CEO SmackDown

First of all, a shout out to roommate George for cleaning up the apartment while the other three of us were out tonight. The bathroom, specifically, was getting hairier than a den of shedding sasquatches. Mucho gracias.

So today was a big day on the ol' intern calendar. It was finally time for us McGraw-Hill interns to have lunch with our CEO, Terry McGraw, at corporate headquarters on the penthouse floor. We were told in advance to come dressed up with questions for senior management, as VPs would be sitting at our tables.

At quarter to eleven, our usual crew of Penn Plaza interns took the subway up 48th and checked through security at 1221. We soared up in that fancy elevator once again and arrived on the top floor with the amazing view. Lunch was already set out -- a full buffet of half a dozen different sandwiches, salads, desserts, and drinks. We were given name tags with our table numbers on them, and, after dishing up, I set out to find numero cinco.

The seven people at my table were a collection of Standard & Poors, corporate strategy, and computer programming interns. These sorts of events always feel like your first day in high school, where complete strangers united by nothing but age are forced to meet and greet with sweaty palms. Fortunately, since most people's awkward years are long over by age 20, the process is much easier (I would like to note, however, that for God knows whatever reason, I chose to spread out my awkward years over the last decade -- grade eight I got glasses, grade nine I took enough Accutane to wipe out every pimple on the planet, and second year university some schizophrenic-slash-masochist inside me thought 'braces and jaw surgery? Yes please').

I digress.

The lunch was great; we had some legit laughs, talked a lot with the Chief Information Officer, and got some good insight into the future of global markets, digitization, and intellectual property protection as it relates to McGraw-Hill's corporate growth strategy.

Terry was a great speaker, too. Instead of getting all technical with specific business units, he managed to remain pretty macro in his message of passion and growth. He's very charismatic, very smart. Very rich (didn't say so, but everyone knows). And very influential -- from 2003 to 2006, he was chairman on the Business Roundtable, a group of America's top CEOs (Coke, Exxon Mobil, GM, IBM, Wal-Mart, etc.) whose companies' revenues combined total over $6 trillion.

And beyond being funny and dedicated, he's pretty badass too -- the guy had a huge shiner on his right eye. He didn't tell the story behind it, but I'm pretty sure it was the result of a big Michael Bay-like action sequence. I can see the posters now:

CEO SMACKDOWN
"Don't mess with McGraw."

When I got back to my office, the co-workers were excited to hear all about the lunch. That's what makes this internship program top-notch -- most employees don't get to see their own CEOs in real life, and here I'd just had grilled chicken sandwiches with the guy. Pretty cool.

That's all the updates for now. Only three weeks left in the Big Apple; time is going by much, MUCH too quickly. Of course I miss home (and barbecues and golfing and legal drinking), but, as the song goes, "Home is where the heart is..."

And, as the T-Shirt says, I heart NY.

Action!

At 11:30 p.m. last night, I found myself standing outside a little diner in Brooklyn. The neighborhood was dim and quiet, scarcely anyone there, and oozed with the unsettling feel of Are You Afraid of the Dark?'s eerie, early nineties theme song (which still gives me the heebie jeebies, by the way).

I was with four friends, about to make our acting debuts as extras for the MTV series My Life as Liz. You probably haven't heard of it. Don't worry, neither has anyone else. I know I hadn't. But, being the type to never turn down an opportunity to get airwave attention, I eagerly agreed when my MTV intern friend asked if I was interested.

The shoot was supposed to take place from 11:30 - 1:30. We hopped boroughs around 11, and, being new to this part of Brooklyn, had about twenty minutes to decode the streets and find our way to a diner named "Relish".

The only experience I had had with Brooklyn was Coney Island's hot dog eating mayhem back on July 4th. Let me say it's a lot different on a late Thursday night. The weird part is that it feels like a bizarro version of Manhattan -- a knockoff, a Knockturn doppleganger of Diagon Alley. There are still plenty of people wandering around, and a couple NYPD here and there. But something about Brooklyn just feels off. Compared to Midtown or East Village, everything is three or four shades grungier. The people's teeth are a little more crooked. The bar music is all in minor keys. It's very difficult to describe, but think of being caught in an unpleasant dream. Not a nightmare, but a kind of wobbly, unsettled world that feels like it's crazy glued together.

So there we were, all four of us, walking around looking for Relish. One girl mentioned that she brought a can of Mace and a switchblade just in case. I felt my own pockets -- all I had was ten bucks and a stick of Tide To Go. Hopefully there wouldn't be trouble, because as far as fights are concerned, the most I can take on is a messy stain.

