The A-Train, Ramen Noodles, and Cuarenta y Tres

You know you're becoming an adult when an awesome way to spend your Saturday night is with your parents.  We took the train out to Queens today to have dinner with my parents, since we didn't want to move our cars due to the ridiculously inordinate amount of snow the tri-state area has received (in case you are lucky enough to live elsewhere, or live under a rock).  And, living in Bay Ridge, parking is really at a premium here.  I mean, you practically have to own stock in the Bay Ridge Block Association in order to find a parking spot when you get home.  Anyway, in case you are lucky enough not to be an adult yet, I will tip you off to the reasons why Saturday night with the 'rents may just be the best night of the week.  It's also a hell of a lot cheaper than going out.  I tried calculating how much money we saved tonight.  Estimates are based on obscenely overpriced Manhattan restaurants and bars. 

1. Free dinner.  Simply stated, in two words.  And it's good dinner, too.  You know when you're a kid, and you asked your mom, "What's for dinner?" and whatever answer she gave you complained about?  Well, that doesn't happen anymore once you move out.  Anything sounds like a gourmet meal compared to ramen noodles or Chef Boyardee Meatballs & Macaroni.  And did I mention it's free?  Money saved on dinner: $40.00

  2.  Free drinks.  You don't realize how much your parents enjoy a good cocktail until you're an adult like them.  And much like the food category, their liquor cabinet is much more well stocked than yours, and more eclectic.  Apparently, when you're an adult, you don't just drink; you drink in courses.  First, there are appetizer drinks (a white wine, a light beer).  Then there are dinner drinks (maybe a red wine, or a scotch).  Then there are dessert drinks.  Cream liqueurs are popular with adults.  My dad produced about ten different varieties while we ate homemade brownies.  Dave's choice was a caramel liqueur, while I opted for good ole' 43, a Spanish liqueur which my dad, ever the cultured fellow, kept calling "Cuarenta y tres."  Between the two of us, we had four glasses of wine, three beer, and five shots of liqueur.  Money saved on drinks: $85.00

3.  Free transportation.  Of course, my dad ended up driving us home because my parents felt bad making us take the train home.  Gotta love that parental protection!  Money saved on train ride home: $5.00 (and a lot of time, and falling asleep on Dave's shoulder and drooling).

4. Good company.  Another surefire sign you're becoming an adult is when you realize you actually want to hang out with your parents and that they're not just two people you happen to live in the same house with who are ridiculously out of touch with anything you might want to talk about.  Turns out they actually know a lot, and can offer some really handy advice about, well pretty much anything.  They've been around the block before.  And more often than not, you've inherited their sense of humor so they like to make fun of the same things (and people) you do.  This can be more entertaining than you might expect, especially on $85 worth of alcohol.  Money saved on company: $0, unless you're the kind of person who pays for company.

So we saved $130.00 and we enjoyed good company.  The only drawback was that we didn't get to steal the cool glasses my parents served our drinks in, which we would have done if we were at a bar.  Oh, believe me, we would have tried, but we wouldn't have gotten away with it; my parents were the ones who taught me that trick. 

Caller ID, Soggy Chicken Nuggets, & No Frills Sandwich Cookies

It's amazing when you think back over the last twenty years or so how far we've come, technologically speaking.  I can easily remember the days when everyone didn't have a cell phone.  I can easily remember the days when everyone didn't have a computer.   Kids growing up today aren't going to remember the days when everyone didn't have a computer on their cell phone.

The truth is, I can easily remember those days because, actually, they weren't that long ago.  My family was always a little charmingly antiquated.  We didn't have cable TV until all the Yankee games officially went over to the dark side (MSG back then, YES today) and we didn't have a microwave until 2001.  I was certain my parents were just being difficult by not allowing my siblings and me to partake in the wonders of the modern world, like Caller ID ("You can SEE who's calling you!") and Super Nintendo ("But Mom!  Regular Nintendo is so boring now!  We've totally beaten all the forty-seven games that we have.") 

Same thing with food.  Growing up, we always wanted name-brand snacks and cookies, victims of Saturday morning cartoon commercials.  But instead of Oreos, we got Pathmark No Frills Sandwich Cookies.  Instead of Frosted Flakes, we got Pathmark No Frills Sugared Corn Cereal.  And instead of Cheetos, we got (you guessed it) Pathhmark No Frills Cheese Curls.  They all came in packages big enough to feed the state of Wyoming.  About halfway through, and sick of, the package of cookies that wouldn't end, my brother and I would try to open something new, but my dad would catch us, saying, "Isn't there already a pack of cookies open?  Finish those first." 

