9Qo9KTN2PySX_FrTmn9wXvrbiubq39Uriw/s400/oksam.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412892392858090594" /></a>It's really too good.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-13171486763008799502009-12-03T10:43:00.001-05:002009-12-03T10:45:06.140-05:00Baaangs baaangs baaangs—waitYesterday I rode the A in to a photo shoot and rode the F out with new bangs. It's common practice at shoots for the hair stylist to come up with some reason to cut my hair. I normally concede as I usually need a haircut, and like yesterday, haven't washed my hair in a week—taking the mussed up look to a new level. On this particular trim sights were set on my bangs which I described as "toupe chic" and Riad Master of Hair described as "needing texture, honey."<br /><br />Viola Karen O. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCczIjepPer2sUAuiT6kj7lGKLwFUok7Xq_tns6dFxL2BnImQMSvGfEynWS63HQKWRmljDkzfPeGIiNuFUlo8F8917kmcTTU_loQVP431L7Yun3lnapVNEG7DK6ZGkj6t2Q0vZA/s1600-h/photo(2).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCczIjepPer2sUAuiT6kj7lGKLwFUok7Xq_tns6dFxL2BnImQMSvGfEynWS63HQKWRmljDkzfPeGIiNuFUlo8F8917kmcTTU_loQVP431L7Yun3lnapVNEG7DK6ZGkj6t2Q0vZA/s400/photo(2).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411036349399857090" /></a><br />Pros include: disguise, endless opportunity for unseen eye-rolling, checking out people's booties on the train without them knowing and subway napping while maintaining a sophisticated totally awake pondering life persona.<br /><br />Cons include: not being able to see five feet in front of you resulting in tripping, continuous poking of the eyeballs (fear of contacts popping out), feeling like you should be on the L train wearing musty flannel and wind.<br /><br />In conclusion, after I exit this train the plan of having indie chic bangs for at least one day is most likely going to be abandoned. C'est la vie du Les hairstyles.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-76225499874661375412009-12-01T12:41:00.003-05:002009-12-01T13:00:56.534-05:00Delayed Holiday Posting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjU3XLzW-62Di97BQVwFQ85iklVDv_ElHBXpb5lQ4MHBJ9L7OW02hktwfbSB14_5fzWGmJMMbSlmWjSnnRIH8s_QCB7CSDIxscH7Nf0UNlw3xLUs53icMO4vipfWxcAdmjjGQ3Q/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjU3XLzW-62Di97BQVwFQ85iklVDv_ElHBXpb5lQ4MHBJ9L7OW02hktwfbSB14_5fzWGmJMMbSlmWjSnnRIH8s_QCB7CSDIxscH7Nf0UNlw3xLUs53icMO4vipfWxcAdmjjGQ3Q/s400/photo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410324463327755410" /></a>I took this on my ride home last Wednesday when we were approaching a 4-day weekend and all was right with the world. Look at this seedling in town for the holidays after serving his country, bringing some flowers to his mama. Don't you just want to pinch his rosy cheeks?Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-24129422203202819432009-11-24T16:07:00.002-05:002009-11-24T16:49:49.953-05:00Pre-Holiday Post (not really from a train)This post isn't really from a train and isn't really about a train, but after being called out in the weekly status meeting <a href="http://lifeofaharpy.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-to-stuff-womans-stocking-this-is.html">again</a>, this time for wearing a "bathrobe," I thought maybe I'd take a minute to indulge in some fall fashion trends (also worn on the Subway!). Here are some things this season that immediately come to my mind that I want:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.katespade.com/family/index.jsp?categoryId=3757775&source=CME_KSP:Main:HTML:20091125">A Polka Dot Thermos from Kate Spade</a></span><br /><br />A nice, comfy, <span style="font-weight:bold;">bright red</span> <a href="http://www.marcjacobs.com/#/en-us/marcbymarcjacobs/women/fallwinter09/readytowear?lookId=9">wool coat</a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">A delicious woolen blanket</span> from <a href="http://brookfarmgeneralstore.bigcartel.com/product/woolen-blankets">Brook Farm General Store</a>. Or maybe this <a href="http://www.garnethill.com/jump.jsp?itemID=13358&itemType=PRODUCT&path=1%2C2%2C5%2C9020%2C9040&iProductID=13358">Silk Comforter</a> from Garnet Hill if you're feeling extra indulgent. