Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Now I'm REALLY pretty

So, on top of the red, shiny, frizzy, pimply, limpyness I mentioned yesterday, I now smell bad too! Seth and I went to two BBQ's yesterday and I came home from them, like you do, smelling of meat and smoke. (No, literally, I had trouble sleeping last night and kept thinking "Man, I smell like meat." Seth on the other hand smelled of home fries. He slept fine.) When I woke up this morning to get in the shower after a night of tossing and turning I discovered that my roommate, after a night of drinking and apparently meeting Kanye West (still waiting for the whole story on THAT one) had puked in the bathroom sink. The smell was un-fucking-believable and after a futile attempt to get it down the drain, I abandoned my efforts and, gagging, grabbed my toothbrush and brushed my teeth in the kitchen sink.

Then I went to work. Smelling of meat. Because I'm pretty.

As for the puking in the sink, I am confused. Our bathroom is laid out so that you hit the toilet before the sink. At the Tigerlily's house, where the sink is the first thing you see, I could understand this. But here? The toilet would definitely be my first target. Either way, he apologized and the puke has been cleaned up. Thank GOD.

This has not been my best Tuesday. (Though I did win $10.00 on a scratch ticket (don't judge me!))

OH! And because it was chilly today?, I wore jeans. Tight tight jeans. That reacted badly with my bruised knees. Which made me limp to the point that my coworkers would get distracted when I was going up and down the stairs in our office. Yeah. Not a good Tuesday. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Sunday, May 24, 2009

I have the legs of a seven year old - I keep them under my bed. BA DA BING!

Summer is a good look for a lot of people. They get tan, they flaunt some skin, everyone is happy. Summer is not a good look for me. (I know it's not summer yet, but it's feeling like it.) I am shiny. I am red. I am breaking out all over the place. I have a pimple on my chest. My hair is the size of Kentucky. This is not cute.

Other people Tan. I get tan on my shoulders but every other part of me will only stick to two shades red and white. There is no in between. And it sucks, because there is something very flattering about summer clothes on tan skin, something I will never really understand. And fake tans and spray on tans look exactly that - fake. So why bother? I think I'd rather red than orange.

On top of the sexy that is my shiny red visage - last night my sandal caught the curb and I faceplanted - skinning both of my knees, the palms of my hands, and (somehow) my left ankle. RAD. I'm limping around today in pain with my right knee covered in band-aids and my left turning a lovely shade of purple. I look like a small child. And the fall was just so shocking. I haven't fallen like that in YEARS and it brought back so many memories of being a city kid and the bumps and bruises you get running around on concrete instead of a lawn.

People always ask me what it was like growing up in downtown Manhattan, and I always tell them the same thing - that I only grew up one way, so I have no basis for comparison, but it was great. I had run of the neighborhood, everyone knew me, it was FUN. I had my friends from around the corner, and their siblings, and we left home in the morning and came home at night. I hate people who say that the city is no place to raise children. It's a crock of shit. I mean, I turned out pretty okay:
Right? ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Monday, May 18, 2009

My Friends Truly Understand Me

There's a website called F My Life where people can anonymously post the terrible things that happen to them on a daily basis. All the entries start with "Today", tell the short story, and end with "FML". My friend Emily was apparently browsing it today, when I got the following message on G-Chat:

Emily: Is this you?
Today, I had a very intense sexual dream that made me come and left me panting when I woke up. It was the best orgasm I'd ever had. The trouble was, it wasn't about a hot girl, or anything sexy. It was about bacon. FML

No, I am not sexually aroused by bacon. I just love it very very very much. Okay? ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Friday, May 15, 2009

Things I am stealing from Seth's Blog

Or Pictures from Seth's phone (instead of mine).

Seth has a tumblr blog called Resign that he uses as a sort of picture diary. So, for lack of better content, I'm stealing pictures from his blog and moving them over here.

At the end of February Seth and I were hanging out and trying to figure out where we were going to spend the night.
Seth: Let's go to my place
Me: No, my place.
Seth: Really, we should go to my place.
Me: No. My place.
Seth: We're going to my place.
Me: FINE. Grumble Grumble Grumble.

All grumbles dissolved when we arrived and I found this waiting for me:
KITTY! His name is Percy, but we usually just call him "The Kitty."

HOLY CRAP. MY BOYFRIEND GOT ME A CAT. Best boyfriend ever, right?!

Just wait...Seth explained to me that he talked to my roommate and he wasn't so into the idea of living with a cat at the moment. So he was going to wait a week before bringing the cat over. Unfortunately, because the cat is SO RAD, Seth fell in love with him and changed his mind about giving him to me.


