Hudson River Rocks

There is a lot of green and I'm not talking about the river water. Apparently the entire Irish population knows who Flogging Molly is and congregated at Pier 54 for the summer concert series and then there is me, in all pink, and my coworker in black. Never had a thing for an Irish man but after 2 beers, they're kinda hot.
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CHARGE!!

Speedy texted me earlier to find out how my weekend home was, etc. and he asked what I was doing this weekend. I told him nothing much, I'm poor and detoxing.
I just got a message back saying No worries. He was paying and he made reservations for Friday night, 7:30. (Manhattan or Jersey, I wonder?)
I don't know how to take this.


Is it wrong to be a little turned on?

:-)

Thought to ponder while in a recockulously long line at Subway

(The restaurant not the thing that takes me to work everyday)

How come we can eat meat with different blood types. Do animals even have different blood types- from each other and\or humans?

And when you feel like you need more iron in your life does eating rarer meat help? Because technically you are eating the animals blood (I know. Ewww but this is shit I think about)
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New Orleans: A review

It's fucking HOT.
The End.

Being that I had 26, give or take, years to get accustom to the humidity, all it takes is moving away for a few months for all that tolerance to disappear. I was sweating like a Northeastern tourist all weekend (well, technically, I am). It rivaled the subway- except there was no getting on a train with AC. Monday on the way to the airport, my Betta Chedda Jetta (that's my car, btw) said it was 105 degrees outside. And New Yorkers freak the fuck out when its 95- they call it a heat wave. psh! But at least I successfully dropped 20 pounds of water weight.

Friday night I ventured down to Tchoupitoulous (try saying that one like a local!) for a going away party that was in a private room in my favorite bar ever (anyone else clueless to F&Ms upstairs lounge or am I just an idiot?) As I got close to the bar, I noticed the street was blocked off, cop cars everywhere and swarms of people hanging out. I called Fred (who I was meeting) and these were his exact words "Oh, yea. There was a shooting 2 blocks from the bar. Just take back roads". And what did I do next? I took back roads to the bar. That's how we roll in the country's murder capital, ya heard.

Once I got to this secret upstairs bar area, I had to double check I was still in nola. I thought I had gotten transported back to Brooklyn in some hipster bar in Williamsburg. I didn't even know hipsters existed in New Orleans! It was like their entire population had a secret meeting in this dirty old bar and I was invading. Not that there is anything wrong with that, I was just expecting a way different crowd. It was fantabulous. There was a keg, a drunk Fred and a Jared Leto look-a-like. What could be better? If every night could be like that one, I just might consider moving back.

Saturday night I was supposed to go out with my Daddy (see previous blog about the daiquiri) but instead I went to a Beer Pong Tournament- apparently the Cajun Alarm did knock him on his ass. First time ever playing and I can honestly say it is seriously lacking. Gay, I tell you- the game is gay. I made my partner drink all the beer (I had polished off a large White Russian before the game even started), only made it in the cup twice and the one game we did win was against my sister. I decided I was too drunk to finish playing, so we left. When we went to see what was going on with the male counterparts (my brother and his 2 best friends) they were drinking 40s and playing- get this- go fish. We tried to end the night in the hot tub, but I ended up crawled up on the bathroom floor, in true I -drank-too-much fashion.

Sunday morning I woke up at the ass crack of dawn (9am- that IS the ass crack with the hungover I had) and went to the French Quarter with my parents. We had beignets and fan-fucking-tastic strong ass coffee at Cafe du Monde. We walked around the newly vamped French Market where the rest of the alcohol from the night before seeped out of my pores. After this heated torture, we decided to cool off in Harrah's, where all the damn slot machines did was eat my money. I think I got one lousy bonus after $50. That's crap.

That night, we had a fabulous fondue dinner at The Melting Pot. That place is really sneaky. You're eating these small little piece of bread dipped in cheese or cooking a bite of food and you think "I'll never get full on this" but once the chocolate and strawberries come out, that's all she wrote. You end up rolling out of that restaurant swearing off food for a week. It was awesome.

Did I mention JetBlue is on my shit list right now? I'll start with the checked baggage line that apparently always takes an hour to get through. You already made me go to a machine to get my boarding pass. What could possibly take so damn long to tag a bag and throw it on the conveyor belt? Putting aside that they now charge you for legroom and checking a second bag, they apparently don't understand the concept of a schedule. We were an hour delayed on the runway from JFK AND coming back- plus we flew in circles for an hour or so over Virgina because JFK was so congested. This is a Monday night people. Get your shit straight. You have a whole 2 weeks to do this before I fly out again or I feel really bad for your manager.

I took my life in my hands as I got into the cab to take me home (A 5 hour flight- that should have been 2- then another 2 hour commute to my apartment on the subway? You are out of your box). I decided to take a car service because the taxi line was 2 hours long (again, it's 1am on a Monday night. seriously?) I really wanted to ask the driver how long he had been in America and if he had his drivers license, but that would have distracted him from driving the wrong way on one ways, flying through red lights and making 2 lane traffic three. I was already scared he was going to rape and kill me, so I figured not to press my luck. But, I did get home, so all is well.

Now I need a cigarette just thinking about that.

Oh yea, and I got BANGS! (think Legally Blonde's Serena when Elle calls her friends b/c she misses them- oh yea. BANGS)

Metro Three

I love this store. Too bad I didn't make it there this past weekend, but I will definitely be visiting it in two weeks when I go back to nola for a bachlorette party (who am I kidding. That's IF I can function. We will be staying on Bourbon Street all weekend and these bitches party). Anyway- fabulous stuff. Check them out.

I want this messenger bag and shirt:

more on the trip later. . . I'm tired and my love affair with JFK and JetBlue has been tainted by my most recent flying experience. My heart is a little upset right now.

My dad

Makes me laugh.

Me: Hey, want me to go get you a daiquiri?
Dad: Yea.
Me: What kind?
Dad: Cajun Alarm.
Me: I don't feel like getting out of the car. What do you want if the drive thru doesn't have that?
Dad: Jungle Juice? 190? Something that will knock me on my ass.

And you wonder where my drinking habits come from.
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Tory Birch hates my feet

This is how I'm walking through the JetBlue line to check my bag (please disregard the very large chunk of polish missing from my big toe). At least its entertaining me. I think I'm going to die in this line. My flight is in an hour and I haven't had my final cigarette. If I don't, I feel really bad for the person sitting next to me.
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Exhibit A

you better believe I pushed send too.

My love is all I have to give.

It's been a reallyyyyyy long time since a sappy love song has gotten to me (it could be the fact that I never listen to them anymore, choosing a more angry/ emo genre but anywoo). And as my ipod played on shuffle, High School circa 1997-1998 flashed before my eyes.

