my head is sceaming

GET OUT OF
AND GO FUCKING

BUT MY


WON'T AND IT MAKES MY HEART

WTF AM I DOING?!

In the news

Well at least Apt 3B isn't the only one. Apparently The Met has mice, too! (No, we haven't found/ killed/ maimed the one inhabiting our apartment yet)

and apparently the majority of the New York fashion forward folk (self included in this) are terrorist supporters - yea b/c that's how recockulous you sound. I think they are cute- I own three! and they are currently keeping me warm in this even more recockulous 50 degree weather for the end of May. And if it was such a problem, why are they selling like hotcakes all over the city in a variety of colors? So,suck it.

Everyone. Stop what you are doing

and be proud of me.

I just walked to the kitchen with the sole purpose of pouring myself a glass of wine (because dammit, when you are not allowed to drink for 5 days due to a sinus infection, it only makes you want to more) on a Wednesday night and be all adventurous (god. I. am. so. lame.) but poured myself a glass of OJ instead (Vitamin C never hurts, especially with the insane weather).

I am so pathetic, I don't even want to know myself. We need to work on this boring-at-26 bullshit.

But I did do a random act of kindness and I brought all the leftover food I had in my frig (that I would be throwing out in a few days anyway. I don't eat leftovers, with the exception of a few meals, but I always bring the food home and hope someone else would eat it. Damn my grandma and her starving children in China speeches) and I gave it to the homeless man on my corner. He smiled and said "God bless you" and it made me want to take everything out of my kitchen and bring it to him.

My roommates already warned me to stay away from their food.

The 2 "L"s

Women move to the city for the 2 "L"s:
Labels
and
Love.

Labels. Guess who is going to another sample sale today?? Maybe I will have more luck at this one.

Love. In the SATC trailer (Don't worry, I am not going to spoil the movie- I think the trailers did that enough. You must see it though), when Carrie asks Jennifer Hudson's character why she moved to the city and she says "to fall in love"-that answer breaks my heart. It's the sweet, simple and honest. You could say you moved here for better opportunities or what not, but that would only be a cover up.

You move to New York City to fall in love. To fall in love with someone and live happily ever after on the Upper East Side; to fall in love with the city itself; to fall in love with a different culture; to fall in love with work; to find yourself and fall in love with what you have become.



I must find love. I need hope. I have faith I will find it.
And I must forgive myself before the journey can begin.

This is why we don't have nice things.

Dressed and ready for the Sex and The City Premier (oh did I forget to mention I'm going to that? At Radio City Music Hall? :-) Yea. The official New York premier- after it's premiered on every other goddamn country but the show and movie are based in New York CITY. anyhoo- yes, I will be there).

Because I know I must stay pretty and unwrinkled all day (there will be no time to change later) what happens?
my bagel lands cream cheese down in my lap on my beautiful black dress.

I am so not amused.

Really weird shit

Dude.
My toe nails are so long they scratched my arm and drew blood.
(Don't ask how it happened, I'm still not sure either)
Ok. Maybe that's just not weird, it's just sad and embarrassing and why I'm telling the www? Good question.

And Titanic is on TBS and I have no shame in parking my happy ass on the couch and balling my eyes out on a Saturday night.
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Congrats Mr. and Mrs. Wentz

So, if you haven't heard, one of my favorite people got married!




Her exclusive wedding pics are in the current issue of People magazine. I am totally loving it! I've always said I wanted an all black wedding party (anything to reiterate that I am always the focus :-) and Ashlee and Pete's totally rock with the red accents. I am totally going to have to incorporate a few things from her into mine (what? name one girl who hasn't had their wedding planned out since 12 and I will call bullshit on your ass). And the reception was Alice in Wonderland themed. seriously? we are so kindred spirit. I think we were best friends in a different life (LOL).

And I hate to jump on the bandwagon and admit it, but she is so prego. There is a pic of her and Jessica where Jessica's hand is on her stomach.