Eventually the cat DID move in with me, it just took a while. He sleeps in bed with me:

Seth still says the cat is his. Grumble.

On a completely unrelated note - I got an unannounced day off on Wednesday, so Seth and I went up to Central Park. And then Seth took off his pants:

The whole point of this post was so I could put this picture up. Mwahahahaha

Because sometimes you just need to go pantsless in public. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Monday, May 11, 2009

Things Your Mother Shouldn't Read

I started a new blog this morning - Things My Mother Shouldn't Read - and I need submissions.
The idea came to me last night when I realized that I don't post certain things on this blog because I know that my mother, grandmother, and various other family members read this. Knowing full well that I wasn't the only person in this situation, I decided to create a place to house anonymous submissions of the things we want to write about, but are too embarrassed to post.

Feel free to send stuff to thingsmymothershouldntread (at) gmail dot com. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Friday, May 08, 2009

I may need more people to talk to

Because I am INSANE, I will sometimes have imaginary conversations with strangers in the street. Well, okay, I'm not THAT insane - but I will imagine comebacks to things people might say to me one day. That's probably not helping my argument. ANYWAY - the reason I'm thinking about this is because the comebacks I imagine myself saying are things I would NEVER EVER say in real life. For example, I just imagined myself saying, "And you shouldn't talk to strangers, you old COOT!"

Coot is word I have never used and cannot imagine myself ever using. Ever. In any situation. I've only typed it twice and already it's doing that thing where it no longer looks like a word.

I think everyone does this once in a while. Especially in New York where people talk to strangers all the time. It just makes sense to have a snappy comment handy in case whoever you're suuuuuure is going to talk to you actually says what you just know they're going to say. Right? Right.


In the last few months I have determined that I look like a raging bitch when I am walking by myself. My coworkers were complaining about one of the banks we have to go to because, according to them, they would get stopped every time they walked in by someone trying to get them to open an account. "Really?" I asked, "It's never happened to me. I just walk straight through and don't look at anyone." I think eye contact might be the kicker. I will make it with random strangers on the street or on the subway, but never with someone who wants to sell me anything.

I spent my lunch break in Union Square which is completely overpopulated with canvassers who want you to save the children, or the rain forest, or perhaps the orphaned ducklings of Connecticut. I have no idea what they want because they never stop me. They will jump in front of any other person within the vicinity and leave me alone. It's lovely.

The people I have to work on are the ones trying to get me to buy discounted salon packages. Do I really look that bad? ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Thursday, May 07, 2009

Ahem...::Taps Mic:: Is this thing on?

Anyone? Bueller? Still here with me?


I'm back.


So - My taxes? Still not filed. I'm going to take care of that...um...this week sometime? That sounds good. I need the return!

And California! Holy hell! So much better than last time! I didn't beat the crap out of Seth this time because there were no surprises! There was also no running around like crazy people, so it was a nice relaxing trip. I also noticed something a funny difference between the generations of Seth's family:

Seth's Mom, Step Dad, Cousins: "We hope we get to see you again!" ::hint hint hint::

Seth's Grandparents, Great Aunts, Older Cousins: "We better see you again." In a slightly threatening kind of way. Precious!

Aaaaand slightly scary. Not in a "OMG SO MUCH PRESSURE GAAAAAH RUN AWAY!!!!" kind of way. It's more of a "Holy shit I do not want to get hunted down by old people because they SCARE ME" thing.

I almost suffered a wardrobe malfunction on the day of Grandma's party because the dress I had originally planned on wearing was not cooperating with my bra and because it was NINETY EFFING DEGREES outside I could not fix this problem with the help of a handy dandy cardigan. So I thought, "Oh hell, it's California! I'll just go without!" Things I should not go without? A bra. Ever. Luckily Seth and his brother saved me from this before the party started. THAT was fun.

Me: Baby? Can I get away with this? (Turns around and walks to show Seth what the dress will do when I'm not standing totally still.)

Seth: Hmmm...I think so. Probably. I don't know. Let's go ask Mike (His brother).

Me: ....

Seth: Come on! It's no big deal.

Me: ...

Eventually I did show Mike and at first he said it was fine. Then a moment later Seth came up and said that, on second thought, maybe it wasn't such a good idea but if I was really concerned I should ask his mother.


Lucky for me I had a backup dress with me.

And my bra was STILL showing! Because I'm awesome. And classy. And pretty. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves