THAT SPA-LUNKING TIME OF YEAR

For a girl who'd never had a mani-pedi until she moved here at the age of 23, the city sure has a lot of options when it comes to keeping up appearances. The other night Janie B-starr and I hunkered down and tried a little manual upkeep ourselves, you know, scraping the feet, painting the nails, masking the face, digging out the plantar warts etc... and before we knew it, three hours had passed and it was 1am. If we all did what all the magazines say we should to keep ourselves in tip-top condition, there'd be no time for anything else. Which got me thinking, just how much time do these impeccably groomed ladies spend powering around Manhattan, booking, rescheduling and canceling appointments? They're like well-oiled machines. Monthly facials. Bi-weekly mani-pedis. Haircuts every six weeks. Highlights twice a year with bi-monthly touchups. Glycolic peels, microdermabrasion, sea-weed body wraps, waxing, spraytans, eye-brow threading. And that doesn't even include the at-home maintenance. You pretty much need a whole other sugardaddy soley devoted to this kind of bodywork.

Lucky for us AstoriaGirls there is such a thing as SPA WEEK, and even luckier, its happening in two weeks. (http://www.spaweek.org/) I figured this is probably the best and most affordable way to begin my week of Spa-lunking. All appointments are $50 a pop, which is chump change when it comes to these types of things. And you better book your appointments now, since these timeslots go like hotcakes. Of course, Miss. Marble and the AstoriaGirls set up appointments at the only participating spa in Astoria: The Anasa Day Spa (http://www.anasadayspa.com/) We've decided that the 45 minute Anasa Signature Facial seemed the least invasive procedure on the menu. Unless it happens to be performed on this apparatus. By Hannibal Lecter.

Keep an eye out for Marble's full report on the 17th. Book your appointment today!

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY CELL PHONE

If you’ve ever cracked open the back of your cell phone and come face to face with this little beaut, you know the type of blind fury only subpar technology can evoke. I like to consider myself a relatively calm and happy-go-lucky individual, but nothing gets my blood boiling like second-rate gadgetry. Which brings me to the object of my seething hatred:

Dear Motorola RAZR V3,

I tried to give you a chance. I really did. But you're an utter disapointment. Did I abandon you two days after you moved in, when your keyboard went on the fritz because I sweat on you? Not a chance. Did I kick you to the curb after the millionth time you dropped a call? Wouldn't dream of it. I stood by you through thick and thin, rescued you from cabs, saved you from falls and spilt beer, showered you with ringtones and limited edition My Little Pony stickers. And how do you repay me, you two-bit piece of plastic trash? Halfway into my "New Every Two" contract, you give up on life because of one light misting on a rainy April evening. You wuss. And now look at you. Withholding my texts. Refusing to let me dial " 0." Deleting my contacts! I've implored you for something, anything, and all you give me is the # sign. # ?! Well, # you, buddy. You worthless piece of un-warrantied junk. You water-damaged scumbag. You gave up on me, RAZR V3. You gave up on us. And that's why I'm leaving you for the LG ENv. He's brighter, he's hipper and has much thicker skin. Plus, his battery doesn't die after 2 minutes of use...low blow, I know, but what else can I say? It's over.

-Willa K

P.S. You have also earned the #3 spot on the list of Things That Are For Losers. Way to go.

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD...

So it turns out BOWZER moved into the neighborhood. Make sure to wish him and all his little goombas a warm Astorian welcome!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SITE!!!

Was it only a year ago that our beloved SITE was born? (http://www.sitedesignnyc.com/) If you're into boxed wine, trunkshows and superfly jewlery this could be an event of a lifetime! See all you AstoriaGirls there!

WHO WE BE

● JANIE BRUCKS ● WILLA K ● GWENNY DEETS ●

LANCOME, ENNUI AND A LITTLE O.M.D.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling down in the dumps with nothing to look forward to, and all I hear is that “depression hurts” themesong looping around in my head, there’s a little trick I have to pick me up. These are my Molly Ringwald moments. You know them well. When all is lost, no one but Anthony Michael Hall wants to take you to Homecoming, and your life sucks so hard you just about want to drag the toaster in the bath. Drastic times call for drastic measures, and in situations as bad as these, there’s only one thing left to do. I shut my bedroom door, cue up some Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark and perch forlornly in front of the vanity. It’s Eighties Magic Makeover time. You know. That montage where Ally Sheedy swipes on some coal liner, dabs on some lipgloss, shakes out her hair, squinches her boobs and suddenly transforms into the likes of Kelly LeBrock. Some days it’s Phoebe Cates. Others it’s Debbie Harry. Special times conjur the likeness of Ms. Honeywell, herself. You know what I’m talking about. Those Magic Montage Moments. Pursing your sticky lips, maniacally flashdancing, your vanity mirror jump-cutting to the techno strains of So In Love. John Hughes, man. He programmed us well.
Sometimes I’m convinced I alone hold the cure for the clinically depressed, but the sad truth is, if you’re flat broke, my solution doesn’t work out so terribly well. You can’t just sit forlornly, staring in the vanity, farting around to O.M.D. YOU NEED PRODUCTS! And products cost money. Lots of it. If you’ve ever gone into a Duane Reade with the intention of picking up some toothpaste, some Q-tips or a bag of generic cotton balls, and left with a receipt close to the down payment on your boss’ brownstone, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Target’s even worse. No sooner do you hit the parking lot, then you’re declaring bankruptcy. It’s insanity. I’m not even bringing up Sephora here. The bottom line is you never really account for what you’ll spend on personal hygiene until you enter the Real World, and then, boy, are you in for an eye opener. A few years back, I had all but resigned to live out my depression with the Caboodle Kit leftovers I scrounged from my childhood, when I discovered a little gem called the L’Oreal Consumer Expressions Research Center. I can’t, for the life of me, remember who originally tipped me off. I have a feeling it was some irritating coworker who couldn’t put eyeliner on straight, but no matter, the karma wheel goes ‘round and ‘round, and now I’m passing along this good fortune to you. Here’s how it works. There are no websites. No phone numbers. No manuals for this kind of thing. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Show up at the address below:

Consumer Expressions Research Center
575 5th Ave. (corner of 47th), 3rd Floor Atrium

Don't ask questions. Just go. Sometimes I feel like the more I elaborate, the more likely you'll screw it up and the whole thing will disintegrate into a puff of eighties glitter. Don't make me hate you. Anyway, you show up. You sign up. And then you go your merry way. For a few weeks you think it's all a dream, that you've been duped, you've been lied to, strung along like a product junkie on a tightrope wire, but eventually, you'll receive an email linking you to your first survey. If you pass this initial test, you'll be invited to join a study. Sometimes it's lipgloss. Other's its mascara. Facewash. Anti-wrinkle cream. Hair dye. Sometimes things get slightly...more involved. I won't divluge. Don't want to spoil the surprise.

But it's not all fun and games. It's important you take this very seriously. You MUST go to the research center yourself. You can't be sending lapboys or ex-governors in your stead. And you MUST return the products on the required dates, between the hours of 9am and 4:30pm. You MUST fill out the surveys honestly and thoroughly. And you MUST not, under any circumstances, antagonize the white labcoats conducting the studies. Any missteps, and it all turns into pumpkins and subway rats and they blacklist you for life.

This is obviously most convenient for those working in Midtown, but let's face it, most of us do. Those of you who don't probably buy your products at Bendel's and Bergdorf's and have very little use for my Magic Montage Moments, anyway. This post isn't for you, so stop reading. As for everyone else, if you've worked hard to complete every task set before you, you WILL be rewarded with a gift bag filled with aproximately $200 worth of high-end (and not-so-high-end) products. If you're really good, you can expect one of these every two months or so. Imagine. Floating through existence without ever buying a product again. Welcome to the goodlife.

- WILLA K

WHY WHOLE FOODS IS FOR LOSERS & CLIPPING COUPONS IS THE COOLEST...

I once had the opportunity to attend a seminar on Catholic dating practices for singles, in which this particular self-help novelist hawked the virtues of “smart dating” and the ease of uncomplicated, hassle-free post-marital sex. (Yippy for them. Not sure how that helps us…) Of her cogent, ten-point system, Chapter 6 particularly caught my eye, in which the author asserts “Why Hooking Up is for Losers.” I quite like this terminology, for a number of reasons, many of which are glaringly obvious to you, so I’ll spare you my explanation. While I was regrettably unable to attend said seminar, due to a previous Happy Hour engagement, (seriously who schedules something between the hours of 5:30pm and 8pm on a Thursday), it inspired me to begin my very own list of "What Else is For Losers." In addition to hooking up, I'd like to assert that Whole Foods is, without a doubt, #2 on this list.