But now, as a semi-rational-thinking adult, I can see that they were being smart with their money by not spending it on frivilous things that we woudn't remember ten minutes later, much less ten years later.  And you know what?  We survived.  My brother and I would listen to Yankee games on the radio, and our chicken nuggets may have taken a little longer to cook in a conventional oven, but at least they were nice and crispy instead of microwave-soggy.  Even more important, they were able to use the money they saved on Cocoa Puffs to take us on vacations and pay off their mortgage. 

I sometimes wish the adult me could take a page from the book of my parents when it comes to finances.  However, I am trying my best.  If you look in my cupboard, you will see lots of America's Choice brand food.  And I always finish a pack of cookies before opening a new one.

But the Frosted Flakes?  I splurge on those.  Sometimes you just have to spoil yourself.

Make-Up, Dumbells, and Headstands

If the world ends in 2012 like so many have predicted, then I've wasted a hell of a lot of time at the gym.  Imagine we've placed all this emphasis on health and appearance and then in a year and a half we all drop dead at the same time, regardless of our weight, pants size, or blood pressure.  But just in case we make it to 2013, I try to make it to the gym as much as possible.  My gym has lots of different classes, like Pilates, yoga, weight lifting, and zumba.  I try to mix them up to keep myself from getting bored, no easy feat.  Today I decided to try a new class, which I'll tell you about in a minute.

The first thing you need to know about my gym is that it's the kind of gym where people actually seem to put thought into the outfits they wear there.  And they do their hair.  And wear makeup!  If these girls think they look hot wearing makeup to the gym, they're right; they do look hot.  Like a hot, sweaty, ball of mess when they're done working out.  So needless to say, I sometimes feel a little out of place.  I think the last time I wore makeup was to my friend Donna's wedding.  And that was in October.  Okay, so maybe I'm the other extreme, but it just doesn't seem to make sense to me to put extra goop on your face when you know you're going to be sweating like an orangutan. 

The new class I decided to try today was called Cardio Junkie.  The "junkie" part was quite apropos, considering the instructor had to be on crack, speed, or some other controlled substance.  She blasted house music at triple speed and busted out dance moves faster than those Korean kids playing "Dance Dance Revolution," all the while screaming incomprehnsible directions, which everyone else seemed to understand.  Every time I thought I was catching on, she would change directions, or throw in a different, way more complicated move.  I mean, how is a newcomer like me supposed to know that "GO! GO! GO!" means lunge to the far left, and that "NOW!" means pick up your eight-pound weights?  To make myself feel even worse, in walked Head Stand Girl.

Head Stand Girl is one of those gym people who, no matter what personal goals you may have achieved that day, makes you feel like a big, stinking pile of crap.  If everyone else is lifting eight-pound weights, she'll be lifting twelves.  If everyone else is doing bicep curls at normal speed, she'll be doing them twice as fast with a lunge for each rep.  I call her Head Stand Girl because during yoga class one day I glanced over at her and she was actually doing a headstand.  Show off, I had thought.  I can't even touch my toes without bending my knees. 

Just in case there was any uncertainty to the crappy performance I was giving today, Head Stand Girl plopped herself right in front of me.  Another thing you should know about my gym is that it's the kind of gym where mirrors are everywhere.  So now I get to view myself right next to Head Stand Girl.  Turns out "Head Stand Girl" isn't the only thing I could call her.  I could also call her "Bicep Curl Girl,"  "Jumping Jack Girl," "Squat Girl" or "Rope Skipping Girl" because she was just so damn good at everything. 

After about halfway through the class, nearly falling flat on my face, twisting my ankle, and dodging dirty looks from Head Stand Girl (for taking up her personal space because I wasn't doing my backward/forward sprints fast enough), I came to a bit of a revelation.  No matter how fast you run, how high you jump, or how many squat thrusts you do, there's always going to be someone better than you.  You've got to do what's right for you, what makes your body, mind and soul feel proud. 

Feeling proud?  So what if it doesn't quite mesh with my whole self-deprecation thing.  We're all entitled once in a while, I suppose.  Hell, you never know how long it'll last.  At this very moment, Head Stand Girl could be writing her own blog about how she can't stand it when Too-Slow Girl cramps her style.

Common Sense & Cheetos

So there's a pretty important football game going on tonight, if you're a Jets fan.  And you're probably busy getting your supplies for the big game: beer, snacks, etc.  But before you go grocery shopping, you better read this, as I promise to provide breaking health news in about thirty seconds. 

 As you may have read in my first blog, I am a fan of all three: beer, Jets, and food (not necessarily in that order).  But I try as hard as I can to eat somewhat healthy; well, as much as anyone can on the weekends, anyway.  I'm always reading articles with titles like "Eat Whatever You Want and Still Lose Weight" and "The All-Green Diet Approach."  Sometimes I need some creative ways to make sure I'm not completely pigging out.

