Not your everyday midtown dress code.

A lot of people wear green on St. Patrick's Day, regardless of their ties to the land of Guiness (romantic, hereditary, or otherwise). But this guy - well - I hope he wasn't in your office.

Vindication.

While the rest of New York slept off its first hangover of the new decade, I was up and at 'em like Ralphie on Christmas morning. Pushing resolutions concerning curtailed alcoholic intake and proper language aside for a few more hours, I schlepped to the Upper East Side for Penn State's bowl game. LSU Tigers. Orlando. 1:00pm kickoff.

For those of you who follow me on Twitter, I threw out a pre-game apology regarding the tidal wave of PSU-related tweets that were going to ensue, and rightfully so. It could have been worse; you could have been with me where I set up camp in my friend's living room. Much, much to the chagrin of those present. After all, I am...intense. I yell. I text feverishly. I question, freak out, and occasionally fist pump.

Dear Old State pulled off a 19-17 win over the Tigers, capping a roller coaster season that could have ended as 13-0 or 8-5. 11-2? I'll take that.

There is plenty I could say about this game; this season; this team. Penn State entered the year in a perplexing situation. Quiet leadership anchored the linebacker and running back positions. An inexperienced offensive line, wide receiver corps, and secondary raised flags. A questionable schedule was due to a variety of vanilla cupcakes. A legendary coach remained without an exit strategy.

The senior quarterback yearned to cement his legacy.


Daryll Clark - job well done.

The online blogosphere penned this game as the defining moment in Clark's career. Beat a legitimate SEC power and you're in the Club of Greats; lose and find yourself in the company of Anthony Morelli. Clark never won "the big one" despite posting a stellar record over his two years at the helm. Two losses to Iowa, a drubbing by USC, and a blowout to Ohio State. He knew this too, and I'm sure it provided an extra bit of emotional fire.

Clark stood with his back to the game winning field goal and collapsed to the ground following the final ticks of the clock. The field was a physical danger to the players, making the iconic uniforms muddled and black. But today was not a day for excuses. Teary eyed I was as emotion overtook Clark and the rest of the team, captured fittingly in a photo of the team bouncing together at midfield. This is Penn State, after all - emotions are kept private. Show up, suit up, go to work, go home. But this team, much like its leader, were now vindicated.

Clark will forever be a favorite of mine, as he encapsulated the true essence of what Joe Paterno strove to do as a coach and mentor of young men. He struggled with high school grades but persevered to meet Coach's standards and now holds a degree from Penn State University; greater in value than any of the passing records he set or conference honors he's earned. Never have we seen a player with such gusto and passion for his team, playing for the greater good that engulfs the Penn State family. He will be missed; but more importantly he will be remembered.

Courtesy of.

A white New Years?

Snow swept through the area briskly and briefly. Gone by nightfall, when the clouds, misty rain and champagne made an appearance.

Happy New Year to you.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas to all.


Bonus points if you know what this is.

So a guy from Vermont stumbles into a bar...

Sigh.

Here's the sitch - dinner and drinks ends well; post-dinner drinking ensues. Three Sam Adams and one SoCo & lime shot too-many-later and you're conversing with strangers at the bar. Thing is, they want nothing to do with you.

In what what was otherwise supposed to be an evening of much needed calmness, I found myself walking with escorting a belligerent drunk around the Upper East Side. We stumbled for 12 blocks, which is about the same amount of degrees that separated our lives before crossing paths tonight. I meant well. I think.

I learned a lot about Buckshot tonight. More than I'd ever care to know about Burlington's town drunk.


The point is, these lights adorned the 71st Street. Beyond the coffee that Buckshot bought me from the corner bodega, these were the highlight of the night. Yep.

Sigh.

Ugh.

Holiday shopping. SoHo. Two days before Christmas. Tourists. What a cluster.

Penn Station is still a hell hole.

It takes a lot for Grand Central commuters to stand still for a few minutes. Unless of course it's the Holiday Light Show. It takes place during normal hours on the half hour. Check it out. Just don't miss your train.




In other news, here's a great article on Notre Dame.

And then there's the Big Ten. Which already has 11 teams. And is looking for a 12th. What are they going to be called? The northern Big 12?

Tacky women and tacky decorations. Just another Manhattan Monday.

The last thing I want to see when I'm in Bryant Park during the holidays is the cast of Bravo's Real Housewives of New York. But as I meandered through BP with an old friend of mine our lives forever changed for the better pretty much stayed the same. There they were, on the ice at Bryant Park's free rink. Kelly, LuAnn and Co. were sported out in their finest for what looked like a completely scripted scene. One of the crazies jumped on the ice in a purple leotard, my friend and I winced in pain, and parents hid their children. Look for highlights coming soon to a TV near you.