While being bored and googling, I came across this and it nearly made me pee my pants- "PURPLE HOODIES. I CANNOT stress that enough. When the end of the world comes, you will NEED A FUCKING PURPLE HOODIE"

Summer Fridays

(Which is when I get to leave the office at 1pm every Friday until Labor Day)
make me miss middle-of-the-day relaxing sunshine. And I'm not talking about if you go out for lunch. I'm talking about that feeling in the middle of the day that you can do whatever you want. I haven't felt this since I graduated college and joined cubicleville.

must. find. purpose.
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sometimes

I just REALLY like being a bitch. I will go out of my way to be a bitch. Regina George style.
It makes me happy.
You know when you are just itching to piss someone else off? It's such a great feeling.

But now I am done. Done with being a bitch and done with passive aggressively trying to piss him off because he has been a bad friend. It's just not even worth it.
You can't change people and that sucks.

On that note

It's close to my bedtime (the normal one, not the one I have adopted being sick) and all I have to say is

Damn, Shonda. If you do not kick ass at picking amazing songs for the Grey's Anatomy finales.

I have googled my ass off for it. Anyone know?!?!?!


UPDATE: It's Bryn Christopher and it doesn't come out on iTunes until June 9th.

Voice of the People.

I don't usually like to talk about work here, because 1. it's boring as fuck 2. I don't feel like getting fired at the moment (talk to me again next month, though).

Anyway, today we had a department meeting and I was reminded again why I get myself in trouble all the time. My passion is directly linked to emotion and that is not always good- especially in professional situations. But I always have a problem keeping my mouth shut. Sometimes I feel like I need to work on being more passive than actually aggressive. When I feel strongly enough about a situation, I don't want to sit around and see what happens, I want to be apart of fixing the problem. I want to brain storm and get others motivated, too. My adrenaline starts pumping and there is no stopping me. I think I have learned to control it throughout the years, but sometimes I just let how I am feeling take over instead of looking at the big picture.

But then after a meeting when you were the one to initiate talking about problems and someone tells you Thank you for bringing the issues to light, it kind of makes you feel good about yourself. And who doesn't like praise?

What is a good career to channel this passion for change?

Spotted: seamen

In Time Square and its only Wednesday!

Bring on Fleet Week!!
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EDIT: I'm an idiot. Apparently today is the first day of FLEET WEEK Do you have any idea how amazing this is?! I'm sorry I have a very unhealthy obsession with military men.

Still sick in the city.

Sorry I haven't had anything more interesting than a mouse in my apartment to talk about. . but I'm sick. And I generally cannot keep a thought in my head when I'm all hyped up on cold medicine (which is the only good thing about being sick)

(I remember in college I used to love to get sick and go to the infirmary. They had some really good drugs. How they were over the counter I will never know, because after popping one of those bad boys I would be feeling goodddd) (because by college I had given up all forms of illegal drugs and I had to get my kicks somewhere)

And so now I am watching in the clock until 3pm when I get to leave and go to the doctor and get some antibiotics and hopefully a shot- YaY! (that is not sarcastic. I love shots. don't ask me why).

I am really nervous about going to the doctor in New York. I hate it. It's a different way of going to the doctor. Doctor's offices are in apartments or tiny little offices and they only take cash. WTF?! This does not make me feel good about my health being in the hands of someone who doesn't have a credit card machine (I have to accept it at the bodegas, but I will be damned if I live in the center of the universe and my doctor won't even take my credit card. I could go to the doctor in Bumfuck, Utah and I bet every doctor there will have an actual doctors office and take my card). It irritates me to no end this city is so damn cash friendly. That's why it's so damn expensive to live here. If the cash isn't burning a hole in your pocket, someone is pick pocketing it. UGH!!!

Alright. I will return when I'm not in bitchy sick mode.

Day 3 of the Mouse Saga

This Apt 3B vs. Mighty Mouse is getting really old. I am tired of fearing for my life.

There were no dead bodies in the D-con traps this morning or this afternoon, so we busted out the hardcore original snap traps. If this doesn't work, I am going to ask my agoraphobe neighbor if I can babysit his cat for a couple of days and hopefully not die in the process (I am highly highly highly allergic to cats, but I would take one for the team). And if that doesn't work, I will get the damn glue traps. I am done playing. I was all about a quick and painless death. I am humane and civil. If I were a mouse that's how I would want to go.