 So imagine my delight when I logged on to my computer the other day and saw "You Don't Have to Give Up Beer and Cheetos!" on my homepage.  Beer and cheetos?  To paraphrase Julie Andrews, these just happen to be a few of my favorite things.  And I really don't even eat cheetos anymore, because they're so bad for you.  Things that are made from artificial cheese and are that delicious usually are.  So if there's a way that I don't have to give up cheetos, I'm all for it.  Who cares if the article was produced by Men's Fitness?  This couldn't be more relevant to my life.  I clicked on the link, already experiencing an internal struggle deciding between puffy and crunchy.

Turns out it wasn't so much an article as a thirty second video of some jacked-up musclehead dude.  It was Men's Fitness, after all.  I eagerly awaited the advice that would help me put the cheetos back in my diet.  "Hey guys, there's no reason why you have to eliminate beer and cheetos when you're watching the game," the dude began.  "Studies show that when people sit with a big back of snacks in front of them, they're likely to eat 20% more than if they had the small bag.  So the lesson?  Only buy the small bags."  He then produced one of those bags you buy in the deli for a quarter and happily chomped on them while downing a beer.

So...if you eat small bags of food instead of big bags of food, you won't eat as much.  This was groundbreaking news?  I felt cheated, not because I've been depriving myself of cheetos for years, but because I wanted the last thirty seconds of my life back that I wasted watching that video.  This is what passes for sound journalism? 

The problem that this video represents is that common sense just isn't so common anymore.  People need to be told things that they should just know.  It's the same syndrome that we experience right before a big snowstorm and the TV news reporters say things like, "Stay indoors whenever possible " or "Make sure you wear a hat when it's snowing to avoid catching a cold."  Really?  Okay, now that you mention it, my ears do feel a little nippy.  What can I do about that?  Wear a hat?  Yeah, I hadn't thought of that.  (Puts hat on head.)  That's much better.  Thank God I watched that news program. 

So I'm sorry if you felt cheated reading this blog, expecting earth-shattering health tips.  But do heed my advice.  While you're watching the game tonight, munching on your (small) bag of cheetos and drinking your (small lite) beer, remember: if you go outside to celebrate the Jets' victory (hopefully), wear a hat.  It's cold out. 

There.  Now you know.  Because if I didn't just tell you, how would you know?

Self-Deprecation, Beer, and Good Grammar

A blog: what a beautiful thing for a writer.  Writers, by nature, are used to rejection, so to have an unwavering forum for our inconsequential musings really is a valuable thing.  It's like, nobody wants to publish what I'm writing, so I'll throw it on the internet where they don't have a choice, they have to publish it.  What would make me think that I would have anything to say that anyone else would want to read is beyond me.  But here's hoping.  And whether or not anyone's reading it, I'm gonna write it anyway. 

In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm more into self-deprecation than bragging.  I like it better that way.  Then when you actually succeed at something you're pleasantly surprised.  So hopefully I'm succeeding in entertaining you (all four of you anyway).  But by now you may be wondering what this blog, Girl's Eye View, is all about, and why you should read it, even if you're a guy.  First I'd like to tell you a little about myself for the few people who might be reading this who aren't members of my family.

My name is Liz.  I'm 28 years old and I was born in Queens.  I now live in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn with my husband Dave.  We just got married last summer.  I teach first grade in Queens.  However, as much as I love my job, one of my great loves was always writing.  You can ask my mom, who was forced to read ungodly amounts of handwritten stories about dinosaurs when I was a kid.  I have a masters in Creative Writing which, heretofore, has proven itself useless except for the simple fact that I enjoyed pursuing it, which is more than you can say for most classes you take in college. 

So besides writing, here are some of my other obsessions: beer, wine, food (noticing a theme here?), the Yankees, and basically sports in general, reality television, good grammar, the gym, rock music, art, and mocking myself and other people.  Those are the things I'll be writing mostly about, in the context of a 28-year-old female New Yorker's life.  But as you can see, many of them are universal concepts, especially the part about mocking other people.  So that's why I think you should continue to read my blog, if you've read this far already.  You'll definitely find something you can relate to.  Or rather, something to which you can relate.  I'm a writer; I shouldn't be ending sentences in prepositions. 

When I told Dave I was going to be starting this blog, he was like, "That's cool.  Make it about New York.   And drinking and sports.  Like, places in New York where you can go to drink and watch sports."  And I'm definitely going to give you guys that.  There are not a whole lot of things I consider myself an expert on, but where to go in New York to drink and watch sports is definitely one of them.  So, faithful Girl's Eye View reader(s?), you'll get to hear about all my obsessions.  And hopefully they'll start to become your obsessions as well, or maybe they already are.  And if you think I'm a whiny, self-centered pain-in-the-ass writer, that's cool.  Tell me; I can take it.  Haven't you been paying attention?  I'm a writer.  I'm used to rejection. :)