blah(g)

I feel this tremdous pressure to blog even though I am feeling pretty uninspired at the moment.

I do not really want to write for the sake of writing. Especially after my long-awaited Shopaholic and Baby came from the UK I realized that the book did not live up to her first works in the Shopaholic department. Pressure + work = not always great results. But then again, isn't it true that people perform best under traumatic circumstances? Prehaps, they were not traumatic enough. I did love the book though - just not as much.

I must be careful with what I say. And my writing.

I went to The Met last night to see La Traviata. My ragazzo was flying in from Chicago and his flight was late so I had to find a date ASAP. Natalia, my neighbor, was chosen and what a great choice that was! Clearly, we were late. I do not know if that was because we were stuck pretending we care about the Artistry line of skincare that was being presented to us at Natalia's apartment or because of the cab driver who had trouble leaving Tribeca with us in the backseat. At least we did not hit a Buritoville delivery guy on his bike on the way there (like the couple who we chatted up at the bar who was also late). Well, we looked fabulous and that's all that counted. Freezing our butts off, we truly felt like Alexandr Petrowski and Carrie Bradshaw.

We walked in at 8:02pm and we were not let in. With two absurdly overpriced alcoholic baverages in hand and a salmon sandwhich we collapsed on the sofa and watched the first act on a sadly miniture plasma screen. Thirty minutes later we finally got to our orchestra center seats to be seated next to a couple that must have not gone out in a long time. Or they were just La Traviata's biggest fans. The orgasmic comments were driving me up the wall and I really already felt distracted trying to see the stage and read the subtitles in front of me! It did feel like a perfect moment to kasanobitch-slap someone... (Lucy's idea #2 - kasanobitch-slap).

We left after the second act. Purtroppo!

All the vodka tonics were making me want to pee so we cabbed it back to Tribeca and met my ragazzo at Centrico for a feast of ceviche, queso fundido, ribs and sangria. Gotta love that place!

welcome

Welcome to KASANOBITCH. A body of work.

While this is no Perez or PostSecret, this is still, an account of what goes on in the world. My world. And my world is pretty fantastic.

I could have a job since I just got my BA two months ago but so far I have been pretty disappointed in no one stalking me or calling me all day to have me work for them. Bummer, huh?

Hi Lucy!

And Lucy is the person who came up with this blog so its success will be credited to nobody else but her! Sitting at Bar 89 last night and talking about my email to Britney Spears (it bounced back to me!!!), our bad skin days, her work (along with expiration dates on her hummus and signs on buses, according to which she shall navigate through life) - we decided that I must have a blog. I must have it because after sending countless resumes to various magazines (from all of which I should unsubscribe now) I cannot get an entry level position in any editorial department?! Not even a free internship to help out on various projects? Uncool much. And this comes from someone who receives in the mail the following: Us Weekly, Vogue, Elle, Lucky, Allure, Vanity Fair, New York, Harper's Bazaar, Bon Appetit, Gourmet. Oh and Martha's Everyday Food.