Unemployed

Yesterday I got fired from the coffee shop I've been working at for over six months. Via e-mail. And not just any e-mail either.

hi sara

for all sort off resones im not going to use y animore at marius caffee

i think y are a great girl im mean it bat i have to make cats

and also other reason

so y can come therdsday to peak y money

i dont think there is a point for y to continiu to finish the week

best and good louck

marius

I think I'm going to get a t-shirt made.

♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

I cannot has nice things

In the last few months I have

1) Lost my cell phone and therefore all my phone numbers

2) Replaced my cell phone and attempted to get everyone's numbers again

3) Had to completely reset my cell phone because it had some error or another. Lost everyone's phone numbers again.

Before that I have lost cell phones in the sewers of Boston, cabs, bars, and managed to get an iPhone to completely crap out on me though I still have absolutely no idea how. I once dropped my phone down four stories, but it managed to survive completely unscathed.

Last night I knocked my newly reset Blackberry into the toilet.

Yes, I am that awesome.

It works...sort of...and should be fine in a few days, but it doesn't make it any less annoying that I dropped my G-D phone in the toilet.

So, mostly, I'm an idiot.

Aren't you all happy to have me back?

♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

KNITTING. OMG YOU GUYS. KNITTING.

When Seth and I visited California last year and his mother asked me what I did in my spare time, it became apparent that drinking beer and watching television on the internet is not really a hobby. It also became very clear that this was not something I could tell his mother. I could have told her that I blogged, but I can imagine a lot of things I would like more than Seth's mother reading my blog. Getting a bikini wax comes to mind.

I thought about my lack of a hobby for a disturbing amount of time. Months were spent dwelling on the fact that I didn't have a hobby rather than going out and getting one.

But then I quit my job and my life completely changed. A friend who lives in the neighborhood I now work in mentioned that my job was really close to one of her favorite crafting shops. I had no idea what she was talking about, but while walking around the neighborhood discovered The General Store and knew immediately what she was talking about. You guys, I fell in love.

It was November and I realized that if I learned to knit when I was nine I could learn again. (I made no mention [to myself or anyone else] of the fact that I got bored of knitting within a few days and only got through three inches of a scarf.) I decided right there in the store that I was going to make handmade presents for people and called my best friend. When the phone rang I asked her what her favorite color was. After some deliberation with herself she decided on red. So I bought some really nice yarn, some knitting needles, and headed to my mother's house.

(For those of you who don't know - my mother is a great knitter. She knit me sweaters throughout my childhood, gifted sweaters to family members, and made both my father and my grandmother Irish fisherman sweaters with insane cables and patterns that I will be lucky to figure out...ever.)

Anyway, so I headed to my mother's house with my stash and asked her to teach me how to knit again. She got me started, and started to knit a row....and then she got frustrated. Exceptionally frustrated. It had been so long since my mother had knit that she actually forgot how. And that was my first knitting lesson - it is not like riding a bike.

After her frustration she started me over again, showed me how to knit correctly and I was on my merry way. There was only one problem - I kept adding stitches. I was going through yarn at a ridiculous rate, but my scarf wasn't getting any longer, it was only getting wider. I was annoyed, but thanks to the internet learned what I was doing wrong and started over. This was only after leaving the following frantic message for my mother:

"MOM. MOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOM. Ugh, why aren't you picking up your phone?? Look, I completely screwed up the scarf, am I allowed to unravel and start over? MOM I AM GETTING REALLY FRUSTRATED. UGH. Call me back."

I waited five minutes before scrapping the whole thing and teaching myself to knit all over again from the internet.

THIS ENTRY IS REALLY BORING.

I'm SORRY.

I'm getting back into the swing of things.

The picture up at the top is a scarf I'm working on for Seth. It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but it didn't really work out. Now I'm aiming for his birthday at the end of February.

I knit this hat over the weekend because I needed to. As in, OMGICOULDNOTSTOP. I literally stayed up too late last night finishing the hat because I had become obsessed with it.

