Alochol + Chocolate - Not just for Seducing Anymore

QUESTION: How do you get a group of random people (particularly women), all with varying backgrounds, ages, preferences, and tastes, who are forced to work with one another and who frequently and not-so-secretly trash talk each other, to forget their differences for an evening and act like they're be BFF4L?

ANSWER: By plying them with copious amounts of chocolate and alcohol, of course!

I've already booked this year's office holiday party at Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory

As anyone who knows me personally is aware, I take food scarily seriously, especially when it comes to cocktails and dessert. "Mom, what's the point of blowing all of my savings on rent in NYC if I DON'T try out a new bakery/bar every day?? I'd actually be wasting my money more if I didn't go out!"

So regarding the combined worlds of chocolate and booze, I feel fairly confident that I know my way around a chocolate martini or two. Yes, yes, everybody's heard of the tourist death trap Max Brenner. Let's just say their chocolate martinis are about the only thing on that menu worth a trip to that overpriced mall-quality restaurant. I'm a huge addict of The Chocolate Room (so is Oprah!), but obviously nobody from a midtown office is going to show up at an après work happy hour hang out sesh out in Brooklyn. Much more conveniently located is of course Ayza; the food is tasty but the atmosphere is too claustrophobic and pretentious for my tastes. So where does that leave us?

Amirite, ladiez?!?

I recently became aware that a personal favorite chocolate shop/cafe now serves alcohol! Woohoo! This store is particularly near and dear to my heart - growing up in rural New Hampshire, my family was close friends with the owners of a fabulous little store called L.A. Burdick Chocolates. The business has since expanded outside of The Granite State and has additional locations in Boston, Cambridge, and NYC's Flatiron District! The atmosphere is quintessentially French, with a menu of Madeleines, chocolate croissants, and rich chocolate mousse cake, among other things. They also sell handmade chocolates and truffles, and are particularly known for their chocolate mice!

Très adorable!

I recently assembled a group of colleagues for a classy night of indulging at Burdick's. The evening resulted in a pleasant night had by all. Even my 60+ year old supervisor stayed out past 9 pm! I don't know about you, but that's what I call a party. I think it goes without saying that a round of chocolate martinis was ordered immediately. For all the choco-haters out there, don't worry, there are drinks for you too. They serve beer, okay?! (I'm talking to you Porkchop). In addition to my martini, I partook in the summer seasonal menu and ordered a rhubarb spritzer. Delicious. I need to go back asap! Please be jealous of the following two photos:

Spiked hot coco and coconut cake with homemade whipped cream :)

Sorry people, I was a total dodo and didn't take any more closeup shots of our beverages. Below is a group shot that I awkwardly cropped!

Left to right: chocolate martini, chocolate martini, water, rhubarb spritzer (clear with straw), water, and red thing (I totally don't remember what that was...but it was good!)

And to close this post as I often do, please enjoy something totally random and weird I found on the internet while composing this entry: a vintage postcard from the suffragettes movement. Note the luxurious snack of choice in the smoky woman cave while the poor husband is laboring away in the kitchen sans said snack.

Apparently bonding over chocolate is our version of male bonding over sports. And trash talking the opposite gender. Obvi.

Oh and this. Okay, ciao, ciao mes biches!

At least it's a better option that "stick an aspirin between your legs". I demand free chocolate in all sex education classrooms immediately!

Photo credits: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (original version, duh), http://www.popartuk.com

Keeping It Real

As I described in my very first post ever!, my job provides my conscience with an internal conflict. Generally speaking, most mold inspections are pointless, people simply do not know how to properly handle a leak situation. The media particularly creates an atmosphere of fear with its focus on the TOXIC BLACK MOLD OF DEATH or whatever. But then again, if people DID understand how to properly handle moisture problems, I'd be out of a job. Conundrum!
Normally real estate management firms foot the bill for my mold inspections, although recently my company's sales manager had unwillingly talked an individual apartment renter into an inspection despite her hesitation to pay for such an expensive service. 

I view my company's sales manager and Randall from Monsters Inc. as basically the same person - very sneaky and calculating. Beware!

Upon arrival at the job, the woman showed me the area in question. I was rather confused as to why I was commissioned to perform an inspection. There had been a one-time leak in the space two years prior, and no signs of water damage were visible. Suddenly the woman broke down in in front of me, explaining that she had recently had a death in the family and now was suddenly responsible for a million new things and didn't know what to do. She asked me point blank if a mold inspection was necessary. 

