Don't tell. Anyone.

I can't stop watching Dancing with the Stars. I thought maybe this season I would ignore the first episode so that I wouldn't be tempted to keep following- devoting hours of time to watching dried up 'celebs' make fools of themselves in order to prove something to someone or otherwise remind America that they still exist. And isn't it odd how the professional dancers seem to make it their life mission to boost the self-esteem of these Stars?? I dunno- kinda creepy




Unfortunately for me, my roommate has DVRed the show, so here I sit. On a Tuesday night. Wasting my life away. There is, however, this one thing:

His name is Derek. I think he may be about 19- blonde- hairless. It's a weird attraction, I know. But I could watch him Samba around my screen all day. UGHHHH- fling your hair around some more Derek. Keep contributing to my disgusting habit. Love it-

Thank goodness..

I had a dream last night that my mom came up to NY just to tell me I was getting fat... I've had a distinct urge to throw up all day. I had some cereal for breakfast and then had to throw away half an orange for lunch. At some point this afternoon while my stomach was eating itself, I thought SCREW IT! There's good news:

15 minutes of laughter a day burns 40 calories

20 minutes of talking on the phone burns 18 calories... speaking expressively in an exaggerated tone can burn up to 40 (important to know)

120 minutes of shopping burns 238 calories

45 minutes of sex at burns 158 calories


This clearly means I can cut down the stairmaster to around 15 minutes. I wonder how many calories you burn riding on the train... Thanks mom!

Glorious Warmth

SO, I didn't get to attend the event with the Irish hobos, since someone had to work.. Sad. However, I did have a fantastical weekend because...........Wait for it... It was over 60 degrees!!!!!! Clearly this calls for good times and unexplained behavior. Friday night, SSS and I decide that going out is not even necessary. Not when we have the terrace available for our sweet drunken pleasure.

Since the terrace is not a terrace so much as a large fire escape, we will need some chairs, some tunes, and a plethora of alcohol choices. We also have the worst excuse ever for a couch, so we decide that couch cushions also make EXCELLENT terrace lounges. Two ladies, two terrace lounges, some Cabernet, vodka, and kettle corn. Honestly, what else could we possibly need? Oh right- some heinously loud and obnoxious country music with which we shall serenade all of St. Marks. Yes, guy coming out of Crif Dogs, yes we are out of our damn minds.

Saturday its all warm and semi-sunny. Its so much easier to walk around in this city when you're not bundled up like the kid from A Christmas Story, bracing yourself against the wind, and tripping down subway steps in your giant snow boots. We are decked out in our Spring attire, walking all over downtown when lo, we have stumbled upon our Goonie cave. It is in the form of a CHIK-FIL-A which is located deep in an NYU dorm near Washington Square Park. It is the only Chik-Fil-A in the entire state of NY. God, how I have missed the sound of my arteries squeezing shut as I take a bite of fried buttery goodness. A fabulous walking day followed by a concert featuring my genious viola-playing friend.

Why does warm weather make everything so much better? Sunday is still warm which means more walking. Then a trip to Upper East because a friend is moving to LA and giving away all of his belongings. Clearly there are things in his apartment that I need, since I can barely afford toothpaste. After a Jameson on the rocks and some good conversation, I leave his place with the following:

contact solution
a DVD player
fabulous metal coasters
Absolut vodka playing cards
a few novels I've been meaning to read
a pregnancy test
a spray bottle
some Durex condoms and a blue feather boa

I think I made out quite well. I did also acquire a TV that I have to figure out how to move 70 blocks but for now I'm just going to sit here and hope that it moves itself.. I love this city.

I have heard there is a place called Hoboken. I think that maybe this is where all the people related to hobos live. Hmm. Well, apparently they hold an early St. Pattys Day celebration. Since I make a point to join any celebration whenever possible, I plan on going. I hear that there is a parade in the afternoon. Only no one watches it because they are all wasted by 11am.

I also enjoy the thought that maybe Hoboken doesn't have open container laws. Or maybe they just dismiss the laws this weekend to celebrate the Irish. Either way, I would like to hang out with these Irish hobos. I think that this guy's pretzles and the McDonaldLand in the background are reason enough to check it out, huh? huh?

Or, this walking glass of Guiness being harassed by small children...
We shall see my friends, we shall see.