From the category archives:

New York Stories

As you may have heard, weather service issued tornado warnings for New York. When the news broke, I was like: “Um, whatever. These NY city slickers are just afraid of wind. I can handle this. I’m from Illinois. Bring out the kites, bitches!”

70 kites on a single line!

Then, at last night’s SnapGoods Block Party, friends showed me pictures of trees and debris smashed through cars; a guy said he was afraid to return home because his neighbor alerted winds flattened a house on their street; and, later, I watched Nick McGlynn’s “This Is Literally a Tornado. Jesus Christ” video. Scary shit. Thus far, everyone I know is okay. Most of the damage was in Queens and Brooklyn; Manhattan was pretty much unscathed. I native Illinoisan, I explained: “It’s the skyscrapers. They block winds, and gusts can’t get enough speed to do damage here.” It’s kind of like how tornadoes rip through rural Illinois, not downtown Chicago. I figured this was a logical explanation, but I checked in with the The Tornado Project to be sure. They concur. “The probability of a violent tornado in the downtown area of any large city is about once in a thousand years.”

If you’re interested in learning more about tornadoes, here’s How Tornadoes Work as well as a video of one of the Midwest’s worst (an 8-mile high funnel in Wichita/Andover, Kansas). Here’s a more “newsy” explanation.

Direct video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GWtfb5l8iA. Or, if you’ve ever wondered, Can someone explain tornadoes to me plain and simple, like I’m a kid? PBS Kids has you covered.

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Kites image by Rona Proudfoot

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{ 4 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

I’m religiously promiscuous. I like to nibble on the best of what each religion contributes to the world. Last Sunday, I went to the Park51‘s interfaith event because I see no reason why Muslims — simply on account of their religious beliefs — should be singled out for unfair treatment, bias or hatred. Some of you may be wondering: Who is this jihadist sex writer?!?! True, I’m a sex writer. No, I don’t support terrorism.

Raised Christian, I currently identify as a “spiritual” person and I attend services at Marble Collegiate Church. It’s the kind of place where, on the third anniversary of the Iraq War’s commencement, we hung peace ribbons along the iron gate surrounding our building. “Gold ribbons, displaying names, ranks, and ages of the thousands of American service people who have lost their lives, represent prayers for the surviving families and friends,” says Marble’s website. “Each Sunday morning during worship, the names of service people who have died in the war in Iraq are read aloud [...] Marble Church congregants and friends continue to pray daily for the wounded and the day that war is no longer an option.”

Finding Park51 proved difficult. Below 14th Street, Manhattan streets resemble a spaghetti blob. Park Row. Park Place. Place Street? I got lost. If I were to give someone travel directions to find Park51 — as I did with a friend who was meeting me there — I’d say, “It’s actually further up, much closer to City Hall.” In any case, if you want to know what happened and see pictures of the inside, voila!

Park51 staff shared food and broke pita with attendees.

2010-09-12 20.50.30

We gathered in small circles to discuss our views on Islam. My group included a male rabbi, a Lutheran woman, an Irish-American gentleman in his 60s who was pretty quirky, a 32-year-old atheist woman, a 20-something Christian woman, a Jewish dude who facilitated much of the discussion and me:

2010-09-12 20.50.40

A Lutheran woman made cranes (makeshift peace doves) for everyone.

2010-09-12 20.44.11

A gentleman with a lovely voice led the Call to Prayer, and those who wished to pray excused themselves to do so. Then, we watched the film Talking Through Walls.

Sometimes, I really love this city. I wanted to write about my Park51 visit sooner, but so much random stuff happens between FUNKY BROWN CHICK® posts. (Psst! In other fun unexpectedness, I recently hailed the Cash Cab.) If you’d like up-to-the-minute funky brown updates, follow me on Twitter. And, for current info about sex & relationships news and events, friend me on Facebook.

