Riding Along

Ummm, there is something outside of my apartment that can only be described as a JewMobile. A white minivan, doors agape with a giant light up Menorah on top and blue streamers a-plenty. The best part is the music blaring up and down the street (please forgive me if you are Jewish and reading this...) that goes something like "Machina Machina Machino- Yo yo yo yo yoooooooo!" I'm totally cool with the fact that they need to drive down St. Marks handing out tiny Menorah candles and dancing in a circle, but I wish that they knew more than one song. Also, I think as Jews, they should be able to easily recognize other Jews and not yell at everyone walking down the street asking if they are Jewish. Look at me- I think the song you are singing is about machine guns- clearly I am not looking to score a light up dradle on the way home. While this pic taken from the "terrace" is really bad, I think you can get the idea.
JewMobile, JewMobile, Hunting for Jews in the JewMobile!

FYI

It Takes a Rare Man to Pull Off a Mustache. And if that man isn't George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Jude Law, or Robert Downey Jr. — all of whom have taken, and failed, Lip Lawns 101 — then odds are it also will not be you. Because unless you are The Young and the Restless' Victor Newman, whose mouth topiary nicely underlines his attempts to destroy/disinherit/wish death upon people in that dramatic German accent, you will probably end up looking like a cheesy porn star- and who wants to lock lips with that at Christmas time?

Princess Unicorn

Mixed Drinks...Part Deux

After the falling, the hangover, and the underwear yesterday- coworkers decided to go for a post work happy hour. I'm not a big fan of Stout, because its so crowded during happy hour that you have to dry hump someone to get to the bathroom, but it's close to work, so..

Three of the 5 other people I'm with are married/have children/all of the above. So I just grab a glass of red wine and sip knowing that they will all peace out within the hour to get home to their families. We find a "table," and are happy to have space to breathe even though there are several hundred half empty glasses on our "table." After a few drinks, only one of them has fallen, so I'm pleasantly surprised! At this point, my 90 pound co-worker utters those fateful words....
"Let's take a shot!"
Ummm, right... Soko and limes all around and we are discussing our limited experience with drugs. This seems inappropriate- i dunno. Next thing I know, someone accidentally picks up one of the half empty, left behind drinks instead of their own. "NOOO!" i shout- "don't drink that!"

"I'll drink it," says the shot co-worker. Um that's disgusting- first off, it's Scotch and secondly, someone else already backwashed their spinach and artichoke dip in there. We all ignore her until another co-worker says, "I dare you..." Of course she says she will do it if he will too. They decide that dilluting the Scotch with a half empty glass of wine will make it tolerable....

Swear to God, I watched them both shotgun half of a "Scotch and Cabernet" containing the saliva of God knows who. What the hell is going on!!!??? I thought I was out with the "over 35" crowd! I have to get out of here immediately!

Mixed drinks... Part Une

Tuesday night with all the leftover alcohol from last weekend, a roommate that's leaving the next day, and a magic mike= RIDIC. Picture 5 girls drinking things like orange vodka chased with leftover red wine while belting Mr. Big "To Be With You." Yes, I am aware that everyone in my building is now probably planning retaliation including things like rotten eggs, leftover Indian food, and old Christmas trees.

Nevertheless, we are having a fabulous time until the wee hours. So Wednesday morning I wake up too late to find that my roommates have also woken up too late and I realize that I am going to work without a shower. Whatevs- at least I only have one meeting, and its with Marketing. As a general rule, most of them look like they traded clothes with the bodega owner while getting their morning coffee so I'm not worried. So I pull on some pants (that could also be considered leggings), choose a couple of tops and put on a belt cause that always makes you look more put together...

Running down Saint Marks metro card in hand. Crossing 3rd avenue. Boots sliding on a grate. Laying on my ass in oncoming traffic. Some guy in trench coat bending down saying "Are you okay!??"

Yeah, that just happened. Thanks guy in trenchcoat for being the only person not wearing a hood, listening to an ipod, and stepping over my body lying in the street. Perhaps you just needed some karma points, but at this point I don't care. Get to work late, turn on computer, sit down. What the hell am I sitting on?? Get up, look behind me- nothing. WTF!? Sit down, again- realize that whatever it is in IN my pants. I'm in my office, reaching down my pants, and finding... something. Ah yes, a morning surprise of dirty underwear in my form fitting tuxedo pants... Honestly, who does this happen to? At least I walked all the way to work, was helped off of the asphalt, and said good morning to my boss looking like I have a giant tumor growing out of my thigh... (ITS NOT A TUMA!)

