100% Poop-Free

Saatchi has teamed up with a couple of TriBeCa neighborhood associations to block the construction of a Department of Sanitation mega-facility on the Lower West Side. Let’s be honest – this is mostly about ultra-rich people not wanting the faint smell of poop wafting through their neighborhood and devaluing their fancy apartments. As a fellow LWS resident and celebrity hound, Saatchi agreed to help them with their cause. And, by the looks of their Web site (www.savehudsonsquare.org) they definitely need our help. While the money and time could perhaps be better spent helping veterans or immigrants or puppies, you can’t blame these people for wanting a poop-free neighborhood. That odor is better left for Brooklyn.

Saatchi put together promotional materials, advised them on their brand and strategy, and hosted a fundraiser. As a highly valued Saatchi employee, I was given the premier job at the fundraiser -- coat check. So, perhaps coat check is not the most glamorous of assignments, but I have to argue that it is one of the most opportunistic. Not only did I get a perfect view of the door, but I got to make conversation with movie stars and check out their over-priced coats. (Wow, I’m super creepy.)

The party was billed as having Lou Reed, Paul Bettany, Michael Stipe, James Gandolfini, Kirsten Dunst, Jennifer Connelly, Talia Balsam, Casey Afflect, and Rain Pheonix in attendance. I snuck a peek at the VIP list and even saw Justin Timerblake’s name.

But, Justin must have been busy making another SNL music video because I only saw this guy (in his full motorcycle gear)...



And her (gorgeous)...



With him...



Oh, and this guy!



The party was a success – great turnout, lots of donations, only one crazy environmentalist outburst, and no misplaced coats.

Leaving Las Vegas

I may have won the award for lamest Spring Break Vacationer in Las Vegas last weekend, but I’ve never let being lame cramp my style. In fact, I couldn’t have dreamt of a better weekend. It was cool in the shade, warm in the sun, and perfectly cloudless. I even had a tan for approximately five seconds. I caught up with my great-uncle Jim and great-aunt Jeanne. I played the penny slots with some old lady riding a Rascal. I drank wine outside, inside, on the patio, watching a bad cover band, with dinner, with Cheez-its and while cheering on Baylor. We accidentally rode in a limo and got $55 advice from an Eastern European woman that referred to me as “Nice Lady.” I sealed my place as the lame-o award winner by sneering at the crowds of skankily-dressed bachelorettes, pointing out every high roller poker room I saw, chickening out of taking a picture with an Elvis impersonator, ordering water from the casino bartender, and doing the cabbage patch while passing a line of club-goers. This trip couldn’t have come at a better time. I had a blast. Thanks Mom and Dad for letting me tag along!

Making St. P Proud

This weekend was Hoboken St. Patrick’s Day. It is a fake holiday invented by the council of Hoboken bar and liquor store owners to ensure that the town cashes in on the annual Irish celebration. I’m pretty sure Hoboken’s city council is also a part of the scheme – between the $1,000 fines for open containers and the parking tickets I’m certain the city can now return some of the bailout money Obama just sent our way. Anywho. Joe, Phillip, Shannon and Stephanie made the cross-state trek to participate in the festivities. There was a bagel, a bar, a guy named Vinny, and an intense beer pong tournament. Because we are clearly too old for day drinking, we were back at my apartment by 7 where we inhaled some luke-warm takeout, erased most of the embarrassing pictures, and vowed to never start drinking before lunch again.

Some $2.99 Sentiment

It’s that time of year that people give up stuff. I once gave up chocolate for a full 39 days. Then, Greg offered me a bite of his irresistibly-delicious-condense-milk-covered chocolate snow cone. If you haven't tried this combination, you must book a trip to New Orleans ASAP! Blinded by its creamy, icy goodness I forgot my Lenten resolution and broke my chocolate-fast. Snap.

This year is a little different. While my fellow Catholics are faithfully quitting smoking, Facebook, and cursing, I decided to buy a bag of Baked Cheetos. Yes, my Lenten promise can be found in the snack food aisle. For my non-Norris readers, this may sound weird, but Baked Cheetos remind me that we all have a profound effect on each other. They signify that forgiveness and unconditional love are not burdens and that small things mean a lot to people. They remind me that a positive attitude will take you a long way. And, isn’t that what this time of year is all about?