PS

I actually attended the gym! For real! I took a class called Anti-Gravity yoga. This means that you wear tight pants and fling your body around in unnatural ways using this giant sling of cloth that hangs from the ceiling. IT IS AMAZING. Get on that.

Crying Game

Here are some highlights of this past week:

A. Last Friday I decide to go out with my cool roommate, who I will now refer to as my seersucker soulmate (us both being from the South and both being fucking fantastic and all). Seersucker soulmate (SSS) tells me we are going to a place called Burger, Shot, Beer. Literally- the items they serve are mini-burgers ($1), shots ($2), and beers ($3). This should equate to my version of Ecstasy. Yes, I will travel all the way to upper west nowhere to attend this party. After several- several shots and 3 disgustingly perfect burgers, SSS and I decide we are too cool for this scene. I mean look at our outfits and our dirty hair- we have to blow this joint. The obvious choice here is to trek downtown to meet some incredibly tall attractive Canadians, begin drinking dirty martinis, and stay out until 5 am. Done.

2. Sunday I have a date with girls to watch soccer at a Liverpool bar around the corner. The number of hot sweaty men with incomprehensible accents there is ridiculous. So there I sit with SSS roomie and some other fabulosos having bloody marys and yelling "BLOODY WANKERS!!" at 11am. After the game, everyone decides to head out- but me and SSS decide we should probably go to an all-you-can-drink brunch in the neighborhood. Burgers, fries, and greyhounds. I don't even know how long we were there but it was dark when we left. After brunch we have to stop in at the boutique across the street from our apartment since they are having a huge sale. This huge sale translates into huge debt for me and now my new fabulous dresses and I will wallow in self-pity for the entire month of February. Goodbye disposable income.

D. Monday night=Chinese New Year. I am pissed about this because I work very closely with our offices overseas. The Asians peace out for like the entire month of January for CNY, which means I can get NOTHING done. Why do we not adopt this same custom in America- ask yourself?? Anyway, the upside is that I'm having dinner at a new Asian fusion restaurant with my Canadian. Fan-fucking-tastic. Fois Gras, dumplings, and absinthe. Does it get better?

**I went to my first Rangers game this week- woot woooooot! Of course I got on camera- seriously?

Lastly, I would like to say that this weekend better be unbelievable after the week I've had at work. I generally consider myself a pretty emotionally stable person, but today... today I nearly cried. At work. Over linen napkins. Fucking bitches better provide some Xanex next time we have these meetings.

Le Gymnatorium

Blah blah- i joined a gym so that i could attend belly dancing class. Today I decided to attend said gym for the first time. Print out my "corporate email," take gym clothes to work, get off subway and walk in the freeeezing cold to the union square branch of gym which is about 3 feet wide and 5 stories tall. Hand "corporate email" to creepy guy (Mulan or something) at the counter to prove that I am a member, get a most important key card in order to access all gyms. "You're all set," he says....

Okay- what the fuck does that mean?? Aren't you going to give me a tour of the gym for ants and escort me to the locker room??? No, nothing? "What do you want me to do now," I say. "Oh- the locker rooms are downstairs and all the classes are on the upper levels."

Great. Thanks a million Mulan. So, through the maze I go to find the stairs which lead to a dungeon. Yes. Apparently lights are not necessary for lots of sweaty men and women all hanging out around lockers which resemble those from 6th grade that no one uses. Okay. Open one of the lockers- put in bag, boots, fur. Where do I change? I have no idea. I decide it's best to go into one of the bathroom stalls which I find by walking in circles at least 6 times and bumping into some woman's ridiculously large ass.

Whilst peeing I start to think about the fact that you should have a lock when you use a locker from 6th grade, lest some woman with a ridiculously large ass steal all of your belongings and leave you in a bathroom stall in your socked feet. I think that I should go to the front desk and buy one. So, I come out of the stall- and attempt to put my boots back on. One of them will not go on my foot, because I'm doing this so quickly that I crush the little heel cup part. Honestly, getting this shoe back on my foot takes at least 10 minutes. At this point I am freakin pissed.

I take all of my belongings back to the front desk and upon seeing no one there to help me, decide to keep walking right out the front door. All the way home I walk, listening to my mom on the phone yammering on about Michelle Obama's yellow dress. Get to my door and basically dump everything out of my bag looking for my keys. "Hold on, Mom." No keys. Seriously don't have them. It's ok because I know how to let myself in the front door with the keypad. I'll just walk up and bang on the door for someone to let me in.

Except that no one is home. Call all 3 roommates, none of them answer. It is so my night. Text them all that I'm locked out thinking that will conjure up some sense of urgency. Nothing. Decide to go downstairs to the bar for a vodka with myself. Finally N calls and tells me she's on the way home. When will this day subside? N and I share a drink, and decide on our plan for the evening.

Yes kids, tonight it'll be chicken McNuggets with a side of AIDS (anyone??) while watching Beauty and the Beast Special Edition DVD. If this isn't a classy Wednesday night, I don't know what is... Shove that in your 6th grade locker.

Things to consider:

This week I joined a gym. Why, you ask, would I shell out extra cash every month when I can barely afford my whole wheat noodles? When you are seeing someone who has the body of a professional athlete and you have been sitting on your ass in front of a computer all day eating Haribo raspberries- some initiative must be taken.

SO, be prepared for Pole Dancing 101, Urban Rebounding, and Anti-Gravity Yoga. I am about to put myself through fitness hell a la junior year of college. Welcome back Holocaust arm. I have missed you.

On the Avenue

When 3 roommates all get dressed and leave the apartment at 9 pm on a Tuesday in freezing rainy weather to go get several bottles of Andre and some Orangina, who will stay at home and clean out the refrigerator to make room for the beverages????

La New York

There have been few posts lately. I've been busy- in a good way. 2009ing. So, today I caught a good 15 minutes of this "show" called The City with some bitch from Laguna Hills or whatever. Apparently she "moved" to NYC to "work" for DVF. I am livid.

There are girls watching this bullshit who now think that it's possible to:

A. acquire job working for a major designer simply by jumping on a plane, walking into the office, and saying "and stuff..." at least 5 times.

B. secure attractive accent-clad man by walking into a bar where his "band" is playing wearing some braids and a slutty dress.

C. somehow convince said accent-clad man with no job to find a one-bedroom apartment for you in Gramercy while you are "working"

D. afford fabulous one bedroom 1200 sq ft apartment on the 30th floor of a secured elevator building on the salary of a PR assistant.

MTV- I will shove my financially unstable, H&M wearing, fabulous foot up your ASS