Thankfully, as the start of this post indicates, we arrived safely around 11:30. At least we thought we did. We'd found a small diner on Berry St. but there was no signage anywhere. No camera crews, no producers. So we sort of just hung around outside and took pictures for a while.

A few more minutes passed... still nothing.

Then it clicked. Hidden cameras were already filming us. It was a brand new reality show -- I could hear the promo voice:

Five interns are trapped in Brooklyn and must party their way back to Manhattan. But since that only takes, like, a couple hours, they'll probably just make-out for the other eight episodes.

Yep. Sounds like an MTV show to me.

Once we ran out of jokes about the whole hidden camera thing, we decided to check inside the diner... and it turned out that the film crew was already getting set up. A Production Assistant led us into a dank little ante-room and handed out contracts. It was so dark I couldn't really read anything, so I just signed where I thought the dotted line was.

...yeah... MTV might own my kidneys right now. Guess we'll wait and see.

The next hour was spent chilling around on set, meeting more extras, and watching the crew film their scenes. Finally it came time for the big diner shot. My group must've been the most attractive (no surprise there), because we got seated right by the lead actress' table. We were told that a waitress would come up and take our plates away, and that right after we should get up and leave.

Oh, and all our movement had to be in slow-motion because they were doing some sort of visual effect.

HD cameras mounted the dollies. Prop food was brought out. The lights were adjusted.

ACTION!

Now, honestly, there's not an ounce of performance pressure as an extra. No one is paying attention to you but you. I do admit, however, that there's some anxious energy that bubbles up when you hear "rolling!". Being pros, of course, we tamed the nerves and aced the takes (adding slightly different subtext each time for variety -- in take one we pretended I had just proposed to my fiance; in take two, I asked for a divorce).

Needless to say, the whole thing was loads of fun.

And guess what?

We got cash.

Ten. Dollars.

Impressed? You should be -- I'm a legitimately paid, professional actor now. They also offered us the cold prop food after shooting, which we grabbed and scarfed down in a heartbeat (actors can't be choosers). Can you believe it? In one night, my three years of business school were eschewed for sketchy film sets, slave pay, and cold sandwiches. If Murray Edwards could see me now...

But you know what? I loved it. This site is called Bohemian Businesskid for a reason. I can't wear a white collar all the time because it's too boring, and I can't do the starving artist thing because I happen to really like expensive things. So if I had to pass on a piece of advice, I would suggest striking a good balance between practicality and passion in life.

Oh, and don't sign contracts in the dark.

Saw a Dead Guy

Not quite sure if this guy was actually dead or not, but he looked pretty dead.

Sixty years old. Crumpled on the street. Smacked by a taxi.

There were two cops there -- not touching the body at all -- who were clearing the area of tourists. The cab (which was stopped at an angle in the middle of the intersection) had its lights flashing.

Was this guy actually dead? Probably not.

But did I see him move?

Definitely not.

The only other accident I've witnessed was when a poor little rickshaw driver was biking his carriage down Broadway; he turned his head for a split second and never noticed the spotless white Lincoln SUV signalling left.

WHAM!

The look in the poor rickshaw driver's eyes was the look of a thousand despairs. No one was hurt, but there was definite damage to the vehicle. Mrs. Lincoln screeched her SUV to a halt and wobbled out of the driver's seat, inspecting the scratches.

I booted it out of there. Seeing a dead guy is one thing, but seeing a man who can barely make ends meet get told that he'll have to work the rest of his life to pay for two car dints is heartbreaking on a whole other level.

Tidying Up Loose Ends

I thought I'd combine a bunch of small stories to write tonight's post, so, in no particular order, here are ten random bullet points of what's been going on lately:

1. Went all-out tourist and took the famous New York double decker bus tour over the weekend
2. Phoned brother to congratulate him on graduation; congrats again, Jarrett!!
3. Dined on delicious pulled pork with some Swift Current friends and friends of friends
4. Attended "Dee Roscioli: Decidedly Dee" back on June 28th at Birdland Jazz -- a tremendous live vocalist and hilarious actress
5. Cheered at Improv "Rap-Off", UCB's midnight event where actors battle each other with their quick wits and sharp rhymes
6. Survived some of the hottest heat New York has ever had (over 100 for three consecutive days)
7. Walked through the famous Waldorf=Astoria hotel on the same night that Queen Elizabeth was staying there
8. Saw Nicolas Cage at Disney's Sorcerer's Apprentice premiere
9. Waved at the Statue of Liberty while sailing past on the Staten Island Ferry
10. Played piano in the middle of both Times Square and Greeley Square after midnight (many thanks to the kind audiences)

Also, congrats to June's CBA winner: The Joker! Best of luck to all the Creative Beggars in July.