No really, hide the kids. It was downright terrifying.

Moving on.

The night shifted to Rolf's Bar in Gramercy. More than 70,000 lights and what seems like just as many Christmas balls hang at an almost uncomfortable level. If you've ever been to Germany during the holidays - most likely the southern Bavarian region - let me know if this is common practice. And if you go, you can't leave without trying their Glühwein, a warm spiced red wine that will make your taste buds start singing Christmas tunes.

Click to enlarge...this one's worth it.

Ignore the crowds, soak in the rest.

Despite the cold weather I've been lengthening my trip home after work by a decent amount. The quickest way to travel is down the 6 to Union Square with a transfer to the L. The combined time I spend outside during this route (office to subway and subway to home) is no more than 200 yards. That is nothing when it comes to what my walk used to be before I moved, not to mention what the typical commuter probably does. But a number of reasons have diverted me off of this trek.

For one, I'm craving time outside. The biting cold isn't here yet but it's still too cold to sit outside during lunch. Throw in some Christmas shopping and tourist oogling, and I have myself a reason to hike to Rockefeller Center. F/V downtown to 14th Street, connect to the L, and homeward bound. The suicidal issue problem with this walk is that the area is that I must navigate through the Perfect Storm of holiday crowds.

Rockefeller Center - tree, shops, ice skating
Fifth Avenue shopping - three wide, slow moving groups
Radio City Music Hall - miles of dancing legs and the crowds they attract

But through all of it, I don't mind. I absorb the holiday cheer in the air. Breathe in the nut cart. I can unwind after what has been a very long busy season. The therapeutic walk does the body good.



This is a shot looking up 6th Ave towards Rockefeller Center. The holiday balls were hanging off of a hot dog cart.

Tree time.

Continuing tradition, we cut down the family tree this afternoon at a farm in upstate New Jersey. It sure does beat buying it off of a Manhattan street corner.

Plenty to be thankful for.

Health. Home in Brooklyn. Home in Jersey. Friends. Fam. Yuengling. Dear Old State. GPA enabled phones. Food. Drink. My ipod. Employment. Garlic. Joe Paterno. Blogs. Every play that actually changes the season. Flying into LaGuardia at night. Thanksgiving leftovers. The Brooklyn Bridge. Netflix. Books. The act of eating peanut butter with a spoon. Christmas in New York. Snow. Sun. Heck, all four seasons. 27 World Championships. Digital cameras. Macs. Hulu. Salt and pepper. Unlimited Metro cards. That's what she said.

Turkey and gravy step aside. There's a new killer combo this fall.

I discovered Dogfish Head's "Punkin Ale" one night after work at Stag's Head pub. Seasonal brews are nothing new, as Sam's and Blue Moon have been doing it for years with much success. But this Dogfish brew is hard to track down, and even if you find it you'll be paying a premium for a 4-pack (10 bucks in NJ, 13 Brooklyn). But dammmmmn is it worth it.

I sat down with a cold ale this afternoon and nonchalantly sliced off a piece of homemade banana bread. Bite of bread. Swig of Dogfish. Brilliant. The combination of spices and flavors from each came together in ridiculous perfection. I foresee myself enjoying this combination for the rest of the week.

If you see this beer in your local shop I highly recommend picking it up. Just note the 7% alcohol content, slightly higher than you the typical Miller Lite. Then again, it won't set you on your ass like Michael Scott's seasonal drink of choice:

Park Avenue is trying to force the fall season out.

The Christmas lights are here right on schedule, if you count pre-Thanksgiving on schedule. Leaves are still on the trees that line Park Avenue, giving the midtown stretch of pavement a fall-like feeling. But it's not. Thanksgiving is all but an afterthought here in midtown. Christmas trees are for sale on the streets. Black Friday commercials are on overload (even Hulu is running them).

More pictures of the holidays to come when I am back after the holiday. Cheers!

Did she melt?

Happy Halloween ladies and gents.

Only in America...

...do we honor processed meat. For those of you not up to snuff on your obscure holidays, today is National Hot Dog Day. Boo-ya!





In a city saturated and obsessed with locally grown/organic/free-range/grass fed/all natural foods, it's refreshing to know that some people still make a living pushing $1.50 dogs to both famished tourists and business people. Referred to as "dirty water dogs" growing up (have you seen what they swim in?), I'm a fan - no - a supporter of National Hot Dog Day. Two of these juicy American traditions served as a satisfying lunch.