Maybe knitting isn't the thing for me?

♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

STOP YELLING AT ME

HI.

I'm the manager of a coffee shop. I'm at work between 6am and 8am six days a week.

I am very tired.

I'm still enjoying the job. I work with cool people, my boss is easy going, and I'm not bad at what I'm doing.

We have a regular who comes in here at least twice a week and I can not, for the life of me, figure out why. Not because this place is awful, it isn't, but because this guy HATES it. And us. Every time he's in here he complains about the service, the quality, and the employees. Yet he CONTINUES to come back when there are a ton of other cafes in the immediate area. It reminds me of this QC strip. We give him something to be mad about for the rest of the day, that must be why he comes back. But I HATE when he's here. He makes me all tense and I have to stop my self from yelling at him. Not fun.

Other than that, nothing is going on. I'm at the cafe right now helping our new employee close up shop, and then I'm going home, going to sleep, and waking up at 4:30am to start all over again.

Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Wow, Okay. It has been a CRAZY month (okay, six weeks, shut up)

Here's the basic rundown:
1 - The internet at my house has been down.
2 - I STILL don't have a computer
3 - I've been running around like a crazy person

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand

4 - I QUIT MY JOB.

After five years, on and off, with the same office I decided it was time to try something new. So I quit...with absolutely nothing lined up.

My last day was set to be September 18th, but they managed to talk me into another four days (I'm a pushover , yes, but they paid me more). My actual final day was Thursday September 24th, which ended with an absolutely ridiculous going away party attended by current coworkers, ex-coworkers, friends, and my mother. That was followed by a day in bed (obviously), which brings us to Saturday. Here's what happened Saturday:

Setting: My childhood bedroom
Time: About 1pm
Mood: Hungover

I'm lying in bed, watching an America's Next Top Model marathon and dreaming of brunch which I suddenly cannot afford, and the phone rings:

Sarah: Hello?
Morgan: HI! Are you still unemployed?
Sarah: Well, yes. It's only been two days.
Morgan: Great! I just got a job at a cafe near my house and they need more people, can you be there at 8am tomorrow?
Sarah: Sure!

I arrived at 8am on Sunday morning, having no idea what to expect, and was immediately put to work making coffee. I don't DRINK coffee. (My former boss tried to teach me how to operate an espresso machine once and I nodded, smiled, and prayed he would never actually ask me to make him one. Which, thankfully, he did not.) I got some training, helped people out, figured out the register, and by noon I was on the schedule six days a week. Starting at six am.

As you can imagine, now that I'm coming off my third day there, I feel relatively jet-lagged. It's the best way to describe it. I'm on my feet all day talking to people face to face, so no longer is it an option to crash in my chair, zone out and hope someone else will pick up the slack should I not get enough sleep. I'm in bed before 10pm and up between 4 and 4:30 in the morning. It's BIZARRE. I'm used to coming at 4am from the other direction, so wandering around at that hour with vision that isn't bleary from drink is pretty interesting.

For the most part I'm really excited about the change. It is completely and totally different from my last job, both in description and hours, and it's pretty fun.

Things I have learned so far:

1)I'm not very good at being unemployed.

2) Getting out of work at 1pm and having the whole afternoon to do whatever I want is AWESOME.

3) Having a job that feeds and caffeinates you is a great money saver, especially when you've taken a substantial paycut.

4) The bus is the safest way to travel at 5am. Yesterday morning I missed the bus I was planning on taking and thought I would take the train instead. I turned around and started to walk to the train when I was stopped by a crackhead (no, a literal crackhead, I'm not just saying that word for fun) who wanted a cigarette. I, stupidly, gave him one and walked away. He started walking in the same direction, so I turned around and started to walk back to the bus stop. At which point he turned around and followed me. At which point I walked by ass off to the nearest 24 hour deli, which locks up and serves customers through a window between 1am and 7am, banged on the door and demanded to be let in. I got in and told the guy working the window to PLEASE give Mr. Crackhead a light. Because by that point I realized that was what he was after. But he scared the SHIT out of me. So it'll be the bus stop across the street from the police station and much closer to my house from here on out thankyouverymuch.

5) How to make espresso. I think. I don't know. The cappuccino like thing I made for Morgan this morning was good. Or so she said. Dude, I have no idea. I don't touch the stuff.

6) Our iced tea is caffeinated. I'm a little twitchy right now. Oops. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

And it pleases me to have you here for just a little while

I will write about my trip (which was AMAZING) once I get some pictures off my camera. In the meantime, I want to talk about something else.

I spent four summers in the Adirondacks at a place called Camp Regis Applejack, or CRAJ for short. My thirteenth through sixteenth birthdays were spent there being incredibly awkward and LOVING every second of it.

Behold the awkward

At the end of every summer I sobbed. Sobbed uncontrollably as we loaded into the busses and I returned home hating my friends because they could no longer understand a word I said. "MOCHEEZMO" meant nothing to them, as it means nothing to most of you. THEY didn't know the entire score of RENT, nor were they able to do duets of "Light My Candle" with me. They didn't understand any of my inside jokes or the wonder that is Donnelly's Ice Cream.* So I did what we all did, and I hiked the shit out of my parent's phone bill.

Oh my GOD. We would spend hooooooooours on the phone. Filling each other in on gossip we had heard on our last four hour phone call to another state, or reminicing, or just speaking in what was essentially our own language. We wrote letters, we mailed packages, we visited each other...we were never out of touch for more than a couple of weeks.

And we returned to camp after our countdowns had reached zero (A lot of us had countdowns. Mine were kept in the margins of my notebook and on my left hand.) We would double check the numbers via AIM

"54 Days!"
"No 53!"
"Are you sure?"
"YES. I just double checked, go count."
"Okay. Hold on."

We hugged each other, we sussed out our new counselors, we checked how the boys were growing and checked out the new ones. We decided whether or not to pretend to be vegetarian based on the food choices it allowed us. And we made new friends. All within the first twelve hours back.

And I think it's the same for most people who went to camp, but because I never went to any other camp I refuse to actually believe this. There's no way anyone else on this planet could feel a draw to a particular place as strongly as we did. It's just not possible.

I write all of this because last weekend there was a camp reunion. AT THE CAMP. And I missed it. There were two main reasons for this:

1) I got back from France on Friday night. It was highly unlikely I would make it to the camp by Saturday morning.

2) It was expensive! The camp held the reunion to raise money for a camp scholarship, and I simply did not have the $225 to spare.

So I didn't go.

When I realized I wasn't going to make it, I was bummed. I would have loved to go, but a lot of people from my cabin weren't going either and while I was upset, I didn't think it was the end of the world.

Until today.

When the pictures started going up on Facebook.

I shit you not, I almost started crying at the office. Most of the people at the reunion were people I vaguely remember or didn't know very well - a male Apprentice Counselor from my first year there I never spoke to; a guy I had a crush on when I was 13, whose girlfriend I accidentally hit in the back with a door; the counselor from my second year who had to deal with the cabin of insane people I happened to be a part of. Only one person there was a good friend of mine, from my cabin, and I didn't care. I saw the pictures and wished so badly that I had gone.

Another friend of mine had the same feeling:

Morgan: gahhh wah i wish we had gone to craj

12:15 PM me: DUDE.

I KNOW

I'm really upset :(

12:17 PM Morgan: me too man

me: :(

They better do it again next year. I will be there with bells on. And some friends.


*Okay, if you happen to be driving in the Adirondacks for any reason, you NEED to check this place out. Seriously. It's amazing. Donnelly's Ice Cream. Write it down.

♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

GAH SORRY STRESSED

HI.

I'M GOING TO FRANCE TOMORROW.

My clothes are here, with me, at my mother's house.

My passport, suitcase and toiletries are all at my apartment. In Bushwick.

