NYC Part #2: Where Emily looks crazy on a subway, and Bree runs off with a banana

Hey y'all.


Today, we're heading to Venice Beach. I've never been there, but I hear it's where Muscle Beach is. This is very exciting.


But on to the rundown of my New York trip!


We conquered Broadway, with viewings of Jersey Boys and Wicked.

Emily Wing Smith, Bree Despain and me.

We ate lots of awesome food.

Here we are at Katz's Delicatessen, home of that famous scene from When Harry Met Sally. You know... the one where Sally does the... thing... and that woman says, "I'll have what she's having." Which was a pastrami sandwich. 

Our hotel was near Times Square, so we were there a lot. Below, you can see we asked Stevie Wonder to take our picture. 

iPhone cameras are hard to work.

Bree and I went to the Harry Potter exhibit. We must've gone at a slow time, because we were the only ones in line. I think they were expecting more people to come, because we had to stand in line a long time waiting for them to let us in to the exhibit.

Here's Bree, standing in line. That's how she looks when she's waiting. She struck that pose the entire time.

But no one else came. So they finally let the two of us into this large room with a stage. On the stage was a guy with a fake British accent, standing next to a chair with a hat. The guy and his accent were all, "Who in the audience would like to be sorted by the sorting hat?"


Bree and I looked at each other. We were the only ones in the "audience".


Guy: "Any volunteers?"


us: "..."


Because, when you only have two people, do they really need to be sorted?


Eventually we both took our turns with the sorting hat. We ended up in Gryffindor. We must've been stout of heart.


Emily Wing Smith did a fantastic job at her reading. 

She had to practice on the Subway ride to make sure it timed out right. 

Here's Emily reading out loud. Just for fun, Bree and I took turns acting like she was crazy, and then slowly moving away. 

In between the readings, David Levithan would stand up and read from an educational sex magazine.

David Levithan, describing how boys and girls have different parts. 

That is not a joke. He really did read from the sex magazine.. Somehow, it fit the evening events, but now that I'm telling about it, I can't make it make sense.


I also got to meet with my awesome editor Kristin Daly Rens, as well as Emily from HarperCollins marketing and Allison from publicity. I presented them with a "Mormon Cookbook", and said, in a solemn voice and a bowed head, "This is a gift from my people."

I shouldn't have said it so formally, because they began to gingerly leaf through the pages of casseroles and jello, taking care not to bend the spine, and promising to do right by these hallowed recipes. 


I quickly clarified that I don't actually cook, and that despite what they've heard, these casserole recipes are not actually scripture, so they can feel free to abuse the book without offending anyone.


The rest of my pictures feature only Bree and Emily, because I'd often take out my camera and give a quick, "Smile, girls."


The result is what looks like a series of engagement pictures for them. 


Here's the happy couple, after the official announcement, celebrating at John's Pizzeria.

Each of us - a half - incomplete
together we are as one…
in this there shall be joy.

Look how daintily they ingest their BBQ from Will's Barbecue...

Each hour, each day, each year
We grow as two, yet as one,
We grow apart, yet together
Forming an eternal love

Here they are, under the famous Katz's Delicatessen sign. The world is their oyster!

Love turns
one person into two
and two into one

But, at times, even though they were smiling on the outside, I sensed a restlessness developing...

The most joyous of occasions
Is the union of man and woman
In celebration of life…

Eventually, it came to a boiling point, when I clandestinely snapped this picture of Bree with another man (Robbie, Boy With Books) and... a giant banana.

Three hearts
that beat
as one…

It's okay, though. Emily found someone else too:

Strangely, the "I Feel Lucky" button on Picasa wasn't so lucky this time.

And of course, in the end, the cow ran away with the spoon.

Okay, I just went to Google "Cow ran away with the spoon" to get a picture of the cow and the spoon together, but it turns out it was the dish who ran away with the spoon. 

What the what? Am I the only one who always remembered it as the Cow running away with the spoon? I'm a little disappointed. Here I thought the poem was being all progressive with a mammalian-flatware relationship. Now it turns out the spoon ended up with a plate. This is a little too normal for me. 

So I jotted down the version of the poem as I remember it, and here it is:

Hey diddle diddle,

The cat ate the fiddle

the cow jumped over the moon

Little Bo Peep lost her sheep,

And the cow ran away with the spoon.

I know now that there are many things wrong with my version, not the least of which is that Little Bo Peep doesn't belong there with her sheep, and any cow who jumped over the moon would be way too tired to run away with a spoon. 

And yes, the cat eats the fiddle in my version, but I ask you, how is that so much weirder than a cat who plays the fiddle?

Ohmyheck. Have I really spent this entire blog discussing Hey Diddle Diddle? What is my problem? 

So much for progress. This blog is so long! Take a few days, digest the entire thing, and then let me know what you think. 


Did anyone else have the cow and the spoon together?

NYC Part #1, a.k.a. Why we asked the Front Desk if we could Smell a Hotel Room

By the time you read this, I'll be in Disneyland. Next to a kid. Who will probably be puking his guts out. 