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{ 9 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

I try to live each year in Manhattan as if it’s my last one here. Because, one day, it will be. On my Facebook, I shared The Onion article 8.4 Million New Yorkers Suddenly Realize New York City A Horrible Place To Live, and I’ve also seen it spreading online faster than herpes. It’s a satirical piece, but I think it struck a chord with many of the other 117,000+ people who shared the link on Facebook. From the piece: “I always had this perverted sense of pride because I was managing to scrape by here,” said Brooklyn resident Andrew McQuade, who, after watching two subway rats gnawing on a third bloody rat carcass, finally determined that New York City was a giant sprawling cancer. “Well, fuck that. I don’t need to pay $2,000 a month to share a doghouse-sized apartment with some random Craigslist dipshit to prove my worth. I want to live like a goddamn human being.”

I adore this city. I do. Seriously, there are millions of reasons to love New York. At the same time, I miss some of the “quality of life” things this city doesn’t offer very well: quick access to nature, healthy outdoor air quality, large living spaces, opportunities to see the people I care about on a more regular basis, the ability to save tremendous amounts of cash instead of flushing it down the drain for rent, etc., etc. Funny enough, people say my ambivalence about living here — instead of a newbie’s affection for it — makes me a real New Yorker. It’s kind of like how all those French people who complain about Paris are still Parisians.

Hot Chick

For now, I’m soaking up the best of NYC. I spent my sixth New York Labor Day Weekend sitting in the city’s best parks, dropping by world-class cultural attractions, brunching with friends and enjoying much needed time off. I went with David to the Metropolitan Opera to watch a 2010 Summer HD Festival free screening of La Boeheme. (If you’re in the city and free tonight, they’re showing Carmen.) Friday, I went to Brooklyn with Rach, Shoshi and Stacie for Desiree’s homemade cheese biscuits, heirloom salad and mussels. Pear martinis flowed freely and, during some point that evening, I did a dramatic rendition of Beyoncé’s performance in Obsessed. Saturday and Sunday was for brunching with Karlyn, John, Matt and Julia as well as hanging in Central Park. Will I still live here when I’m a 40, 60 or even 70-year-old woman (rocking legs like Tina Turner, I hope). Who knows. Anyway. Just a random rant I wanted to get off my chest. Hope you all enjoyed pleasant Labor Day weekends. More soon.

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Image credit: Erin Pettigrew

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{ 15 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

New York Press has an awesome column called 8 Million Stories, predicated on the idea that this city of 8,000,000 is stuffed with juicy stories that deserve sharing. Taking a page from their playbook, here’s one particular New Yorker’s point of view: mine. Like everyone, I read the news — online, of course. I have to admit I’m surprised by non-New Yorkers’ reaction to the proposed “Ground Zero Mosque.” Because, quite frankly, many people I know who actually live in Manhattan simply don’t care if it gets built. I’ve said a bit about this on Facebook and Twitter, but I thought I’d combine my thoughts in a FUNKY BROWN CHICK® post. After all, if you’ve read my about page, you know I’m a sex & relationships writer and this site chronicles my life. (Currently, that life is based in New York City.)

Lower Manhattan at Night from the Manhattan Bridge, NYC

I live in Manhattan, and I don’t care if a mosque gets built downtown. Last time I checked, the U.S. Constitution granted freedom of religion by stating, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” Cathedrals, synagogues and other houses of worship are present in Lower Manhattan. So, I can’t think of a fair reason why Muslims should be singled out. The Village Voice has a great piece about non-New Yorker’s disappointment about the mosque titled Dear Rest-of-America: Take This Map, It’s Why You’re Wrong About the “Ground Zero Mosque”. An excerpt:

“Maybe we’ll care what [non-New Yorkers] have to say [about the mosque] when you stop bothering us for directions in the subway on how to get to Ground Zero so you can go there and buy some dumb, tacky knickknack you can take home and give to friends to let them know that you spent money on a shake-a-snow where a few thousand people died.”