I wasn't planning on staying here! At my mom's! It's just that the dryer here sucks, and I had to run around a lot, and I don't plan well and BLAH. Also did not have the money to spend doing laundry in my own neighborhood.

POOR PLANNING SKILLS. Shut it :(

Anywhooooo...THIS is where I will be as of Thursday Morning:

I only get to turn 25 once. And I've decided to do it in Yvoire. At my grandmother's house. Because I'm awesome.

I'm not sure if I should be as scared as I am or more scared about my impending birthday. Part of me feels like I should have accomplished more at this point. Like a degree, or the ability to host people in my house without them going, "really? This is a hovel." (My house isn't THAT bad, but it could be better. I has a lazy, and a cheap...)

In other parts of the country people my age are married and have children. It's not something I'd want for myself at this moment in my life, but it's something to think about. I guess I always worry about falling behind the times. I have a friend that we used to joke stopped growing up at age 11. Now I wonder if I stopped growing up somewhere around 20.

I've touched on it before. I'm scared of growing up. There's something frightening about responsibility and bills and living on your own. Even if I 've done it for ages. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has been in this boat. I can't be, can I?

While I ponder this, I'll head back to being a four year old for just a minute:
I'M GOING TO FRA-ANCE.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Please Don't Make Fun Of Me

Readers, I have a horrible confession to make:

My new favorite show is America's Got Talent.

I never really got into American Idol. I liked watching the auditions, because you got gems like Mary Roach:



But I found that I didn't care when people did well. I was really only in it for the fail. And it feels bad to find pleasure in watching people fail. And the thing about AI is that I feel like they ALWAYS set you up for the fail. But on America's Got Talent, oh boy, you find things like this:



Who I WANT to do well. And she made me cry. And I realize that she's riding Susan Boyle's coattails, but I don't give a shit. I want to hug her.

I also want to hug this kid:



AND Grandma Lee:

Who, while using recycled jokes, makes me giggle.

The fail is still there, but the winners kill me.

I'm in love. Please don't make fun of me :(

Okay, okay, also these guys. I wish you could hear the judges reactions. Check out the postal workers:



Holy balls. <3

Seriously, go to Hulu and watch. I LOVE IT.

:(
UPDATE: Mom, This is for you:

♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

More Tampon Troubles, and Some AMAZING NEWS

Okay, first, this is ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING, and probably not true:

This story—and we do hope it's a story—makes the guy who complained about a snake head on his plate at TGI Friday's seem like a big fat baby: A German tourist claims that while eating steak and spinach at the Waldorf Astoria on Friday night, he bit into something you'd only expect to find on the menu at a Red Roof Inn. There's really no delicate way to put this: Axel Sanz-Claus tells ABC News that during his meal at the legendary hotel's Bull and Bear Steak House, he bit into a blood-soaked tampon. UGH: "I had it in my mouth, chewed it and nearly swallowed it," Sanz-Claus says, adding, "This is so disgusting, I've felt sick ever since."

ARE YOU SERIOUS? You can read the rest of the story here. As the commenters point out, how the HELL would you not notice a tampon on a plate of steak and spinach? How would it make it to your mouth??

Guh, the thought of it makes me gag.

To make up for that awful story, Gem has shared an amazing article with me on the demise of Crocs!

The colorful foam clogs appeared in 2002, just as the country was recovering from a recession. Brash and bright, they were a cheap investment (about $30) that felt good and promised to last forever. Former president George W. Bush wore them. Aerosmith lead singer Steven Tyler wore them. Your grandma wore them. They roared along with the economy, mocked by the fashion world but selling 100 million pairs in seven years.

...

The company had expanded to meet demand, but financially pressed customers cut back. Last year the company lost $185.1 million, slashed roughly 2,000 jobs and scrambled to find money to pay down millions in debt. Now it's stuck with a surplus of shoes, and its auditors have wondered if it can stay afloat. It has until the end of September to pay off its debt.