Fish and house guests, buddy. 3 days. It's so done. I am no longer amused.

I do believe I have higher anxiety about sleeping tonight (versus the other 2 nights where we knew he was behind the bookshelf). We haven't seen him at all tonight, so that means the entire apartment is free game- including my room.

It is official

There IS a fucking mouse in my apartment. I saw it with my own two eyes. The sneaky little bastard has bypassed both the traps we laced with peanut butter and is now taunting us from the kitchen/ only fucking way out the G.D. Apartment.

They apparently grow rodents brave here in New York because the fucker has run around the kitchen like it's at a fucking playground. I personally think it got into someone's medicine stash because I swear when I looked at him, his pupils were saucers. The bastard stared at me! WTF?!

Ok. I'm calm. When I freak out the curse words just start flying (who am I kidding? I should have joined the Navy). I am prone to inappropriate spurts of laughter, too, when I'm scared. So needless to say, I've been quite the jovial sailor.

And I hope this Nyquil kicks in because to top this off, I have a full blown cold.
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HOLY FUCK

I am smoking out my window and confined to the island of my bed. Why?

THERE IS A GODDAMN MOUSE IN MY APARTMENT!!!!

I haven't seen it yet (because I wouldn't be typing I would be in cardiac arrest at the moment) but my roommates have (who are respectfully on their couch islands in the living room). We are communicating by screaming to each other. I was peacefully watching the season finale of brothers and sisters when I heard the blood curtling scream. Why didn't I take that tylenol pm again??

I have now closed my door and put a towel down but this means I am stuck because the damn thing ran into the hallway- the only way out.

I think I'm going to cry.
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Sick and The City

Here is where one of the rare downfalls of smoking comes to play (you know besides the cancer part and people bitching at you): It takes twice as long to recover from a common cold than a non-smoker. Which means, you are guaranteed not do be back to 100% for at least 3 weeks. And it fucking sucks.

In I hate Adulthood news, it royally blows when you have to take care of yourself, like forcing yourself to eat and making sure you're getting enough liquids when all you want to do is sleep. And corresponding with the sometimes I hate living in New York section of this, it sucks even more when you have to actually walk 5 blocks to get medicine or food because when you are sick you are more comfortable with the norms of suburbia (i.e. Duane Reade, McDonald's- anything chain-y) than a bodega in the city.

I have literally watched 3 movies and caught up on all of my TV shows today and only risked getting out of bed for fear of passing out from lack of nutrients and bedsores.

You're so Gay. . .

YAY!!!

TO ALL!

I WILL BE

(DRINKING) IN A FEW HOURS. . .

YOU SHOULD

TOO (2 BOOTS. . . GET IT?! LoL!)

IT SUCKS BECAUSE IT IS

THIS WEEKEND, I WILL BE:

AND

WHAT WILL YOU BE DOING?

WANNA HEAR MY FAVORITE SONG ATM?

YUP. MADONNA AND I HAVE GOOD TASTE.

That is IT

That's it! God f*#king dammit.

I have had my fill of frilly romance. I'm tired of it. Done. Over it. The universe is throwing it in my face everywhere I turn (i.e. I'm currently watching Grey's Anatomy, if that tells you anything. I said it once and I will say it again: there is no such thing as McDreamy. He does not exist. He was created by a female's imagination in order to make her feel better about the fact that there is NO man who could ever be as good as the one in her head) I just can't take it anymore. I'm so angry right now that I don't even think a glass of wine is a good idea, and wine is always a good idea dammit. Is this what imaginary lesbians feel like? (I'm talking about the ones that weren't born that way, they were turned that way. There is a difference and yes, they both exist)

I gonna go out this weekend- watch a goddamn manly movie (maybe even a horror) drink beer on a bar stool maybe smoke a cigar and say fuck it.

I'm done.
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Straight Up and Dirty

So I'm in the middle of Ms. Stephanie Klien's memoir, Straight Up and Dirty and I decided to go check out her page, because she blogs, too (like all good writers!).
And I have decided every time I feel like crap I am going to do this:




A-mazing.

She is quickly becoming one of my most favorite people.