THINGS THAT ARE FOR LOSERS
#1. Hooking up.
#2. Whole Foods.

And here is why. First of all, Whole Foods is a total victim of Wal-Mart complex. It’s become so huge and chocked full of brand names and varieties, that grocery shopping becomes a veritable nightmare. It’s like shopping on Oxycontin or Nyquil: you walk around, aisle after candy-coated aisle, eyes glazed over, numb to the myriad choices and colors tap-dancing around you. Organic. Certified Organic. 100% Organic. Gluten-free. Cage-free. Certified Humane. Fair Trade. Probiotic. Vegan. Shadegrown. Locally grown. Grown from a wombat’s marsupial womb. And they’re all just begging to jump into your basket, they’re literally jumping off the shelves, and you start feeling guilty about that nasty carbon footprint of yours, and whether taking N-train to work and living in your 400 square-foot shoebox actually makes up for the fact that you still don’t compost, and before you know it, you’ve either walked out with things you will never need, let alone consume, or you find yourself on the street empty-handed and hyperventilating into a Euro-mesh sack. Except that’s not even possible. Because it’s freakin’ Euro-mesh sack. It’s a mess in there, I’m telling you. Secondly, even if you pop a few Ritalin and really get down to business, you’re going to end up leaving with a bill the size of a Pink Elephant tab. I’m going to let you in on a little secret: Unless you’re hosting the house party of the century, there is never EVER reason for a single person to spend more than $60 on a week’s worth of groceries. There are so many other better things in life to spend your money on. Like beer. Or shoes. Or bikini waxes. Really. Get yourself together here. Unless you have kids, there’s simply no need. And third of all, whoever said Whole Foods is the best place to meet that hot Mr. Somebody is a flagrant liar. Fresh markets are supposed to be a breeding pool for well-heeled, nerdalicious hotties, as though “organic” and “vegan” somehow translates into “nice guy with marriage potential.” Mom-grade approved. Please. I’m over it. Whole Foods is a breeding ground for angry, neurotic people in a hurry. Believe me, there are more than a few unsavory breeds of New Yorker in the Whole Foods these days. Predominantly working moms who’ve forgotten that it’s their kids’ bake sale day, and they need three dozen packaged-so-they-look-homemade cookies before 3:00pm. And it just so happens to be 2:52 – yeah, I’ve been there. Does that seem like the type of shopping environment ripe for romance? I didn’t think so.So if Whole Foods is For Losers, what, you may ask, is the alternative? I have two, count ‘em, TWO viable options, my friends, the first being Trader Joe’s.

Ahhhh Trader Joe’s. Like pre-packaged manna from heaven you bring food to us singles in small, microwavable servings. You, with your Hawaiian stoner charm, your cheery hibiscus, your pallet board simplicity. What the joint lacks for in space, it more than makes up for in charisma. And ease. And tan, tousle-headed surfer cashiers. True, the place can get jammed, especially on a Sunday afternoon, which is primo shoppingtime, and, yes, its only location is all the way (gasp!) in Union Square, but with a careful attack plan, this is probably the best shopping scenario out there. The problem of brand confusion is completely eliminated, since there is only ONE. Plus each product is carefully chosen by Joe, himself, so you’re shopping guilt-free. You never end up spending more than sixty bucks, no matter what you end up buying, and good old Joe even cut the onslaught of healthfood verbiage by marking products with easy-to-read symbols. Vegetarian food is marked with a simple green plant. Vegan food? A letter “V.” Kosher? “K.” That way, you only notice if you actually give a sh!t and the rest of us can just enjoy the colorful pictures. And while you may be shopping bumper to bumper, at least you’re excited about that hottie you’re getting all hot ‘n bothered, pressed up against. ‘Cuz people who shop at Trader Joe’s are dead sexy. It’s true. You’re just standing at the produce, minding your own business, and all of a sudden some Grade A hunk of American beefcake is stumbling all over your kiwis… Oh I’m sorry, I was just squeezing this melon... Oh hey there, think you could hand me that bag of edamame? One brief encounter in the frozen section, and would you look at that, you got yourself a date on Saturday night! Wham bam thank you ma'am. Onestop shop, that Trader Joe’s.