I was in a tragic tragic life altering relationship. It was so unhealthy, I don't even have the words for it. It was a doozie; mental abuse and neglect on both parties, but it lasted on and off for about 2-3ish years. Anyway, the summer of my Sophomore year because I was a slacker I ended up in summer school for Spanish. I spent that summer being one of the only girls in my class at an all boy high school (my school didn't have summer school, so you either went to a public school or an all boy school to take them- and of course I chose the boys! hello!). If you never went to summer school in High School, let me just tell you, you were missing out. It was one of the best summers I had. Everyday in between classes (yea, I failed Calculus, too.) we would jump in my friend's child molester van and drive around the neighborhood smoking cigarettes and occasionally drinking. All of my friends were older, so I felt really cool when they let me tag along. This was also in the middle of my transition from goth girl to raver chick. It was awesome getting to wear my wide legged JNCOs and a cute little t-shirt with some cartoon character everyday. I also carried a little Sesame Street Zoe doll with me everywhere I went. (If you don't know why, don't ask)

There was this guy in my Spanish class who happened to be the brother of a friend of a friend, etc. He would drive me nuts. Between hiding my Zoe doll and whispering Ninja stories (I'm sure to this day he still thinks he's a ninja) to me during class, he grew on me and we became friends. He was a big rocker guy and he liked to make fun of my techno and especially the way I dressed. I think we might have hung out a few times that summer but nothing big. I was really into drugs at the time, which he wasn't, and I got back together with the bad guy when school started again.

So Big Drama occurred in the beginning of my Junior year (again if you don't know, don't ask) and I ended up transferring to the High School his sister went to. We got back in contact and started hanging out more.

Around this time, Limp Bizkit and KoRn were really popular and this was the year that they did The first Family Values Tour (remember, I liked these bands pre-techno music). A group of his friends and sister got tickets and he invited me. A guy with us who bought us beer and we hung out in the parking lot of the grocery store across the street from the UNO Lakefront Arena. Once we got to the concert, 21 year old guy and I hung out because all the other guys went to cause ruckus in the mosh pits and the girls were crowd surfing. I was in charge of making sure his little sister didn't get into any trouble, even though we snuck onto the floor level and hung out really close to the stage. I remember walking towards the bathroom, holding 21 year old guy's hand (only not to get separated through the crowd) right as he was coming out of the mosh pit to hang out with me. I noticed the look of surprise on his face as he saw us hand holding, but I didn't really understand why- until later that night when he asked me to be his girlfriend.

I don't remember if we "officially" started dating then or not. I remember I took him to my Winter Formal where we had our first fight. He refused to take pictures with me if I wore my heels, which made me like 5 inches taller than him (did I forget to mention he was my height? Yup. First and last time I dated anyone under 6'0. Probably because of this fight, too. Don't ever ask me to chose between you and my heels. The heels will always win). Besides this fight, we never fought. He was, hands down, the best boyfriend I ever had. Really sweet and thoughtful. We would spend the weekends driving around and hanging out with his friends, who I absolutely adored. I met all of his family and mine loved him. I remember one night he had gotten off of work late and we were hanging out in my bedroom. It was at least 2am. My mom came downstairs to see who was making all the noise, fully prepared to yell at me and kick whoever was over out. When she saw it was him, she smiled and said "Oh, it's you. Hi!" and went back to bed. I guess she was so over the bad relationship, she would have let me to anything as long as I wasn't with the other.

I do remember I decided to go back to the bad relationship sometime after this. Why? Because I am a masochist and an idiot. I had the perfect guy who worshipped me and I just let it go. We stayed friends for awhile, though. I remember a few awkward times were we hung out together- me, bad guy and good guy. Bad guy never knew about what went on with me and good guy but I think he guessed we had feelings for each other and stopped letting me hang out with good guy. . . or I did it on my own, what difference does it make now really?

Once I finally cleaned myself up Senior year of all the drugs and bad guy, I ran into him a couple of times (we had a lot of mutual friends). One time, he hugged me and all I remember was he smelled so good. I told our mutual friend and she warned me not to pursue it- she was tired of watching me break his heart. The last time, he completely ignored me. Later on I learned he had started smoking weed a lot and stopped caring about a lot of stuff- me included. (And this ladies and gentlemen is the first example of me turning a good guy bad.) He was a year older than me, so once he left for college I didn't hear from him again.

What was the point of this REALLLY long explanation? Well, this was also around the time Backstreet Boys the Millennium album was big. A friend of mine who, like most of my friends, wanted me to choose good guy would tell me, "This is Matt's song to you. Every time you hear a Backstreet Boys song, I want you to think of him." and I do. To this day. Every time I think of my little metal head angry Matt singing like Nick Carter, I giggle. Hence, it coming on my ipod and me getting all sappy.

Whatever happened to him, you ask? We got back in contact and hung out a few times. He nearly pissed himself laughing when I turned into a pink wearing sorority girl. He was dating a petite blonde cheerleader (which is the funniest shit I've ever heard.) who he eventually married. As we were reconnecting our friendship, he conveniently hid it from her thus making me look like the "mistress" (but we were JUST friends) and ultimately ending all communication that could be tracked (via cell phone bill, etc.). Every now and then we will call each other via his work phone. He still makes me laugh harder than anyone else in the world.

It really upsets me to this day because I adored having his friendship in my life. But because he is a guy and didn't think about the consequences of his actions, I bowed out gracefully to preserve his marriage. I'm not that girl.

The End. If you made it through the entire thing, I applaud you.

Here we go again.

1. This picture IS me. Except the blonde. I don't want to be a blonde. (If you haven't guessed yet, no I haven't gotten off the damn mailing lists) Someone please buy me the jacket and the pretty purse. Don't worry about the tiara, though. I've got TONS. If you don't know what brand this is, we cannot be friends anymore.

2. I know it doesn't mean anything. Scattered Thunderstorms in NOLA don't mean much, but it's still a little depressing. Especially because it will be raining here, too, until I leave. At least if it rains, it might be cooler. . . until the sun comes out and it feels like you are in the largest sauna in existence. I really don't miss southern weather.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I forgot to put my watch on this morning.
Let's see how long it takes for my OCD to kick in, ultimately becoming the demise of what little sanity I have left.

I am fanatical about time. Ever since I moved to New York Shitty and having been forced to manage my time around the whims of the MTA moods schedule, I leave at least an hour before. Even if it's a few subways stops- you never know when there is going to be a "sick passenger" or "train traffic" (both I think are myths that MTA conductors make up for their lack of knowledge on how to follow a schedule properly. Obviously it is not in the budget for my $81/ month, along with 8 million other people's, to go towards proper training of employees). I am no longer known for my perpetual tardiness but instead for my neurotic need to be on time- I think the term Time Nazi has been used to describe me at times. Going hand in hand with this is my need to how exactly what time it is at all times. Thus, why not having a watch on today might just crack me.

What a fun little social experiment I have inflicted on myself.