"The company's toast," said Damon Vickers, who manages an investment fund at Nine Points Capital Partners in Seattle. "They're zombie-ish. They're dead and they don't know it."

YOU GUYS, MY CAMPAIGN IS TOTALLY WORKING. Read the rest of the article here and REJOICE! THE WORLD WILL SOON BE FREE OF THE EVIL OF CROCS.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

I'm Bleeding All Over The Place

I got my period today. Accompanied by cramps and general unpleasantness. Fun! I never used to get cramps. When I was younger my period came and went, and while annoying, it was never painful. Until an old woman (A WITCH! A WITCH! BURN HER!) cursed me.

Around November of 2001 I was sitting outside the Brooklyn Museum waiting for a friend, wearing an unattractive long blue coat, when an old woman with a shopping cart approached me. "Do you get cramps when you menstruate?" She asked me in her scratchy old lady witch voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you get cramps when you menstruaaaaaate?" She repeated.

"No, never! I'm, um....very lucky?" I replied. I was relatively disturbed that a stranger was asking me about my period.

"Well you will! Sitting on cold things! That's where the trouble starts!"

"I...What? But I'm sitting on my coat! I'm okay!"

"That's where the trouble starts!" She said, pointing at me menacingly. And then she shuffled away.

And then I started getting cramps.

Bitch.

ANYWAY - to top everything else off I got a nosebleed when I got home. After I had used up the last of our toilet paper I realized I had something else that would stop the blood flow:

Today sucks. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Dammit

Why is it totally hilarious to spew Shakespeare in other countries? Why can't OUR awful students spit it out?

That was for the UK Comic Relief.

Here's an example of a recent USA Comic Relief:



Honestly...try and sit through that. "It's like sweet potatoes hating yams!" SHUT UP. "I don't care if you think I'm racist as long as you think I'm a thin racist." REALLY? Gaaaah. I have zero hope for (famous [I know some funny people]) American comedy at this point.

In our defense - America did get the Glorious Eddie Izzard one year:


Eddie Izzard Performs at the US Comic Relief 1998 - For more funny videos, click here

OH WAIT. He did that before. Eddie Fucking Izzard couldn't be bothered to give America new material.

What the shit does that tell you? ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Late Late Late Mermaid Parade

Thanks to MattHillArt for the picture

Last year was the first time I ever made it to the Mermaid Parade. (I know, I know, I grew up in NYC and I'd never been to the Mermaid Parade before??) And we got there just a little too late, and it was a little too crowded, and it was hard to see. So my group and I gave up and spent the rest of the day on the boardwalk and rides. I decided this year, like I did with the Halloween Parade, that if I really wanted to see anything I had to be in it.

Luckily for me, a family friend is in charge of the East Village Sea Monster Marching Band, which has been a part of the Mermaid Parade for the last five years. He's been inviting me for years, but for the first time I said yes.

I was told that we were only allowed to wear blue and purple, and so I stuck to that. I also knew it was going to rain, so on the suggestion of my friend Gem, I became a Jellyfish Princess rather than some sort of mermaid.

Thanks to ronaldhennessy for the photo.
(The Streamers make me a jellyish)

Unfortunately for me, the rest of our group did not stick to the same color guidelines. We had a red mermaid, a green mermaid, a "freak" wearing only black sweatshorts, and a couple of randoms who decided to join us at the last minute.

Our "freak" Thanks to masi1028 for the photo.
Yes, I know my bra is showing. Shut it.

We were a motley crew to say the least. But regardless of the fact that the actual musical part of our band only knew three songs, and that we had absolutely no skill when it came to walking as a group, I had a wonderful time.

Weather permitting, I will do it all again next year.

Oh, and of course I took photo booth pictures.

And here is a link to another blog that mentioned The East Village Sea Monster Marching Band.

Update: Yes, if anyone was wondering - YES. I did spend hours going through Flickr. Shut up.

♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

A Collection of Open Letters Round Three

You can view 1 & 2 here.