I figured out my purpose.

I want to be a Rockstar.



Now I just need to write some songs
and learn how to sing
and get over my paralyzing stage fright.
Then I'm all set!



Don't Rockstars get all sweaty on stage?
Yea. Nevermind.
Back to the drawing board.

One of the only good things about work

shamelessly flirting with vendors :-)

There is this one vendor I work with often and every time I see we have an order for his company, I get a little excited. I know there will always be problems with his order and I know he hates to email- which leads to long conversations on the phone with lots and lots of fun flirting that cannot be conveyed through emails.

I am highly aware that he probably does this with all of his store contacts and if I ever did meet him in real life, he would not nearly be as cute as I think he is in my head, but at least it gets me through a few minutes where I don't want to kill myself at work. . .

If you were to look up false intimacy in the dictionary it would clearly say "Please see Nicotine Queen"

Is it just me, or does listening to Hannah Montana make you feel better about life?

I shouldn't have admitted that, huh?

home sweet home.

Sorry, guys. I'm really tired. So tired, I don't even feel like reading my favorite blogs- much less updating my own.

I will try to blog about how fucking hot it was (I literally took a picture of my dashboard that read 95 degrees) and how I missed driving a car and how I spent everyday drunk(that's how we do it, where I'm from)and how my ego got a huge hit by a boy who told me I should not have invested so much emotion into him b/c he's krazy (WTF?! That's my line, fucker!) how some people never change no matter how much you want them to and how I scared myself out of having a meaningful visit with someone and how I miss home more than anything and am completely pissed I cannot live there.

Or how I semi-miss my long hair. But I have come to terms with the cut (it's to my shoulders and semi-Sophia Bush- looking). We all know how I feel about wedding hair (which I firmly believe everyone should get married with LONG flowing hair) and the last time I cut mine "short" (for me), I said I will continue to keep it short until I am in a meaningful relationship and as soon as we get to the 6 month mark, I would grow it out again (just in case). And seeing as I like to emotionally attach myself to unavailable men, finding the one I will spend the rest of my life with will be awhile, hence allowing me to cut my hair.

Or how I miss smoking in bars and how I think being at a different altitude effects how much I smoke (I smoked like a chimney; so much my throat is killing me). Did I mention they discontinued my brand?! (which is Camel Turkish Jade Light 100s. . . I wrote a blog about the history of how I came to smoke such a mouthful to say, but I decided not to post it) Yea. So I have 10 cartons and when those are gone I'm going to cry.

Or how much I miss my friends and my sister and brother. And how much I'm sad not to be able to see my nieces grow up. It is as plain and simple as that. I miss home, but I cannot live there because there are no opportunities. If I could be happy working for my dad and just living, I would move home in a heartbeat. I just feel like there is so much more out there for me that the city cannot offer. There will be no more life changes (i.e. moving) until I figure out for certain what I want to do. . . and I'm thinking Brooklyn Community College might have the answer (more on that later).

And since I went on and on. . . what's the point of making another one?

These pics are courtesy of Andie, my personal stylist, photographer and amazing sorority sister. There are more on her regular blog along with her 365 Blog. I'm sure I will post more of my own when I get home and have time to upload them onto my computer. This is the St. Louis Cathedral (where I will be getting married, btw) with a military happening with it as its backdrop. How gorgeous?!

speedracer

I forgot the pace of living in New Orleans vs. New York.
New York is the pace of my thoughts, so I can feel balanced there.
New Orleans is fucking my head all up.

This is the first time, I've actually sat down since I got home on Friday and even as I sit here, I feel like I should be doing something. Taking advantage of being here.

Blah.

Anyway.

In the durty durty

I felt the humidity the second I stepped off the plane.

I'm home.

Thank God.
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Jet- Poo.

Ok. So, apparently we have a problem with gas prices and stuff?? (Yea, I don't have a car and I don't think I've even seen a gas station in months) And I understand why this is effecting the prices of everything else and I'm frustrated. I don't like to really know about big things like this that I can't fix because I am just lil ol me, and I can't change the world as much as I would like to try. (And changing things does not involve ME changing my way of life, because after all I am a spoiled American. It's all those money/ power hungry people who should change. They should be happy with being rich and not greedy bastards.)

But why did it have to go and taint my Jet Blue Airlines?! I was seriously in love with this airline. If I could make love to it and have its babies, I would. I would rock its world, just like it rocked mine. The legroom, the leather seats, the Direct TV- and to top it all off, it was recockulously cheap. Flights between New Orleans and New York were less than $200. I could be home in less time it took to drive to my college town and for nearly the same price. amazing.

This last plane ticket home was a little more expensive and I just chalked it up to being it's prime time to travel for summer vacation. I also noticed on booking this flight, they are now charging an extra $20 if you want to sit in the first 10 rows (which have the most legroom) that was a little annoying, but whatever. I can deal with an inch less of legroom. And now I get an email stating on June 1, 2008 not only have charges gone up for overweight luggage (it went from $20 to $50) but you will only be allowed to check ONE bag. Any additional bags will be an extra charge.

This really hurts my heart. I don't want to downgrade. I consider this the best most amazing way to fly. I have a lot of trips planned in the near future and I would rather take a crowded subway than fly in the tuna cans Southwest pretends are planes.

Is it bad karma to be bitching about flying when I am less than 12 hours away from getting on a plane?

Mario and the City.

Anyone out there in blogworld work in the Video Game industry?
I have an amazing pitch for one, even though I prefer the original Nintendo and only like playing Mario and Paperboy.

***THIS IS MY IDEA. NO ONE SHALL STEAL IT OR DEAL WITH THE WRATH OF ME. OR SEND ME ENOUGH ROYALTIES THAT I CAN LIVE ON CENTRAL PARK SOUTH WITH A CLOSET FULL OF MANOLOS AND NOT WORK ANOTHER DAY IN MY LIFE****

I'm calling it NYC Street Fighter.
The object of the game is to get from 8th Ave to 5th Ave during rush hour within the allotted time. The first levels can be, say, between the hours of 7am-9am with the usual obstacles (slow walkers, fat old ladies, umbrellas, etc.) The middle levels could be around lunch time with shopping bags that contain breakables. The higher levels could consist of getting to the theater on a Thursday night going through Time Square (dodging dumbass tourist and picture takers) and the top levels could be getting to Madison Square Garden for a Nicks Game or Time Square on New Years Eve- there will be 5 constant obstacles for all levels and the higher the levels the more obstacles. The kicker? You must do all this without cursing someone out or physically accosting them. That's when you "die" and the level starts over again.

Bonus points will be awarded to pulling off the flat tire or "accidentally" hitting an obstacle with a bag or elbow and not losing anytime in the process, but if it happens to you, you loose points.


Even if it doesn't make it to video stores and it's not the next craze like Guitar Hero and Rock Band, I will at least know that I play it in my head everyday.

And I can't even make it through one damn level.

Going home

is more stressful than it needs to be.

Im a little neurotic when it comes to making plans and making sure I see everyone I need to see and planning things down to the minute in order to get the most out of the short period of time that I am home (There are 24 usable hours in every day) but no one seems to want to work with me. I'm fed up with trying to accommodate everyone. So. Fuck off. This is not supposed to be a stressful time for me. I am coming home specifically to destress and visit family and laying in bed watching cartoons for 4 days with my nieces will be fine with me. . . and Im damn close to saying fuck it that IS what I am doing.

This is the email that is going out to everyone:

This is my schedule. Fuck you if you can't fit it into yours.

Saturday morning I am going to play in the French Quarter. I want a goddamn daiquiri and I want to playing in the French Market and The Riverfront.

I want a proper Roast Beef po-boy to absorb the alcohol.

I am going to go home and get my hair cut and get ready for Saturday night. I will be going dancing with my family. This will last no later than 1am at which point I want to go downtown/ uptown with my little brothers and my sister. Whoever wants to come is more than welcome.

Sunday is the Mother's Day crawfish boil at my house.
Monday night is Outback Take-Out and Greek/ One Tree Hill night at GBF's apartment.
Tuesday I am flying out at 5:45 p.m.