Anyone, anyone?

Late Recap

Soooo, as a follow up to my earlier post about my Sunday morning outfit- here's what happened on Saturday...

My roommates and I have planned a holiday/birthday party and invited about 50 people. I'm going to estimate that about 25 people will fit comfortably in our apartment that is the size of my old closet (ironically, I now have no closet- just a place on the wall to hang clothing that I fashioned out of random materials from Home Depot.) If you are in this situation- simply follow these steps:

1. To compensate for the poor ratio of apartment to guests, create a very desirable ratio of guests to food/alcohol. The logic being that the drunker people are, the less they will care about your roommate's boyfriend's coworker's friend accidentally grabbing their ass. Repeatedly.

**Mulled wine- check

Tower of chocolate chip cookies- check'

Chips, cupcakes, dip, choco-peanuts, and other artery-clogging foods- check

Ridiculous amount of green and red jello shots- check

All available half empty bottles of liquor in our apartment (including one Nalgene bottle full

of something clear)- check

2. Don't worry about refrigerator space- as long as it's cold, just keep all of the open alcohol on the fire escape (aka "terrace") for chilling. This creates much more space for the 100 dixie cups full of jello and vodka. [As a side note: In case you are, like me, from the South and attempting to make jello shots in NYC- you CANNOT buy Everclear in the city. It is actually illegal. Maybe someone accidentally set themselves on fire or something... i dunno]

3. Create harmony among your guests- i.e, invite all of the guys in your apartment building and none of the girls.

4. Once the guests clearly outnumber the amount of square footage, ditch your apartment for a bar only inviting the harmonious guests which you have deemed worthy of hanging out with you. And bring the Nalgene bottle full of the clear stuff.

Visual aids:

Footnote: don't forget to taste several of the jello shots before any guests arrive, just to ensure consistency.

Zeitgeist

On a serious note, I recently watched something that made me feel both empowered and paranoid at the same time. This is a voice that is never heard. Everyone should see this:

http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com/

Lesson 1

Today I learned that a BCBG cocktail dress with tights, blue platforms and a fur coat is not an appropriate outfit for the West Village on a Sunday morning.

That is all.

Why I love the subway

Okay, the real reason why I like the subway is because 90% of cab drivers here drive like crazed old men who accidentaly snorted coke instead of Geritol and repeatedly jerk their feet from the gas to the break.

However, things like this are also entertaining:

Today on the way home from work I am exhausted, and pissed because it is raining the kind of rain that blows into your eyes and then whips around and soaks the back of your skirt and turns your umbrella inside-out. So I get on the W and there is like- no one on here. Weird, but totally fine with me because I recently got so angry at a woman trying to sit next to me when she couldn't fit that I stood up and yelled "Are you FREAKING kidding me!?" (God, please don't let me become an angry New Yorker)

So I'm on there basically by myself and this girl gets on somewhere around 23rd street. She looks really normal with her headband and poofy white coat with tights. Then she is looking at me and smiling and I'm like- what the hell headband girl! why are you staring at me!? Until I see the extra large size bottle of uncorked wine poking out of her bag. She notices me looking at it and tilts her entire bag in order to have a sip.

This girl's head is bobbling around like a 90 year old's and I think this is quite amusing. And then with one swift move of the train, she FALLS over onto the bench- all of the contents of her bag flying including the wine which splashes EVERYWHERE. And she just lays there. Holy.Crap. I can't help it- the day has been too long. I am laughing my ass off. I know that this girl won't appreciate me waking her up, so I leave headband girl with the only other person in our car. Maybe that person can enjoy her for a little longer....

My daze

This week at work can only be described as: "Holy.mother.of.jesus.I.really.need.a.percocet.and.a.bottle.of.four.dollar.wine.immediately.if.not.sooner."
Ok, so Monday I wake up with a raging sore throat and since I reserve all dispensible income for shoes and alcohol, I simply have to suffer. So, I go to work only breathing out of one nostril and spend most of the day clicking from email to email, not really answering any of them.