JOY.

My, how much nothing has changed.

In the Spirit of not having one damn interesting thing to say (except maybe I am enjoying the Disney playlist on my ipod a little too much), let's have a blast from the past, shall we? These are from my myspace blog (pre-blogspot)

TWO YEARS AGO

Monday, July 24, 2006

Weekend Follies
Today sucks. Mondays suck. But this weekend was hysterical.

Friday it was back to normal. . .I went to bed early and it was great. I tried to watch Edward Scissorhands (yes I am the only idiot who hasn't seen it.) but it didn't happen. I am now completely involved in my Johnny Depp phase. I tried to watch as much of The Secret Window as I could on Sunday but missed a lot of it. . so Ill have to go back but it did look really creepy. I think he kills his ex-wife or something? Anyway.

Saturday night was the highlight. And there were only two highlights. One, being in the middle of arguing in the front of F&Ms over if we wanted to go in or not, we turned and noticed one of the guys with us took it upon himself to start checking IDs. Being drunk, we found this hysterical and while we are laughing at him, people are continuing to show him their IDs. Then the kicker is there was a guy inside the door checking IDs again. It was quite humorous. I was bent over at the waist laughing so hard it hurt.

And the second kicker. We saw one of the attorneys at my law firm inside F&Ms (once we finally decided to go in the godforsaken place). . . It was actually the attorney C works for and she screamed his name and then I told her it wasn't him, so she proceeds to walk off, embarrassed, but in my drunken state I walk up to him, my face a few inches away from his, and ask Is UR name ____? And then he proceeds to look at me like I'm stupid. It WAS in fact him. (And to clear up a few little things, I am not his assistant, C is. But her desk is literally right next to mine. His office is right next to my attorneys office. I see the man everyday. He walks right by me everyday.) Yes, that is how retarded I am. . .so now, even as I am sitting here typing this, I have to listen to C make fun of me for not recognizing. . but I'm sticking to my story. It wasn't him.

So if U did not see the humor in this. . . I guess U had to be there.

And I just made a date and I just realized I have $6.00 in my checking account. UGH. I hate being poor. Does anyone know if I'm allowed to have that little cash in there? Dammit.

who the hell was I dating back then?! And when the hell was I that poor in New Orleans? Impossible!!

ONE YEAR AGO

Friday, July 27, 2007

Lite my saf-FIRE.

Well helllooooo there. I am going to write a random blog in the spirit of my random life. Got a problem with that? Good.

A. I'm going to Florida today. Found out yesterday. Hope I get a tan.

B. Yesterday the receptionist said "Happy Friday Eve" and I said "I'd be happy if it were Friday" and she said "You're trying to live your life too fast" and then I thought about it. I'm only living for the weekends and I never enjoy the weekdays, except those moments when I come straight home and get into my bed. Those rock.

C. I want to go back to college. Really really bad. I look back on it and although I don't have any regrets, I just wish I would have had more fun, partied a little more and met more new people. I wish I would have gone to Fort Polk more, I wish I would have partied with different fraternities instead of the one that my boyfriend was in and I wish I wouldn't have taken sorority life so seriously. I know I'm going back to school in a year, but its not going to be the same. I'm going to be old. But at least I had the opportunity to go away for college- all you people who stayed in your hometowns and lived with mom and dad don't know what you were missing!

D. That song "Time" by Chantal Kreviazuk (its on my myspace) totally explains how I feel right now. I woke up and I'm already 25 with a job/ career (that I don't want) and I swore just yesterday I was 16. Where did all that time go? I guess it is true. Life is what happens while you're making other plans.

E. Yes a lot of that has to do with the new series on ABC, Greek. Let me just tell you all those people who stayed in town for college and all you GDI's, that show is seriously how Greek life is. There is always an archenemy in your own sorority (and I loved how Casey made Rebecca her little sis! That is a page RIGHT out of my college experience) there will always be the cute and adorable slacker fraternity you cant help but love (I don't know, TKE is coming to mind J ) there will always be amazingly themed parties, drunk people. . . Its just a really good portray of Greek life in college.

F. I painted my nails dark blue. See, if I wasn't me I don't think I would have gotten away with it. Then I thought about it, and thought about what people I work with wear to work at a law firm everyday and I said this will look perfectly fine. LoL.

G. I have become entirely too dependent on coffee to wake up in the morning. This is a really bad sign that I have become an adult. Oh and I drink it black with three or four sugars (a gold star to whoever knows where that quote comes from)

H. I love my mother to death, but if she does not stop flooding my e-mail with Jesus forwards I'm going to scream.

I. If any of you are on facebook and haven't added the social moth app you need to, its so much fun. I posted a secret and it got like 25 hearts! I guess I rock.

J. I just downloaded a whole bunch of classical music onto my ipod a few nights ago. Its amazing. I don't know how people don't like classical. There is a website, www.kickassclassical.com, and it shows you all the movies and commercials famous classical songs are in and songs we associate with certain things. Its interesting.

K. I have a low tolerance for people that are interested in things I find no interest in. I have a low tolerance for people who want to talk to me about things I have no interest in. I think I just have a low tolerance for people in general.

And speaking of, Harry Potter, people? Seriously. How old are you? Its fine to like the movies and read the books but seriously! The night that stupid book came out I was on magazine trying to get my drink on and as I was driving home, it looked like Halloween in July as a bunch of freaks running around in caps and witch hats gathered in front of a bunch of different stores. And I am all for being different but come on! That's tragic.

L. And speaking of tragic- Hot Topic. Every time I go into that store the goth in me dies a little. That is appalling. Seriously mainstreaming goth?! No, sir. I don't know what is wrong with kids today but I remember when I was goth we had to search for our clothes, we either made them or hunted through a thrift store. Being goth was expressing yourself through your own uniqueness (just like everybody else). . . just with a lot of black. Now everything you need to freak your parents into thinking you're a vampire is in one store? I understand the whole "making it easier" for people who want to be different- but if you really want to be different how are you going to be with 50 million other people dressing the same way you do?

M. Have I mentioned I love themes?! Omg. I cannot wait to wear my fishnets again for the Rasputina concert! I no longer have a spiked dog collar (oh yea- when I was goth we had to wear actual dog collars from a pet store, not some specially made one you can get from Hot Topic) but I think I'll go subtle and not freak out Fred.

N. I am moving back in with my parents in a few weeks. Now that's going to be fun. Just when I got used to the piece and quiet of living without 5 people and a child. But its only for a month before I move to New York and plus living there will make me want to move even faster and cure any notions of wanting to stay.

O. Speaking of, is it October yet? I am sick of New Orleans heat.

P. Holy Crap. I'm reading some of social moth and this is an amazing quote:
" I've learned that goodbyes will always hurt. pictures will never replace having been there. memories good or bad will bring tears. and words can never replace those feelings"

So True.