If you would like to see me, plan accordingly.
Otherwise I am not in the mood to accommodate you.

You are my natural disater.

The next time you people decide that a natural disaster in another country (that has nothing to do with America or Americans) is worth front page news for weeks and worth talking about for months and worth giving your damn money to (and worth interrupting me catching up on my TV shows to have a water cooler discussion about)Please remember that I don't want to hear shit about a little no named island that had total devastation until MY city has been rebuild and is functioning normally. mmmmm kay?

Glad we got that cleared up. Now I am off to more important issues- like the fact that I am extremely conflicted over if Evan is actually the good guy that Casey should end up with and not Cappie. It's seriously keeping me awake at night.




And Lucas and Peyton??? I miss this kind of passion in a relationship. The kind that mkaes you want to throw things. . .

Surrounding yourself with great people in life

Is a must and I need to start remembering that.

Sometimes when you graduate from college and you and your friends disburse to opposite ends of the universe, its imperative to keep in contact (I am a terrible friend in that sense).
(And this is where I get on the soap box.)

Because one day you're going to be sitting alone in a big city and have no idea what the hell is going on with you or your life or the world in general and slowly driving yourself crazy. Then in one much needed conversation, it all comes together. You'll remember the person you once were and all the things that made you amazing. You will remember the you that you spent years fighting for. Face to face with that person people love and adore. It might not be an exact replica of the current you, but those good qualities are still there and that's all that matters. I remember the qualities that I once had and I realize I haven't turned into someone I hate.

I am strong. I am passionate. I am smart. I am extremely lucky and fortunate. I am blessed. And being gorgeous doesn't hurt either.

I am goddamn AMAZING.

(Have I mentioned I have some pretty damn amazing friends?)
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Omigod, Shoes.

So after one too many Stellas at the Wrap Up Party (which was super duper fun. On the beach in Long Island City with the most breath taking view of the city ever. Even though I froze my ass off. Is Mother Nature aware it's fucking May?), I came home to 2 boxes waiting for me and it was like goddamn Christmas. I ripped into those boxes in the middle of my kitchen shrieking "Michael! Stevie! Blowfish! Oh, my!"





I am so ready for summer.
The best part?
I'm still waiting for 3 more pairs. . . but if anyone asks, I only bought 4.

I'm still a little weirded out with wearing open-toe and flip flops in the city. Last night I had to buy some flip flops at the Gap for the Beach Party (I had suede ankle boots on. Yea, attention to details are not my forte) and it was really weird- like wearing flip flops on Bourbon Street. I'm scared someone is going to step on my toesies.

I was soooo right.

Grunge is BACK!

(Granted, Mary Kate never left the trend, Jessica is from Texas where it is a must have and that is probably the same flannel from Jared's Jordan Catalano days, I'm telling you. It's back.)

A terrible case of the Mondays.

Dear Bed,

I know.
I know I have been a horrible excuse of an inhabitant. I know I have been neglecting you and that does not make you feel loved and appreciated. And I also know if I were you, I'd be upset too. I recognize my faults and I am trying to fix this. But I do want you to know, that it is not because my feelings for you have changed. I am still as in love with you as the day I brought you home from Ikea. And I would like nothing more to spend every unwaking moment as possible with you, but sometimes it just doesn't work that way. I would love for our relationship to move forward and for us to spend more time together. Please don't give up on me, I need you in my life.

Sincerely,
NQ

Mondays are really starting to suck. This is a new experience for me. Normally, Mondays sucks as much as any other weekday, but lately I have been noticing a growth in the sucky department and now I get the phrase "a case of the Mondays". YaY for more growing pains, like I don't have enough of them already.

Lately, I have been having the uncontrollable desire to cry all the time. At the drop of a hat, my eyes fill with tears. It's getting a little recockulous. If you know me personally, you know I'm not a crier. The closest I come to emotionally crying is at a really good movie or a wedding. Ok, maybe I need to take that back. I might be a little bit of a crier but it's only for a damn good reason. Wedding vows and The Notebook are damn good reasons, if I do say so myself.

Speaking of The Notebook. . . . .