4TH OF JULY

Back to back country celebrations -- first Canada Day, now 4th of July. I'm liking this!

So since July 4th technically started last night at 12:00a.m., that's where I'll begin. And what was I doing yesterday at midnight? Well, I'd just gotten out of M. Night Shyamalan's newest motion picture disaster: "The Last Airbender". Talk about a movie being boring, poorly shot, and shittily acted. I'd heard bad things (with a Rotten Tomatoes score of 8%, I wasn't exactly expecting 'good'), but it managed to make "The Happening" and "Lady in the Water" look like Oscar winning masterpieces. Now, the friend I went with insisted that the anime series was a bajillion times better, so we ended up grabbing a Subway sandwich, going home, and watching the first episode to ease the eye wounds that Shyamalan gouged in our sockets. And, indeed, the cartoon was a bajillion times better.

By the time the movie marathon was over, it was getting pretty late. But thankfully I could sleep in this morning, right?

Wrong.

Today I had to get up early again and meet my crew on the subway down to Brookyln for the world famous Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest on Coney Island.

I CANNOT explain how huge this eating contest is. We got there about an hour and a half before it started and the stands were already packed. They had midgets and acrobats and that guy from The Evolution of Dance video. There were cheerleaders and ringleaders, T-Shirt guns and TV stations.

Now. I don't know if you've ever watched professional eating contests before, but they're as big and intense as any sport I've ever seen. The rules are simple: whoever can eat the most hot dogs in ten minutes without throwing up wins $20,000 and the coveted "Yellow Mustard Belt".

Not just anyone can walk on stage and take the challenge, either. You have to qualify in different regions to make it this far. And trust me, these contestants were celebrities. They were bigger than celebrities -- they were glorified American Heroes.

Returning to defend his title was Joey Chestnut, world record holder for eating 68 hot dogs in 10 minutes.

68.

That's not a typo. Six eight. It averages out to one hot dog every nine seconds for 10 minutes straight. He's held the title for the last three years after taking it from six time Japanese winner, Takeru Kobayashi, whose previous record was 53 1/4. Kobayashi was not allowed to compete this year because of contract disputes with the Major League Eating franchise, but he was in the audience watching the event play out. Every time ESPN's camera cut to him, the crowd would go wild and cheer Kobayashi's name. And after watching the competition, I now know why. See, Joey Chestnut won again by a landslide with 54 hot dogs, ten more than second place. And honestly, it wasn't much of a competition. Had Kobayashi competed, however, things might have been much more intense (apparently, he's the only one "powerful" enough to stand a chance of dethroning Joey Chestnut).

Winner Joey Chestnut with a tray of hot dogs that shows the amount he ate in just ten minutes.

As you can tell, I've become totally fascinated with the hot dog eating world. It's such interesting human behavior. But don't get me wrong, the actual event is atrocious to watch. Do you know how someone eats 68 hot dogs in ten minutes? Well, a popular technique is to cut the dog in half, shove both halves in your mouth at the same time, dip the bun in water until it's mush, and then stuff the mush down your throat as fast as possible. Intrigued? Revolted? Just watch the video and see for yourself: witness the hot dog intensity.

Once Joey Chestnut was crowned winner, the crowd went wild. And so did Kobayashi. I didn't get a chance to see, but apparently Kobayashi leaped on stage and started stuffing hot dogs in his face like a desperate, washed up contender. The police tried to escort him away, but he clung to the rails and refused to go. He was arrested for entering the stage without authorization and resisting arrest. Again, don't believe me? Check it out: Kobayashi arrest.

After Coney Island, I got some R & R the rest of the day. Did some writing, did some visiting. Around 8:00 I braved the crowds and went West to the Hudson River to watch the Macy's fireworks. Apparently Justin Bieber was performing afterwards, but, needless to say, I decided to just come home and get to bed a little early. Besides, I'm wiped from being out in the sun all day, too, so let's just say you know you're really tired when Justin Bieber's bedtime is later than yours.

CANADA DAY

For about a week now, the topic of July 1st has become a running joke around the office. I had told my coworkers that Canada has a national holiday similar to America's Independence celebration, but half of them refused to believe that there was actually such a thing as "Canada Day".

