Rude

Last week I performed an inspection at a very expensive Madison Avenue jewelry store. Even though most of the merchandise is pretty tacky, I "joked" that I would write whatever they wanted in the report in return for a bribe of some fancy jewelry. They laughed at my "joke" but did not take me up on my offer. Rude.

Marilyn knows what's up.

Photo credits: Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

With Desperation Comes Innovation

The price of real estate in New York is horrifyingly expensive. I have a minor meltdown every time I check my bank statements and realize the percentage of my income spent on rent. At least once a month I threaten to leave NYC, until I remember that the rest of America is way lamer (please feel free to be offended). Although still I sometimes claim with pride, Screw it! I want to be one of those 25 year olds still living with their parents.

Damn, beaten to the punch

So I don't want to start anything here (or do I? Vive la révolution?), but I can theoretically imagine that my following insight will remind readers of the realities of how the uber wealthy live, and has the potential to contribute to a social uprising or two. Ugh, sometimes being so influential is exhausting! 

I've mentioned in previous posts that I frequently visit the homes of the One Percent, or at least the Five Percent. In a city where a single square foot of space is a precious commodity, these apartments are always gloriously spacious and airy, and so big that it's easy to get lost (the architecture of these old Upper East Side and Upper West Side apartments is enchantingly bizarre - lots of long, twisting labyrinthine hallways). 

Okay, I get it, you're loaded. Good for you, you have an incredible apartment. Although here is the part that really gets me - many of these apartments are just one of many properties owned by the resident and are only used a couple of weeks of the year. I was in a place that recently sold for 18.5 MILLION dollars. The super said that the previous owners only spent about a week or two there a year. That statement is enough to send me on a murder-suicide rampage (hello ever watchful authorities, that was a joke). But anyway, a stroke of brilliance hit me, do any of these people need house sitters for the, you know, fifty weeks of the year they're off living somewhere else?? I was raised by a certified neat freak and have had the perfectionistic ways of home maintenance drilled into me. Plus, I know how to handle any sort of unexpected leak situation! If that doesn't qualify me to be the next House Sitter of the Year, I don't know what would. Mold Girl is now accepting any and all house sitting inquiries :)

Upper East Side - Playground of the rich and powerful. Will they accept me as the next Dan Humphrey??

To paraphrase the Cheshire Cat, it doesn't really matter which way I go, they're all mad here. Mad rich at least. 

Photo credits: Brooklynmadestore's Etsy shop, Gossip Girl, someecards, Alice in Wonderland, hagalfarm.blogspot.com

Fashion + Eco-Friendly = Fabulous!

Hello all! I need to make a departure from the world of mold to share an exciting announcement for all the fashion lovers, business lovers, earth lovers, and plain ol' lovers out there! I am involved with a super fun sustainable business club that puts on fascinating events throughout the year. On THURSDAY JANUARY 17TH at 6:30 PM my club will be hosting a panel discussion called:

Sustainable Fashion: Timeless or Trendy?

(One guess as to who came up with that brilliant name)

The event will be a panel discussion followed by a boozy reception where you can network with the speakers, each other, and most importantly, me! The speakers are serious fashion VIPs. Trust me, you won't want to miss this (see list below). Additionally, up-and-coming eco-friendly designers will showcase their newest looks at the reception. You will find my fine self stuffing my face at the hors d'oeuvres table. The cost of this amazing experience is $25 for students(/poor young people) (let's just say a student ID is not required... ;) of course being an upright citizen I would never suggest that any of you lie... because I obviously would never even dream of paying the student price myself...) and you must register online ahead of time. Do that NOW by clicking HERE. The event will take place on the 23rd floor of Rockefeller Plaza. 

