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As I recently watched my social media feed fill with the coming of the super moon I became reflective on the mysterious cyclical nature of life. You know the cycle to which I am referring. That predictable pattern of crime TV binges curtailed by abridged relationships that end on or around the time one accuses the unsuspecting gentleman of being a serial killer which launches back into a marathon of Swamp Murders. Oh wait… is this story exclusive to me?

Regardless of whether or not my suspicious/paranoid nature is to blame for my failed attempts at romance (I’m nearly positive that’s my only flaw), it has been determined that it probably doesn’t help. So I am getting serious about finding the future Mr. B and per the advice of a highly accredited tarot card reader (thanks Blake!) I have formed the below list of qualities I seek in a companion that I will now put into the web-based universe. So here it is. Do you know this person? He should know that I make a mean dip.

1. The most important thing is that he is nice person. I am talking salt of the earth. Oddly harder to find than one would think.
2. Somebody that loves family.
3. Funny. Someone who makes me laugh. We laugh together.
4. Someone to be nice to my cat. He doesn’t have to like cats; he just has to like my cat.
5. Someone that’s driven and wants to do well career-wise. This isn’t all about the Benjamin’s – it’s about fulfillment.
6. Must have friends. I get weirded out if someone doesn’t have friends. I don’t just want to hang out with that person all the time.
7. I definitely need to date a drinker. There could be an exception, but I have tried and I doubt it.
8. Physically I am drawn to a little chubby and a lot taller. I don’t mind fuzziness.
9. Must be a meat-eater. I don’t trust a vegetarian.
10. Confidence is key. 

thought provoking right?

thought provoking right?

Universe meet list. List meet universe. 😉

My so-called social life

I would say I am somewhat social media “obsessed”.  I am not about to name my unborn child Hashtag or some futuristic equivalent, however as both a marketer and as a social person I find the idea of online reputation and presence fascinating.  I am mostly intrigued by the great divide amongst those with whom I interact from those that despise the notion that big brother is watching, stalking, and tailoring your online experience based on the information to those that love it.

I happen to love it, both as a digital marketer and a consumer. I am happy to provide anybody in the world all of the information they need, sans social security # and passport, so that I may have a more relevant life experience, it just happens to be easier digitally. I also am happy to present the world with what I would consider to be a better version of myself.

 I’ll be honest- I haven’t been the best offline version of myself for some time now. There is always a lot of good in my life; it just happens that in the recent past, I have been tossed some euphemistic life challenges. I find that social media helps me to focus on the positive and although I condone living life versus tweeting it, I like having the control over what I choose to share. I kind of love the fact that although yesterday I watched several hours of Sex and The City this weekend, and putzed around in sweatpants longer than most might consider healthy, I can choose to focus on the fact that I biked through Central Park, as encapsulated by my super professional Instagram. Its also a good reminder not that everything online is filtered. Some might find it intrusive or feel “Facebook envy”, I simply enjoy it for what it is and wait to see what’s next! As long as baby animal photos and videos continue to be shared I am good to go.  


So here it is- this is the ONLY thing I did this weekend. I was a good girl and didn’t go out other than this bike ride.  😉


#mysummerstory part 2.

I am sure the suspense is at an all-time high so let’s jump right back to life in the fast lane with Marissa’s summer re-cap. I had several trips to the cape this summer and I will tell you I have so many favorite things to do there it’s hard to even think about them.  Sesuit Harbor Café has been a favored spot for years. There are many things that make it awesome namely, the view, the shack like structure, and the delicious Reubens. We go every year for my Dad’s birthday and it is incredible. I was also given the gift of several fantastic beach days. Marconi Island and Nauset beach never disappoint. The water is… refreshing, but there is nothing like losing feeling in your limbs while boogie boarding to bring you back to your youth. And then to spiral you back into adulthood, The Beachcomber is an incredibly special beach bar worth the nearly hour-long journey from where I reside. As a general rule, any place that has a raw bar, beach views, and a reggae night, in addition to Buck Hunter is an establishment I will enjoy.