This was the last weekend of the Film Festival and I had a great time. It was an amazing experience and I can't wait for next year! I met some really awesome people (and some wackos) but even though I've been dead dog tired, I wouldn't trade it for all the extra hours of sleep I could stand (No offense, Bed, you know you're my number 1).

So, last night I worked at the DGA Theater where they showed Lou Reed's Berlin. It was the most hectic shift I've ever worked (even more than the multi-theater at Village East- that was fun. I got to watch Trucker, which was really awesome and one of the Venue Managers kept me entertained as he shamelessly networked while keeping me company during the very boring escalator duty). There were lots of "celebs". The ones I recognized were Jade Jagger (actually I didn't recognize her, someone said her name) and the old guy from Law and Order (I had to Google is name, its Richard Belzer). Lou Reed was there, too, but I wasn't impressed (I originally thought it was The La Bamba guy). Apparently this film was really good, but it was just a concert on film to me. Ok. Back on track . .

Setting: Outside the theater doors trying to direct the traffic of people letting the ticket holders know they needed to go through a different door than the badge holders.

Girl notices a ticket holder. "Ticket holder? Both doors are open". (Girl notices there are a lot of guys in flannel. wonders if it's making a comeback?)
Guy turns around. Guy is Ryan Gosling. (Ryan fucking Gosling.)
Girl forgets how to speak and just points to where he needs to go. Girl makes eye contact with another volunteer and they silently freak out and then compose themselves quickly so no one notices.

Guy (as in Ryan fucking Gosling) brings date to their seats then returns to girl. Girl informs him he needs a readmit ticket to get back into the theater. Guy smiles and thanks her. Girl forgets how to speak again and legs turn to jelly.

Guy goes to the lower level of the theater to do press and never returns. Girl is disappointed.

Ok. seriously. That actually happened. He is so beautiful. His head looked a little too big for his body, I think he has fallen into the manorexia trend, but his smile. OMG. His smile. Almost as hot as this:
Seen The Notebook?


And that was my big celebrity sighting, making it all worth it.

Tonight is the Wrap Up Party and I wish I could be more energized, but it doesn't look like this extra cup of coffee is working.

And so the countdown begins until I get to go home. 4 more days. I am refusing to get excited about it so soon because then the week will take forever to get over with. Which I have a feeling it won't, being that I am booked up all week and I have lots of things to look forward to(Tonight, party. Tomorrow, more partying. Wednesday, dying the hair and hopefully starting to pack. Thursday, dinner date. Friday, get my ass on the plane) .


Anyone a Brothers and Sisters fan? The end of last night's episode. . .seriously, one of the sweetest proposals ever. "Because I changed the light bulbs?" A-dorable. And guess what I did?

If you guessed cried, I've got a gold star waiting for you.

So sure we were on something.

I'm reading Angels by Marian Keyes and this has got to be my favorite theory ever:

Our lives are so awful because our guardian angels have gone on sabbaticals, and that currently we are being minded by temps who take no pride in their work

And apparently mine is flirting with a boy angel or on lunch break or dropping LSD to think buying 2 bottles of wine on a Thursday night was a good plan.

Heaven help the poor soul who gets this drunk dial.

bad decisions

Have you ever looked at a picture of someone (or seen the person in real life) you've slept with and winced? What the fuck were you thinking?

Not only has he seen YOU naked, you've seen HIM naked and that was a tragic judgement call impaired by alcohol if there ever was one.

Yea. I've just had one of those. It kind of makes me feel dirty.

Hello, Lover.

alternative title: Why I love living in New York.

My feet were just treated to the most luxurious thing that could ever be put on them. What could I possibly be talking about?

Manolo.
Manolo fucking Blahniks.

Sample sale. at lunch. A-mazing. Almost orgasmic. (well as orgasmic as it could be being in a room full of crazed women)

I fell in LOVE with this gorgeous pair of black suede pumps. The front part was loafer-like and the loafer part was grey. The heel wasn't too recockulous. . . perfect, I tell you.

BUT

they didn't have the pair to it.

Now let's all get in a circle and pray to the Manolo gods that they find the pair and call me. Those shoes NEED me to rock them. The moment I saw them they had Nicotine Queen written all over them.