Hey there.

I’m Metalia. I have a husband, toddler son and um, a gestating fetus (I’m due in June). We live in NY where I am accosted by deranged hobos on a near-daily basis. More on them in a minute. I love lip gloss, bad TV, good cheese, spotting men with handlebar mustaches, and tequila (when I’m not pregnant, that is).

Obviously, I’m here because the beautiful Angella has asked me to guest post for her while she’s off gallivanting in Mexico. And people, can I tell you something? Each and every time I’ve been asked to write a guest post, I have the same reaction: Flattered, I happily accept, only to sit there in a cold sweat when the time actually comes to WRITE said post (which, inevitably, is for someone I utterly adore).

I mean, if it was my own blog, I’d be telling you about my impending Big Haircut, soliciting advice on my next baking project, or posting the Reading Rainbow-style video I made about the Gossip Girl book I just read. (Um, don’t judge me. I do read other, less horrifically trashy literature, I promise.) But you’re Angella’s readers! Most of you don’t know me, so the above topics wouldn’t have worked here. The last one probably even frightens you a bit (and can I blame you? No).

And so here I sit, paralyzed with guest-posting block…which, by the way, is worse than sitting down to take a macroeconomics final in high school after going to bed at 3 in the morning because you made the brilliant decision to talk on the phone for five hours with that coolly aloof, Jordan Catalano-esque boy who called to discuss the always-fascinating subjects of his guitar and The Simpsons whilst you casually tried to work in topics from the list you’d prepared in your Leonardo DiCaprio-emblazoned daily planner JUST IN CASE he called and now here you sit without the faintest clue about the theory of dynamic stochastic equilibrium. (Not that I know what that’s like, or anything. I’ve just heard. From other people.) I mean, yeah, I totally bombed that final, but only my teacher Mr. Jacobs knew about that. (I still loathe you, Jacobs! I curse you, your halitosis and your hideous silk paisley shirts!) A guest post is something that many people see, and OH MAH GAHHH I CAN’T BREATHE WHAT IF I FAIL GUEST POSTING?

Man, this is macroeconomics all over again.

Well, as has been made abundantly clear by the fabulous guest posters before me, Angella is all kinds of awesome. In addition to her kindness, her beautiful heartfelt posts, and our mutual love of Flight of the Conchords, she’s just so darn helpful. Whether it’s teaching me to how to make videos (so that I can now subject the internet at large to my karaoke stylings), assisting me in setting up my “real” website, or serving as the Mr. Miyagi to my camera-clueless Daniel-san, she’s always jumped in to help me out with my creative endeavors. And I love her for it.

So, now that I’m here, I got to thinking…what could I do to thank her for all that? My creative skills are no match for hers; in fact, I’m fairly certain I hit my peak during my (mercifully brief) stint as a door-to-door puffy paint t-shirt artist when I was 9. (I WISH I WAS JOKING.)

And then it came to me. Angella and I have talked a few times about how she’s never been to New York City and has always wanted to visit. Inasmuch as I’ve lived in and around NYC since I was 19, I decided I was going to take this guest posting opportunity to write a mini-tour guide specifically for Angella, should she ever make her way down here. (It shall also serve as a not-so-subtle hint that she SHOULD come visit, and soon.) I mean sure, she could consult a real guidebook or travel agent, but are they going to warn you about the hobos, Angella? ARE THEY?

The Five Things Angella Must See/Do/Eat In NYC

Mmm, Chocolate

Angella is a fan of chocolate, so she has to visit Serendipity while here. Not only is it the home of a heavenly drink called Frrrozen Hot Chocolate and every delicious cake and sundae treat imaginable, but she can also try their $25,000 chocolate sundae. You know, if she’s being budget-oriented. Plus, it’s down the street from a huge candy store, so she can pick up some yummy treats for her equally delicious kids.

The Shopping

Naturally, I could go on and on about my favorite stores here (which tend to be small, boutique-type places, as opposed to the big department stores) but that’s a post in and of itself. Since I’m limiting myself, I’ll recommend the following:

Angella has definitely read posts written by me and one Miss Heather B. wherein we wax poetic about our love for the clothes and accessories at Anthropologie. I know they ship to Canada, but you have to go to an Anthropologie store to truly experience The Awesome. I think I speak for both Heather and myself when I tell you it is worth all the hype, and also that you have not LIVED until you’ve visited their gargantuan store in New York’s Rockefeller Center.

Century 21 is another fabulous store; it bills itself as “New York’s best-kept shopping secret”, but it’s sort of hard to believe when you’re getting repeatedly elbowed in the eyeball by a busload of stretch denim-clad grannies all determined to get the last $10 Polo sweater for their grandson. (Note to the grannies: You don’t stand a CHANCE against me, old biddies! I live in The Bronx, yo! I fight dirty!) The crowds, however, shouldn’t deter Angella,because the deals (for her, Honey and the kids) are unbelievable.

Picture This

A photographer as incredibly talented as Angella MUST make her way to Central Park. The tree-lined paths, the statues, the gardens…she’ll be in heaven.

The Obvious

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, FAO Schwarz, Fifth Avenue, Grand Central Terminal…they’re popular for a reason. So go. (Although this seems like a good a time as any to confess that I’ve lived here for nearly ten years and have NEVER BEEN TO THE STATUE OF LIBERTY. There, I said it.)

The True City Experience

For this, Angella must ride the subway. Those of you who read my blog know of my long and illustrious history with this mode of transportation, and the myriad colorful characters who I encounter there. Like the fragrant hobo who demanded to pet my coat, the stripping homeless man, or the one who sings in falsetto about his training to be a nun/can he have some money for a sticky bun. There are also scary teenagers, break dancing children (yes, IN THE SUBWAY CARS), and the occasional lady of the night…out during the day.

Of course there are more mainstream people who take the subway too, but looks can be deceiving. Take, for instance, the woman I saw yesterday. She seemed fairly normal, and was attempting to talk to her friend across the aisle. But she was a loud talker, you see, and apparently did not mind sharing with the entire subway car that her “lady garden [was] in DIRE need of pruning.” Before I had time to recover (from that information in general as well as the use of the phrase “lady garden”), the train doors opened, and in came a three-man mariachi band, playing guitars, and passing around a comically large hat for loose change.

(Do you see why I never take cabs? The subway is so much more entertaining.)

Angella, I hope you’re enjoying your time in Mexico. Once you’ve returned, and are ready for a colder, louder, and smellier (but still somehow awesome) vacation experience, come visit NYC. I’ll be waiting with open arms, and some pepper spray for you to carry around. You know, just in case the hobos are getting feisty.

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