Cape Cod Buoys


My next adventure took me to Chicago, an exceptionally generous birthday trip to see two of my favorite people on the planet. It was another one of those incredible experiences where I basically felt overwhelmed with joy the entirety of my trip. It didn’t hurt that I was surrounded by fabulous handsome gentlemen and cuddly puppies throughout. And I finally got to see that thing called The Bean.



The summer was capped off in a similar manner as all of these favored moments. Surrounded by the people I love most. This time participating in the nuptials of another cherished friend.  The weekend overall brought me back to all of the times I loved most about high school and summer. Talking into the night, swimming, watching fireflies. Add to that a beautiful fairy princess of a bride and a buffet of sausage and the result is perfection.  There were traditional family dances, defiance against a 60+% chance of rain, laughter and sparklers. And a pretty sweet centerpiece.

leigh wedding

My summer story is about beginnings and endings. Reconnecting with those I have loved for years, reminiscing, finding new adventure. And laughing. A lot.  And planning what is next. 😉

So happy I am a sentimental pack rat.

As I was looking through old photos and cards in preparation for recent bridal event, I discovered one of many cards from my Mom. She was the queen of snail mail, sending cards throughout my adult life for any event large or small. The following (from my college years) is typical. 

This didn’t show as clearly as I had hoped. It says “Hello- Nothing happened in Vermont AGAIN today. Goodnight.”

Dear Marissa,
I can’t find what I bought you. Big surprise, huh? But when I do find it and mail it, look at it very carefully, especially the label because it is especially for you. Nothing new in CT, same as VT. Well only 16 more days to Valentine’s Day + only 11 more days to my special day + 2 more days until my special month. I hope everything is special with you. Your plant is groovy + misses you. Beauty misses you + Daddy and I miss you. Well now that I‘ve written you a card I hope you’re happy.


This is such an embodiment of so many of her characteristics. Thoughtful, wacky, funny, and constantly losing presents. I was trying to remember if she ever ended up sending me the lost item. I couldn’t recall,  but I am sure it was hilarious.

See something. Say something?

It recently became apparent to me that I am more paranoid about in tune to potential homicides than most.  It started innocently enough, when after being blown off by one guy or another I began to justify this sudden absence by assuming the man was in a coma. It was after I began to increase my Investigation Discovery consumption that I accelerated my justification of said rejection from coma to murder.
It became old hat for me to say, “Oh that guy? Haven’t heard from him, I am pretty positive he was the Long Island strangler anyway.” And as I type this, I still think this to be true. I guess the feeling of relief of having my life spared is meant to outweigh the annoyance at rejection? I don’t know…. I have issues. I am working on them. 
Apparently, all of this television watching combined with the belief that I exclusively date murderers, makes me feel like the female American version of Sherlock Holmes. This belief has forced me into a constant state of questioning whether I should be saying something about all of the potential criminals I am seeing throughout the streets of NYC, which is quite problematic because as paranoid as I might be, I dislike any type of authority figure beyond reason.  I am not necessarily proud of this fact, but at least I am aware of my weaknesses?
Anyway- so I am constantly paranoid and in denial about the fact that someone could ever not want to date me, you get it. But I have a point beyond that. This is basically a 2 part revelation.  Last week I had the great pleasure of going to Montreal for an unforgettable work experience. And I have to say those Canadians have it right.
Flying can be a pretty harrowing experience for most. But immediately after physically detaching our plane from LGA and entering a flight pattern towards Canada I could feel a tide shifting. People were friendly. And helpful. And that adorable little accent! I could just listen to flight attendants discuss safety procedures for days! The Canadians also know that a well timed drink (11 am on a Monday? Absolutely) is the way to this American’s heart! The French language, the cobblestone, and mostly that calm Canadian vibe, sold me on Montreal. I didn’t think anyone was going to murder me once! Although… I wasn’t there long enough to find someone to date and then reject me. Regardless I have drawn the conclusion that I am not overly anxiety prone, it’s New York!  Je t’aime Montreal. Je t’aime.