Speakers include:  

MODERATOR

• Christa Dowling, Global Cultural Advisor and Journalist, Author, Former Editor-in -Chief, Conde Nast/Vogue, Germany (whaaattttt, yeah we got Vogue involved. NBD, we're just that good)

PANELISTS

• Yael Aflalo, Founder and CEO, Reformation (designs from repurposed fabrics) (umm, hello super sexi lingerie) www.thereformation.com

• Sass Brown, Acting Assistant Dean School of Art and Design, FIT, Author (a super smart professor from one of the country's best fashion schools? check!)  www.ecofashiontalk.com

• Raz Godelnik, Adjunct Professor at CUNY, the New School, and University of Delaware;  Founder, Hemper Jeans, an eco-fashion jeans company using hemp (another smarty pants designer!) www.hemperjeans.com

• Gretchen Jones, Eco-Fashion Designer; Project Runway Season 8 Winner  (Project Runway winner?? Enough said!) www.gretchenjonesnyc.com

• Catherine Tyc, Filmmaker  (working on sustainable fashion documentary)  (who wants to see this with me opening night??) http://swapthemovie.wordpress.com/

EXCLUSIVE RECEPTION EXTRA:

Fashion Alley: an exciting showcase of up and coming sustainable brands

Our illustratious panel of eco fashion innovators will discuss fashion’s negative environmental impact and new sustainable approaches to materials, production, recycling and toxic waste.

Gain insight into the challenges of designing eco- fashion and promoting it to mainstream fashionistas. How do you convince designers, manufacturers, retailers and consumers that eco-friendly fashion can also be chic and trendy?

CHECK IT OUT CHECK IT OUT CHECK IT OUT!!!!!!

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

Hey! You Look Familiar...

I may be mistaken, but I feel like I find myself in the following situation much more than the average person, and I'm not quite sure what to think of it. 

When meeting new people, I'm told very frequently that I remind them of someone they know. This happens an unusual number of times. Like any good Scorpio, I want to stand out as a unique individual. I hate being lumped together with some generic crowd. Do I look average? Is there nothing special about my personality? Am I the non-celebrity version of the world's most ambiguous cute girl ever, Ashley Greene?

Seriously, every time I see a picture of this girl, I'm like, who is that?!? Once I've exhausted all other options I tell myself, oh yeah, must be Ashley Greene.

Because the nature of my job involves meeting new people on a daily basis, I'm frequently told that I look like such and such celebrity. Not to brag about how gorgeous I am (my looks speak for themselves, thank you very much!) but I've been told I resemble the following list of celebs on more than a few occasions. I personally don't feel I bear a striking resemblance to any of them (or any regular people that I've met either!) but I guess you'll have to imagine the unstoppable combination of the following ladiez for yourself: 

My comeback queen doppelgänger:

Sandra Bullock

My super spy doppelgänger:

Jennifer Garner

My Jewish doppelgänger:

Lea Michelle

My elfish doppelgänger:

Liv Tyler

My completely random doppelgänger:

Jerry Seinfeld's wife, Jessica Seinfeld! Uhhh, what? Okay...

And  before we get to my last but far from least celeb doppelgänger,  I need to share a quick story. One day while running an errand for my boss, a car on 24th Street started causing a racket. The three men inside were shouting and honking the car's horn. At first I thought it was simply typical street harassment and I ignored them. The men continued to yell in a manner that made it appear they were speaking with somebody they knew, so I assumed they spotted a friend on the street. As I walk up 6th Avenue, the car turns and follows me. The men are still yelling. This makes me go back to my original thinking, and I'm miffed at the behavior of these obnoxious men. On my way back to the office I needed to make a pitstop at Duane Reade. As I made my purchase and exited the store, I was none too pleased to find the men waiting for me outside holding a camera. At this point I'm like, YOU NEED TO BACK AWAY NOW!! The men laughed after they saw my face up close. Apparently they had thought I was this actress:

Anne Hathaway

Yup, no biggie, I'm just twinsies with one of the most gorgeous celebrities out there. Actually maybe Anne, or Annie, as her close personal friends like me call her, is shadowing ME to prepare for her next Oscar worthy performance in the upcoming drama, Memoirs of a Mold Girl. Think about that! :D

(PS, this is no joke, two summers ago, some alleged Hollywood people visited my office one day. My CEO claimed they were doing some research for a film that would be staring Mark Ruffalo and Gwenyth Paltrow. I swear, that happened. Not lying. It was a serious WTF moment. But really, what kind of movie could you make about an environmental consulting firm? Confessions of an Asbestos Inspector? How Stella got her Health Back? Eat Pray Lead? Hmm, now I really want to know what happened with that...)

#Struggles

Saw this on a message board outside of a Murray Hill church. Something to always keep in mind when you're feeling down. Happy Sunday! :)

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

All that Glitters

It requires a certain amount of wealth to live in Manhattan. It requires an even greater amount of wealth to live in a non-dilapidated Manhattan apartment without several random strangers for roommates. Not kidding, I saw a listing for a studio in Murray Hill that was TWELVE x TWELVE FEET going for $1,500/month. Absolutely unbelievable. Despite the frustrating and outrageous financial requirements of city living (I'm trying to move right now, don't even think about asking me how it's going), you'll generally see people from all sorts of backgrounds in most Manhattan neighborhoods. The exception to this rule is the Upper East Side. No matter how many times I go, I'm always shocked at the homogeneity of Madison avenue in the 60s and 70s. People on the street are clearly very, very wealthy. It's like falling down a rabbit hole and coming out the other side where life is just one big Ralph Lauren photo shoot.

Look Dina, have you ever seen so many colorful polo shirts? Madison Avenue keeps getting curiouser and curiouser!

Imagine this, but only the men are a lot older and less attractive

Economic class does not seem to matter much in regard to my encounters with people during mold inspections. Residents tend to be either friendly, slightly to moderately hysterical, weird/awkward, or indifferent. Sure some groups of people are a bit more demanding than others, although usually people treat me well enough. At least I'm treated as a fellow human being. This was not the case during a recent inspection of an Upper East Side apartment. The resident's behavior was appalling. She could not have been a more perfect stereotype of the über wealthy — an entitled asshat lacking even the smallest ounce of empathy and believing she is better than everyone else (for a formal dictionary definition, look up 'Mitt Romney').

This statement was never more applicable

You know the phrase "money can't buy you class"? We all know some people who seem to have missed that memo. This woman was certainly one of those people. I rarely see an apartment so ostentatiously decorated. It brought new meaning to the word "gaudy". The dining room and living room were cluttered with stuffy, wannabe Louis XVI-inspired furniture.There was a "very expensive" carpet on the floor that my notebook was not allowed to touch (the notebook never did touch the carpet, although she had to move my notepad when I set it down a mere few inches away). Do not get me started on the art. A window sill was home to a hideous colorful glass sculpture that I think (?) was supposed to be some sort of abstract person.

The sculpture rivaled the taste level of this masterpiece

I was hired to inspect her dining room, stairwell, and bedroom. To put things into perspective, to travel to the master bedroom, you must walk up the stairs from the dining room, and boom, you're there. Aka all three rooms are directly connected. The resident was so awkward and cold. She told the maid, who was cleaning the master bathroom upon my arrival, to watch me while I work. This was no big deal in the master bedroom because she could still do her thing while I did mine. The resident then insisted that the cleaning lady accompany me the five feet from the bedroom to the stairwell so that I was not left without direct supervision. You know, because otherwise I wouldn't be keep my grubby poor person fingers off the clown sculpture. 

At one point I asked the cleaning lady for a step ladder so that I could take moisture readings on the ceiling. Out of nowhere the resident burst into the stairwell saying, "What do you need? Don't ask her, she doesn't know anything". Umm, whoa. Poor woman, I can't believe she has to take that shit on the reg. Apparently the maid did know something because guess who fetched me the step ladder?

At one point the resident needed to walk past me. Instead of saying, "excuse me", I received a "Can you move". It was a statement, not a question. My response above.

To top everything off, at the end of my inspection I was unable to moisture test the dining room walls. Why?, you may ask. Excellent question! Metallic substances give moisture meters a false positive reading, making a surface appear saturated. I could tell immediately that there was some sort of metal finish on her walls. They had an unusual appearance and as expected, my moisture meter told me the walls were "saturated". I asked her if the walls were copper plated. Oh no, that's the poor man's metal! Her walls were made with gold. *Pause* ...Of course they were. Let's take a second to let this sink in — the resident was so rich that she could afford to coat her walls with gold. 