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Just a <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=34960635">little something</a> for the holiday parties.</span> Or maybe just my couch.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.riflepaperco.com/index.php">This idea<span style="font-weight:bold;">/</span>design<span style="font-weight:bold;">/</span>life<span style="font-weight:bold;">/</span>store</a>.<br /><br />Okay, so this is not so much a fashion focused post. <br /><a href="http://jakandjil.com/blog/">Here.</a><br />Now where were we.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">A balloon ride</span> like <a href="http://bonjour-celine.blogspot.com/2009/10/from-above.html">this</a>. With extra champagne.<br /><br />Some <a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/figs-with-goat-cheese-pecans-and-bacon/Detail.aspx">bacon wrapped figs</a>. Actually anything with bacon. <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/science-news/5118283/Bacon-sandwich-really-does-cure-a-hangover.html">This might be useful</a>. (<span style="font-style:italic;">thanks Mary's facebook</span>)<br /><br />The first photo in <a href="http://cocokelley.blogspot.com/2009/11/whats-your-style-statement.html">this blog post.</a> <span style="font-weight:bold;">The molding. The crystals. The wood.</span><br /><br />The <span style="font-weight:bold;">scalp</span> on <a href="http://www.shopbando.com/Product.aspx?eid=83">this broad</a>. Okay, fine I want the headbands, too.<br /><br />Some <a href="http://www.jcrew.com/AST/Browse/MensBrowse/Men_Shop_By_Category/sweaters/JCrewcashmere/PRDOVR~19464/19464.jsp">Menswear</a>. What a coincidence, it happens to be on my favorite model.<br /><br />And a <a href="http://www.linusbike.com/">bike</a> for <span style="font-weight:bold;">good measure</span>.<br /><br />Happy fall, riderz.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-8303182493475613182009-11-19T14:04:00.002-05:002009-11-19T14:07:15.783-05:00Man DownThis morning I got a text that someone had gotten run over by the F train,* so in turn no trains were running. This news comes dangerously close to me watching a video last week of some drunk woman falling on the tracks, the approaching train stopping about 2 inches from her head (intense) I checked GMA, nytimes.com and the MTA service Advisory website and didn't see anything other than the normal trailing list of road blocks, so I headed figured I would be in the clear. I was wrong.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1yBpYvE3Ixkh-ILSRmjNXUEe0Jy3MAuV53jGLbWx3AGAgDhejd8YLz1n9vfT3md6hmhXNhDlnZofXt3d8-lICNrQA32DiItoSkXckdMfE9xya_bC8KGCTuH7xYuUvV8rvGZabg/s1600/photo(6).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1yBpYvE3Ixkh-ILSRmjNXUEe0Jy3MAuV53jGLbWx3AGAgDhejd8YLz1n9vfT3md6hmhXNhDlnZofXt3d8-lICNrQA32DiItoSkXckdMfE9xya_bC8KGCTuH7xYuUvV8rvGZabg/s400/photo(6).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405892981774796786" /></a>Here we have the mass exodus from south Brooklyn to jay street where all of these suspecting commuters expect to catch a running F. After being bullied by a small, elderly Asian woman in a poofy coat, I'm here waiting on the Manhattan bound track like all of the other chumps late for work. I decide to make a hopefully time saving decision to take the A and transfer at west 4th. Maybe it's because this delay has put me past the morning rush, but the A is surprisingly spacious. Other than the slow jams blasting through earbuds behind me and a woman applying chapstick to her grown husband's lips in front on me, I have a seat where I can comfortably think about Bollywood routines and whether I should have fruit or juice when I get to work. It's surprise tragedies like this that keep my relationship with the F Train interesting.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">*Update: Well, first I thought someone got run over, then I thought someone got stabbed, and now I kind of think someone got run over and someone else was on the tracks. Three cheers for accurate and time-sensitive news reporting!