B is for Broke, with a capital B, and that rhymes with P, and that stand for Pudgy bellies.

Hi. I am Katie. I am B. ro. ke.  

Let’s be honest, though, it wouldn’t have been a summer-of-a-lifetime if I didn’t end up broke. The funny thing is - I barely bought anything. No presents – for others or myself (well, maybe a few tiny things here and there), but for the most part, no gifts. The majority of my money went toward food. Though I should probably be embarrassed by that, I’m not. I wined and dinned like a queen these past three months. So I would like to have something to show (other than my pudgy belly) for my money spent -  

A Sweet Treat: The all-inclusive KP Restaurant Review, which took me 10 weeks, and hundreds of dollars, to thoroughly complete. 

Marakeseum – Traditional Ethiopian food just south of Washington Park. You eat pureed veggies that sort of resemble baby food with your hands. It’s a riot and should be done family style, with everyone reaching their hands across everyone else to soak up the smashed goodness.   

Buddakahn – The place to see and be seen. A true celeb hot spot. Though the food is pricey, the décor is something not to be missed and the food is flavorful. It’s known for its Asian-fusion food, but also turns into a lounge at night, so the drinks are tasty too.    

Fig & Olive – In the heart of the Meatpacking District, I consumed some of the best scallops I have ever eaten. As its name suggests, the restaurant specializes in olive oils, so before the meal, you get to try oil from California, Italy and Spain. Italy tasted like the regular olive oil your parents use in everyday cooking. California actually tasted like how you would imagine the state should taste if you could eat it – summery and light with a slight fog. Spain was a tad salty, but for obvious reasons, I favored it. This dinner took Jessica, Dana and I two hours, but we had some good conversations.    

Jing Fongs & Vanessa’s Dumplings – I dragged Irena and Jessica to Jing Fong’s with me because I was desperately seeking authentic Chinese dim sum. Sorry to report, but this place was a flop. They didn’t have the charts racing around with choices of steamed buns and such. The menu was totally in Japanese and the few dumplings we did order left something to be desired (probably because we were too worried we were eating dog or cat since the language barrier was just too hard to break). We left, leaving many of the dumplings behind. But I, determined to find some good dumplings, decided to try Vanessa’s, which came to me on recommendation from some random guy in a bar. For $2, I got a plate of 6 steamed dumplings filled with veggies and chicken. So yummy. Mission accomplished.  

Di Fara’s – Killer pizza in Brooklyn. See previous post about this place. 

Global Kitchen/Pax – depending on if I was working at Universal or Us, respectively. It was at these little cafés that I filled up on my eggs whites in a wheat wraps and my iced coffees just the way I like ‘em – light and sweet. 

Elephant and Castle – A tasty brunch joint in the West Village. I thoroughly enjoyed my goat cheese and spinach egg white omelet. It’s a cute, quaint place that is reminiscent of someone’s home, which makes it the ideal locale for catching up with old friends.      

Haru – Another trendy place, specializing in sushi. I would say you probably go for the atmosphere and the convenience (it was one block away from my apartment). The fish is fresh, but it’s so expensive for such small rolls that you almost feel guilty spending your mullah.  

Bam – A true, honest-to-goodness automat. Like what you see on TV. Supposedly they’re all the rage in China and Japan and such. You put in your money, push a button and out comes a hot dog or a hamburger or chicken fingers. It really baffled my mind. But, hey, they say this is the food of the future and the place looked damn cool!  

16 Handles – Great ice-cream by the ounce. A truly innovative concept place in which you mix whatever flavors of the soft serve you want and then top it with whatever toppings you want. Then, you pay by how much the whole thing weighs. It makes already fun ice-cream that much more fun. 

Pinkberry – The city’s famous Fro-Yo place. It serves tart yogurt topped with fresh fruit or granola. My favorite was the coffee flavor with strawberries and bananas. My only complaint is that it seems a bit expensive for yogurt and fruit, ringing in at a little over $6 for a small. 

Cafetasia – My absolute favorite cheap Thai restaurant in the city. If I wasn’t going there, I was ordering in. The tables in the restaurant are cafeteria-style, meaning you sit next to a total stranger. While the food is cheap (by New York City standards anyway) the atmosphere is not compromising. The lights hang low and the bathroom is co-ed. Plus, you essentially pee in the dark because if you turn the lights up (as I did), the waiter comes in to turn them off again. Strange...but fun. Only in NY, right? As for the delivery, one night I called in at 7:29 p.m. and the food was literally at my door at 7:38 p.m. Though it seemed almost impossible (and I am still confused by it), everything in the city is ridiculously fast, so I didn’t think twice about it. Don’t ask, don’t tell right? 