"Whatever, I'm getting cheese fries"

Like Regina George (hopefully not *too* much like her!), I too am not unfamiliar with mental meltdowns. There have been a handful of times where it's been hard for me to keep my shit together both while at the office and in the field. I felt a strong connection with this woman and had a lot of empathy for her situation. After informing her that a mold inspection did not appear to be necessary and sharing a few easy mold tips, the resident invited me to enjoy tea and cake in her apartment. Instead of performing a lame mold test, we spent a lovely afternoon together talking about the environmental field. :)  

I have never turned down an invitation to a good tea party!

Speaking of Alice in Wonderland and tea parties, I just realized that today is my un-birthday! Is it your un-birthday too?? Oh my gosh, no way! Well I wish us all a very merry un-birthday! :)

Photo credits: Monsters Inc., Alice in Wonderland, Mean Girls

Perigrinating to Poughkeepsie

Last week I received a request to do a mold investigation upstate in Poughkeepsie, New York. The journey involved a two hour train ride on Metro North's Hudson Line. The expedition was breathtakingly beautiful and relaxing. It had been so long since I had left the concrete jungle of NYC and I thoroughly enjoyed the air's clean and refreshing scent. Unfortunately my mold inspection was quite the opposite. Thank god the apartment's resident wasn't home during my investigation - the entire place wreaked worse than a dumpster you'd find behind an Arby's on a 90 degree summer's day. Not sure I have any desire to meet the person who chooses to keep their house in such condition... Anywho, below are some photos taken along the way. Enjoy!

Couldn't have asked for a more gorge day!

Necessary bridge shot

This looks like a scene from the Lord of the Rings. I kept hoping to catch sight of a hobbit or two.

Andddddd this is the sticker I found on a banana I ate today

You Want to be Popular, Don't You??

It can be so hard to stick out from the crowd and stay on top of the newest, hottest trends. Lucky for you, Adventures of the Mold Girl is so on trend right now! Simply by liking The Adventures of the Mold Girl's Facebook page will show the world how truly cool you are with only the slightest amount of effort. 

The Facebook page will keep you up to date on all of the most recent Mold Girl postings. There, you can also find extra commentary and other content. Woohoo!

And remember, there is absolutely nothing more important than being popular. At least except for making sure the rest of the world knows it too.

"Thank you. By the way, do you know what existential means? Because today someone told me my writing was existential, so I thought I should coordinate, you know, with wardrobe." - Quinn Morgendorffer

Quinn is the ultimate humanitarian

Photo credits: Daria

The Magic Touch

A while ago I performed a mold inspection at the home of what I suppose you could call a D-list celebrity, who's job title includes the word "magic". Guess what the person does for a living, I'll even be generous and give you two chances: 

Unfortunately you'd be incorrect guessing Channing Tatum back during his Chippendale days :-/

That's more like it, a magician!

I am rarely given an apartment resident's name prior to an inspection, but for whatever reason I was provided with a name on this particular occasion. I had thought nothing of it given that the name is rather common, although it became quite evident upon arrival that I was indeed inside the home of the famous-ish magician himself. He was not present at the time of inspection, but his foreign model baby momma who looked younger than me was. 
The classiest part of the apartment was a large epic oil painting of the magician hanging upside down from some telephone wires with New York's skyscrapers far below in the distance. The painting pictured him calmly struggling inside of a buckled straightjacket while four scary devils creeped along the wires towards him. It was fabulous. If only I had asked for the artist's name so that I could commission a similarly epic Mold Girl painting. I have the perfect spot to hang it! *le sigh* If only.

I had wanted to image search "epic devil oil paintings" for this picture, but I was afraid of all the creepy things I'd find. So here's what I came up with after googling "magician art": The Magician by Alexandre Evariste Fragonard. #Culture

And now I will wrap up this post with a song that I was introduced to in 1999 by the soundtrack to Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Enjoy.