Tons of meetings, make your own baked potato lunch, meetings, meetings. On Wednesday, I have to prepare for a HUGE meeting that happened today. This basically means creating and printing about 60 copies of about 23 or so reports. I think this is interesting since our company recently decided to go "green." Neatly put all of my reports into binders- while trying not to drip snot all over the dividers. Do this until about 10pm at which point one of my coworkers breaks into a round of "This Little Light of Mine." But oh- wait. We have to bring to the meeting a sample of EVERY ITEM that we make, will make next season, or are thinking about possibly making 3 years from now. This means that I get to use enough bubble wrap to cover Nigeria to wrap all of these things up and put them into boxes. I estimate that this process takes around 2.7 years.

Yes, my friends, I have a corporate level job where I develop product for a major department store, but we do not have enough money to pay for someone to pack 400 pieces of home decor into boxes for us. Not only that, but after they are transported to their destination, I must UNPACK the 400 things.

This meeting, P.S, will begin at 9am and end around...... never. I am hacking all the way through the meeting, and all of the directors cover their precious Diet Cokes every time. Then, around never, I again start to RE-PACK everything so that I can send it back to my office. I will say this: If I see another box with Asian writing on it, another strip of bubble wrap, a tape gun, any of these things for the rest of the week- someone will be impaled.....

I will now go home and console myself with shoes and alcohol, preferably at the same time.

You know you love it

After last night's episode, I'm comin right out and professing my love for Chuck Bass. AMAZING. Who can wear and ascot and still make girls cream their panties just by looking at them? Chuck Bass. Love, love it.

That is all

I want to just say...

I know this is totally mean, and out of line since I don't have children, but...

I am a user of Facebook. Not one of those users that checks facebook every hour to update a status (like anyone cares) or to stalk people from my past, but just one of those users that likes to use it to keep up with people, share pics, and ok- sometimes make fun of people.

The point is, that when I log on to view a message from my 4th grade friend, or see the pics of last weekends party, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE PICTURES OF YOUR CHILD DROOLING ON SANTA. Remember when Facebook was used to link people from different colleges and break the ice with someone in one of your classes? I feel like no one even puts pictures of themselves any more- only of their 6 month olds. WTF? This must be a clue that I'm getting too old...

Wooot Wooooooot!

We have a real CHRISTMAS TREE!!!! With branches and everything. And white lights with most fabulous ornaments. I am super exiiiited!!!! Luckily it fits into our apartment that is the size of a large closet.

The best part is while a couple of us were decorating, one roommate accidentally came upon a website that solicits people who want to cheat on their spouses. Like a dating websites for those who purposely commit adultery and want to show off the size of their penises online......... Riiight.

Merry Christmas America

R train

I'd just like to give a shoutout to the guy who always drives the R train on my way home from work. He sounds exactly like the lobster/octopus doctor from Futurama. It is actually amazing and I love when he says: "Nex shtop, twennnnty thirrrrd shtreet."

Nelsie

Friday night, I had promised to attend a party with a friend in Fort Washington. First off- I have no clue where Fort Washington is, so I'm like "Of course I'll go!" I soon learned that Fort Washington is way out to hell and around the corner from nowhere. Three more girls in tow, we all head out and decide that taking the subway is much too perilous and that we definitely need to squeeze all 5 of us into a cab.

The cab driver is hesitant, of course, because having that many people is illegal. But we all push our breasts up a little higher and he agrees. Some of us are already pretty drunk, and we are all pretty loud. Nelson, the driver, looks like he wants to change his mind and throw us out. So I begin asking him where he's from, and then we all try to guess. Finally we find that he is from Brazil and immediately demand that he teach us Portugese. This goes really well, because between the drunkness and the loudness we all end up yelling random nonsensical syllables and Nelson is just laughing. He is glad he picked us up now- at least we are amusing.

This is the longest and most expensive cab ride ever, and every time we see a cop, I have to bend in half so it looks like there are only 3 people in the back seat. By the time we reach upper west Nelson is hearing all about African American genitalia. When he drops us off, we all record his number in our phones, and he is dead set on coming back to pick us up when we are ready to leave. Its going to be a great night...

Oh the perils

At some point several weeks ago I decided to remove my uneccessarily large air conditioner from my window and leave it outside on the balcony (bad idea). And then one day when it looked as if it might rain, instead of bringing the air conditioner in, i decided to cover it up with a large garbage bag (even worse idea).

So yesterday I decided to take some initiative and work this out. At the Astor Place KMart, I purchase bed risers (my bed needs to be taller in order to keep my giant suitcases tucked away out of sight) and a large Rubbermaid container (that i measured to make sure my air conditioner would fit inside). I carry my treasures home and immediately get to work.

I pick up each corner of my bed individually and hoist it up onto these blocks. Perfect. Push my bed back towards the wall where it lives, bed falls off of all risers.... OK, try again. Hoist up corners; ease bed towards the wall, bed falls off of risers... After a couple more rounds of this game, my bed is finally in place with suitcases underneath. And my arms are getting quite tired.

Next, pulling the air conditioner from the balcony to the rubbermaid container. Move the container next to the door to the balcony; slide air conditioner to doorway; lift air conditioner over the step; shove into Rubbermaid container... shove in to Rubbermaid container... Shove in...SHOVE! mother EFF!!! Not even close to fitting! And with all of my measurements!!!

So, in case you come over, this is the story of why I have 85% of an industrial size airconditioner sticking out of a Rubbermaid tub in my room. And why I have a battered-spouse size bruise on my right thigh. Just so you know.

Remember....

E: Do I look fat today? I'm disgusting. I feel so overweight.

Me: Hell no, your pants are too big dude. You are skinny! You're like a Holocaust victim.

E: That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.....

Let's Talk About

It's really too bad that I am now 25 and still don't have my life together. While I may have a great job, friends to tolerate me, and a fantastic apartment... I cannot afford my life! God, why does rent have to be so expensive!? And why am I perpetually struggling to pay it!? Can someone just step up and take care of that for me already? Honestly.

One of my roommates is now deciding to leave NY because its just too damn much. I am so discouraged and sad that I am now going to lose a friend in the city just because of the economy... Give me a freaking break. So, me and vodka will sit here watching our $120 cable and feel sorry for ourselves.

It's a good thing I have lots of things planned this week to keep the mind off of finances. And get ready for house party! Don't worry, an update will come soon!

A Twenty-Faux Thanksgiving

Its Perfect. I leave for the airport, no traffic, no check-in line, no security problems, flight's on time. My mom picks me up and we lunch/shop. At this point I know it can only go downhill from here.


In all truthfulness, I had a fantastic Thanksgiving at home. A lovely dinner with mom, then over to Mother Linda's. By the time I get to Mother Linda's she is one large size bottle of Beringer's in. "What are you, a movie star? Got your damn sunglasses on and the sun's already gone down," she greets me. Love it. This is a woman I can appreciate. After we down another large vat of pink wine, she is telling me how much she loves "Mason's" (Macy's) and regalling stories of how she can remove her bra with a long sleeve shirt on in less than 10 seconds.


Friday night=wonderful disaster. My BF is having a party for me and her younger sister, as our birthdays are very close. Here are some highlights...

Great shoes



Fabulous hats



Teacups full of pink stuff

Add in a night on the town and a couple of former boyfriends and you've got yourself a situation intéressante. So, what is the proper thing to do when you're hanging out with friends including one ex and you go to a bar only to find ex #2 schmoozing with some girl?? Do you introduce them? Do you run as fast as your blue shoes will carry you? Hell if I know. So I did the only intelligent thing I could think of- I completely ignored the situation. It worked perfectly until one too many pink teacups caught up with me. Too bad I walked up to the girl and said, "hey, you better BE AWARE- he's a tricky one."

Well, we all knew that was going to happen. Cut to me and posse leaving the bar, and ex #2 creepily waiting outside in order to interrogate me about why we aren't still together.... Right. At least ex #1 was there to buy a Papa Johns extra large pizza! YES! I didn't think this would happen, but I am actually really glad to be back in NYC!

Two Things

A. I finally made the trek back home to Chucktown- 1st time since February (hence the lack of blog)

2. Tomorrow is my twenty-faux birthday. Yeah- I'm thinking of not moving forward from twenty four. Although, twenty four has been a shitty year, so maybe I should just go with it.

Situation of note...

Last weekend before leaving I decided to have a lovely night out with friends celebrating our utter outrageousness. I also decided to drink a bottle of wine before leaving the apartment. Shocker. Beauty Bar, always a good time. I apparently befriended a Canadian by spilling his drink all over him. I also apparently ended up in his bear-skin clad apartment sometime in the AM. Canadians: are really hard to understand after 8 drinks and LOVE animal skin of any kind... I generally pride myself on being quick, witty, and ready for anything. But whenever this guy completes a sentence, I literally have to pause for a good 5 seconds to digest/translate whatever he just said. This makes for many awkward moments. Not to mention the part where I tell him I have to go to the bathroom and when he comes to check on me 15 minutes later, I'm sleeping....

Okay, no more of this.

GCHAT

Yesterday's Gchat Message:

Me: What should I wear?

M: You should probably wash your hair

Me: How do you know my hair is dirty?

M: Your hair is always dirty...

You know when....

You know when you are randomly walking in your neighborhood and you find that AWESOME place, and you're like- I will totally hang out here. For me, today, that was a liquor store. I'm sorry, but in times of recession, cheap alcohol is important. There is a liquor store at Astor Place with $3.99 wine. Yes, Trader Joes- EAT IT. I will not stand in your hour long line, collecting bottles along the way instead of actually perusing the shelves at my own pace. This place has lots of old men around to help you find the $3.99 wine and to tell you which vodka is on special (in case you need both.....) BRILLIANT!

Just saying, check it out.

man hands

I just have to take a minute and throw this out there... I am super into fashion and street style and am all over the androgenous thing that's happening right now. However, today on the walk home I saw 3, yes 3 guys wearing coats with fur trimmed hoods... Is this ok? I cannot fathom walking hand in hand with some guy, looking into his fur-framed eyes...seriously? Maybe its because I'm from the South where the only acceptable forms of warmth are made by North Face. But I don't see how this is acceptable.

While I'm on the subject, it kind of weirds me out when guys are wearing gloves. Scarves, scarves are hot- love it. But gloves belong to...i dunno, OJ Simpson. Rapists. Spider Man. Its creepy. I know its ridiculous to think that only women can have warm hands, but damn guys- put them in your pockets!

Awesomeness

Roommate: "I wish I could wear a baseball cap to work so I'd never have to wash my hair..."
Me: "Yeah"

Seriously...I mean, seriously.

All I wanna know is why is it ok for people to SPRINT down 32nd street to Penn Station. When I leave work and begin my stroll onto 7th Avenue to the subway, I am incessantly bombarded by men in suits flailing in my face, their pleated pants jacked up to mid-calf. And women, the women, UGH. If you are going to wear a pencil skirt and old lady pumps, what makes you think you should run at full speed, dodging cabs and buses while your heinous laptop bag flaps behind you knocking over innocent bystanders- and why don't you YELL into your fucking Crackberry while you're at it. That way you don't notice when your Jacqueline Smith heel cracks someone else in the shin.

I literally watched a man full on pumping his arms today, and when a bike rolled in front of him, he SKIDDED on his leather bottomed loafers and onto the asphalt. WFT? Who acts this way? Just to make a train? Dude, get a fucking chai latte and wait it out.

I DONT GET IT!!

Lazy Mofo

Wow- it's been a few days... Clearly I've been doing such fabulous things, that I haven't had time to blog. Or I'm just being lazy. Here's a recap:

Wednesday- I decide to join a friend at the gym for a class called "urban rebounding." I think that because the class is named something awesome that I should participate even though its been months since I've stepped foot in a gym. This class entails a small trampoline and a guy with a headset who is on speed. After about 70 around the world karate squats, and nearly blacking out several times, I'm feeling great! Until...

Thursday- Holy shit, my legs feel like they've been trapped in a vice for a week. I hobble to the train at 8:30 am and realize... how the hell am i going to get down the stairs!? I literally have to turn sideways, back against the wall, and ease myself down one step at a time while some old lady nearly pushes me over. However, my liver decides that it is still a great idea to go to a party for Askmen.com at a club in meatpacking district. Liver, I just don't think this relationship is working out anymore. Cut to my gimp ass legs in heels waiting in line for free alcohol at an underground nightclub while burlesque dancers slap each other's butts behind me. Way to go Askmen. There were a plethora of men at this place, all heavily participating in the open bar and generally acting like douchebags. I think that I do not see any men here who I would like to "ask" anything except, "could you move so I can get to the bar?"

Friday- I am the dumbest human alive. If anyone is wondering what it's like to have 6 vodkas when you're so sore that you can't dance, it's kinda like being hit by a bus. Tiwce. At work, I basically sit at my desk for 7 hours being paranoid that my boss will see the black "urge" stamp on my wrist from the gay bar I ended up at the night before. Miserable. I know that I should go home, hide in my bed, and spend the weekend recovering. My liver, however, has other plans. I don't know why my liver wants to torture itself, but I make a mental note to get it a Prozac prescription. 12am, still putting on outfits and then immediately taking them off and throwing them on the ground. 2 am, do you know how much a fucking drink costs at The Randolph?? Why the hell would anyone come here when you can get 5 shots for $10 at the dive on 3rd Ave? 3 am, me and vodka are dancing by ourselves at Le Royale...