Q. Don't be jealous of my yellow stilettos. You just cant pull them off.

R. I want to ballroom dance. I want someone to lead me around a dance floor (ha! who am I kidding? I'm too much of a control freak for that) in a flowy dress and look like Cinderella and Prince Charming at the end of the movie. That just seems so romantic.

S. You know what else is really romantic? Calling someone back when you say you will. Telling them your feelings without the reservation of them not feeling the same way and hugs. Big Bear Hugs. I miss those.

T. When in doubt wear a dress. That is my new motto. Which makes me happy. There are so comfortable, appropriate for every occasion, can be dressed up or down and are simple. Just throw them on and go. Dresses are the new jeans.

U. I love automatic staplers. You know, the ones you just put the corner of the paper in and it staples? And I love the big staple removers, like for really thick papers? That makes me happy.

V. Seriously- how do yall sit there and read this crap? I guess I should be thankful for friends who read my ramblings, welcome to my world. This goes on in my head all the damn time. You're lucky you only have to deal with it randomly.

W. My lower back hurts. Its totally from my boobs. Maybe in a few years I'll make insurance pay for me to get a reduction- Insurance. Oh lawd don't make me go there again.

X. Wendy's has breakfast again. . Just thought you needed to know that.

Y. Do you think if I crawl under my desk and take a nap anyone will notice?

WOW. Some things never change.

O.V.E.R.

I've come to realize, in the middle of the throws of a quarterlife crisis, I am also going through a divorce. For being someone who is eminently against divorce, it's quite ironic. But who is to blame when someone you thought was your soulmate was just a wolf in sheep's clothing? God, I sound like a 15 year old girl right now experiencing her first real heart brake, but in a way, I am still that 15 year old girl- it was around that time I gave him my heart to begin with. I just never thought I would ever get it back- and definitely not in the shape that it's currently in. So not only do I have to learn how to live with myself, I have to learn how to do it alone, without my best friend.

I cant remember the last time my heart hurt so bad.

Secondhand Serenade - It's Not Over

My tears run down like razorblades
And no, I'm not the one to blame
It's you ' or is it me?
And all the words we never say
Come out and now we're all ashamed
And there's no sense in playing games
When you've done all you can do

But now it's over, it's over, why is it over?
We had the chance to make it
Now it's over, it's over, it can't be over
I wish that I could take it back
But it's over

I lose myself in all these fights
I lose my sense of wrong and right
I cry, I cry
It's shaking from the pain that's in my head
I just wanna crawl into my bed
And throw away the life I led
But I won't let it die, but I won't let it die

But now it's over, it's over, why is it over?
We had the chance to make it
Now it's over, it's over, it can't be over
I wish that I could take it back

I'm falling apart, I'm falling apart
Don't say this won't last forever
You're breaking my heart, you're breaking my heart
Don't tell me that we will never be together
We could be, over and over
We could be, forever

I'm falling apart, I'm falling apart
Don't say this won't last forever
You're breaking my heart, you're breaking my heart
Don't tell me that we will never be together
We could be, over and over
We could be, forever

It's not over, it's not over, it's never over
Unless you let it take you
It's not over, it's not over, it's not over
Unless you let it break you
It's not over

So the video is a little bit morbid, sue me. I'm in a bit of a morbid melodramatic mood right now. Give me 5 minutes and I'll have the Goth girl under control.

You light up my. . . . day!

I officially bestow this fabulous award to the following blogs that keep me entertained daily, thus making the world a better place for all, seeing as if I'm not happy, no one is happy. Keep up the good work! (and of course, this award will be sent to Sista 1 & 2 and Kitty for so graciously giving me awards of their own)

Lori- because she got my Nirvana reference. (I promise to go poke around your world very soon!)

Andie- without her lead from the myspace blog to an offical blogspot page, there would be no Nicotine Queen. (And she's my sorority sister, duh. Totally makes her fabulous by proxy!)

ShoeAddict- because she is a fellow Southerner who rocks! (and convinces me to buy fabulous things!)

*Red- Have I mentioned I have a thing for redheads? and maybe she'll tell me who her ex-boyfriend is??? :-) please.

TTQ- is a fellow smoker. 'nuf said. (Hope you're feeling ok, hun. Haven't heard from you in awhile!)

East Coast Dweller- He seems to be one of my biggest fans.

BrooklynGal - Because I love her idea about a guidance counselor for 20somethings. (If you find one, let me know asap!)

Poker Girl- I want to join her bowling team! (You can smoke in bowling alleys in Vegas, right?)

TN Girl- I totally sympathize with her issues about moving to NYC. (Hang in there, Hun! If you want it bad enough, it will all be worth it!)

Traci Anne- Have I mentioned I love southern sorority girls living in the big bad apple?

And I think that concludes my blog reel. . . until more peeps show up!

Enjoy!

ps- anyone wanna email on how to add my awards to my sidebar? Thanks, Im an idiot!

A little less Sixteen Candles.

You know what's the grossest thing ever?

cold coffee. ewwwwwwwww.

ok. Back to the matter at hand. You want to know about the date, right? I knew I would get in trouble by telling yall about him.

As we are all aware, I have a very short attention span, especially when it comes to guys, so whereas I am already over him, everyone else is just smitten. And when I say I don't feel like seeing him again, everyone is going to look at me like the bad guy b/c I don't want to snatch this extremely nice guy up and procreate right away. And he is a really nice guy- he is going to rock as a boyfriend to someone some day- just not me. I know we're at the nothing serious stage, but I feel like he should know this now so he doesn't continue to spend pointless time and energy falling in love with me (because let's face it, everyone does at some point :-) I'm just not feel it and now I have to figure out a way to tell him. hmmmmm. any ideas?

Thursday we had a nice time at some bar/ grill in the W4 area (don't ask me the name of it; all I know is it was on Bleeker and there were a lot of red couches). I dilly dallied out of work prolonging getting there as long as politely possible. We had a few drinks, then I went home. the end. nothing big, nothing crazy. I have this terrible habit of being extremely clever and witty whenever there is no pressure of me liking the guy- and it, without fail, always hooks the guys I don't like. I must learn how to harness this talent to the guys I actually want to procreate with.

Saturday was his birthday celebration in Manhattan. The following is a recap of what happened which I wrote on the train home that night:

Let's have a little tutor session. In case you are ever in the situation with me where I have been drinking, if I say "I'm done", I mean it. I don't mean 2 drinks and a shot I'm done. I mean 2 drinks and a shot later I'm going to be worshipping my toilet and only able to get out of the bed the next morning to pee or vomit, whichever comes first. If you haven't already guessed, I am passed that 2 drinks and a shot point.