But you do need a foolproof plan to traverse the place on Sunday afternoon. I recommend tag-teaming it, since the lines sometimes wrap around the stores three or four times. Here’s how you swing it: Bachelorette #1 mans the mini-cart, you know, that sexy lil’ compact model perfect for nipping at the heels of any potential bachelors. B1 rolls right onto the end of the line as soon as she enters the store, hugging the periphery to stock up on produce, breads, meat, cold cuts, dairy, and finally cereal. Bachelorette #2 runs reconnaissance, picking up frozen and packaged goods up and down the interior aisles, dropping off the cargo as B1 makes her way down the line. Not only is this the most time-efficient way of shopping, but it eliminates any potential conflicts over the aforementioned hotties roaming around the establishment. B2 gets the aisle-dwellers and B1 gets the peripherals. Case closed. No negotiating. Switching roles every other shopping trip ensures you get a good mix of both. The last thing you want is a brawl between bachelorettes, which will inevitably land you both out on you’re a$$es, sad, single and utterly grocery-less. Trader Joe’s is no place for violence, my friend. It’s all capital P-A-Z in Traderland. (That means peace.)
If you do find yourself banned from TJ’s for life, your second best option is the local food stores right here in the neighborhood. If anyone’s ever walked 5,000 blocks with a week’s worth of groceries in hand, you know that the best store is the closest store. Unless it’s a C-Town or a Food World. I mean, who in their right mind goes to a grocery store called C-Town? Sketchy people, that’s who. Trust me on this one; if the store sign across the street has any superfluous punctuation or 2nd grade geography vocab, you’re better off hauling it over three avenues for a Key Food or something.

Yours truly? I count myself blessed to live in the close vicinity of the new Bravo located on 34th Avenue. http://www.bravosupermarkets.com/ It's clean, it’s organized, and the closest thing we got to what the rest of this world regards as a real supermarket. I’ve seen shopping carts 2-deep traversing those aisles. True, you sometimes have to hold your breath past the fish counter, and the frequent-buyer’s discount card never actually discounts anything, but this is a small price to pay for a decent selection at a fairish price. I typically use the Bravo for all the hefty purchases you dread lugging home from TJ’s, you know, your milk, your juices and any canned goods; things that don’t travel well through turnstiles and up and down subway stairs. Produce is always a win-lose situation: While the Bravo quality is great, it’s usually worth your extra buck to trek it to the 24-hour United Bros. Fruit Market on 30th Ave.
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But what you gain in savings, you lose in preservatives, so it really all depends on how fast you eat your veggies. There’s no sense in walking all those extra avenues if you end up tossing your 69-cent rutabagas two days later.

Another benefit to the local supermarkets, is it gives you a chance to flex your coupon clipping skills. While TJ’s brilliantly ousted the middlemen, keeping prices low and rendering coupons obsolete, (Joe, you sly devil, you!), Astoriastores accept ‘em all. It may seem, at first glance, that clipping coupons could be For Losers, or maybe grandmas, but really? It’s simply the coolest. All the hip kids are doing it, and if you pay attention and cut along the dotted lines like good little children, you’ll save oodles of cash on all the normal things everyone buys. You know, like toothpaste and soup, detergent, cereal, and Newman’s Own salsa. You usually end up saving the amount it takes to buy a Super Grande Mochacaramalatto at Starschmucks or two superior cups of joe at D&Ds.

'Til next time, all my coupon clipping winners...

-WILLA K

MARBLE SAYS....

BUILD IT GREEN! is an ecologicaly-friendly way to update your apartment at a smart price. While you need to be a skilled handiman to make good use of most of the materials, there's a little something for everyone here. A great resource for artists, craftsmen and tinkerers alike. The enormous warehouse is well-organized and accessible, and the service is helpful and friendly. I'd definitely recommend a vehicle if you have access to one, as its a long hike, and the best finds are usually supersized. All major creditcards are accepted, so bring one along with an open mind and creative spirit! The bottom line?

I give it: