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...........