Use It Or Lose It: Awesome Last Minute Vacations

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It’s that time of the year – where you have to use your vacation days or lose them – and why lose them? WHY? You worked your butt off all year and deserve a break. Besides, with this weather we’re having, you might just go crazy if you don’t skip off somewhere. Consider this a Public Service Announcement…. Broad style!

Because it’s last minute, I’m thinking cheap, fun and NO STAY-CATIONS! Especially not when it’s snowy out. Unless you live by a ski resort.

After the jump, the best last minute deals:

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The Biker Girl Gangs Of Marrakech Via NYC

When I saw the words: “Biker” “girl” “culture” “Morocco” in a headline I immediately assumed someone was playing a drunken game of Mad Libs on me – but no! There really is such a thing and it’s not an oxymoron. Who Knew? You know I love me some Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves shizz so I bring you news of the new exhibit in NYC – Hassan Hajjaj: Kesh Angels at the Taymour Grahne Gallery on Hudson Street – and DAMN is it cool!

According to the brochure:

Marking the artist’s first exhibition in New York, ‘Kesh Angels presents a unique take on the vibrant street culture of Morocco and pays tribute to the biker culture of the young women of Marrakesh in a series of photographs, limited edition objects, an installation, and a video.

Sign me up! Those ladies got some serious street style (and in one pic even look like they’re endorsed by Nike. Now wouldn’t THAT be cool?). This exhibit makes me want to go to Morrocco stat and drag race with some biker ladies – because you know that would be a good time… Go. See. Now. But hurry – it’s only up until March 7. After the jump, more biker ladies:

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Are Americans Really The Worst? Five Other Countries Whose Tourists Make Us Look Good

We’ve all heard it before. The “Ugly American”; The clueless dingdong who travels other countries doing the following: talking too loud; complaining about everything – especially cigarette smoke and the lack of a decaffeinated coffee; traveling with their own peanut butter to live on lest the local food poison them; wearing funny looking clothes; ignoring the personal space of anyone around them.

Now, in all honesty, some of these stereotypes are true. Take Daddy for example. My old man has a strict summer uniform of ecru Rockport Walkers, long white knee socks, tan pressed khaki short, belted at the waist, a short sleeve button down/golf shirt with a pen in the neck, sunglasses and a sweatband or fishing hat.

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Daddy also has an endearing habit of going to European countries and talking “local like” – for example in Italy, a typical sentence would be, “Excuse-ay me-o, where-o can i get-o some damned pizza?” Or randomly saying things like, “Mamma Mia!” “Mangia, mangia!”

But he means well. He doesn’t complain. Much. There was that time in Italy where, while watching a pigeon defecate down the face of a statue of Mary. “Look at that!” he said. “That damned pigeon just taking a crap all over Mary’s face! Now if these damned Eye-talians had honored my good old American gun permit, I could’ve brought my Walther PPK over here and shot that heretic and we’d be having what they call squab-o for dinner! But nope – over here law abiding citizens can’t own their own damned guns. So the pigeons can just dump anywhere.”

No, my friends, after traveling the world, I have decided we Americans get a bad rap. Especially as there are other countries that deserve so much more vitriol! Find out which ones after the jump:

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The Redneck Mecca of Stage Coach: Where America’s Stereotypes Come Alive

Once a year, Rednecks from all over the world convene in the desert outside of Palm Springs for the Stage Coach festival where a bunch of (mostly) white people become inebriated, perform assless chaps dance offs (see video above) and listen to country music.

There are stereotypes for a reason and Stage Coach represents what much of the world think of when they think of Murrica. I, obviously, try to go every year (Ed Note: Little known fact, the Broad loves country music. And Stereotypes. And Bad behavior – which abounds). By the final night of the festival, brains have been fried by the sun, smokes and gallons of booze. And that’s when it gets really interesting.

Last year, to Stage Coach’s credit, they did try to integrate the stage (and thus the crowd) by having Darius Rucker and Charlie Parker perform – but frankly, only Charlie Parker counts.