Once I convinced them that Canada Day indeed exists, they became very curious; most of them wanted to know more about what we do (i.e. what are the typical customs and traditions). Well, as us Canadians know, we don't really do a lot. Suppose there's fireworks. And food. And drinking. But yup, that's about it.

The New Yorkers weren't very satisfied with the truth. "Don't the Mounties ride around on their horses?" some asked. "Or don't you drink Molsen and have hockey tournaments or something?"
"Well yes," I answered. "But that's sort of every day".

Disappointed with the lackluster truth, the co-workers convinced me that we should throw our own cool Canada Day party. So today, the festivities went a little something like this...

Almost everyone wore white and red. I brought in a 40-Pack of Tim Bits, and one girl surprised us with a tray of gourmet Red Velvet cupcakes from Magnolia. Before everyone got there, my Manager printed out a dozen colorful Canadian flags and stuck them around our hallway, and, since the visuals couldn't get any tackier, I upped the ante by finding YouTube videos of "O Canada" and "God Save the Queen", playing them on repeat as everyone arrived over the first half hour. A few people shared funny Canada stories, others told Canada jokes, and, in-between, I got to enlighten the masses about poutine and block-heaters.

Personally, I think the party represented Canada pretty well. It was friendly and peaceful. A little lame and a little unhealthy, sure, but having someone from Saskatchewan (coolest province) with universal health care (best perk) balanced it out.

After work, myself, someone from Toronto, someone from Vancouver, and someone from Texas (basically Alberta anyway), discovered a pub called Canada Cabin. It was THE place for us to be on July 1st -- I fiiiiinally got the great, greasy taste of poutine back on my taste-buds! Hazaa!

So mucho thanks to all the Americans and Canadians who helped make this Canada Day one of the most Canadian Canada Days I've ever had. Can't wait to return the favor and help USA celebrate July 4th this Sunday :^)

June CBAs

The Creative Begging Awards are back! I was worried at the end of May that I wouldn't find as good contestants this month as Elmo, Obama and, of course, our current champ, Mr. Random African American. But I should have known that I'd have nothing to be nervous about -- there's truly an endless supply of crazy in New York City, and I'm happy to say that the beggars really stepped up their game these last few weeks. So without further ado, here are the street pitches that really shone in June...

NOMINEES
1. Emperor of McDonald's: this scraggly man stands at the corner of Delancey and Essex outside of a McDonald's and holds the door open for everyone who goes inside. If no one's entering, he'll shout phrases like "I am the Emperor of McDonald's and I command you to buy McNuggets!" or "The Emperor of McDonald's ain't lovin' your attitude!".
2. The Joker: A guy in Times Square gets dressed up in a flamboyant purple suit and paints his face to look like Heath Ledger from The Dark Knight. When he walks up to tourists, completely stoic, his one-liner is: "Put a smile on this face."
3. Voodoo Lady: I've only seen this woman once, but her temerity was outstanding enough to earn her a nomination. Two young guys were on the edge of the sidewalk trying to hail a cab when she came up and jostled them aside. They were sort of confused, especially when she started wiggling her fingers and muttering something at the traffic. Ten seconds later a cab showed up and she opened the door for the young men. Poor guys tried getting in, but she wouldn't let them. "I summon cab for you," she huffed, "you owe five dollars." The guys just shoved past and crawled in; she gave the cab the finger as it sped away.

To vote for who you think deserves the June CBA, leave a comment on this post. Poll closes on July 1st at 12:00a.m..

Good luck to all the nominees, and may the best beggar win!

Next to Normal

Chalk another Broadway hit up on my musical scoreboard. Last night, myself and two friends went to "Next to Normal" at Booth Theater on 45th. And it was one of those rare experiences -- most certainly the strongest I've had with a live show -- where I have to admit, in spite of all my macho testosterone hormones pleading me not to, that I was moved.

The score and libretto tell the story of how Diana Goodman (Alice Ripley, Tony Award winner for this role) battles with bipolar disorder and how it affects her suburban family. I have never witnessed such a powerful singing, acting, and story triumvirate. The lead voices were light years beyond what I'd heard on Broadway so far, and the rock opera tunes were funny at times, sad at others, and absolutely gut-wrenching when they needed to be. By the end of Act 1, I didn't see a pair of dry eyes in the theater.

Cover your ears, Elton John, because I really believe "Next to Normal" was robbed of the 2009 Best Musical Tony by "Billy Elliot" (which some of my friends who have seen both shows completely agree). But I guess that happens to the best contenders. There is, however, consolation in knowing that "Next to Normal" is one of only eight Broadway musicals ever to win a prestigious Pulitzer Prize. So take THAT, American Theater Wing.