Jamaican street vendor on the corner of 7^th and 51^st – Quick and affordable. Such scrumptious curried chicken. I always skipped the rice and got extra salad. The whole lunch cost me $4. And I had my food in less than a minute. Talk about a new spin on fast food.   

S’Mac – A small hole-in-the-wall specializing in only macaroni and cheese. Because of the high calorie content, it was pretty hard to find someone to go with me, so I waited until everyone left and treated myself. Though they have every choice of mac and cheese you could ever imagine (including mac with hamburger, sausage, goat cheese, veggies and bread crumbs), I stuck with the all-American cheddar kind in the smallest size possible. It came out in a sizzling metal skillet with a crispy, baked top. Mmm, mmm good.   

Levain’s Bakery – This place was featured on Food Network. Apparently, the owners began this cookie shop because they wanted to carb-load before running marathons. Each cookie they sell weighs ½ a pound (and probably makes you gain 10), but it totally worth it. Jess, Rachel and I essentially did their whole concept….but backward. After we ran/walked the 5-mile race in Central Park, we then chowed down on our cookies (so much for carb-loading BEFORE the race). We split all four types of cookies they sell, digging into each with our fingers and not caring that chocolate and oatmeal and peanut butter were smearing all over our faces.  

Gobo: Food for the Five Senses – A vegetarian restaurant. But what they lack in meat, they make up for in flavor and color. A true foodie’s heaven. I enjoyed the veggie cobb salad with brown rice, lentils, beans, fruit, nuts and other deliciousness. Jess and I would dine here just to make ourselves feel good that we were providing our bodies with filling, yet organic meals, while getting our daily in-take of fruits and veggies. And we’d talk about how healthy we were being the entire meal.      

And scene. Enough of the food review before I get hungry. 

The food itself is only half of it, though. It is my philosophy that a delicious meal must be shared with great company in a pleasurable atmosphere in order to be an all-around remarkable dining experience. Sitting in the airport and going through some of my fondest memories of dinners and lunches and brunches and midnight snacks, I can’t help but relive all the memories. A girl should only be as lucky as I am to have had hundreds of splendid meals with even better friends and conversations...even if she only has a pudgy belly and empty pockets to show for it. 

You can’t know where you are going, unless you know where you’ve been

Indulge.

My word of the summer.

And I owned it like I’ve never owned anything before. Indulge in food. Indulge in work. Indulge in alone time. Indulge in sight-seeing. Indulge in night life. Indulge in friends – lost and found.

I didn’t just eat Ethiopian food. I let my nostrils fill with the spicy smells and let the residue from the spongy bread soak into my fingers. I made it a feast. My friends joined me and we laughed as heartily as the food we devoured. At my internships, I listened. Even when I wasn’t being spoken to, I let my ears ring with the sound of the executives’ voices as they speculated about the direction the company going in. At the Broadway shows, I clapped hard to show my appreciation. I didn’t stop until my hands were throbbing and red with excitement. On the Brooklyn Bridge, I observed the city for what it is. I took note of every minute detail, every building, every speck of light. At dance class, I really felt the hardwood floor smacking under me. I danced with vigor and didn’t care that I could barely keep up with steps.

Throughout every one of my indulgences (some call it narcissistic, I call it a savory use of time), I was tirelessly passionate about nothing in particular but finding myself and what I want out of life.

Where does all this come from, you ask? Well, I was riding the subway and saw this staring directly at me, like an omen from God, helping me realize where I have been and what my role was:

"There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter - the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in search of something . . . Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion." -E. B. White, Here is New York

I, of course, am number 3.

I am relishing in every last second, hopelessly clinging on to the pulsating vibe exuding from the city like it’s life support, in hopes that I won’t wake up tomorrow and have to catch a plane back to reality. Maybe I don’t know where I am going and maybe that’s because I don’t know exactly where I’ve been. But I do know that I’ve done everything whole-heartedly and with passion. So if that’s any indication of anything, well then, I can’t wait to enjoy the ride.

En route-ine

Do you know what I love about this city?

I love that no matter how long the line is at Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts, it only takes 5 minutes for me to order my drink and get it because the employees know New Yorkers are always on a time crunch. I love the fresh display of flowers keeping the bodegas smelling pretty. I love the taxi cab drivers who think I am a tourist and try to take me the long-winded way home. I love the bouncers who care more about a pretty face than an accurate ID. I love the tourists who clog up Times Square trying to figure out which restaurants are the cheapest, when all along all they need to do is head to the East Village. I love that every morning I can go to my favorite café on 52nd and 6th to get my egg whites on a wheat wrap with 4 packets of Heinz ketchup and a medium iced coffee with skim milk and two Splenda for $4.55 after tax. I love that it never takes me more than 20 minutes to get to work on the subway, even if trains are held up. I love that my doorman pretends to not know who I am because it is his job to see everyone’s ID card whenever they enter the building. And I even love the man who sits on the corner across from The Blue Water Grille and monotonously says “One penny a day” every single day in a voice that resembles the sound a calloused heel makes when it’s being scraped by a cheese grater.

What can I say though? I’m just a small-town girl - now city-slicker - that loves her routine.

I wake up to the sunrise outside of my window and the sound of my Gossip Girl ringtone/alarm clock that I promptly set the night before. I stumble my way to the bathroom, turn on the water in the shower as hot as it will go and proceed to brush my teeth in the sink, which is practically invading on shower’s space. It’s not until my teeth are minty fresh and my body is tingly clean that I can even fathom what my day will look like. I give my closet a quick minute run-down in my head and plan my look-of-the-day as I wrap my bath sheet around me. By the time I am done getting ready, I have worked up an appetite for my eggs and coffee. I play a game with myself to see how many blocks I can walk without being stopped by traffic and lights, and sometimes, I even ignore the blinking hand telling me to halt if I know I can make it across. I always know it’s going to be a good day if I can walk the “L” at the crosswalk of a four-way stop without stopping because I caught the traffic light at the perfect moment.

Oh those crosswalks. If you’re not running into someone you know, you’re bumping into someone you don’t (literally). And so it goes, and I love it - everyday like clockwork. So if anyone could tell me what I am supposed to do about heading back to Gainesville, where egg whites on whole wheat wraps and crosswalks don’t exist, be my guest.

For the benefit of Mr. Kite, there will be a show tonight

Hem, hem…ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages….Something peculiar. Something stupendous. Something for everyone …..My Life: a three-ring circus.

To your left: My Work (OoOOoooo)
God I love my job. Let me just say it once more. I love my job. Really, I do. Despite the sometimes stressful nature of making sure all the mailings are sent out on time and properly, my internship comes with the greatest perks. Not only do I get to meet weekly with the different departments within my record label to pick the executives’ brains, but I also get to go to concerts. And it’s not that I just get to go to concerts. Oh no. I get to sit in the 10th row for free and then go backstage to meet the bands and performers.

About two weeks ago, my internship sent me and some of the other interns to the Hinder and 3 Doors Down concert in New Jersey. The group of us hoped into an expense-paid car to make the hour journey into the neighboring city. We made our way to our prime seats and jammed to musicians that we normally listen to at 100 percent volume in the office. Going backstage to meet the bands was just an added bonus and the whole car ride back we giggled about how amazing our lives are.
Fast forward to the following week (which was actually a week ago) and my work did it again. They sent me to the “Ten out of Tenn” tour to see one of our new artists, Erin McCarley. Oh. My. God. As if looks aren’t doing it for her, her voice is simply sexy. And she plays the guitar. She kinda has this new-age, country, alternative thing about her music and well, I am a huge fan. She played in an intimate lounge and I am still secretly wishing I could be her. But this isn’t a magic show and I can’t become someone I am not, so on with the show.

A few days ago, none other than Kevin Costner made his way into our office to talk about his band, which is signed to our record label. Though admittedly at first I had no idea who he was, once he came in I recognized him…Swing Vote, The Guardian…you know. It was amazing to hear him speak about his passion for his music, and even more amazing to take a picture with him.

To your right: My Playtime - Featuring a water show and Japenese karaoke at an Irish bar with a Canadian and a Bulgarian. (AHhhhh)

A little while ago my friend, Irena, came to visit. She has been dying for a guest appearance in this blog so here it is:
Presenting, in person, that 5-foot-6 bundle of dynamite, Irena, the Bulgarian.

Since she hadn’t been to New York in years, she was determined to partake in adventures that Jess and I had not yet embarked upon. So the three of us took on a water show.

Perhaps it’s one of NYC best kept secrets, but kayaking on the Hudson River off of Pier 96 is free. Yes, that’s right folks. For no money at all, you can get a locker to store your purse, a life jacket, a kayak and a paddle. All you have to do is bring yourself. Irena and I double kayaked with me in back and her in front. Jess managed her own. It had been so long since my Girl Scout days and kayaking that I nearly forgot just how much fun it is to get your ass wet from the sunken seats and fight about which way to paddle if you want to turn left. To make the time even more enjoyable, we sang Pocahontas songs as we mushed through the water, and I realized that sometimes the best things in life are reminiscent of your childhood.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time of the show where I wow you with my singing ability.

It was my goal this summer to sing at a karaoke bar. It only seemed appropriate, being in a city of performers and all, that I would perform. So I dragged Jess, some of our friends from work (including a Canadian intern) and some of our friends from home (including Irena) to a sing with me at bar called Stout.

I know, I know, it sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn’t it? So a Jew, a Bulgarian and a Canadian walk into an Irish bar…little did they know they would make fools of themselves singing everything from Jessie’s Girl to All I Want for Christmas is You to Tenacious D covers and then leave at 3 in the morning. Aw heck, who am I kidding? These are the nights I live for.

Intermission: “Get your peanuts, get your popcorn”
The cotton candy man is played by young designers at the Young Designers Market. The popcorn sellers are the ever-so-influential SoHo boutiques. And lavish nightlife will be filling in for the peanut guy.

Sometimes, I feel like a little kid at the circus ready to throw a temper tantrum when my parents say that I can’t purchase the over-priced goods. It seems that in NYC everyone is selling something I simply can’t resist. Whether it’s a great dress, my ideal pair of boots or expensive food and drinks at the hottest restaurants in town, I can’t help but become the wide-eyed girl wanting a little bit of everything. But I’m not a little kid any more, and temper tantrums don’t get me anywhere when there is no money in my bank account. So I admiringly look at all the things I want and then leave...or order an appetizer.

Honestly though, how can you go to the circus and not even bring home one souvenir just to show your friends that you were actually there? No parent in their right-mind could argue that. So I had to give in a little at the Young Designers Market.

Every weekend in the part of town somewhere between Chinatown and Little Italy, the Young Designers Market opens its doors to reveal some of the city’s up-and-coming designers, including clothing creators and jewelers, so my friend Emily and I were dying to go. Each article of clothing and accessory is more artistic or more funky or more fabulous than the next, and I chose to treat myself to a simple, embroidered dress that will go great with my dream boots, once I find (and can afford) them. I bartered with the young woman and left feeling proud that I not only got a great deal, but also that I had landed a one-of-a-kind dress by a potentially huge designer.

Scuttle in now folks. The lights are dimming. The show’s a go. Come one, come all. You don’t wanna miss this one: a disappearing act. (Awww)

A week ago my partner in crime left. (Notice our good-bye dinner picture)Jess only booked housing for eight weeks, so she packed her bags and head home leaving me high and dry. Life in this city for me just isn’t the same. To top it off, my other two roommates have left for good too. So now I am attempting to enjoy some peace and quiet in my apartment. The problem is I can’t seem to find the quiet in my own mind.

Do you know that the other evening I almost (I repeat, almost) went to a movie by myself? Then, of course, I came to and realized there’s no need to pity myself for not having someone to do everything with during every second of my day. But just as this summer has, this past week has taught me a lot. Being alone is something I desperately need practice on. Thank God I made tons of other friends this summer who have been keeping my busy gallivanting around town for meals and window shopping.

Now if you will, silence please. In the center ring of my three-ring spectacle, of course, is me.

With nearly too much alone time on my hands, I spent hours thinking about myself, where I came from and my passions. My aunt came to visit and took me to see “In The Heights,” the Broadway show that recently won multiple Tony awards. Watching the performers sing and dance with exorbitant amounts of energy on stage didn’t leave me feeling happy. It left me feeling like a part of me was missing. The whole reason I fell in lust with New York back in the day was because it served as home to my beloved musical theatre. It was the heart, the passion, to my very existence. And every part of me yearned to be back in the city before this summer so that I could revel in arts.

The show inspired me. Thanks to the handy-dandy internet, I googled my favorite dance studio in the city, Broadway Dance Center, and showed up to take a 2 hour jazz class. Like a dehydrated man finally taking a sip of water, I rekindled a fervor within me, and felt happy again to be alone in my own skin. Sometime between college and internships, I forgot about my old friend and outlet, dancing, and I have since vowed to myself that every once in a while I’ll go back to it.

Because this is The KP Spectacular, the greatest show on earth, I have some special guest appearances for the grand finale. Sandra Oh, Heather Graham, and the bachelor from the first season of The Bachelor will now briefly enter my circus.

When walking around Union Square and the Meatpacking district, I spotted all these characters. Let’s face it: it wouldn’t be a true New York experience if I didn’t have some random celeb run-ins. You didn’t honestly think that in my two-and-a-half months here I wouldn’t happen to bump into some stars, did you? These serendipitous meetings were kinda like what the elephant act is to the circus – they gave that little extra oomph to my summer that I just can’t seem to forget.

While my past 10 weeks were jam-packed with more fun than I could have ever even hoped for, I am finally preparing for my departure this Saturday. I’m slowly packing up the ol’ circus tent after going out with a bang because all good things must come to an end. But what can I say? I guess I can’t run away to the circus forever.