Archive for the ‘Fun Stuff’ category

City Romps: Pretty Things In My New Hood

September 26, 2008

Most of the time I am too preoccupied trying to text and walk with out getting hit by cabs or other idiots texting and walking to notice much of the city around me. But that’s sort of sad and pathetic. So lately I’ve been trying to banish my iPhone during my daily NYC treks so I can appreciate the crazies–like the guy with the cat on his head that I always see in the village–and the sights–like the graffiti (street art? ads?) below.

I just moved from the land of the Gossip Girl to the apathetically trendy Lower East Side. And despite the wry looks I get from the American Apparel employees when I go shopping in my gym clothes, I am totally loving the change. Every street has a different wine bar or vintage clothing store where old clothes are somehow more expensive than the ones I buy new. The residents range from Hasidic Jews to Dominicans to the hipsters slowly pushing their way in. The couples with matching jackets from The North Face that seemed to be a staple of the Upper East Side have turned into couples competing over who wears the tightest skinny jeans. Oh, and best of all, all the elevator buttons in my building must remain lit on the weekends so my neighbors won’t have to disrupt their Shabbat by pressing a button. It took me weeks to realize this wasn’t a prank the neighborhood kids were playing.

Anyway, the poster pasters have been busy this week and below is some of the street art my iPhone and lack of photography skills captured this week.


Dear Jeremy Piven, I don’t know if you noticed but I am way cuter than that girl you were with last night

September 17, 2008

Last night I was in Chelsea with my man friend picking up a bottle of wine when I quite literally ran into Jeremy Piven. I was too busy frantically searching for a new line of wines from Francis Ford Coppola to realize that the ball of juicy goodness I had just run into was Entourage’s very own Ari Gold. If I had realized immediately who he was the scenario probably would’ve gone something like this:

Oh my god I am so sorry I just stepped on your sneaker which is probably worth more than my apartment and wow you look SO much better when you have a little stubble and are not all uptight in a suit and on second thought your sneakers are just Pumas but seriously who is this skankface girl you are standing next to puh-leaze don’t tell me you are with this woman who is very possibly a lady of the night and oh my god seriously screw Adrian you are by far my favorite character on the show oh and did you know I ran into him at Chipotle a few years ago and that he actually plays in a band with a guy who is actually named Ari Gold? And how weird is this I was sitting next to Shauna (Debi Mazar) at Bar Pitti just last week…. until he finally interrupted my nervous word vomit or started slowly backing away.

But luckily, I was completely distracted so I simply smiled, said excuse me, and moved on. It wasn’t until we were standing in line that I couldn’t help but stare, not at him, but at the gargantuan blonde in platform patent leather heels and a skin tight shirt that she thought was long enough for a skirt. I believe there was also a red leather jacket or something equally trashtastic but I was too busy trying to figure out how her shirt/skirt was secured over her butt cheeks to pay much attention. Oh and there were extensions. I watched her hang on him with every limb possible, securing him with her tentacles so he couldn’t run away. When he turned his head to look longingly at his only escape route, I finally noticed it was him. And unlike his lady friend, he looked good. So good.

And so Jeremy, I write to you as a friend, after all I have had run ins with your castmates, and now you, so lets just say we’re friends. I’m sure your accomplice had a kind heart or a caring nature or a great tongue or what have you, but I just want to put it out there that, if you wanted to, you could do better. And if you need some help on where to go for “better” please see the photo above for inspiration. And call me.

Warmest wishes,

Katie Hull

Summer in the City Goes By Way Too Fast

September 11, 2008

I have been neglecting my blog this summer to get some freelance (aka paid) writing done, but I am here to make amends!  …Starting tomorrow. In between dodging the 7ft tall models that have been clogging the city for fashion week and avoiding heat stroke in Central Park, I managed to write some really fun articles, so check them out!

I just started blogging for a new site called Lemondrop which features “sweet, tasty, and tart” articles for women on everything from finance, news, and politics to health, sex, and relationships. I, of course, blog about the latter.

I also published an article in the September issue of WaterSki magazine (what can I say, I’m from Florida) which you can read here:

And, in an attempt to put my love of all things fermented to good use, I wrote an essay for Francis Ford Coppola’s new line of wines, which I have to say are delicious, and probably even more appealing due to the oddly shaped bottle and the $9 price tag. To see the article go here and click on the little airplane at the top.