*pause train of thought. Someone is smoking on the subway car. Unless I'm so drunk I'm on fire. Pause to check. Ok. Not on fire.*

So, Speedy was drunk tonight. Which is totally understandable- it was his birthday celebration. It was fun- him being drunk, me eyeing a man across the room that I swear is my soulmate (remember: I never pretended to be nice, especially when his friends ask "how did yall meet?" And I'm instructed to answer "through a co-worker"). He had a reserved table at some swanky Upper East Side bar, whatever. I tried my hardest not to make out inappropriately in front of his friends, but he wasn't having it. God I hate PDA. I do however love holding hands. Right now I think my right hand is half broken and bruised though. I don't know why, but when Speedy gets drunk he holds my hand and he squeezes it so tight, I feel like he is trying to brake it- it might just be his way of balancing himself because, damn, he was drunk. But it still hurt.

What's not cool? When Speedy is so clearly drunk, he is running to the bathroom and nearly vomiting at the table. And when the younger brother(who is supposed to get him home safely) is blowing your plea to take him home off so he can score points and get laid. Douchebag. I know I don't understand male bonding and especially brotherhood (considering my brother and I are so alike we are strangers) but that is fucked up. This 20 something asshat would not listen to me, even when I offered to help him out in the getting laid department (by talking the skank into it, not me). He went over to his brother and asked him if he was ok. Not 5 seconds before, Speedy was telling me he was done for. What did he tell his brother? He was fine and like the goddamn idiot is brother is, he believed him.

I. hate. douchebags. why must they continue to show up in my life when I am so desperately trying to rid myself of them?

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I love that my spellchecker does not recognize "Douchebag" or "skank" as appropriately spelled words.

Rest in Peace

In loving memory of my fabulous faux D&G sunglasses.
They were a year and a half old (which is a record. I don't even think my Oakleys lasted that long and those bitches were real.) and we've had many many good times together. I actually bought them in Chinatown when I came to NY for a visit. What a trooper they have been! Surviving everything from an over crowded subway car in my purse to my nieces trying to look like Nana. But, alas, it was their time to go and they will be in a better place where they can rest. Their memory will live on.


Farewell, good friend. You will be missed- especially today (It's 90 with no sight of shade).

I wish I was like you, easily amused.

(10 points to the first person who gets the title's reference- and maybe I'll give you an award!)

They like me! They REALLY like me! (Is that overplayed?)

So I have received TWO fabulous awards today from two FABULOUS fellow bloggers and I am tickled pink! (wait. I just sounded like my grandma. ewww)

The First being from Kitty.

(I would like to thank my parents. Without them, I would not be the brat that I am today.)

and the Second, from my favorite Philly sisters over at Holy Crappers!

and since Sista 1 and 2 can make up their own award, I'm going to do the same. I will be passing on 10 awards as soon as I can think of a cute one. Unfortunately, I cannot spend the afternoon playing with photoshop because I have been spending my afternoons doing random pointless shit all week, which means I need to actually work this afternoon. dammit.

oh. and get ready for a real first date with Speedy.

Details and Awards to come. . .

We thought you would be prettier

Last night I had to control myself. I was in Barnes and Noble for over 3 hours. Do you know what kind of damage I could do in that time?? Seeing as I had $12 to my name (ok. I'm being melodramatic) I'd say I did pretty damn well. A little disappointed I didn't meet my soulmate. But then again, if I meet my soulmate in a bookstore, we're going to have major financial problems.

Why was I in a bookstore for 3 hours? Well, to meet the Fabulous Laurie Notaro of course. This woman is not funny, she is hysterical. I've met a couple of funny writers and usually they aren't as funny in real life as they are in their books, but Mrs. Notaro went above and beyond my expectations. If you haven't checked her out, you should. Judging from the bloggers that read mine and vice versa, I would say the majority of you would have a lot in common with her. I think we could all be a fabulous group of friends. If I were to start a book club, I would definitely have her on my list (*coughshoeaddictcough*). Her books are in the style of Jen Lancaster's Bright Lights, Big Ass and it's a pants wetting good time. Trust me, you won't be disappointed. And if she is coming to your city, you must go see her. Her readings are filled with funny side notes and she's adorable. I wasn't politely laughing at her jokes, they were actually funny; like I had to be conscious not to snort. You'll love her.

I think Im dying, said the hypochondriac

I have never in my entire life used a bottle of headache medicine so fast. I get a headache everyday. everyday, I tell you! This is getting recockulous. And don't tell me it's from the computer monitor. I have been starring at these babies for 8 hours straight for the past 4 years. This is something bigger.

I'm totally convinced it is a tumor or an aneurysm about to blow brought on by fashion merchandising and all the crap that it consists of. It's probably my brain just being pissed off that I haven't done anything to exercise it since I moved here. Or maybe it's just my subconcious' alarm clock and everyday at 3p.m., eastern time, it screams WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE?! over and over; inwhich I hit "snooze" and take an Excedrin.

But I do get to leave work early, thank the g-o-d. see? Showing up early and leaving late does pay off. . . .sometimes. I'd rather get a sick day or 2 or vacation time instead of leaving early, but hey! that's just me. I'm sure it's asking too much anyway.

My favorite song when I was 14

was "Only happy when it rains" By Garbage. The entire Pink album (it's actually self-titled. I just like the pink fuzziness of it) totally blew my Catholic school skirt up. Shirley Manson was (and still is) fabulous with her red hair out of a bottle (what can I say? I have a thing for fake redheads)

Why oh why must you inform us of this?- You ask? Because I have reverted back to my 1995 music collection in which I so carefully stowed away under "Open at your own risk: suicidal thoughts may occur". (I associated my depression back then with the music I used to listen to and only allowed Tori Amos out of that box. But alas, my crazy thought process was wrong, per usual.) I can't believe I let all this amazing music get dusty for so long.

Anyway- Here are a few songs that are making me happy at the moment (12 years later):

* Dashboard and We've Got Everything -Modest Mouse

* Viva la Vida and Lost -Coldplay

* Punk Rock Princess -Something Corporate (which the lead singer is also the guy behind Jack's Mannequin. Sue me, I'm like 3 years too late on this knowledge)

* When Your Heart Stops Beating -Plus 44

* Dropped and Do the Panic -Phantom Planet
* Hallelujah and That's what you get -Paramore
* Cookie Jar- Gym Class Heroes
* Shut Up and Let me Go -The Ting Tings
* The Fortunate -Cartel

* Five colors in her hair -McFly

Let's not forget about my girls:

* Untouched and Hook Me Up -The Veronicas

* Pocket Full of Sunshine -Natasha Bedingfield

* Tears Dry on Their Own and You know I'm no good -Amy Winehouse

* You're so Gay and Mannequin -Katy Perry edited for Freddie Weddie.

* Stronger -Britney Spears

* It's Amazing -Jem

* Labels and Love -Fergie

* When I grow up -Pussycat Dolls (how did that get in there?! Not to be mixed up with the Garbage song which has the same name. . . but they both make me happy)

And to go full circle with the 90s alternative (the ones I'm willing to admit to):

* Zero and Bullets with Butterfly Wings -Smashing Pumpkins

* Anything and Everything from Sixteen Stone by Bush
* The Blue Album -Weezer

Now Go- Fill your lives with music that makes me happy.

Sorry, guys. If I write about anything heavier than what's in my ipod and making me happy, I might just lose my goddamn mind. . . well, what's left of it anyway. I. hate. my. life. today.

I love

eating Rice Krispies in the morning!

YAY!


That is all.

Double Trouble Dating.

Double Dating. Is it really a good idea? Ever? Anyone have a good story? Please feel free to share.

Anyway- my overall rating of the night was like 8.5 on a scale 1-10. . . but my friend would score it like a 2. Her date happened to big the biggest douchebag on the planet, and that's being nice.

I know I should have written this over the weekend, but I was hoping I might remember more of the details as the days went on. Obviously, I got drunk just like I planned. I treated it very casually, like it was just a bunch of friends going out together. Luckily, my date (who we will call Speedy) rocked. He was adorable, sweet, smart- you know all the things I want but are scared to death to accept? The one problem I had with him was the major one. He wasn't tall enough (And I don't want to hear it. I have ONE standard I will not budge on and it's height. I'm sorry. That's the way it is and if it means I will forever be alone then so be it. It can't be that hard to find an awesome guy that meets my height requirement- well, obviously it is, please refer to the long list of douchebag ex-boyfriends. But jeez- it's one simple request, people!)

So there we were, at Bowery Electric, a rock bar in the Village (When they say hole in the wall, they meant it. If you didn't know where you were going you would have missed this place. And why is it all New York bars look bigger and nicer on their websites? They should be sued for false advertising) and Speedy and I are laughing having fun, when I feel a hand on my leg. It's my friend. She looks at me, "Help me. Omg. All he has talked about is work, he hasn't asked me anything and he has been texting the whole time." Granted, this guy was like 45 minutes late for our agreed meeting time and he showed up in the suit I'm sure he wore to work- how inconsiderate can you be? I understand you work in finance and you take your job way to seriously but it's Friday night! Loosen up and have some fun! Strike one.

We decided it was time to make a change anyway, so we walked over to MacDougal and end up at Off the Wagon. If you ever decide you want to partake in the festivities there, don't. It's a Grade A college bar complete with the beer pong tables and sweaty crowds of under aged drunks- but they played good music. Which speaking of good music, Speedy and I went to get another round and when we came back, friend grabbed me. "He doesn't know who Gwen Stefani is." WHAT?! Who hasn't heard of Gwen Stefani? Half of a Strike for that one- he is a straight man, but come on. I decided to be a good friend and sent her to go get more drinks, go to the bathroom- something! anything!- to save her. I started talking to him about music and he said he doesn't listen to music. ever. He tunes out music. Like at the bar, he told me he was tuning it out and all he could hear was me. That's Strike Two, buddy. Who doesn't like some form of music?! Music is my life. Major Red flag!

Drunkenly, I kept turning to Speedy and saying "Ok. Here is the plan. Operation save Friend from Douchebag". He was very cute about keeping with the plan, but I would always forget what the plan was. He would lean in and whisper "I thought we were doing [whatever I stirred up as a good plan]" and I would remember but decide that wasn't good and come up with something else. I was trying really hard, Jillie, but at this point I had way too much to drink and wasn't thinking. And I kept getting side tracked and making out (but more on that later).

This is about the point in the night when Speedy and I went to smoke and I got yelled at by a very intoxicated girl for not knowing how to get to Jersey. I was giving him a hard time about living in Jersey City and how if we were to go on a date there I would need directions b/c all I know is you can get on the PATH. Apparently, she was just a little too attached to the damn state and started telling me exactly how to get there- there are boats, trains and buses apparently. Well, if Jersey is so damn great why are you partying in Manhattan?

When we got back inside, McDoucheBag apparently left my friend to go take a "phone call" and never came back. Strike Three! Not that she wanted him to come back (she literally spent the rest of the night ducking and ignoring his calls and texts) but who leaves a date for 20 minutes to take a phone call? Good riddance.

Speedy was a very good date. He walked me to the subway, where we made out like teenagers on the fence of the Basketball court (so tacky. but so much fun). It really sucks I had so much fun. We decided we needed to hang out again, sober and more like a real date and such. Wouldn't you know he called the next day and wanted to go out that night? (Don't you know about the 3 day rule?) I must have made a very large impression. . . or I just happen to have TWO very large impressions attached to my chest (joking. . .), no matter. He invited me to his Birthday Party for next weekend and we have plans for later this week.

Stay tuned.

Come on, man. Seriously?

There is a rave going on outside my window. I'm not shitting you. It's Fall '96 at State Palace all over again. I'm really tempted to go ask which DJ spun the crap that is rattle my windows- don't tell anyone but I would consider it good if it wasn't in my goddamn bedroom..

Have I mentioned I live in Washington Heights which is a heavily populated Dominican and Puerto Rican area.
WTF? How the hell do they know what the fuck techno is anyway.

Jesus. I'm damn near close to having a flashback that's how intense this is. Oh wait. I might just be drunk and on the verge of puking.

Either way-

Wait.

Damn.

I forgot what I was trying to say.

Fuck.

Carry on.
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Realizing it's the weekend in a couple of hours.

YaY! It's Friday. I get to go take a nap at 1pm and then wake up to drink my ass off- what could be better? Oh yea, it's a double date so there will definitely be updates on how much of an ass I can make of myself. Who knows what kind of shit is going to fly out of my mouth, but I know I'm excited to find out. Poor guy, he has no idea what he has gotten himself into with me.

And in non-related-it-made-me-happy-therefore-I-am-going-to-subject-it-to-you news, I just received an email from a friend I haven't heard from in a while and it made me laugh b/c I miss his sarcastic-ass. After I asked him where the hell he has been this is what he responded:

I'm just hanging out here in Iraq. I heard it was nice this time of year
so I thought I'd come check it out. Unfortunately I can't leave for a few
months. I'm glad to hear you're still in NY. I have to run but I'll write more later.

And to top off the random crap I'm throwing at you:

1. I've come to realize that my hair .....will never have Texas Prom Queen volume. No. Matter. What.

2. I've come to realize that this weekend....I don't want to do much because I have had fun-filled weekends for a month straight and I'm ok with doing nothing when it isn't every weekend.

3. I've come to realize that when I'm driving....I feel in control, which is something I haven't felt in a long time and it has nothing to do with the fact that I no longer drive.

4. I've come to realize that i need...to start dressing like an adult, to find a new purpose instead of just turning oxygen into carbon dioxide and to broaden my food horizons.

