For this week’s installment of the “Splenda Stealer Diet,” (a few weeks late) we have my friend and roommate, Rachael, who documented her delectable munchies while on a beach getaway. In between nibbles of hummus, a bar appetizer called “jalapeno bottlecaps” and popcorn and brownies, she sunbathes and enjoys being a beach bum with her cousins before the very last of summer.
Let’s take a look at her week of eating.
Not being shy, here is Rach enjoying a frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity III.
From the 9-10-10 edition of Hoboken’s Progress…
Patience may be a virtue, but in today’s world, it’s also endangered.
If I could rename generation Y, instead of “millennials” or “generation internet” I would call us “generation impatient”.
I first became aware of my symptoms during a breakfast at work. There I was, at my desk, contemplating eating a banana. It was a little green at the edges, and originally, I thought, “I’ll just wait until tomorrow for it to ripen.”
I had acknowledged this. I had accepted it. But due to the lack of patience my generation suffers from, I was a goner.
hmmm...i wanted to jump from day 4 to day 6...within 30 minutes...where was my flux capacitor??
I’m such a groupon.
I also ideeli, and sometimes look for gilt- or ruelala-worthy fashions.
To my delight, these seemingly nonsensical words have now taken the place of “cheap” and “frugal” in my vocabulary, which helps people like me–creative types with limited funds–take a vacation from the stress of budgeting, and instead, have some fun in the NYC area.
I never thought I’d see the day, but the coupon has become a calling card of chic. Thanks to social media and community sites like Groupon.com which offers deals to restaurants, retailers, and entertainment in cities from NYC to Los Angeles, and ideeli.com, gilt.com, and ruelala.com where you can spruce up your apartment or yourself with lush finds on the cheap, nowadays, finding an amazing deal online is now Facebook status and Twitter feed worthy.
Growing up, coupons were anything but sexy. Little white envelopes stuffed with coupons was a signal to me that the next shopping trip at the Shoprite would mean less Dunakaroos and Fruit-by-the-Foots for my sister and I.
Coupons were also those “Entertainment Cards” that we begged friends and neighbors to buy to raise money for various student councils, in which my dad gave me money for the book, but refused to place the cardboard card next to his credit card when we were out to dinner.
Coupons were also the embodiment of a family friend, known for her religious coupon clipping ways. She also wore Disney tee shirts and accessories decorated with cats.
I vowed never to be a coupon clipper. Even after moving out on a paycheck full of Monopoly money, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I preferred to eat less than scope out grocery deals in the weekly mailer.
But a few weeks ago, my friend sent me a link to Groupon for a hip-hop dance class, with its price slashed in half. It took my breath away. Not only that, but then the next day, it offered a half off drink deal at my favorite bar in NYC. Dance parties and booze half off? No coupon has ever understood me like that.
The thing is, although I’m very proud that I’ve been able to live independently and sample just enough of the city life that I don’t go crazy, my budget just doesn’t allow for some things like dance and yoga classes that run about $20 a pop.
I clicked on the “buy” button immediately, and soon enough, my friend and I were hip hopping it out to Ke$ha, which sounded even sweeter (at least to us) when a set of four classes was only $32.
It’s total peer pressure. By taking coupons online and setting them in an online community setting, being cheap has become attractive, and a thing of power. When my deal feeds pop up in the morning, tailored to my interests, it doesn’t feel like a coupon, but rather, an invitation. It even has my name on it. That’s alluring.
To change things up a bit, this week’s addition of “The Splenda Stealer Diet” will be a music diary, instead of a food diary. Although I can attest that Clint, aka, the bf of this Splenda Stealer, aaka (also, also known as) the bass player of Men and Whales, is a bona fide burger fanatic, enjoys the occasional late night Hot & Spicy Shim cup, and has a slight obsession with Portobello mushrooms and onions, I also believe that he has the unique ability to survive on decibels rather than calories.
They say that as long as a person has water, he or she can survive for a long time without food. For Clint, it would have to be music.
Let’s take a look at his week of listening.
= Clint listening on the subway
From the August 13th edition of Hoboken Progress…
It’s a rare occasion when I feel actual anger when walking to the PATH in the morning. Annoyance, yes. But, as I cornered the site of the old TD Bank North branch at First and Washington last week, it happened.
Walgreens, Hoboken, really??
Please Walgreen’s—I mean no harm. I don’t have a problem with your business per se, but rather, your new location. It’s a thing I have.
When I see an empty building with inspired, or historic architecture, I get ridiculously hopeful for what will become of it. When I saw the Walgreens name across the top of the grand building at First and Washington, I felt deflated.