#MoreCulture

Photo credits: Magic Mike, Fun Factory Parties

Werk it Out - Boogie Down Bronx Edition

I'm just gonna throw it out there. The Bronx is crazy. Even crazier than Queens. And let me tell you, Queens is pretty crazy (what genius thought it'd be a good idea to name streets "64th Road", "64th Street", and "64th Drive", all of which are located in completely different areas? I know Queens is a big borough, but come on, we can be more creative than that). Despite the confusing nature of Queens, the Bronx is still weirder. It's so different than all the other boroughs. NYC is a typical urban city - it's like, you know, flat. The Bronx on the other hand is a mountain. Actually scratch that, it's the Infinite Staircase described by Justin Norton in my favorite book, The Phantom Tollbooth. 

“Whether or not you find your own way, you're bound to find some way. If you happen to find my way, please return it, as it was lost years ago. I imagine by now it's quite rusty.”

Everywhere you go there are staircases and staircases, and then more staircases. If you weren't familiar with the area and looked at a map, you'd think, "Oh! It should be easy to drive from Point A to Point B, all you have to do is take this short little road!" But no, this "short little road" is, you guessed it, a staircase. Below you are looking at a legitimate portion of West 238th Street: 

This shot had to be taken very quickly - I was starting to get strange looks for photographing a nondescript cement staircase...

Note the grading and height of the staircase. There are not one, not two, not three, but FOUR separate stair sections. I don't know how the locals do that every day, especially those who are a little up-there in years. I feel like some sort of sneaker commercial or amateur free running video must have been shot here. Or else needs to be shot here. I'm imagining something along the lines of this...

Or this...

So, who's inspired? Any DIY dare devils out there? I'll volunteer to be your camera(wo)man!

Photo credits: The Phantom Tollbooth

Neighborhood Watch: East Harlem

Last week I was scheduled to perform a mold inspection at a large building complex in East Harlem. Upon arrival, the management office called up a security guard to escort me to the sampling area. Below are three conversations discussed over the course of this inspection. Enjoy:

Security Guard: Hello, my name is [I forget...oops].

Mold Girl: Lovely to meet you! I am [my name].
We shake hands

SG: Wow, what a nice, strong handshake! 

MG: Haha, yeah, there's nothing worse than a limp handshake.

SG: Oh yes, I hate weak handshakes! Whenever somebody tries to give me a limp handshake, I just shoot the guy. Right then and there. Boom, just like that!

MG: ...Oh, wow. Ha, ha...

SG: Yeah, seriously! If I'm falling off a cliff and you have a weak handshake, I know you're not going to be able to save me! I weight 240 pounds easy, that ain't nothing to laugh at! I need to know you can hold on!

MG: Wow, yeah, I never thought of that...Good point!

And speaking of Obama...

I am doing the inspection and am writing down notes

SG: Oh you're left handed?

MG: Mmhmm, sure am! Are you?
SG: Oh yes. Lefties are the best!

MG: Yeah we're supposed to be more creative. And I believe four of the past five presidents were lefties too! ...Although unfortunately I think George Bush falls into that category...

SG: Ehh, there's a bad egg in every bunch. We'll just forget about him. So, Obama's a leftie!

MG: Yup and Bill Clinton.

SG: Awww yeah, Bill is a G. We should have a lefties party! You, me, Obama, and Billy C!

MG: Haha, great idea. Let's make Bill bring along his saxophone to really get the party started!

Left is Right!

As I finish up the inspection, we make our goodbyes...

I extend my hand for a handshake

SG: Oh no, you know how we do up in here! Let's hug it out!

SG opens his arms wide

MG: Uhhh, okay!

Epic hug ensues

In honor of Groundhog Day (happy Groundhog Day!), I will illustrate my hug with this scene from the 1993 classic movie. In this hug situation SG is Phil...

...And I'm Ned!

Despite my creepy description of this incident, the guy was actually very entertaining and funny (Mom, I swear he was totally harmless!) I enjoyed hanging out with him, I mean he kept things interesting to say the least. He even gave me a great recommendation for lunch - the local fish market with amazing $5 fried fish sandwiches. Who can say no to that? 

Major props to the Lenox Fish Market

Photo credits: sportstalkchicago.wordpress.com, The Simpsons, Groundhog Day 

PS, Here's another great awkward hug picture :)

Give my Regards to Broadway

If you watched Glee, you'd get this reference

I cannot tell you how many aspiring actors/singers/musicians/dancers/artists/writers you meet in New York City (especially on OKCupid) all attempting to hit it big in the Big Apple. Countless talented (and "talented") people pour their hearts and souls into making their dreams become reality. Sadly only a very, very small dedicated and lucky few are able to make it. Except for me. Been there, done that, took some pictures, and I'm over it. Ladies and gentlemen, this mold girl has been on Broadway. No effort necessary. I guess you could say I've just got that pure, raw, je ne sais quoi talent about me. 

