(choir singing)

As of this hot minute, Dirt in the Skirt has hit 3,000 views. Holy shit. In honor of this (mostly personal) milestone, I thought I’d list some other badass 3,000’s. These 3,000’s make my 3,000 look laughable, but self-deprecation is one of my strong suits, so that’s what’s happening.

3,000 Major League Hits
-Only 28 players have been able to swing themselves to this number, with Derek Jeter most recently joining the party in July of this year.

3,000 Strikeouts Club
-16 pitchers have reached 3,000 strikeouts, with Walter Johnson as the first to record 3,000 all the way back in 1923. Johnson held that record by himself until Bob Gibson reached the mark in 1974. The newest 3,000 Strikeouts Club member is John Smoltz, who reached the milestone in 2008.

NFL Players with 1 or More 3000 Yard Passing Season
-37, including names like Brady, Brees, Favre, Manning, other Manning, Hasselbeck, Kitna, Roethlisberger, Rivers, and Warner… to name a few.

Most seasons with 3000+ yards
-The number is 18, and the man who owns the record is Brett Favre. He did this over a period of time between 1992 and 2009.

I know I’ve ripped on him, but to make it even more impressive…
Most consecutive seasons with 3000+ yards
-Again, the number is 18, and the man is Brett Favre. He did it EVERY YEAR from 1992 to 2009.

First NFL quarterback to throw 3000 pass completions
-Fran Tarkenton. Mr. Tarkenton completed number 3,000 in 1976 at the helm of the Vikings offense. When he retired, Tarkenton had 3,686 completions to his name.

Member of 3,000 Completion Club with most touchdown passes
-John Elway

Member of 3,000 Completion Club members with fewest career interceptions
-Joe Montana

Awesome. Thanks for checking in.

Mustache Sighting – A Guide to Stache Etiquette

Today, I spied this New York Magazine slideshow – John Hodgman’s Handy Guide to Mustache Etiquette. John Hodgman is probably best known for his role as “PC” in the Mac vs. PC commercials where Justin Long plays the Mac. I know him best for his role as Louis Green, Jonathan’s arch-nemisis on Bored to Death. ANYWAY. Here’s a fine example from Hodgman’s upper-lip-facial-hair guidelines:

Photo from New York Magazine, nymag.com

“…DO groom with a Zen Garden rake. It leaves soothing tracks while clearing your mind to ponder such philosophical questions as, ‘Van Dykes: What’s the point, really?'”

On 9/11.

On the tenth anniversary of 9/11 (and now living in NYC), I’d like to share a project I was part of – the making of a series of 9/11 Memorial PSAs with Robert De Niro. On a series of days, inside and outdoors, in the gloom and the sunshine, we worked with people touched by the tragedy 10 years ago and visually captured the new memorial opening to honor those lost that day.




Not Very Laborious.

Whoops.. In about an hour, it will not be Labor Day any longer, but I’m sending out a well-wish. My Labor Day was NOT laborious. It involved indulging in a Bob Evans breakfast (and visiting the location at which I worked in 2005 and subsequently quit via letter, never to return to the blue-haired hotspot again… until today) and outlet shopping (the second best kind.. since the first is the solitude-friendly/shame-free online shopping). Oh and a plane ride. But the flight was on time and only moderately bumpy.

Hope Labor Day was lazy as hell for all of you.

Stand in the Sand.

Last week, I escaped the population density of NYC and flew south, landing in the small seaside town of Ocean Isle Beach, North Carolina. My family has been checking out the island for a while now, and it’s very possible that it will become a semi-permanent destination.

I prefer the canal side. Or any house with a hammock.

Ocean Isle Beach boasted a whopping population of 426 at the 2000 census. I think it’s been steadily growing since then, but there exists a calm sense of anti-development on the island. The canal side (see above picture) stretches out blue and green and tangoes with the Intracoastal Waterway, while the Atlantic Ocean laps at the sand on the other side. My favorite time of a beach day anywhere is low tide, when the sand takes a stand against the ocean, and low tide here created a city avenue-wide expanse of shore.

I came to North Carolina beaches almost every summer as a kid, and being there last week tugged at an old part of me. Now one of the adults with a beer in a koozie, hiding from the sun under an umbrella (melanoma is not for winners), I looked out at the Atlantic Ocean and remembered boogie boarding in waves I once thought were 10 feet tall, fishing with my dad and cousins, taking freckled pictures with my sister in coordinating summer outfits, and eating shrimp in restaurants built on top of piers.


Walking on the beach my last day in town, The Black Keys doing their thing inside my ears, I (gracefully) clomped and (inadvertently) splashed in low-tide puddles scattered across the beach, happy to be barefoot and on vacation, if only for a little while.

Language Barrier.

I used to live in Queens (GASP) in an overwhelmingly Spanish section of Jackson Heights. My building was near-brand-new, owned and watched over by a little Asian couple who referred to themselves as The Tings. Susan and Austin (in no way their real names) Ting were pretty intense about a few things – namely the elevator and the deck. The deck was always locked, possibly out of fear that one of us crazy tenants would accidentally launch ourselves onto Roosevelt Ave below, or more likely/god forbid we would touch one of the plants they had placed sporadically across the space. The deck weirdness can be summed up by the fact that they nailed down the tables and benches.

This rigidity was also found in the elevator. Susan often scolded/warned that if anyone should hold the elevator, it would break. I guess someone refused to heed her warning, and one day, a sign appeared. A few days later, this correction was made:

Uh oh.

I believe I snorted the first time I saw it. I snapped that picture, and good thing, because Susan ripped it down shortly thereafter.

Dirty Glitter.

I recently went to Las Vegas for work… for 10 days. Of straight working. I saw the outdoors four times and left the hotel grounds once. It was madness, but the work itself was great (we produced motion graphics for a large event), and I told a goodlooking celebrity that he couldn’t cut in line for beer at the after-party.

I wear boat shoes. That smile is useless on me!

By the time the final morning rolled around, I was dying to go home. As one of my coworkers put it, “Being in Vegas for this long is like being stuck in Times Square.” It’s a whole lot of flash and dirty glitter. And not somewhere you really want to spend all of your time.
Taken through a CLEAN cab window!

Our plane finally (West to East Coast time traveling is depressing) plopped onto the tarmac at JFK, and I plopped my beat-up self onto the backseat of a cab. Like a happy dog, I stuck my head out of the window for nearly the entire ride. The wind licked at my face and cast my travel-sexy hair in every direction. I took pictures from another taxi backseat, but I like these slightly better.