Another (satirical) quote, this time from Daily Show correspondent John Oliver (also in Manhattan): “There’s a difference between what you can do and what you should do. For instance, you can build a Catholic church next to a playground. Should you?” I don’t think all Catholics are pedophiles, nor do I believe all Muslims are extremists. So, if we can have churches two blocks away from a playground, it seems okay to build a Muslim cultural center two blocks away from the proposed Ground Zero memorial (that hasn’t even been built yet.) That’s my view on this continuing story about the mosque. It’s not a sex/love story, but it’s a tale about a city I love.

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{ 5 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

Twanna & Teresa

Teresa and me brunching at Calle Ocho on New York’s Upper East Side as we gossiped about men & sex last Sunday. Photo by John. (Sorry, my Android doesn’t have flash!) Heads up, if you live in New York and you’ve not yet tried it, Calle Ocho offers unlimited sangria during brunch. Full disclosure: I’m not affiliated with the restaurant in any way, they’re not paying me to plug them and I wasn’t given free food when I dined there. I just thought it was pretty fucking awesome it only cost us about $20 / person for a good meal plus unlimited drinks for a few hours. After, we headed to Central Park and watched the old-school Central Park Dance Skaters. Good times! Sometimes, I love this city.

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{ 5 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

Yesterday, I went to Gap for my personal stylist appointment. Au naturel, baby. No makeup. Hair not curled. Totally tomboy’ed out. That’s how I prefer to shop; I don’t see the point of getting dolled up in stuff you’re gonna rip off. So, watch the video below to come inside the dressing room and look at my body. Oh, the things we say to ourselves when we’re in front of a three-way mirror.

Head’s up, it’s a LOOOOONG video. Chopped it up as quickly as I could, but I didn’t have time to snip even more and still have it look coherent. I wanted to do two extra shots — one for scents and another for underwear because I like experimenting with both but I ran out of time. Enjoy the show!

By the way, I was on my period and totally bloated, but I still lifted my shirt to show you how the jeans fit because I’m learning to love my body regardless of the time of month. Also, sliding further past the waist …. men LOVE my curves more than I do, but that’s changing — yesterday’s side / bandonkadonk shot as well as today’s video highlight my hips & badonkadonk because we’re becoming much better friends.

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Disclosure: Complimentary clothes and tips from expert stylists came courtesy of Gap.

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{ 11 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

In Pictures: Trying On Tight Jeans at Gap

The absolutely lovely folks at Gap kindly provided an overstuffed bag of goodies and set me up with a stylist appointment in preparation for my Blogher 2010 session, Bringing Sex Out of the Closet. Shout out to Nick, Andrea and Jessica at the 34th and Broadway location in Midtown. We all cheerily gathered in the dressing room’s three-way mirror, and they threw a bunch of clothes at me. It was all very Pretty Woman … except, you know, without me in knee-high, black hooker boots yelling, “Well, I didn’t ask if it would fit. I asked how much it was. Look, I got money to spend in here!!”

Here’s a photo of me snapping pictures in Gap’s super-tight, long and lean jeans. If you’ve met me in person or seen my Flickr pics, you know I’m a dress & skirts chick. I almost NEVER wear jeans. But, I’ll be damned if my favorite Gap trio — Nick, Andrea and Jessica — didn’t pick out just the right pair that felt sexy, comfortable AND flattered my badonkadonk. “These don’t make me look fat, do they?” I asked. “You’ve got hips,” Nick told me with a friendly smile. “You’re a woman. They’re supposed to be there.” I liked the Gap trio because they were super personable and, more importantly, honest. I shot video of all the shenanigans. If I have time to clip it together before BlogHer kicks up tomorrow, I’ll post it.

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{ 10 folks got down with the Funky Brown }

Well, I’ll be damned. This site, FUNKY BROWN CHICK®, is now FIVE years old. Since summer 2005, I’ve posted 1,004 updates. You lovely people have left 18,278 comments and more than 2.1 million unique visitors’ eyes have glanced over these pages. I’m RIDICULOUSLY grateful for the support. I started out as an anonymous blogger known only by Stolie (short for Stolichnaya) the Funky Brown Chick after landing in Manhattan with a job but no apartment nor plans to remain put for more than a year or two.