Dear EVERYONE IN THIS G-D CITY,
Stay to the right. On the street, at the subway station, WHEREVER. Just stay to the right and everyone will get where they need to go. It's NOT THAT HARD. This goes double for you Mr. Speedy McWheelChair. Being handicapped does not give you the right to cruise directly into people on Park Avenue South. I don't think those things are made to go so quickly and you almost ran me down. STAY TO THE RIGHT.

Thank You,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Thanks to _The Moose_ for the picture

Dear Ladies and Girls of Bushwick,
Fuzzy pink slippers are not appropriate outdoor footwear. I don't know who started this trend, but it is absolutely disgusting. I have seen at least five girls this week alone wearing them. What's the deal? This is not a clean neighborhood, God knows what you're picking up with those things. And really? You couldn't be bothered to put on real shoes? You're in PUBLIC. Step it up, ladies.

I'm Serious.

Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear All Of You Who Have Been Giving Me Shit About This For Years,

I finally saw The Big Lebowski all the way through! After years of people trying to show me it at 2am or later, I watched it at a decent hour. On a roof no less! The only interruption came in the form of a vomiting man two feet away. Too many White Russians will do that to a guy, I guess.

Yay!
Sarah ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

A Public Service Announcement

Have you ever seen that series of numbers clicking away above Union Square? People always seem so confused by it. Is it the national debt? A doomsday countdown? A secret??

It's not any of those things.

People? It's an effing clock.

From left to right it gives the time: 17:13 and 35 seconds. AKA 35 seconds past 5:13pm.

"But what about the rest of the numbers??" You ask.

From right to left it is counting down the rest of the day. At 5:13 and 35 seconds there are 6 hours, 46 minutes, and 24 seconds left until midnight.

Are we clear?

Good. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

I Have....NO PANTS!

Seth and I were talking yesterday (Today? Last week? Some damn day) about how I don't spend money on clothing. And it's true. On a good day my entire outfit (including shoes, purse and underpants) will have cost me exactly $0.00. On an average day maybe $20. My roommate works at a clothing company, my friends love to clean out their closets, and I go to my fair share of clothing swaps. (Also, my everyday purse, a Strand Bag, was found in the garbage. PURE CLASS!) I think the most expensive piece of clothing I own is a hoodie I bought in Spain four years ago for the equivalent of $100.00. And I don't even wear the damn thing anymore!

The last time I bought jeans was years ago, and while for a long time that was okay (because I rarely wore the things) I've found myself drawn to them more and more recently for lack of anything else to wear. And this weekend my favorite of the two pairs I own ripped at the knee. I am still wearing them, but I'm thinking it might be time to invest in a new pair.

So where to go? I'm not spending $180.00 on a pair of Seven's. I owned a pair once, but they were a gift because, again, I am not the type to spend almost $200.00 on a damn pair of jeans. I am cheap. I can accept this.

On top of everything else I HATE SHOPPING FOR JEANS. A lot of girls hate the thought of bathing suit shopping, but for me? Jeans. Fucking Jeans. They. Never. Fit.

H&M jeans are not built for my body. I have a small waist and a big ass, and H&M jeans fail to fit over my thighs if I grab the size that fits my waist. Old Navy is always an option, but their sizing has gotten so wonky in recent years that I'm not even sure if it's worth the trip. (Though I do love walking into the only store in the world where I'm a size 2.) I have a pair of Gap capri's that fit me as pants. And I LOVE THEM. But they no longer have a crotch. So...yeah. I bought a pair of Levi's a couple of years ago because they were having a sale, but ending up turning them into shorts and then tossing them because they looked truely terrible.

Oh, and did I mention that I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HATE TRYING ON JEANS?

Where the hell do you buy YOUR jeans? Should I just shell out the extra cash? HALP!

(Yes, I am riding on the coattails of The Tigerlily's hose post. Shut up.) ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

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.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

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.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

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.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

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.

Awesome.

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

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.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

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.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves