GUEST POST ALERT!!!!!! Due to the lack of anything besides work and sleep occurring in my life this week, please enjoy this guest post from my beautiful, talented, super-smart globetrotting sister Erika!!!! ~ Megan
As many of you may already know, I have moved to the Big Apple. Yup, that’s right, this small town girl finally made the big move to the big city! Obviously there are quite a few differences between the valley in Oregon where I have spent my entire life (all whopping 23 years) and New York City – taxis, public transportation, shopping other than Ross Dress For Less, etc. However, since I work for and live with a family from the Upper East Side, my New York experience is a little bit different than many others who have ventured to this great city. As a personal assistant slash live in nanny, I would say my life currently is a mix between The Nanny Diaries and The Devil Wears Prada. Minus the whole crazy evil boss part …well, maybe not minus the crazy.
I adore my boss, and she is amazing and wonderful …but I have had to run for cover when she is in one of her “moods”. Like last summer when she got upset that she couldn’t get a real person on the phone when she was trying to contact the local cable company, and ended up chucking her iPhone and shattering it into a million pieces. In her defense, those automatic systems most companies have set up these days are highly annoying, and will even get my dander in an uproar. (Side note: as her personal assistant, and because she hates dealing with such things, I now get to make those types of phone calls for her so I can personally vouch to their annoyingness). But anyways, I am highly off topic now and must get back to the point of my little guest blog.
So, as I stated earlier there are many differences between Oregon life and my new New York life. I have two wonderful examples I get to share with you today…so exciting, I know…
The Art Show
So the woman I work for (lets call her J) is the head of a non-profit art company that buys and sells art. What exactly her job is, I could not tell you. There are a lot of events and benefits and dinners and schmoozing and whatnot. I still have yet to figure out how she makes a living. Anywhoo, this last week was Art Week in New York, meaning J was running around like a crazy person with me jogging along behind her, going a thousand miles a minute and trying to hit up 7 events every day. So when she invited me along to this art show down on the pier, I agreed. Heck, I know nothing about art and the whole point of me moving to NYC was to gain new experiences, right? So off I went to Pier 92. The whole event lasted about 5 hours and by the end of the day, I had figured out three major facts.
Fact #1: I am pursuing the wrong career.
Like I said, I have yet to figure out exactly what it is J does for a living. Well, from the impression I got, her days are spent walking around galleries, looking at random things that people have decided to call “art”, and getting wasted.
First things first - the walking around galleries is great exercise. It was a thousand degrees inside because no one bothered to look at the weather report and see that, oh hey, it was going to be 70 degrees that day, and maybe the heat didn’t need to be cranked up to maximum power. So naturally, I sweated off about 5 pounds at this event.
Second, art consists of a random mixture of splatters on paper, pornography and a little bit of actual talent. J bought one thing the whole day. It was a wooden fold out chair that, when not in chair position, stated (and I quote, so please excuse the language as it is not mine), “shit is fucked and it’s all bullshit”. This “art” was done as part of the Occupy Wall Street protest, and while I see the sense in having a sign that is also a chair if you are actually out protesting … the fact that J (who is without a doubt part of the 1%) bought this for $35,000 blows my mind.
Lastly, art people spend their days getting drunk and having a great time. Who the heck wouldn’t want that in their every day job!??!?! At this one art show, there were three VIP lounges, 4 champagne bars, and 5 regular bars. After sweating off 2.5 pounds halfway through the show due to the sauna-like setting I was forced to be in, I was craving some water. Guess what … there was NO water served at any of those beverage locations - not one. So no wonder people buy art for outrageous prices, they are all smashed and too wasted to care.
Remind me why I am spending hundreds of thousands of dollars to go to school and become a doctor when I can just get drunk and either buy, sell, or make some random piece of art by throwing some paint on a canvas and make millions all day, every day??
Fact #2: I know nothing about art.
This is a very simple story. The whole time we were at the art fair, I said about 4 sentences. I know nothing about art and I will never pretend to know anything. The only time I really entered into the conversation was a giant mistake. J asked me if I saw anything that I found interesting. Well, of course I wanted to say something intelligent so I looked at my surroundings and found one of those pictures that is made from a thousand other tiny little pictures. Hopefully you know the kind I am talking about – its like one giant collage from a bunch of other tiny pictures. Well, lo and behold I spotted one of those and said something along the lines of how it impressed me that they can do things like that, blah blah blah. Well end of story, J and I go up for a closer look, and come to find out that the little tiny pictures in the collage are in fact photos of male and female genitalia. Good job Erika. Way to freaking go. Needless to say, I had nothing else to add to the conversation the rest of the day.
Fact #3: Hot/Famous people are at art shows.
This is by far the most important lesson I learned that day at the art show. As I was walking along, gazing at random paintings and being distracted by flashing neon lights, I accidentally ran into a group of folks walking the opposite direction. Being polite slash slightly embarrassed, I quickly apologized and the group laughed it off and that should have been that …except it wasn’t. This group I happened to walk into happened to have this really, really, REALLY hot man with them. And, as he caught my eye, I happened to find his face extremely familiar.
As I walked away, I started thinking to myself, “How the heck do I know him? He is hot ... like the hottest guy I have ever seen in real life ... and HOW THE HECK DO I KNOW HIM? When have I ever met someone that beautiful? Can I really know someone that hot and not notice it? Have I met him before? WHY IS HE SO FAMILIAR!!??!?”. These thoughts went through my mind for a good 30 seconds until it hit me: I do not actually know the man. He is familiar because I spend the majority of my Thursday nights watching him on television. He is in fact Dr. Avery from Grey’s Anatomy; and yes, sad to say but I will admit it, for almost a full minute I thought I actually personally knew the man and he didn’t exist in my little fantasy television world. And for those of you who have no idea who I am talking about because you “live under a rock” (a direct quote from my sister Megan), here is the man himself:
And yes ... he is just as beautiful in real life.
So needless to say, I had a minor internal freak out inside after I finally figured out who he was. Sadly, there was no acting on it, and although I passed by him again later on in the day, my clumsy run in was to be our only encounter. I did not catch his eye and he did not fall madly in love with me …so clearly, something must be wrong with him.
Okay, so … I did not really get to my facial part of this blog, but I have a feeling it’s quite long enough as it is. So the facial part will just have to be put on pause, and maybe my darling older sister will let me guest write again soon and I can finish this in “Art Shows & Facials Part Two”. Which involves me, a very angry midget Hungarian woman, and lots and lots of physical pain. Until next time, folks.
xoxo - Erika
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