The love I have for rainbows is insane. I am not a mathematician but rainbows + Canadians= heaven.

This past July 4th was spent, as most past have been, on the Cape. Having spent nearly every summer, with the exception of a few, on Cape Cod for a better part of my life, it’s always good to be home. And I am not sure if it’s because I am a water sign or due to my aggressive hot flashes, but I am never happier and more comfortable than when by some large body of water.   Anyway, I was forced to come back to the sauna I call a home due to my obligation to work for a living post July 4th and although the isle of Manhattan is surrounded by water by definition, my ability to be submerged in water is limited.
I’ve mentioned in the past that I have the good fortune to live just steps away from the ever classy John Jay Community Pool.  So imagine my surprise and delight when my best friend stopped by on Sunday and wanted to go for a swim. (Most times when I suggest a trip to the pool to friends, it is met with laughter. I am never kidding.)  As the words were out of her mouth I simultaneously donned my swimsuit and was ready to go.  I almost felt the same joy as when my parents would inform me of an upcoming trip to Disneyworld as a youth. (slash if I were to decide to go to Disneyworld right this minute.

Anyway, I’ll cut to the chase. This city is so damn hot we were rejected from the community pool.  Desperate, sweaty city dwellers were lined up for hours in wait as the shrieks and cheer of swimmers echoed from within the confines of the swimming area. I am so depressed. I never thought the day would come when I would be rejected from the community pool, but alas, new accommodations must be made. Fortunately there are options and I will be exploring them all. King and Grove, prepare your waters for me!

They say it’s my birthday

So it’s my birthday.

I have never been a huge fan. It’s like most things in my life. I get overly excited, then stressed out in order to achieve the dreams I have established for the day of my birth and ultimately let down that I cannot reach the ridiculous expectations I have set forth for the celebration.

Birthdays to me mean straightening my hair, being with my best pals, and potentially dancing the night away until dawn’s early light with the knowledge that I can do what I want because it’s my birthday. Not that I typically shy away from the “I do what I want” attitude, it’s just that usually what I want is to be snuggled up in my bed far before the dawn’s early light.

So ultimately, I can’t actually stay awake to celebrate appropriately. I wish I were a person that wanted to shout from the rooftops that it’s my birth month. Plan extravagant trips and celebrations. Be the guest of honor at a surprise party. But at the end of the day birthdays bring about a lot of emotion and anxiety to me. It marks the fact that I am one year older and not necessarily a year closer to where I envisioned I would be at this stage of my life.

I am looking past that anxiety this year and focusing on how 29 will be my best year yet. Just like New Year’s Day, I will plan to do things better this year. I will be more focused on peace, love, and happiness… and all that jazz. Let’s see how it goes. Happy B-day to me…

New York I love you, but you’re letting me down.

As the seasons change, I am once again in a state of retrospection. Who am I? Where am I? Why am I here?  You know those real life altering meditations where I am once again reminded of why I both love and hate New York City. It is a fascinating situation where I literally feel both emotions equally and fully. Due to the fact that I am a victim of a top 10 list society, I will list here the top 10 reasons contributing to this dichotomous relationship.** After writing this it got lengthy so will be broken out into 2 installments.

1. The people. God why are there so many people??? I love people! I hate people! Sometimes it’s nice to look around and think “Wow all of these tourists are visiting MY home, because it is so cool and great.” Most times, I am thinking “WOW I want all of these tourists gone immediately, along with half of the residents of the isle of Manhattan.” Mama needs room to breathe.

2. Said people like to talk to you. Sometimes this is in the form of friendly banter and I feel like “Wow this is amazing people care about me!” Most times it’s some variation of heckling my reaction is “Dude I am not actually going to smile right now, no things are not okay, I am sad and I am going to continue to cry directly into my martini in public and it’s okay to do that because I am in NYC and everyone here is nuts and at least I am fully clothed.” And all other times these people just want me to join some type of feminist cult.

3. Dining Al Fresco. There are so many options of dining outside. It’s fantastic! The sun is shining, people are jolly, and things are feeling fine. Although 75% of these places are located directly behind a dumpster, you have 30 centimeters between the diners next to you, or if you are lucky you are on a roof. Roofs are good. I love roofs. On to the next.