Kind of like Harvard Law, landing on Broadway is supposed to be hard or something?

Okay well to be a tad more realistic, I was on a Broadway stage, although the only person watching me was the building engineer Dino (what up, Dino!). Arriving at this assignment I was in a SUPER BAD MOOD. I was crazy busy at work, it was freezing, and I believe it was right before the Thanksgiving holiday. Additionally, I had imagined the theater to be some sort of off, off, off Broadway situation where you pay three bucks on a Sunday afternoon to see a depressingly horrible community improv show (I've unfortunately been there, done that too). Anywho, it turned out I was investigating the real deal. I hung out on stage, back stage, in the dressing rooms, in the lighting area, went inside the air handlers, and even was so lucky as to scale the scary as fuck roof (I'm sure you're all most envious of the last two). The theater's production posters hung in the dressing room corridor. Sarah Jessica Parker, Cynthia Nixon, the guy from Fraiser who isn't Kelsey Grammar, and other familiar faces stood out at me. Inspecting the roof was particularly fun. To access the air intake unit, Dino and I had to climb up on a thin metal beam about 6 feet off the ground, and literally hug one another in order to open the intake access panel. Let's just say things got pretttttttttyyyy intimate (Dino, why haven't you called?!). 

Don't tell my boss, but afterward the theater manager gave me two free tickets to the show! Once there, he showed my friend and I into the VIP area for free wine, and came over to chat us up not once, but three times. Yeah, mold inspecting is kind of a big deal. I'm basically a B+ list celebrity. :p

You never know, I may even do car commercials in Japan ;)

Photo Credits: Legally Blonde, Mean Girls, Glee

What a Strange, Strange Day

Yesterday I had a job that was bizarre from start to finish. I was asked to test an apartment in Tudor Village for Volatile Organic Compounds (VOCs). If you can believe this, the people who request VOC testing are even crazier than those I meet for mold testing. Residents demand this sort of test when they are certain that they smell some sort of chemical odor (of course I have yet to perform this test where anyone other than the resident could smell anything). The concerned tenants are convinced said odor is toxic and will kill them. In one case, I met a woman who described in great detail all the reasons she believed her neighbors were purposely trying to poison her. That's a whole other story to be shared at some point. Anyway, I have performed roughly twenty VOC tests during my career and have not once found anything of concern. This particularly investigation involves three separate tales of strange:

Zip up your space suit and buckle on that helmet, things are about to get weird

Tale of Strange Part I

VOC sampling involves large, awkward metal canisters. When I have to haul these puppies around the city, people always stare. The canisters are suspicious looking and give me some terrorist vibes. I hopped on the 1 train at 28th hauling this embarrassing equipment and an old woman grabs my attention. She asks me whether I'm pregnant and if I needed her seat. First of all, unless a woman is clearly about to pop, you do not ask if she is pregnant. No. Just no. Everybody knows (or should know) this question is a serious social faux pas. But more importantly, DO I LOOK PREGNANT?!?!? I do not consider myself as having a prego bod. I kickbox, zumba, and do pilates each at least once a week. Clearly I need to start going more often. Oh man, I just googled pregnant women and am starting to hyperventilate a little bit. They just are SO BIG! It looks really uncomfortable! Why is nature so cruel? Aghh!

The pregnancy question is an especially sore subject for me, because about a year ago I was also asked this two or three times within a span of a few weeks. I swear, I've worn the same pant size since seventh grade. I do not go around with a pained expression on my face and my hands supporting my lower back shouting, "where the hell are my pickles and ice cream?!?". I was doing my best to appear normal and not pregnant. My friend who shall be known as Denile Daboo tells me I have an awkward posture that may make people think I'm pregnant. Ugh, I know I have weak back muscles. I'm working on them, 'kay??