On my way home that same day, I got the same feeling when I passed the building again, and it got me thinking. Every once in a while, I will come across something that surprisingly gets me heated. I have very random, strong dislikes of the following: sneezing, intermissions, people who bite food off spoons, and girls that think the only way to date in New York City is to run around in stilettos. Please find a way to put an end to your Carrie Bradshaw fantasy world. (Phew! That felt good to get off my chest.)
I know I just brought up a few ridiculous topics that bring me distress in my life, but that’s exactly my point—I’m very opinionated about things that no reasonable person should feel opinionated about—for example, when establishments such as convenience store chains move into beautiful buildings. How boring.
What would I like to see in the space you ask? Well, I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I mean, when I was a kid, I dreamed of living under the sea. I just prefer to let my imagination run wild.
Also, visions of this new Walgreens remind me of some other uneasy thoughts I have about the future of another building in Hoboken, the Jefferson Trust Building on First and Clinton.
This site of a bank that originally closed during the Great Depression reminds me greatly of the episode in the Twilight Zone, ”Time Enough At Last”, when the character Henry Bemis, a bibliophile who never has time to read, survives an apocalypse of sorts and finally has the time to devour all the books in the world, but then drops and breaks his glasses.
courtesy of gcdougherty at webshots.com
The Jefferson Trust building resembles the look of the library, during the last scene, and so I have an unnatural attachment to this building. Over the past few months, the beginning of construction has begun, and I’m terrified for what it will become. Will I open my eyes one day to see it turn into a Wawa convenience store?
Hoboken, we’re only a mile long town. How many cookie cutter businesses do we need to fill up its unique historic beauty? Actually, when I think about it that way, my strong opinions about this don’t seem so unreasonable at all.
We all know what being on a budget can mean–sometimes you have to play the lame card, and pass on pricier delicacies. But, the key to being creative on a budget is to be selective, as my friend Mary demonstrates in this week’s installment of “The Splenda Stealer Diet,” who’s anything but lame as she noshes on late lunches of fried goodness and Coronas at Coney Island, pierogies on the company, and sno-cones in the park. Let’s take a look at her week of eating.
Mary looking at chocolate in Seattle.
I tend to think of myself as a fairly healthy eater. I think it’s easy to keep up with: I give myself a $25/week budget for groceries, which means I have to be thrifty and usually stick to the produce aisle and work with my never-ending supply of pasta and tuna at home. I’ve learned over the years how to be more creative: my old roommates could’ve written this for me because I ate the same thing every single day: breakfast: toast, lunch: salad, dinner: egg, salami, and cheese sandwich. Really boring, but I eventually got out of that rut.
I once read that in New York City, although the drivers hate the pedestrians, and the pedestrians hate the drivers, it’s safe to say that everyone hates cyclists.
New York is quite a cutthroat kind of town. No matter the vehicle, wheels or feet, we all believe we own the pavement we are currently standing on.
A few months ago, there was a league of artists who painted a white line down Fifth Avenue that divided the sidewalk. One on side, the concrete was labeled “New Yorkers,” and on the other side, “Tourists.” And, if you don’t know what that refers to, the battle of sidewalk ownership that wages on day in and day out, “fahgettaboutit,”—you’d be on the ground before figuring it out.
It’s also quite ironic that although New Yorkers have a sixth sense for zeroing in on slow walkers (I personally have a infrared vision for those with wheelie briefcases) we sometimes have brownouts with our ability to observe what’s right in front of us while we are in our rush to get from point A to B.
For one, has anyone noticed how it’s not even the tourists who we should be annoyed at? Lately, my eyes have finally opened. Lower to the ground and a little less conspicuous are the worst offenders: the pigeons.
...scheming... courtesy ZeroOne on Flickr
As another vague reference from something I found entertaining but fail to remember who to quote, I once watched a comedy special in which the young female stand-up said something like, “I think New York is the only city in which I actually fear that garbage will fly into my mouth.”
I don’t fear garbage, but rather, pigeons flying into my head.
Don’t laugh. Who can say that they’ve never experienced a “low flyer,” a pigeon that seemingly gets a late start taking off, and so barely clears your head? Obviously, he didn’t get clearance from the tower.
Pigeons also have the worse strand of New York “blinders” and have “the walk” down pat: they look straight ahead when they’re walking (or flapping and hopping), so even though they are an eighth of the average pedestrian’s size, we get out of their way. When they flock together, I’ll even cross the street. Like an extremely disheveled man I saw today who walked in a questionably straight line while shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs, the rush hour crowd parted for him effortlessly. Pigeons have the same effect.
Okay, maybe pigeons aren’t as powerful or have an agenda as I make it seem, but I’m still wary when I find myself sharing the sidewalk with them.
Sorry Bert—I just don’t get it. But, I suppose we can learn to get along somehow.
At least they aren’t as bad as cyclists.
