Big Apple

We're going to New York City (I'm not sure who yet, so we'll leave it at "we're"). It's sort of a last minute thing. But my cousin--let's call him Banker Man--lives there in a ver posh apartment "near Wall Street" (as I've been told to tell the cabbie), and he's given me an open invitation. So Fingers did the math, and we came up with a cheap flight, and now tra la. I'm going to New York City. On Friday. For a long weekend.

And now I can't stop thinking about the movie 200 Cigarettes, with Christina Ricci and Gaby Hoffmann. Because, like us, they're two small town girls (Ronkonkoma, New Jersey) on a trip to the big city (New York), to stay with Christina's cousin (odd coincidence...). And also I think I look a smidge like Christina Ricci.

So Heather and I are Val and Stephie (see picture), and I promise we'll stay the f*ck away from B. My goals for the weekend include:

• Eating a slice of New York 'za.
• Playing chopsticks on the giant piano at FAO Schwartz.
• Buying something from Victoria Secret and Forever 21 (and maybe a fake Fendi...)
• Seeing a Brownstone. Preferably Carrie Bradshaw's, regardless of whether or not she's a real person.
• Having a Starbucks Monday morning on a park bench near Wall Street, enjoying the boys in suits parade by.
• Riding the Staten Island ferry.
• Having an unplanned meeting of some random celebrity. Like, in Central Park or something.
• Hailing a cab.
• Having a New Yorker yell at me (preferably while hailing said cab).
• Strutting, like Tony Manero.