If I WAS pregnant, I promise I would not post photos of myself and my baby daddy like this

Or this

My response to the woman was, "Ummm... No. Or at least I hope not..." She defended her question with something like, "No, I'm serious. I always like to ask, just in case. Because, you know, a MAN would never ask. OR get up for you". Interesting. I consider myself a hardcore feminist but that was way extreme even for my standards! I'm guessing she must be some bra-burning, second wave feminist, although does this woman really ask every female on the subway if she's pregnant? I find that difficult to believe...

Here's an idea, let's castrate all the men! I'm serious. Never again would I be asked if I was pregnant!

Tale of Strange Part II
After this exchange, I move further into the train car. A bunch of people had made eyes with me to silently laugh (or smize à la Tyra Banks) about the absurd situation. One of them leaned in and whispered to me, "You don't look pregnant. She must have noticed your glow". Our conversation continued on from there and was particularly interesting because this person was from Australia. Red Coats are a dime a dozen in this city, but I have rarely ever met an Australian. Pretty much everything I know about Australia can be summed up by Men At Work's "I Come from a Land Down Under":

My one burning question - do Australians really eat vegemite? Okay, my second burning question - what is vegemite??

This person seemed rather interesting and we made plans to reconvene Friday night. WHICH THIS NAMELESS INDIVIDUAL FLAKED OUT ON (yeah, I'm calling you out :p). 

Tale of Strange Part III

Finally, I arrive at the job site. The apartment's resident is Italian. Very Italian. As in a flirty old man with rather limited English skills.

He was what I imagine Chef Boyardee to be like, just minus a couple of teeth

Despite his lack of English skills, this man was quite a talker. At one point he says something that I don't quite understand and I just nod and smile in response. Then he goes to the fridge and I hear him say "arancia" (orange in italian). I got all excited thinking that he was about to serve me that San Pellegrino knock-off of Orangina. He steps away from the fridge with a bottle of Tropicana. 

HEY! I'm eating for two here and my raging hormones require aranciata! STAT!

So even though I did not particularly want a glass of orange juice, I was stuck drinking it. While sipping, or I guess gulping–the man tells me to, "Slow down! Relax! You Americans do everything too fast!"–he then proceeds to discuss Italy's relationship with orange juice. Allegedly,  the world's best oranges are grown in Sicily, although it is rare to find real orange juice in Italy. If you do find it, the juice is very expensive. According to him, the Italian mafia owns all of the country's orange groves. Whenever anybody attempts to produce orange juice, the mafia quickly "teaches" them to find a new line of business. And now you know. #Learning! Should I have been honored by his gift of such a delicacy?

Tale of Strange Epilogue: Appreciate the little things in life while you can. Like orange juice. Because you never know when the mob is gonna ruin it for everybody.

Photo credits: pregnantchicken.com, DC Comics: Strange Adventures, phem.or, Men at Work, Chef Boyardee, San Pelligrino, The Simpsons

Subway Sightings: The Grand Central - Time Square Shuttle

I love the shuttle train between Time Square and Grand Central Station. It's the only train that the MTA allows to be completely decked out with advertising. Normally I don't particularly enjoy the usual advertising assault on my eyes (calling Dr. Zizmor!!), but I gotta hand it to marketers, they always do an awesome job with the S train. Like Katy Perry, I love a good theme! 

Wearing a Simpsons dress while making a guest appearance on the Simpsons? GENIUS

While riding the S train last week, I saw that the shuttle was seriously classed up to look like a Victorian-style home library. Note the fancy wood paneling, the plethora of collector's edition hard cover books, and the squashy armchairs that replace the usual drab subway seats. I have no idea what this was supposed to advertise, but who cares?

The armchairs were not as comfortable as the cushion decals made them appear...

Ever since I was first exposed to Disney's Beauty and the Beast, it has been a life goal of mine to have my own personal library. Preferably one with secret passageways à la Clue (the game AND the movie). 

I don't actually read, I just want people to think I'm smart

Maybe I should move to DC and become Capitol Hill's favorite madame . I bet SHE has a library!

Sadly a mold inspector's salary does not pay quite well enough to afford a library, real or fake. Once I saw a homeless man on the subway spouting off hilarious jokes about the D train being his "home". When deboarding the subway car, he told us all to clean up after ourselves because he was expecting some new guests. Maybe he was onto something... Maybe my dreams of "owning" a "library" are within reach! Look out S train, here comes the Mold Girl equipped with a shopping cart and a blatant disregard for personal space and indoor voices! 