* * *

Later on, after hanging around the stage door and getting four of the stars' signatures, myself and my friends headed down to the Lower East Side for some after-show food. I was promised the best meatballs and crepes I would ever have.

And Oh. My. God.

The Meatball Shop, despite having the name of a raunchy gay strip club, delivered the tastiest meal I've ordered in New York thus far. The fresh apple salad and mashed meatball sandwich with mushroom sauce was a late night, heavenly Eucharist. And the hot honey-butter crepe that followed was ten bites of delicious coronary heart disease.

At one point between meatball sandwiches and butter crepes, it hit me.

No, not diabetes.

A thought. The thought that my weekends and evenings and interests are definitely different from those of the happy drunks who were rolling by the restaurant windows outside. I mean, it was Saturday night in New York City's Lower East Side. The nightclubs were buzzing, the party buses were bouncing, and all over the sidewalks the boys and girls gone wild were... well, going wild. Meanwhile, I had just finished watching my tenth Broadway show and was happier than I'd been in a long time just sitting and chatting with a couple cool theater friends over meatballs and salad. Don't get me wrong, I love a good party. But last night highlighted the single best thing about New York City: everyone can do whatever they want and have the time of their life.

There is no "weird" or "stupid" or "bad".

There's just diversity. So while what some of us do or who we are might not necessarily be the definition of "normal", there's nothing wrong with leading slightly different, next-to-normal lives, either.

Ivanka Freaking Trump

The title says it all.

Yesterday, my favorite Trump child tweeted that she would be in Madison Square Park this afternoon to help promote a new Hewlett-Packard printer. I didn't care if it was HP, BP, or KY who was putting on this event -- all that mattered was that I was going to get to see one of my biggest celebrity crushes.

So at 10:30 a.m. I told my co-workers that I was taking an early lunch break. You should have seen their faces; one of them was still eating her breakfast.

I literally sprinted to Madison Square Park (it's medium distance from Penn Plaza) and arrived about quarter to eleven. There was a modest size crowd already brewing, but no Trump daughter yet.

Twenty minutes passed... still no one...

I kept checking my watch, knowing that my hour lunch break was ticking away fast. And then, from the gates of heaven (actually from behind a wall) walked Ivanka Trump. She was with Bill Rancic, Donald Trump's first ever Apprentice winner, and both were smiling and confident, ready to say a million nice things about HP's new printer-whatsit. They gave a quick little back and forth welcome, then handed out some coupons to a dozen lucky bastards who got to go up on stage.

Now. I could describe and compliment and extol Ivanka at length, but why don't I let my pictures say a few thousand words instead?

I shoved myself to the front of the professional photographers to get the best shots I could. They all had ginormous lenses and tripods and microphones, and there I was, front and center, with a tiny little Best Buy cam.

At the end of the press junket, interviewers continued to swarm Ivanka on stage. At this point I saw Bill standing off to the side -- perfect opportunity! I waved and pointed at my camera; he smiled and strolled right over, shaking my hand immediately. I asked how he was doing and how this season's Apprentice was going. He didn't spill any secret info (too bad), but I did end up with these awesome pictures.

Special thanks go out to the security guard who took these two shots. In the first one, I was half way through removing my sunglasses when he snapped prematurely; we all agreed it looked purposeful and totally awesome.

Ultimately I would have loved to get a photo with Ivanka, but she was surrounded by impenetrable hordes of paparazzi most of the time. In retrospect, after having hours to think over this ordeal, I probably could have shouted something to catch her attention (something about how I love her book "The Trump Card", or even a comment about the new Trump SoHo Hotel or a compliment on her personally-crafted designer jewelry), but, honestly, everything happened so fast that my wit and charm couldn't keep up. I know, I know. Hard to believe, right? But in addition to that, I think there's always a little fear in meeting someone you really admire, too -- like you don't want to say something so incredibly stupid that the thought of it will embarrass you for years and years to come.

All in all, it was a damn good day. But if there's something I'm learning from meeting all of these crazy celebrities, it's that success doesn't rub off. If I really want to be on the other side of the red ropes one day, it'll take a lot of hard work, ambition, and sacrifice that few can even fathom. We can't all be born Trumps, but that just makes the mountains we climb that much higher and the views at the top that much more spectacular in the end.

In the Subway...

I watched a ten pound rat play with an iPod size cockroach.

Revolting? Or cute?