</span>Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-71478645876276877612009-11-18T09:00:00.002-05:002009-11-18T09:20:16.632-05:00How to stuff a woman's stocking (this is not a metaphor) by Ryan D'AgostinoYesterday in a weekly work status meeting, I went to present something from this month's <a href="http://www.esquire.com/">Esquire magazine</a> and was met by "I think you're the only person left who reads Esquire!" Touche, I do read Esquire, and I love it. I love the graphics, I love the articles, I love the funny jokes by a hot woman. Maybe it's my increasing void of testosterone, or maybe it's the hilarity of Dr. Oz's face knitted onto a Christmas sweater. Whatever the case, reading this magazine during my commute is a close second to not-finishing the New York Mag crossword puzzle. <br /><br />This morning I came across this sidebar of How to Stuff a Woman's Stocking (this is not a metaphor) by Ryan D'Agostino. In the Matheny household our stockings consist of the necessities: deodorant, toothbrush, santa chocolate, socks, mixed in with a few big ticket items like makeup, jewelry or music. What I'm saying is that if I were ever on the receiving end of this stocking jackpot, it would be a very happy holiday. I give it to you:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The first step in filling a Christmas stocking is:</span><br />Remember to do it. Women tend to love us for performing gestures that are thoughtful, time-consuming, and surprising. This one is (potentially) all of the above.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The clue:</span><br />A small piece that represents a greater whole. If you bought her a new flat-screen <span style="font-style:italic;">(ed note: !)</span>, put the remote in her stocking. A new bike <span style="font-style:italic;">(ed note: !!)</span>? The key to the lock.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Ticket:</span><br />Nothing delivers more excitement while taking up less space. Plane tickets are thoughtful. But so are movie tickets for December 26.<br /><br />The old "box-with-a-<span style="font-weight:bold;">map</span>-to-the-closet-where-the-big-expensive-gift-is-hidden" trick. <span style="font-style:italic;">(ed note: a grandma Matheny favorite)<br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">A gadget:</span><br />An option your dad never had—camcorders didn't fit in stockings. Digital cameras and iPod nanos do.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Perfume:</span><br />Small. Smells good. No-brainer. A good heavy anchor to place in the toe.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Something old-timey:</span><br />A candy cane and some clementines poking out will make it look like a stocking in the movies.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Filler:</span><br />Candy. (Obvious and affordable. Go right now to bespokechocolates.com and order the pretzel-covered caramels.) Matchbooks from restaurants you two ate at this past year. <span style="font-style:italic;">(ed note: swoon)</span> A few pair of the running socks she likes. <span style="font-style:italic;">(ed note: double swoon)</span> The earbuds she's always losing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Something funny:</span><br />A meat thermometer, because she overcooks the steak? A nutcracker and some walnuts? You know her better than we do.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12997766.post-3859744970228757032009-11-16T12:33:00.001-05:002009-11-16T12:34:49.895-05:00Kids<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEleEnPqNE2TrOddtHz559bO2uCX2aKcZHv_Rznj5PWJPeL0S0YW0a12fZUfryHyW9M3cYJ2pCJ2iKgxnYxdXTTLm58zoIJjMqlSBMtygx-deSpi4C5Mt06NDeETi0Whgv3x-_Nw/s1600/photo(2).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEleEnPqNE2TrOddtHz559bO2uCX2aKcZHv_Rznj5PWJPeL0S0YW0a12fZUfryHyW9M3cYJ2pCJ2iKgxnYxdXTTLm58zoIJjMqlSBMtygx-deSpi4C5Mt06NDeETi0Whgv3x-_Nw/s400/photo(2).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404756263547659506" /></a><br />I can't look at that obscene photo any longer, so here's an oldie but a goodie.Harpyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02890602073060031353noreply@blogger.com1