5. I've come to realize that I have lost...parts of myself that I miss terribly and my best friend, which only makes me sad when I think about it (how fucked up is that?)

6. I've come to realize that I hate it when...I can't think of the right word because I haven't been exercising my brain cells since I moved here.

7. I've come to realize that today is...one day closer to my visit home and I cannot wait!

8. I've come to realize that money... does not grow on trees and it isn't necessarily going to make you happy if you have it either.

9. I've come to realize that certain people...are never going to change no matter how bad you want them to and that's ok- you just need to cut your losses and move on.

10. I've come to realize that I'll always be...a little too much for some people to handle and it's their loss anyway.

11. I've come to realize that I have a crush on... Tobacco plantation owners (do they still exist?) Southern, money and cigarettes- what else could be more perfect? Previous potential husbands have been: future politician, a military man and a musician (well, just a fun fling), but this tops all of that.

12. I've come to realize that my mom...is the polar opposite of me and I have no idea how a woman could create someone like that.

13. I've come to realize that my cell phone is...haunted by a ghost who does not believe in text messages and eats them before I see them.

14. I've come to realize that when I woke up this morning...I wished there was someone lying next to me, but I'm ok that there wasn't.

15. I've come to realize that last night before i went to sleep...I should have put all the new music I downloaded onto my ipod because now I really want to listen to Amy Winehouse.

16. I've come to realize that right now I am thinking about....if I should get Chipotle for lunch before I go home and sleep.

17. I've come to realize that my dad...spoiled me too much but that's ok. I'm such a Daddy's Girl.

18. I've come to realize that when I get on myspace.... it's not as fun as it was 2 years ago.

19. I've come to realize that my life...could always be worse.

20. I've come to realize that tonight...Im going to have fun whether I want to or not.

21. I've come to realize that tomorrow I will...probably only get out of bed to pee.

22. I've come to realize that I really want to... [redacted]- It's my secret.

23. I've come to realize that the person who is most likely to repost this...whoever is the most bored.

Cravings, Conspiracies and Utter Confusion

It is tragic that I need 3 cups of coffee in the morning to function correctly. There was a time in the not so distant past that I never drank coffee in the morning. Now, I need 3 cups of black coffee with lots of real sugar before I feel like a human again (I only drink coffee with milk when I go to Dunkin Donuts. The conspiracy theorist in me believes they hide crack in their coffee to make it sooo damn good and if I drink it without the cream, I will be able to taste it- can you taste crack? I don't even know just go with it- and my theory will be confirmed and I don't want to admit I'm addicted to crack) (Yes, ladies and gentlemen this is how my brain works. If I could charge admittance for the CIA to explore, I would).

I know this has a lot to do with going to the gym after work- the need of caffeine, not the conspiracy theories. It takes me forever to get my mind to unwind that late at night and actually sleep. I'm not even going to pretend trying to go to the gym in the morning would be a good plan because that's just ludicrous. My bed and I have a special bond that the gym cannot break that early in the morning. Has anyone trained themselves to only need 5 hours of sleep instead of 8? Please inform me how to do it!

And speaking of the gym, I SWEAR I was at the gym watching CNN and there was a report on Australia banning cigarettes on the entire continent, but I must have dreamed that because I cannot find proof anywhere. I went over to my smoking buddy's desk this morning to ask him about it (because he is the keeper of all things informative) and he had no idea. I did a little research and found out some obscure island wants to ban cigarettes and are asking Australia to stop exporting them to their island, population 10 (I'm assuming- and it must be something personal). See how much I pay attention to the news? Anyway, That's just mean. Poor obscure islanders. I'd consider that cruel and unusual punishment, personally.

Ok. "You don't own me" (The First Wives Club version) just came on my ipod and I must go dance in my cubicle. I wouldn't want my coworkers to think I'm sane or anything.

Have a fan-fucking-tastic Thursday!

Old dog new tricks

Is it just me or when adults figure out how to use email their favorite thing to do is forward chain emails? Those of us who have been using this form of communication for 10 or so years are a little tired of it.

My mother is notorious for forwarding me religious emails (she thinks if she forwards enough to me my soul might be saved. Little does she know, I'm driving the bus) and my aunt sends me jokes, which are usually jokes I heard 5 years ago (but it's nice to reminisce!). Now that my uncle has my email address, you can add military emails to the list.

I think I'm going to get a separate email address specifically for the fly.

sTORI Telling

I literally inhaled this book. I checked it out at the library on Monday and I finished it last night.

I will admit, I never had an opinion of Tori Spelling, good or bad, but all I do remember in high school (or was it college) when I wanted to go back brunette, I wanted Donna Martin brunette (do yall remember that brown? That was a fabulous brown. I still want that brown. Maybe when the black grows out) Anyway- One night my honorary roommate and I were watching TV and we got hooked into watching Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood (And you all should know my opinion on reality TV by now- I don't do it). It was the episode her book was mailed to her and they were going to be evicted in 30 days unless they bought the house (which I thought wtf is Tori effin Spelling doing renting a house?). I was totally hooked into the show and that's when I decided to read the book. It was an entertaining light read that you will come out of rooting for Team Tori. I've never been good at keeping up with celebrity gossip, but she goes into her relationship with her mother and the "inheritance" issue after her father passed and it's completely understandable why and how the events played out in her life. I totally felt her pain about the lack of money consciousness until she was an adult and not being able to budget (Granted, my father isn't worth $500 million, but you get the picture). Admittedly there were a lot of parts were I got frustrated with her for being so passive, but I forgive her; the entire world cannot be as forward and vocal as me. She's fabulous and I want to be her friend (we could work on the passive aggressive thing, I'm a good coach).

And of course the cover was great inspiration at the gym.

Must. Look. Like. Tori.

You should really read this book.

On a lighter note

NQ: I deleted like 100 friends on myspace and facebook
today
GBF: Well I think that was a healthy purge
GBF: Wait.
GBF: I am still on there, right?
NQ: :-) maybe
NQ: LOL
GBF: Biotch
NQ: you totally just went and checked.

Open letter to All the douchebags in my life

I quit you. You make me angry with myself because I still deal with you and your bullshit. I don't like being angry with myself for stupid reasons; keeping people like you in my life who do nothing but make me miserable or try to break down my self esteem is qualified as a stupid reason. If you haven't noticed yet, I think way too highly of myself to let you get to me and I'm tired of trying to make you get passed that, but apparently that is just the person you are. Nothing underneath but a sad insecure child that makes himself feel better by trying to make others feel bad about who they are. Who needs a person like you in their life, anyway? Miserable people need not apply in my life. Maybe it is because deep down I actually am a nice person and all you do is take advantage of that, but it's time to end that. You are a sad excuse for a human and I can't believe I've been so tolerant for so long. Please go leech to someone else. MY blood letting days are over.

peace out.