Oh and if you have any interest in real estate or home buying, check out this blog.

People Watching at its Best

June 24, 2008

Karma is going to get me for this one. I already know it but I just can’t help myself. In keeping with my accidental theme of playing weatherwoman to the Upper East Side (but in a much more entertaining way I hope) I am yet again blogging about the conditions.

I am sitting in my little neighborhood coffee shop and from the comfort of my window seat I am having way too much fun people watching. Five minutes ago it was sunny day deserving of spaghetti straps and extra long lunch breaks in the sun. Then, bam! Out of nowhere the wind starts blowing, trees start swaying maniacally and the rain starts coming down.

The normally calm, put together New Yorkers start scattering like ants, seeking shelter and attempting to turn parts of their wardrobe into umbrellas. One man in a business suit dumped the contents of his plastic shopping bag onto a bench and proceeded to hold the bag over his head and rip it apart. The resistance of the plastic bag turned this into a dramatically slow movement reminiscent of The Hulk ripping off his shirt.

It is especially fun to witness the states of emotions the people on the street experience before conceding to the fact that the rest of their work day will be spent in shoes that ooze water in squeeky little bursts every time they walk. They are first shocked as they scramble to put their newspapers, their shirts, anything they have in their hands over their head. Like that is going to protect them from the rain that seems to be falling everywhere but straight down. After a few seconds of trying in vain to shield themselves from the elements, I watched as one by one, they suddenly got extremely pissed off. How dare you rain on me! Let me talk to your manager! They look angrily at the sky, at their soaked suits, before they finally set aside their pride and scurry across the street, dodging cars and puddles, and ducking into any dry area they can find.

Like I said, I will most definitely be struck down by lightening or caught in a similar downpour when I’m on my way to a particularly important event just for posting this from the comfort of my window seat, but I just can’t help myself. I just saw a really angry woman in four inch heels and two inches of concealer duck into the hardware store next door. Then a few seconds later, as if she’d rather brave the rain then whatever might be lurking in there, she dashed out again, actually looking a little bit sheepish for stepping in such an establishment. How can you not love this city!!

Weather or Not

June 13, 2008

nyc central park sheeps meadow


Nearly anywhere else in the world, talking about the weather is a total cliché, a verbal recognition of an awkward silence or a lack of anything else to discuss. But here in New York City, the weather is always relevant. It affects us in our cramped apartments, where central air is as non-existent as extra closet space. It affects us every time there is a heavy rain that prompts bugs to seek shelter in our already overcrowded dwellings. And worst of all, it affects us whenever we leave for work and don’t have a cushy car waiting for us, ready to keep us cool, or warm, or dry, in those blustery downpours that take the lives of expensive shoes and cheap umbrellas all at once.



You can predict the conversations as easily as The Weather Channel predicts the seasons. We’ve been complaining about the cold since November but as soon as the heat comes sweeping in, those of us who can’t run away to The Hamptons or our country club’s pool easily shift into whining about the heat. Maybe it’s not actually our fault. Maybe its global warming’s fault that we can’t live at a perfect 75 degrees for more than three days a year. But while Al Gore works on that, we continue to complain. 


We’re all guilty of it. Gawker does it , Jossip did it, even respected publications like The New York Times blog about the weather, most especially this horrendous heat wave we’ve been experiencing. And for some reason two out of three decided to accompany their posts with pictures of half naked old men. Of all things. Not little kids playing in fountains or eating ice cream or cute couples tanning in Central Park. Nope. Wrinkly old half naked men.



To oppose that I decided to I wanted to collect pictures of buff young men who were excited to show off the muscles they’d been cultivating all winter long. But as soon as I got the courage to break New York’s public code of ignoring one another and ask strangers if I could take their pictures, the weather turned and men lost their excuse to walk around half naked. When its 100 degrees women walking down 5th Avenue in bikinis are socially acceptable, but now that it’s down to the 80’s there is not as much to oogle and the city streets are verging on boring again. No expanding sweat stains to stare at or camel toes to try not to stare at. No excuse to call in sick because you absolutely have to spend the entire day outside, soaking it all up, or inside, huddled next to your window unit, depending on your skin tone. No excuse to put on those short shorts that are trashy on any other day or make four separate trips to Tasti in one day. And there I go complaining about the weather again.