Backing up a bit. No stranger to the internet, in the 90s in Los Angeles I did tech support and taught people how to build webpages — coding from <html> to </html> using Notepad. I maintained a personal homepage until I upgraded to a web journal on Angelfire. So, when I arrived in New York with a carry on bag, checked luggage and a ton of uncertainty, once again I jumped online to use words and images to describe my life. This time, I wanted a domain that could be a permanent online home. I’ve lived in 16  cities sprinkled throughout 3 countries, used to dream in Dutch and once believed I’d get married and have two children. But, I’ve always been quirky (“funky”). My skin is forever brown. And, I’m a chick. More than 1,000+ updates later, the site I named Funky Brown Chick is still here. So, raise your glasses! Below are a few hard lessons I’ve learned from the past five years.

New York Is A Very Difficult City

I don’t have a romantic partner, and my sibling — the only remaining blood relative on which I can rely — is more than 700 miles away in Illinois. At times, I’ve felt completely alienated and incredibly lonely in this city of 8 million. I often miss the Midwestern style of bonding by doing things like cook meals at each others homes. In New York, my friends and I quickly catch up over brunch, cupcakes, drinks or coffee. Then we zip away to our respective events and activities. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the fucked up dating scene, high cost of living and other difficulties of being a NYC resident. I joke, I don’t live in New York, I survive it. Every day. I still remember my first year here and the days when I wasn’t sure how I’d pay the landlord who came looking for me. There’s a reason the saying “If you can make it here you’ll make it anywhere” is trite.

Some Individuals Are Cowardly, Juvenile and Hateful

My friend Bro often says, “I hate people. Most of them are stupid, rude or both. Find people who aren’t stupid or rude and be with them.” I don’t necessarily agree “most” people are, but putting my private life in public has taught me a greater percentage of people than I originally thought are, indeed, rude. When I wrote a column for an online magazine, an anonymous commenter expressed regret I wasn’t raped on one of my dates. Last week on Twitter, someone who doesn’t know me said I was “the biggest dipshit of the year.” When I opened a free Formspring account and told everyone: Ask me anything! One person (semi)anonymously asked whether I could afford plastic surgery for my “ugly ass face.” That, of course, made me laugh. Seriously, my thoughts about all of this? I consider it a compliment when others devote their personal time to thinking, talking or writing about me. But, really? Fuck ‘em. Couldn’t care less about those who spew such juvenile hatred. I have better things to do with my time.

Humanity Can Be Unbelievably Compassionate, Kind and Loving

Of the 18,278 comments on this site, the vast majority are civil, supportive, funny, encouraging and kind — even when you don’t agree on a particular issue. I repeatedly say “I have the best readers on the internet.” A Dutch woman who goes by “A” sent me a holiday card because she knows I celebrate Christmas with friends and family. When I fell on really hard times many years ago, a collection of readers forwarded me cash via PayPal to help pay rent. (At the time, it was embarrassing to accept the money — even though I needed it.) When longtime reader Amy D from Michigan got married, she burned a copy of her wedding CD tracks and shared it with me. Here in New York, readers have stopped me in public just to tell me they like my writing. When a job took me to the UK in 2007 and I visited Belfast, Funky Brown Chick reader Nics cleared her schedule for the day to show me around her beautiful city. I’m not used to people being kind to me for no reason at all without expecting anything in return. (In that way, I fit into this city quite well.) Hard lesson: It’s okay to be vulnerable. This cycles back to my point about New York being a hard place to live. I’m humbled, grateful and absolutely amazed by the compassion shown by friends I’ve made here as well as those of you (old and new) who follow me online. Here’s hoping the next five — days, months, decades or however long I decide to stay in New York — are as meaningful as the past have been.

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{ 32 folks got down with the Funky Brown }