Concept: One Day Coast-to-Coast Travel

Airlines are having intense fare sales right now and it got me thinking, "where could I go, and how much can I really afford to spend?"

At dinner last night I was chatting with a friend about Virgin America's new flights from Boston. For a limited time, Virgin America is offering discounted one-way fares on Boston flights to Los Angeles and San Francisco to celebrate their new route.

"For that fare, you can fly out that morning, have dinner in L.A. and then fly back that night for less than you'd spend at a nice dinner in Boston," my friend said.

Hmmmm.

That would be rather fun, and different. If I take the 7 a.m. flight to Los Angeles I arrive at 10:35 a.m. I can spend the day playing in L.A. then take the 9:15 p.m. flight back and be at work the next day. It's an intriguing concept...

Virgin America is famous for its in-flight services, so the long coast-to-coast flight wouldn't seem so bad given the computer games, in-flight chat systems and mini-bars on the plane. It would be fun to say I flew to L.A. for dinner.


I may not be Julia Roberts, but that doesn't mean I can't portray "Pretty Woman".

Anyone want in on this crazy idea?

Google Doesn't Let Friends Email Drunk

You've done it. You know you've done it. You come home after a few too many drinks and you get online and start responding to emails. You forget to spellcheck. You confess your love to someone you don't really love. You say harsh words to the date who scorned you or you send a regretful email to your boss that results in you frantically trying to figure out how to recall the message from drunk cyberspace. I'm thankful I've rarely done this, but I won't pretend it's never happened. 

Most of the time, however, I open up the email under the assumption I'm sober and then as I'm reading the email all the words slowly meshing together inonebigwordandallofsuddenmyheadhurtsandihavenoideawhattheemailimreadingactuallysays...

so I end up logging off and passing out. But, for those emails I've actually responded to - and on behalf of my friends (Ahem... ) - I say, thank G-d for Google.

The great minds at Google have developed a new technology called "Mail Goggles" (get it? Beer goggles. Mail goggles.) According to a report from MSNBC, "The Goggles can kick in late at night on weekends. The feature requires you to solve a few easy math problems in short order before hitting "send." A sure to move to prevent you from doing something you'll regret.

If you have Gmail, you can install the beta version of "Mail Goggles" and potentially save yourself from a morning of regret. And, if I forget to say it tomorrow morning (or any other morning), "Thank you, Google."

Subtle (Secret) Sexiness

This was the best email of my day.

Subject: 12 hot hotels for a secret tryst

Body: GET A ROOM! World's Top 12 Hotels for an Affair.

(You know I clicked.)

Nice work, Concierge.com, for coming up with a truly salacious travel story. Here are a few tasty tidbits:

Hotel Sezz, Paris: There's a fair amount of shiny chrome and leather, which is hotel-speak for sex.

Lafayette House, New York City: Built in 1845, it's the kind of house you duck into, wearing a hat and maybe those short little gloves, to rush into your lover's arms and plot your spouse's untimely death.

Ivy Hotel, San Diego: Take the king-size bunk beds, which we glean are for a multiple-partner soiree... the bed frames made of shag carpeting so no one gets hurt.

Read on for more of Best Hotels for an Affair.

(photo courtesy of Concierge.com)

New Obsession: Occasiontherapy Spritzers

These all-natural occasion-specific aromatherapy spritzers are the perfect little addition to your work bag. They are made with all-natural ingredients and pure essential oils so you know it's safe for your body.

I have the Working Girl Energizing Mist and Jet Set Girl Travel Mist and I'm addicted to them both. The Jet Set Girl is the perfect after-gym work-out mist, because it combines lavender with bergamot for a complete calming experience. It also doubles as a super room/linen spray when you're stuck in hotel rooms. Consider it...

Bye, Bye, Boston Sports Club

The evil gym monkey is off my back. My contract expired (a month earlier than I originally thought) and I promptly called membership services at Boston Sports Club and asked them to kindly cancel my membership PRONTO. I'm pleased to say I didn't get a sales pitch and the membership services person didn't try to guilt me into staying at the wrecked gym. However, I did get suckered into a "processing fee". Because it wouldn't be Boston Sports Club if they didn't try to suck one more penny out of you before you leave. So I caved.

"Fine," I said. "Charge me a processing fee and please do not ever contact me again. I do not want to see so much as a flyer in my mailbox."

The sales associate agreed to my terms (or she lied to me to get me off the phone), took my credit card number and said goodbye. I am free from Boston Sports Club!

And on to another gym...

I will post more on my new gym later but I need to come clean about one thing: it is more expensive than the evil gym (by $20). But on the flip side:

1. It is two blocks from my office and in the direction of my apartment.
2. It is a private gym (which means they cap memberships so that the gym isn't too crowded during peak times).
3. It has a spa. And yes, there are discounts associated with my membership.
4. It is small by gym standards, but again, it's private so you're never waiting for a machine.
5. The clientele is "professional" (i.e. no college kids parading around in boy shorts that barely cover their yahoos).

More on the new gym later...

The Great Debate: PC vs. Mac

I've always been a PC girl, but recently I find myself strangely turned on to the MacBooks. My poor Dell PC is on its last legs and I'm wondering if now is the time to make the switch and enter the Mac world.