Frankly, my dear, I DO give a damn

I love love love it when I see a guy helping a lady up/ down the stairs with something heavy. It makes me smile

Call me sexist, call me un-PC, call me anti-feminist but it's still a form of respect and it makes me miss the south. (The gentlemen down there don't ever bitch or complain about being chivalrous- they were raised right)

And, of fucking course, after witnessing this I had some ahole run me off the sidewalk.

Nice.

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Red, White and You.

Happy 4th!! (3 days late. . . . )

I had an awesome experience on a rooftop in Brooklyn (just in case you weren't able to sleep not knowing). It involved a stroll through a neighborhood that emulated a ghetto (the fireworks were seriously sounding like gunshots and I was scared for about .5 seconds, for the first time ever in New York), a few too many Ketel Ones (I swore off vodka in high school and therefore blaming that on my inability to measure my tolerance correctly- but hey! There was an open bar- beggars cannot be choosy) and another stroll through Park Slope (which I am referring to as the March of Death. I believe it was 1.5 miles in which my sandals refused to stay on my feet. Damn Steve Madden- it had nothing to do with my intoxicated state I swear). From said rooftop we could see the fireworks (aka my vacation and sick time literally going up in smoke) from the Hudson and others from the other side of Brooklyn.

After passing out at a bar, getting a ride to the subway by a man I had no idea who he was, (but apparently he was friends with a friend I was with- don't freak out and tell my momma) we had a photoshoot while sitting on the subway platform (I am going to justify this that the particular Brooklyn station was impeccably clean) then I passed out fully dressed on my bed. YaY! for Independence from Britain.

My childhood friend from CT came in town to join in the festivities and we spent Saturday in Coney Island. We (being me) decided it would be a GREAT plan to eat a famous Nathan's hotdog (which was actually quite amazing and I didn't puke it up much to the contrary popular belief), ride an f-ing rollercoaster (have I mentioned I hate wooden rollercoasters? And I don't care if the Cyclone does rate on all the top 10 lists! I'm too old for that shit. My neck still hurts) and then rehydrate my drunkenness from the night before with a beer at a sketchy bar (who am I kidding? Sketchy is the only word to describe the entirety of CI) on the boardwalk.
It was totally the hour and a half subway ride.

Even though I am highly aware this sounds like I am bitching, I actually had an amazing highly eventful weekend (which is a good change from all the other ones). The parts I remember anyway.

This bar cracked me up. I wonder if a lifeguard actually sits there?

And this is my scary clown shirt :-) It's a little disturbing but I think that's why I like it so much.

Access to this website has been denied

Fuck Filters and fuck this company.

Apparently our tech team is having its simulated Premenstrual syndrome (or maybe because our economy is in the crapper and they want to get their monies worth out of their minions) and hopefully things will be back to normal next week. But wtf am I supposed to do until then?! Actually work? I think not.

Youtube is apparently the only one of my favorites that isn't blocked. Bring on the tacky

Dammit and I had so much to report too!
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I just got called a punk

and I so deserved it.

Is anyone out there with a Blackberry that knows how to silence a phone so that the caller doesn't know they are going to voicemail? My Razr was really good about just silencing the phone and letting it ring out like I wasn't around, in case at the last minute I changed my mind and decided I actually wanted to talk to the person.

I'm really bad about sending people to voicemail and up until now, it was a secret I was sending them to voicemail- or so I thought (obviously not from the voicemail I got this morning informing me I'm a punk for forwarding him to vmail- which actually made me laugh seeing as who it was coming from).

I feel like I should explain myself so your already tainted opinion of me is not tainted incorrectly. I hate the phone. I know, what? I'm supposed to be a girl, whatever. I hate holding the phone to my ear and I hate when the phone gets hot on my ear. I'm just damn lazy. I do have earphones for my phone, which I do use, but I feel like an idiot and I feel like I'm always yelling.

Plus, besides the physical aspect of it, I hate talking. Because I suck at keeping in touch with people generally when I do speak to them, it's a 20 minute conversation catching up- and I really hate that. Not that I don't want to know what's going on in my friends' lives, I just have to be mentally prepared to be on the phone for that long. And usually the opening line is "Holy Shit! You called me!" or "What the fuck? You actually answered the phone?" which turns into a 2-5 minute joke that gets old after awhile. How long have you been my friend? I am quite open about my crap job of being a friend. They know this already but apparently it never ceases to amaze them.

Send me an email or a text. I have AIM, Yahoo and Gchat, which I am on all day long, people. Facebook or Myspace me- lord knows I waste my days away on them. I'd be much more susceptible to pay attention. Unfortunately living in NY I don't have a car, which is where I did most of my conversing. The only time I want to call to bullshit is when I'm smoking; I only want to talk long enough for me to finish my cigarette and it usually it doesn't work like that.

So in the 2 seconds of "Beat It" (The FOB version, not the MJ one, is my ringtone. How cool is that?! Yea. I know it's gay but I love it!) it takes me to notice my phone ringing this is the run down that goes through my head before I immediately send the caller to voicemail:

a. Who is it? (usually many don't get passed this question. j/k!!. . . or am I?)
b. When was the last time I spoke to you? (was it recent? Do you have something to add to the previous convo? Do I really care about what you have to add? Has it been months? omg. this is going to be a dozy)
c. Where am I? Am I in a place I can talk?
d. Do I have the allotted time to talk? (Am I about to get in the subway? Go to bed? Watch a TV show that seems more interesting?)

If my mind does not give the correct answer to all of these questions in the 2 seconds it takes for me to hit the button- you lose, game over and they're getting the very boring and generic voicemail everyone makes fun of. And I'm sorry it has to be that way but that's just me- love me or hate me. (Sometimes I really don't know why so many people love me so damn much, but rock on.)

Anyway- in case anyone cares, the particular situation sparking this entry was because I was already in bed about to go to bed.

Funny story? This is a guy a few months ago I would forgo sleep to talk to and would never consider sending to vmail (I'd consider it a very large crush that I've seem to have since I met him). See how quick/ easy it is to fall out of my good graces? I put a new spin on the word fickle. seriously.

Dear E.L.F.,

What about me wanting to by makeup for $1 makes you think I need a subscription to Working Mother magazine? Personally, I would think the fact that all of your makeup is only $1 would appeal more to the broke college student in an upscale wet-n-wild way rather than a mother who barely has time to shower much less put their face on, but that's just me. I do appreciate the gesture, but next time maybe Glamour or InStyle would be better received. I'm not sure what you are trying to tell me here. I am not sure if I'm supposed to be offended or not, but I will over look this and pass the magazine on to one of the FOUR women in my office who in a few months will join this category.

Sincerely,
NQ

P.S.- this is not a very go green approach either seeing as I never asked for the magazine that probably killed a few trees in the ever disintegrating rain forests across the world and I'm not really big into recycling.


To those about to run to E.L.F.- be forewarned.