4. Roofs. Everybody loves a good rooftop bar. I am included in this populous. They make me feel like I am Beyonce and Jay Z. I want to roll up to every single Roof Top bar wearing a white linen suit and a fedora. Maybe I am thinking of the Will Smith video for Miami, whatever I just love being roof side. And everyone cool has a rooftop terrace of their own. Except me. Because I am poor. So that’s why I also hate them.

5.The rent. You’ve heard that LCD Soundsystem Song. “New  York’s the greatest if you get someone to pay the rent.” Well it’s true. NYC rent is damn expensive. And most people live in what the rest of the country could only consider a pantry. And you continually feel like a pauper. But if you are rich in NYC I imagine it is simply amazing. If I won the lottery I would get a Butler and make him fan me with a giant Palm Frond all year long. 

We are halfway there. The rest is to be continued. Can you contain your excitement?? 


7 years ago I would have never imagined myself spending 90 minutes in a 120 degree room in search of a workout.  Thanks to my sister in law for being the kind of person who would want to do something like this for a bachelorette activity, I discovered although Bikram yoga was just as awful as it sounds, it could potentially cure me of my hot flashes so I continued on.  

Personally – I feel like there have to be some issues with a workout that has more warnings in the beginning of the class than apparent benefits. Teachers casually mention that yogis might pass out, feel dizzy, nauseated, light headed, and become short of breath in the same sentence that they tell you to lengthen your spine.  And that frightens me slightly, but then they mention things like that I am a “flower petal blooming”  and that I am there to “fall more in love with myself” and that I am replenishing my body and soul and I feel pretty much incredible. Plus they convinced me with all the heat and bending I could release some what can seem like unbearable amounts of stress I feel on a daily basis and I was cautiously optimistic. 

So for the past few weeks I have been going on the semi regular and it isn’t that bad. I am not so sure about how much my chackras are aligning, but I do feel like that sweating out approximarely 2 gallons of water  has to be somewhat cleansing right? Until I arrived tonight and someone was being carried out on a stretcher  and I realized that Bikram yoga is beyond my threshold of weird.  Anyone that likes stretching and balance in 120 degrees, while drinking the sweat of 45 strangers is a whole new level of crazy I can’t even begin to comprehend. People get carried out on strechers and nobody blinks an eye! Some chick was muttering in the corner to herself repeatedly about toxins! It smells like rotten foot! I am going another 5 days until my trial membership expires in the hopes that my face thins out a little bit for photos, but that’s about it. Later yogis.  I need cooler temps and better aromas. 

My so-called senile life.

On a recent Friday night as I was folding my laundry I went to tune into my nightly episode of Frasier on the Hallmark channel and was dismayed to discover said channel, was “out of order”. In a fit of rage I grabbed my phone to call Time Warner, when it dawned on me that I was spending my Friday night folding laundry and watching Frasier. Or not watching as the case may be. Then I further realized I am actually a 98-year-old woman trapped in a 28-year-old body and I began to hyperventilate. But then decided to write this top 10 list explaining my elderly nature.
  1. I love lace.
  2. I also love aprons.
  3. Teapots are also a favorite.
  4. My affinity for Frasier is equivalent to my love of Golden Girls. 
  5. I can’t stay awake past 11:30 on most nights.
  6. I often find myself referring to kids these days, not in a bad way, but in an “I’m completely clueless about what’s cool way.”
  7. I am deaf enough that I am constantly shouting, but also get mildly offended by how loud music is in restaurants.
  8. Every day I grow a little more comfortable with the idea of multiple cats.
  9. I have an unnatural love for BINGO.
  10. I can’t remember the last item on the list.

So that it’s I am getting BJ a brother and a Life Alert ASAP. If you need me I’ll be finding a way to crochet seashells onto doilies. OR alternatively amping up my street cred with tats and aggressive nail art, I am undecided. I’ll keep you abreast of the situation.