Getting Around

June 5, 2008

I just got back from a week in San Francisco, a city that had eluded me in my travels despite my affinity for extremely liberal ocean side cities. I went with my grandma, a lively lady who proudly pronounces her 71 years to anyone who asks and seems to get even more ornery with age. The whole time we were there, Grandma was on the hunt for a street car souvenir of some sort to put next to the miniature taxi cab she got in New York.

Since a small portion of every day was spent seeking out the perfect plastic replica, I had a lot of time to ponder how the street car came to symbolize San Francisco and the big yellow taxi is a clear reference to NYC, especially when neither of these modes are actually the ones most commonly used by locals.

The slow moving streetcar costs $5 a ride and is teeming with oversized Nikons and neon fanny packs. New York City taxis are used by locals and tourists alike but most New Yorkers head underground to make their daily commutes.

For me, subways mean mundane everyday tasks from my two-stop commute to the Rolling Stone offices to the 30 minute ride to go out in The Village. Taxis allude to either special occasions–where my stilettos won’t survive the trek to the 6 train–or the end of a late night adventure, where the subway stations would be too difficult to maneuver or just plain dangerous for a girl to stumble into alone.

The average New Yorker wastes most of his yearly income just to pay the rent so doling out an extra $15 a trip just to get downtown seems unnecessary. That’s money that could go to more mouse traps or cans of Raid, which I personally like to use to line the entrance to my apartment in a vain attempt to keep little creatures out. How can you not love this city!?

But when friends and relatives come to visit, they bring with them a terror of the subway system which I still can’t quite figure out. Is it the rodents or the bums that keeps them on street level? Because we have those above ground too. Is it the crowds? You can’t tell me it is the crowds and then continuously drag me to Times Square, the most obnoxiously crowded area on the island. I can’t figure out the origins of this fear so I can also associate taxis with visitors.

Most guests offer to pay for their taxi rides so I usually don’t mind but I do wish I could figure out the source of their aversion. How can they be so opposed to a mode of transportation I use on a daily basis? Any ideas?

When my best friend from high school came up to visit me a few years ago, we got all dressed up to go out and since it was a straight shot on a nearby subway line, I made the mistake of taking her underground to get to our destination. In a subway scene I have yet to see duplicated, we witnessed a couple get in a knock down drag out fight, a half naked homeless man, and a drunk teenager vomiting over the platform. And that was all after Adrienne and I had to conquer endless flights of stairs in our pointy pumps. Adrienne is my only friend who has not come back to visit me and she is the last visitor I have taken on the subway.

A Belated Introduction

May 18, 2008

Jungle in Ghana

I started this blog as an experiment–a test where I could try out promoting myself and the writing I have published–as well as play around with writing in an unedited arena where I can pick my own topics. Its still coming together but I just wanted to introduce myself so many the jumble of posts will seem less random!

I just graduated (literally! Like last week!) from New York University with a double major in Journalism and History. Writing and journalism have always been passions of mine and after spending a semester abroad in Madrid, traveling became one of my other loves.

I could (and have) written endlessly about my experience in Spain, where I was lucky enough to live with two crazy girls who were just as adventurous and open minded as me and made for perfect companions when we visited something like 11 different cities on a shoestring budget. The three of us learned so many things about traveling, about the cities we visited, and about ourselves while staying in hippie communes in Budapest, communal hostels in Berlin, and unfriendly hotels in Dublin. Before that I had never been a traveler, just a tourist, and it wasn’t until that six-month long experience that I even fully understood the difference. Since then I have spent a summer in a reporting program in Ghana and I’m currently trying to work out a trip and possibly even a move to Buenos Aires.

I have interned at a lot of great magazines in New York City—Seventeen, Business Travel News, Interview, and Rolling Stone—and have done some writing for a glossy in Tampa, where I’m from. And now that I’m finally done with school I’m hoping to graduate to gigs that actually pay!  And despite the economy and the struggling print industry, I remain armed with this false optimism that my friends from Spain like to make fun of us Americans for. I am on the hunt for that elusive fulfilling job that I can be passionate about!