And here's me trying to decide whether to spend my money this week on food or student loans... *Le sigh*

Wonder if she's married to King Midas...

Photo credits: Alice in Wonderland, Ralph Lauren, someecards.com, Festival of Balloons, Mad Men, Disney: 'The Golden Touch'

Death of a Mold Girl

Greetings! Pardon my absence from the interweb. I've had some complaints that I haven't updated my blog enough lately. So nice to know that I have such an eager audience! <3 In my defense, the wireless at my house has been on the fritz for the past two+ weeks and shockingly enough, lately I've been spending most workdays actually working! Yeah, I can hardly believe it either. 

You love me, you really love me!

Just an FYI, I bite people that I really like :)

Whenever anyone leaves my office to move onto bigger and better things, they ceremoniously give away their most prized work possessions. Lately I've been on the receiving end of several such gifts. A colleague of mine with whom I've had a rather rough history, surprised me on his last day with the following gift:

To be the remnants of a LMFAO band member after a tragic but epic oops-I-fell-into-a-tiger/poisonous-snake-pit accident, or not to be. That IS the question.

...And then there were two.

Most people might find this gift disturbing, but I was surprised and touched. My colleague most certainly was drunk at the time of the gifting, and possibly under the influence of other substances as well, but nevertheless I appreciated the gesture. Despite our differences, we share similar senses of humor. I was honored by the olive branch of a styrofoam skull wearing pink star-shaped sunglasses. Now my alpaca can be a true mountain goat!

First conquer this skull, then the world!

Photo Credits: sodahead.com, bannedinhollywood.com, LMFAO

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... 

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

Alpaca Swag

Alpaca humor:

Alpaca #1: "Hey, wanna go on a picnic?"

Alpaca #2: "Sure, alpaca lunch!"

Any laughs? No? At least I thought it was funny...

My supervisor once received a tiny alpaca figurine as a souvenir from a friend who had vacationed in Peru. She wasn't exactly super excited by the gift--she didn't want the alpaca and gave it up for grabs. My judgmental colleagues could not appreciate the magnificence of this creature. Most made fun of the animal because, according to them, it has devil eyes.  Blasphemy. One of my work besties (I'll refer to her as Denile DaBoo) and I adopted the lonely creature. One person's devil eyes is another's BAMF eyes as I always say. The alpaca has been on many adventures and has seen various style transformations over the past few months. Currently she is rocking the waspy chic/cult leader look. Fancy necklace and a creepy, phallic hat. Perfect combo!

Don't mess

Now for your viewing pleasure, please enjoy the following alpaca photographs:

Who wouldn't want to come home to this stud every night?

Is it just me, or does this guy create an insatiable urge to hug something fluffy? WHY DON'T I HAVE ANY ALPACAS TO HUG??

hehe. drugs. hehe.

Photo credits: memegenerator.net, yetanotherbloomingblog.blogspot.com, Johann Dreo

Street Spotting: Taste the Rainbow

Saw a man park this baby stroller, oh excuse me, dog stroller outside a shop in the Flatiron District. Let's pick apart this fashion do:

-First of all, it's a dog. In a stroller...still trying to wrap my brain around that one.

-Hair is dyed three different colors. Notice how this was artfully done to make the dog appear as though it has a Mohawk and is wearing eye makeup. 

-What is it sitting on? A 50 Shades of Pink frilly tutu?

-A sparkly gold throw pulls the whole look together nicely. 

If this was the dog, you can only imagine the owner. He was a real class act. His facial hair says it all, he sported a bushy, foot-long, grass-green beard. I'll leave it at that. The pair easily put to shame anything that even Lisa Frank could possibly imagine on an acid-fueled outing at the circus with the entire Care Bear family.

Apparently it is possible to out-rainbow Lisa Frank!

Photo credits: Lisa Frank

NECESSARY

Spotted this beaut parked outside my office one night after work. I don't know why it exists, but I'm so glad that it does.