The (Sacramento) Bee's Knees

In an effort to remain as close as possible to the loins of the town that birthed me, I've accepted the Sacramento Bee's invitation to contribute an incredibly narcicistic blog about a Sacramento native's perspective as a New New Yorker.

My goal is to present the news, controversies, gossip and oddities occurring in the Big Red Delicious through a lens Sacramentans will be able to relate to. As you may have already guessed, my point of view is quite sarcastic and, some would argue, crass. So if I offend you readers, well...I only accept complaints in person. Better book the flight! Nya nya nya nya nya.

I feel yesterday is the perfect place to begin, specifically because I saw the sunset from a quaint, cinnamon-tinted, pistachio-muffined bakery on the corner of E 93rd and 3rd Ave. in the Upper East Side. I asked the cashier her top three favorite pastries, at which she pointed to pecan sweet bread, a crumb muffin, and a coconut cupcake. Don't you hate it when you ask an employee for a suggestion and everything she likes happens to suck? So I ordered a red velvet cupcake, which by the way, is like crack for New Yorkers. They even have the equivalent of a hot dog stand for cupcakes in NoHo.

I was sugaring my nerves as I prepped to interview a very high profile magazine journalist. She's very particular about not appearing online, even if it's just her name. I try not to take it personally that she probably just doesn't want to be associated with some random, young twenties, scum on her boot NYU student who still can't decide whether to spell it "lede" or "lead."

After interviewing her for two hours in a high-rise apartment in one of the chicest neighborhoods in New York City, I needed a beer. My closest friend in New York, Kristin, and I met at Dorrian's a few blocks away. If you're ever in New York for an extended period of time and you get homesick for California, follow the girls with blonde highlights and the guys with muscly plaid shirts to the Upper East Side. I met a girl who had gone to school with Stefani Joanne Germanotta (aka Lady Gaga) and a guy who had toured with the U.S. ski team and was sponsored by Salomon. Kristin and I danced until the bar closed at 4 a.m. (another great perk of NYC late nights), then grabbed a bite down the street. Tip: don't ever order lox at five in the morning from a 24-hour diner.

We took a cab to her West Village apartment, emerging from the car to a lighter blue sky, so we did what all displaced Californians/New New Yorkers do: asked a coke dealer where the nearest open bar was.

We should have known that a drug dealer would mislead us because we walked down Bleecker Street a few blocks before giving up and heading back. I took photos of Kristin posing on a statue reaching her hands up to touch the sunrise. It's all very poetic until you remember that you're in New York at 6:30 a.m. and one of you has to be at work in 3 1/2 hours. I'm going to let you guess which one of us it was...Kristin from Orange County or Stephanie from Sacramento?