Oh and ps, I love Clue the game, Clue the movie, and heck, I also love Clueless, so much that I once dragged my family to see Cluessical, the Clue musical. It didn't quite live up to my standards for all things Clue...

Yup, this exists. And yup, it's as bad as you'd expect it to be.

Photo credits: Disney, Beauty and the Beast, Katy Perry, The Simpsons, Clue, Clue the Musical

The Sun Better Come Out Tomorrow...

Anybody who lives in New York knows that the city has been miserable lately. The humidity is out of control, and it's that time of year again where the weather is one massive monsoon after another. For those of you who aren't familiar with New York life, traveling via public transportation wearing (semi)work appropriate clothing in 70+ percent humidity and major downpours in which an umbrella provides absolutely no protection, is not what I call a fun time. When work requires constant travel in said conditions, people in my line of vision better WATCH THE FUCK OUT. 

I'd rather relive Groundhog Day over and over again, than be drenched in another monsoon

In addition to the weather literally raining on my parade, work has been extra stressful. Lots of rain = lots of leaks/water damage = lots of mold jobs. Plus we're short staffed so I'm forced to answer the phone and do other random stuff more than usual. Long story short, it's been a baadddd week. 

She knows what I'm talking about

The universe must have felt my frustration and sent some good vibes my way. On Friday I was hired to do water testing at a daycare filled with a herd of 2-3 year olds. There is absolutely no better group of children than the 2-3 year age bracket. They're old enough to have mastered unsupervised trips to the toilet (thank God!) but young enough to have not yet learned the art of sassing. No trying to push your limits, no "my mom let's me eat ice cream for breakfast". Only happy acceptance of whatever you say and a borderline obsessive desire for hand holding. I had started work that morning looking and feeling worse than a Rat King (If you don't know what that is, that's probably a good thing. My coworker recently enlightened me with an explanation of the term. This knowledge has forever changed my life. In a bad way. Even thinking about it makes me severely nauseous. Just know that it's definitely not a desirable thing to look/feel like. Google it, if you dare). 

Anywho, back to the children! They were SO CUTE!!! At first they were shy and simply stared at me. Then I smiled and waved, and they smiled and waved back. Eventually one approached me, and without saying a word, she stretched out her arms and came over for a huge bear hug. That lead to about fifty more hugs from all the kids. With the week I'd been having, this job could not have been more necessary! :)

Insert Mold Girl here and you have the best group hug ever!

Photo Credits: anthonyjrapino.com, Barney & Friends

Street Spotting: Multitasking at its Best

Too busy to work out with all the other stuff on your to-do list? No more excuses, this man has found the solution--he jump rope-walks. The multitasking pro was seen jump roping while crossing Broadway on the Upper West Side. He then proceeded to jump rope-walk down the sidewalk. Unfortunately I was not quick enough with my iPhone to capture him in action, he had to make a pit stop at Zabars. Probably a good idea to stop, I don't know if the world is ready for jump rope-grocery shopping... 

We're Not in Manhattan Anymore... Part One

Hi Friends, this is a long one so I'm splitting it up into two parts! For part two, click here!

Make fun of me all you want but let's get one thing clear. I do not drive. Yes, I have a driver's license. But no, to my boss's dismay, I refuse to drive for work. Here's why:

1. I have not driven since I moved to New York City which is over five years ago.

2. I never was a super confident driver to begin with. I have what you'd call an "anxious" personality and I get nervous when I'm not familiar with my surroundings.

3. Give me a break, driving in the tri-state area is a whole other animal than driving almost anywhere else in the US. It'd be scary enough to drive here with a companion for moral/emotional/directional support, but attempting it alone? No. Just no. As my dad likes to say, "There's only one rule to driving in NYC: point and go".

4. As any of my friends from high school can attest to, driving with me is always an...adventure. I guess there's always the adrenaline thrill of not knowing if you'll ever reach your destination, or even if you'll be alive by the end of the night. Any and all attempts at highway driving result in me getting lost, pulling off at some random ramp and parking somewhere, crying hysterically to my dad on the phone, and him directing me how to get home while he remains on the phone the entire time.*

5. Trust me, you do not want me sharing the road with you.

*Give me SOME credit, this was in the days before everybody had GPS. OKAY?!?

Dionne and Cher understand my struggle:
"Hey! You try driving in platforms!"

Because of this, I HATE going on the odd job that takes me outside of Manhattan/Brooklyn/Queens/The Bronx because it usually involves twelve transfers between various subways, trains, and buses and then I still have to make the client pick me up at the bus station. Never a good day.

On one particular occasion I was forced to go inspect the home of a 85+ year old woman in Long Island. This was at the start of my career as a mold inspector and I was nervous about traveling to the job. I didn't have any spare thoughts for the job itself...Who would have known that the traveling would be the most fun part of my day?

Back story: the large six-bedroom home was built by the lady's late husband. The pair had  two sons, now in their 40s, that are no longer living there (thank God!). As these things go,  the house had fallen into disrepair over the years and had experienced several leaks. I was hired by the older son, we'll call him Tweedledee, to inspect the ENTIRE home for mold because his mother was sick. The second son, Tweedledum, refers to himself as an African art dealer. 

Imagine these two, but up the creep factor and minimize the happiness level

Allegedly TDum's storage space for his "art" was being repaired, and he was temporarily storing his wooden African statues in his mother's home. I'm not trying to offend anyone here, I love the African section of the Metropolitan Museum of Art as much as the next person, but if you treat any sort of art like shit, it ceases being art and turns into shit. Period.

Fast forward three years and the "art" was still at the mother's house. It was easy to realize that the point of this investigation was to settle a dispute between TDee and TDum on whether or not the art needed to go...

Photo Credits: Alice in Wonderland, Clueless

A Brush With Fame

I spend a significant amount of my time performing air tests for the ultra wealthy. Most of the time I have no idea who lives in the apartment or what they do, but it's clear that they're a hot shot in some sort of industry. Every once in a while the "hot shot" happens to be in the entertainment industry. I performed an air test for a (minor) celebrity that may or may not have been in the following films:  

The Spy Who Shagged Me? Try, The Spy Who Stole My Heart With Those Dance Moves

No comment necessary--this one came pre-captioned!

Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when I knocked on the door to the apartment and found myself face-to-face with this actress. Also home? Her almost completely naked, highly attractive boyfriend. Tenant: 1 Mold Girl: 0. 

At one point in the inspection I needed a ladder so that I could inspect an area of the ceiling. The actress helped me get a ladder from her storage closet. While awkwardly maneuvering the contraption around, my arm accidentally grazed her boob. OMGGGG! I've touched a low-level celebrity's boob!!! hehehehehehehehe. That portion of my arm hasn't been washed since.

Oh and PS, I was walking around after a mold job last week and spotted Hoda (from such morning television programs as the Today Show's Kathie Lee &) hopping on the Hamptons Jitney. Yay for D-list celebrity sightings!

Holla at me Hoda!

Photo Credits: Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, The Hangover, The Today Show: Kathie Lee and Hoda

Neighborhood Watch: Prospect Lefferts Gardens

Try saying that three times fast! Besides having an awkward name, the neighborhood of Prospect Lefferts Gardens is located in Brooklyn, near the southeast corner of Prospect Park. According to Wikipedia, the first settlers (you know, other than the Native Americans) were a Dutch family that arrived in 1660. Wow, fun fact! Thanks Mold Girl! You're welcome. In our modern times, the neighborhood is largely populated by people of Caribbean heritage. Not far from my job site was a local treasure, a Caribbean bake shop known as Allan's Bakery. 

Hey Allan's!

My colleague Porkchop and I obviously had to go in. You can't visit a new neighborhood without sampling the local bakery. Or at least I can't. My mother would slap me for even thinking about skipping such a crucial "learning" opportunity. I asked the guy at the counter for suggestions and ended up getting fried cod with sauteed onions, a coconut roll, a current roll, and a large slice of bread pudding. All of it was fabulous. And cost only $8.75. C'est incroyable! Porkchop  purchased the same buns and fish, as well as a beef patty and banana soda. Shockingly the soda was pretty good--made in Trinidad without high fructose corn syrup. That means it's healthy, right?

0% real banana. Just the way I like it!

I swear I didn't eat all of it in one sitting...just most of it. There's a difference! 

Moral of this story: If you are ever in the Prospect Lefferts Gardens neighborhood, you now know where to fulfill all of your baked goods needs. So go, otherwise my mother will slap you!