But before I regale you with tales from SoCal, I have to catch you up with tales of the Garden of the NorEast. Is that how the people "in the know" refer to New York City? Or did that homeless guy on the corner of 41st and 6th Ave steer me wrong? He also sold me tickets to the hottest, newest Broadway show called How To Succeed at the Book of Mormon Without Really Trying... Wickedly.


We couldn't ever find the theater. I think we were had.


Our first night there, we met up with a lovely bunch of bloggers, left over from BEA. (Book Expo America).   

Book Bloggers: Stacey (Pageturners) , Emily (Em's Reading Room), Emily Wing Smith (author), me, Lynsey, Pixie (Pageturners), Bree Despain (author) and Waste Paper Prose's Sara. 

This was also our first attempt to find the Perfect Cupcake. We attempted this feat several times. A day. It was a challenge. But our muffin-tops were up to the task!

This was my plate.

New York was hot. And not "hawt", but hot and muggy. And boy does New York get muggy, which is okay because when I sweat, I look like this:

It's weird too, because I started out in jeans and a t-shirt.

Our hotel room had a slight mildew smell to it, so we called down to the desk to see if we could get another room.


Desk guy: "We do have an extra room. On the 30th floor. Do you want it?"


me (after deliberating with Bree and Emily for a few minutes): "Can we smell it before we commit?"


This seemed to be a reasonable request.


A guy named Juan escorts us to the 30th floor, so we can run a test smell. But when we get to the door, it only opens an inch before the security bar inside the room catches. 


Juan knocks softly. "Danielle? We are coming in..." he whispers.


The three of us exchange glances. 


Juan waits for a moment, then unlocks the door again. This time, it opens all the way. He ushers us in, and then rushes in to smooth out a few wrinkles in one of the beds. 


The door to the bathroom is slightly ajar. 


Juan: "So, how does it smell?"


We're all looking at each other like, "Silly Juan. Who cares how it smells? What we all want to know is, who is Danielle, and why is she hiding somewhere in the room?"


Juan notices a few items on the welcome desk askew and wordlessly rearranges them. 


Juan: "What do you think? You want to trade?"


But we are at a loss for words. Namely because:


1. A mysterious woman named Danielle is still hiding out somewhere in the room. Under the bed? In the bathtub? Who knows?


2. Juan has a thick accent. He may have said Daniel. A random man hiding out in the room sounds even worse.


3. What is Danielle doing in there? Why are the sheets rustled? Is this a party room, for "friends" of the employees?


Juan: "Yes or no?"


We all just sort of shook our heads. "No. Um... thanks for letting us smell." I have to say, the ride back down in the elevator, alone with Juan, was a little awkward.


Surprisingly, "smelling a room" was not our strangest request. We also asked for a needle, some rubbing alcohol, and something that could be used to puncture skin. We asked for these on three separate occasions to aid in the extraction of an infected taste bud, a bulging foot blister, and a ripe lip zit. 


I know what you're thinking: "An infected taste bud, a foot blister, and a lip zit? Why wasn't I invited?"


I know what else you're thinking: "She goes to New York City, and all she can blog about is how she got to smell a room?"


I wanna know what you think. Who was the woman? Was it the make out room? You might be tempted to say she was cleaning the room, but then why was it locked? And why did she hide?


I promise I'll have more stories and pictures later. But I have to run to Disneyland. *Dons cape* *Jumps out window* 

This one time, in New York, Rosie O'Donnell, The Jimmer and I took a plane...

Hey, bloggerland. Long time, no see!

So, I get on the plane from NYC to SLC yesterday, and guess who's sitting two rows behind me? 

The Jimmer. Jimmer Fredette. 

You know, this guy:

The Jimmer. Can also be used as a verb. As in "You got Jimmered."

Apparently he's the best college basketball player in the nation. How do I know this? Because the guy next to me asked for his autograph, and then the guy next to him says, "Who is it?" and the original autograph-asker was all, "It's only the best college basketball player in the nation!"

After which, the guy who didn't know the Jimmer proceeded to tell the Jimmer how he was the best basketball player in his own high school, and he still held the record for some sort of statistic, and wasn't the Jimmer impressed?

The Jimmer was impressed.

Don't believe he was really on my plane? Well, I have the photographic evidence:

The Jimmer is The Guy on the left. Coming off my plane. I took this picture clandestinely. No one even knew I was taking a picture... except maybe the guy on the right, who is staring straight at me. 

And guess who else was on the flight? Maybe the title of the post gave it away, but here she is, the lovely Rosie O'Donnell.

Don't believe that's Rosie? I understand. Bree Despain didn't believe me either. So a little while later, I waited for her to turn her face to me... and voila. Here she is.

Doesn't she look great, even after a 5 hour flight? 

Okay, so I'm planning on blogging all about the epic NYC trip, which involved a daily hunt for cupcakes, two broadway shows, blistering heat and humidity, and a tiny dog named Hogi. 

But as for now, I have to pack my bags. Cuz we're leaving for SoCal. Because summer isn't summer unless you hit both coasts in a two week time span. Right?


*added: It really was Rosie O'Donnell. I just could never get a clear shot!