Saturday- I watch my SC Gamecocks get KILLED by the Gators. Luckily, my liver is now so depressed that it no longer wants to go out. Finally, some rest!

Christmasification

An important fact to know about me is that I will shop for just about anything (you have never seen a human so intense about shopping for tweezers) and especially when I'm feeling depressed, lonely, awkward, excited, bored, the list goes on.... Another point is that I work for a ridiculously large, widely known department store (yay monopolization!!) So today, on my weekly visit to the store to check out some of my product- I decide that I need to take a well-deserved break to just peruse some of the store's other offerings. Yes, meandering through a maze of overpriced leather goods is just the relaxing afternoon I need.

How could it have slipped my mind that this store is perpetually the LEAST RELAXING PLACE ON EARTH?? It's like Disneyland on crack, and without the endearing reminder of childhood bliss. Nevertheless, I squeeze past the MAC counter- the smell of cologne hitting me like a wall (btw- Daddy Yankee is apparently also a perfumier....? Mother of God) and weave through the man-purse wearing Euro tourists onto the escalator. Safe. I realize on about the 3th floor that I am past the point of no return. These tourists are absolutely insane!! Just when I think I may try my luck on floor 5, a small child comes barreling at me SHRIEKING at the top of it's lungs. Great, spawn of the devil is ravaging the shoe department. So I continue for a few more floors- luggage. YES. No child will shop for luggage!

Doo do doooo. Rolly luggage, hard luggage, briefcases, and what's this....? Where the hell am I??? Welcome to Holiday Lane you say.....!? WTF? This is a trap! No, seriously- swear to God- I was lost in this place for at least an hour. The carpet is red, the walls are red, the tablecloths are red, the workers wear red. Was that Vitamin C that I took earlier or Vicodin???? Do you know that they make Christmas ornaments for every character from the Candyland game? Crazy Christmas frog ornaments with ice skates. There was an entire tree dedicated to African American ballerinas! Oh what fun- my mom would absolutely adore an ornament shaped like a pregnant sheep with wooly mittens on it's feet! And at $68, how could I go wrong? WHO BUYS THIS SHIT!!!?

Oh, I miss my desk with my ramen noodle lunch and my neverending inflow of emails. Guess this break really worked out for me. At least now I believe that I actually love being at work!

i made you a beard...?

Uh, just one more thing. Since I make jewelry and I'm looking to start a little something something up here, I'm scrolling around on some website and come upon this....

For just $35, you can customize your beard and enjoy free shipping. Honestly, WTF? That is all.

Monday night fever....

I've been in Manhattan now since March, and its just starting to set in that...i freakin live here. Every day in this place is like shaking up a Magic 8 ball... its whatever bullshit or ridiculous hope the city feels like dishing out that morning. I could actually wake up in time to wash my hair, it could be sunny outside (rain+NYC=hot mess), there could be a scantily clad, pro-Obama, bull-riding girl outside of your workplace. These are the things that prevent me from rolling over and pulling the covers over my head. [Seriously, you could miss the peeps handing out free cat food outside of Penn Station...where are these assholes when it is raining and you need a GD umbrella, you ask?? CONCENTRATE AND ASK AGAIN]

POINT BEING- I'm realizing that I'm starting to get into a routine- well, as much of a routine as anyone can have in this city....and I kinda like it! Monday means an everything bagel for $1.25, Gossip Girl (DAMMIT JENNY- WTF?!), and a quiet street... Ah, the sound of no one yelling "This is my pizza, you asshole!", no guitars, no angry "punk" kids smoking outside of the tattoo shop, and no vomit hitting the sidewalk. Shit, I actually like Monday!!

Tomorrow will be a good day; if only I hadn't made a wonderful lunch for myself this weekend and then gotten up in a drunken stupor to take it out of the fridge and put it in the pantry (thanks 8 vodkas and a lemon drop)... Guess it'll be one $9 lunch for me tomorrow. Score one for you New York... You Go Glen Coco

1st Time

Ok, so I've always been one of those people who was like "having a blog is ridiculous...why do people believe that I care what they are constantly thinking." However, I'm starting to think that if everyone else can fill our brains with whatever random nonsense they choose, then I should also be granted this priveledge. I am now totally convinced that people are deprived of my musings on, say the creepy homeless guy who asks me to marry him every morning on my way to work. So on that note, here goes...........