And then there’s the fashion. Check out the best selling T-Shirts/bikinis from the stalls. It is all sorts of wrong. Trust.

(After the jump) Behold: AMERICA!

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Sallie Ann Glassman: The High Voodoo Priestess of New Orleans (No, Really!)

Sallie Ann Glassman

Sallie Ann Glassman

Meet Sallie Ann Glassman – a Jew from Maine who also happens to be the high voodoo priestess of New Orleans. Not what I expected either.

Fun fact: I spend every Thanksgiving at Joan River’s house. A few years ago, I was at Joan’s house and she told me this story: “When I bought my (NYC) apartment it was haunted. Doors would open and shut, things would fall. So I found (Sallie Ann Glassman). She came up to New York and did an exorcism of the whole building. Apparently something really bad happened in the basement once. After she came all the stuff stopped. So now I have her do all my houses.” When Joan found out I was going to NOLA she introduced me to Sallie Ann. Separately, when I went to New Orleans, several business people in the town said, “You’re doing a New Orleans story? You should talk to the voodoo priestess – Sallie Ann!”

Outside the Island of Salvation

Outside the Island of Salvation

So, of course I had to talk to Sallie Ann, right? The Island of Salvation Botanica is on the edge of the Ninth Ward and crammed full of… stuff. The temple room has candles, statues, booze, cigars, altars and just things everywhere. Apparently voodoo spirits (and there are a ton) like to party.

Sallie Ann claims that during Katrina, the water stopped at her block and didn’t damage her house, temple or store because of her voodoo. Believe, don’t believe – either way, she was never under water and after Katrina that’s pretty amazing. She also says she can talk to spirits that will tell you about your past, your present and your future. She went into a trance and… Apparently I was a Buddhist monk in my past life. Go figure. I’m also supposed to be wildly successful in this life (I’m still waiting).

Photos of the voodoo after the jump:

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Deep Thoughts: The NYC Metropolitan Opera

I love a diva

Every now and then my pal Gus lets me play dress up and invites me to his amazing Parterre level box at the Metropolitan Opera. Inevitably, I almost always say yes (except for the night after my birthday as it was the night after my birthday and I was too busy self-medicating to get off my couch to take a shower). I leave feeling cultured and superior (to my alter ego, Rhonda who was mentally at home watching Country Music Television and stuffing her face with cheese fries). Last night, while seeing La Boheme, it struck me why The Opera is so addicting.

Behold, a scientific list: Continue reading

World Traveler and Now… Chef!

Dinner for two!

Dinner for two!

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A close up of my masterpiece

Fun Fact: I grew up in Ohio and Kentucky – a landlocked area. Okay, fine, there was the Ohio River but nobody’s eaten anything out of there for at least 100 years. Hell, I don’t think anything has actually lived in there for 75.

The point being, I’ve always been a meat and potatoes kind of girl, especially as I grew up in a time when there was no such thing as “flash freezing” and fish in Cincinnati grocery stores were just… nasty. But. 2014 is a year for trying new things  and broadening my horizons (in between flying off to amazing places) so I faced my biggest kitchen fear and decided to cook some damn fish.

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Deep Thoughts for People Visiting New York City

We have so much in common – I heart NY too!

Oh, tourists. I heart you. No, really! The way you walk hand in hand in hand, side by side by side down every sidewalk… or the way your money belt bulges from the waist of your elasticized pants… or the look of fear that enters your eyes when you realize you have to ask a local for directions. You make me giggle. And for that, I salute you!

I also would like to make your trip to NYC a little easier and pleasant. As a resident of Soho, which is overrun daily by hordes of people coming to see the “real” New York through the windows of Prada, H&M and Uniqlo, I offer you a guide… not on where to stay or what to do – but on How To Act. It’s a simple list of things that will help you fit in, or at least not annoy the locals to the point of tears. And so we begin:

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