I use my laptop mostly for writing and publishing. I won't be streaming videos or rocking out to Garage Band. Although, my PC doesn't have Garage Band so maybe I would rock out if it were an option...

Any devoted users of either Macs or PCs -- I'd love your thoughts. And don't forget to vote on the poll (to the right...)

Step Back to Beacon Hill

My cousin and his girlfriend came for a visit from New York this weekend. I'm the oldest by 10 years, in this case. My younger cousin moved to NYC three years ago to embark on his financial career. His girlfriend followed suit a few years later.

This was the first weekend in months I've been at home so the visit worked out well. The weather was beautiful, the company was pleasant and for the first time in years I got to play tour guide to my own city. I forgot how much there is to see in Boston.

We started our journey through Boston Commons and the Boston Public Garden. We boarded the Swan Boats and enjoyed the serene ride around the lake. I never really looked at the weeping willow trees before this day. Afterwards, we walked through Beacon Hill and admired the historical homes, the gas lights and the windowsill flower beds that lined the apartments on Mount Vernon Street. Walking through Beacon Hill is like stepping back in time - a gaze down Chestnut Street, Acorn Street, Willow Street or Louisburg Square evokes images of horse-drawn carriages, parasols and three-piece suits accessorized with time pieces and gold cuff links. Further up Mount Vernon Street, we turned right on Joy Street and headed back toward the public garden, where the twenty-first century was in full swing.

Ladies and Gentlemen: The (American Idol) Pips

I am not a devotee of American Idol, but like the rest of America I tuned in last night to watch David Cook take the crown (and deservedly so).

One of the best things American Idol did this year was bring real talent to the stage, both in the contestants and the guest judges and coaches. And the finale was no different. I applaud David Cook -- it's about time a real rocker won American Idol -- but the best part of the night goes to Ben Stiller, Robert Downey, Jr., and Jack Black.

I'm veering from the purpose of the blog for one moment to bring you The Pips, Jack Black-style.

Filofax + Average American Woman = True Love

I recently purchased a new mini Filofax. It's small, it's red, it holds my business cards and it's an attempt at staying organized - so far, so good. But I was simply full of glee this afternoon when I opened my new red leather-bound friend and turned to the section on conversions. (That's one of the best things about these organizers --they come with conversion charts, currency descriptions, telephone numbers and important travel dates.

If you're ever in Shanghai and need help finding the train station, Filofax recommends you ask a local, "火車站". I have absolutely no idea how to pronounce that, but I believe that Filofax is correct.

In any case, I happened upon the Clothing Size Equivalents page in my Filofax and I was pleased to see that Filofax started the size conversion with a size 8. SIZE 8. Not size 00. Not size -2. Size 8. The size of the average American woman. The size that many modeling agencies consider 'fat'. Filofax takes their size equivalent chart up to a size 22.

Thank you, Filofax, for recognizing the beauty of a size 8 and beyond.

Alernate Routes at the Airport

It's 7:45 a.m. St. Louis time - I was the airport at 6 a.m., my flight doesn't leave until 12 noon. No, it's not because I'm fleeing the city. Dad had an early business flight and I figured I might as well hit the airport, too. Dad's a kick-ass traveler and knows all the secret hiding spots. In St. Louis, three of the four terminals are connected so instead of waiting in line at the main security check-point, we bypassed the masses and went to another security line used mainly for charter flights. There were two people in that security line: me and Dad. We breezed through security just as a family with newborns was approaching.

I have a lot of respect for those women who can whisk through a security line with baby bjorn's and toddlers at toe, plus diaper bags and personal items. It makes my airport woes slightly more selfish, but that's the nature of being single, I suppose.

My friend Jane sent this new blog written by one of her mommy friends and this is one awesome forum to share the kiddy news. Go Get Your Jacket is written by working women with full-time mommy jobs, too, and offers an insight into helping flow the career and parenthood paths. Enjoy!

Waga-My-Heart-Out

I realize I'm a little late in the game here, but understand that my diet consists of whatever isn't moldy, bruised, smelly or sticking in my fridge. I always have a Power Bar and a banana near my desk at work or in my bag on-the-go. So when my co-workers shout out, "I'm ordering lunch from _____" I usually perk up (if I haven't just stuffed a Power Bar in my mouth).

Today, the _____ was "Wagamama" -- a noodle bar in Faneuil Hall. Originally a UK company, Wagamama hit the Boston scene last year and like most restaurants in Faneuil Hall, I dismissed it as another tourist trap. In most cases I am spot on. Today, I admit I was wrong. Wagamama is my new favorite place.

I was skeptical at first. The section of the menu called "Ramen" brought me back to freshman year of college. The boxes of Ramen noodles were piled up along the wall -- three a day, one and a half minutes in the microwave. When you bought in bulk, the little noodle soups came to about 15 cents each. Not bad for a broke college kid. But after a year of Ramen noodles, you swear you'll never eat them again. Ever.

Today, I ordered the Vegetarian Ramen Noodle bowl. It arrived on my desk approximately one hour ago, and I'm still trying to get through the endless bowl of whole wheat noodles, vegetable broth and fresh vegetables. It's 32 ounces of pure veggie delight on a cold rainy day. It's healthy, and it has more taste than my Power Bar.