While I could have inserted this post as a paragraph in the previous post, I felt it deserved it's own listing.
While Zayan and I were cleaning on Friday between 4:30-6:30pm we left the doors of the secluded house sitting on 2 acres on a private road in Shinnecock Hills wide open to allow the place to air out. To my devastation, the cheap 42" flat screen TV in the living room was stolen.
This involved a trip to Wal-Mart later that day to purchase a 32" black Vizio to replace the gaping hole above the white stand with black wheels that housed the previous TV.
That's right, readers, my Hamptons TV was STOLEN while I was in the house. I was robbed ROBBED!
June 30, 2008
Trashed
I spent Friday afternoon driving from New Jersey to the Hamptons sans dogs.
Judy was a delight--not failing me on AC, gas, or threatening to break down. I have a profound fear of flat tires--specifically of getting a flat tire and having to call AAA only to realize I don't have a spare and being stranded on a bridge or in a tunnel the entire time. Thankfully, none of that happened.
However when I arrived at the house, which I had unsuspectingly rented out for a prom party to a group of ridiculous kids from North Babylon High School, was completely trashed. I had been duped by a young lady who claimed to be over 21 (supplying me with a photocopy of her licensce and signing a liability release form) seeking a rental for herself and some cousins from upstate to have a family reunion.
As Murphy's Law would have it, my faithful cleaning lady had cancelled on me due to her son suffering from illness and her motherly duties taking precedence. Sucked for me more than that kid...I assure you.
The entire indoors reeked of cigarrettes and stale alcohol. The floors were sticky especially in the kitchen and dining room. The lawn was littered with beer bottles, condom wrappers, and styrofoam remnants of what held Perdue Chicken Breasts. Hot dog buns falling from the chandelier in the foyer as well as a few strategically thrown buns atop the 12-foot high closet top.
Neither Zayan nor I could figure out a way of getting those down until Jo arrived on Saturday afternoon and suggested we mount the step stool we'd been using atop the hall dresser and use the long reach feather duster to push the bread onto the ground.
Z cleaned the outside while I worked on the inside including mopping--something I have never done before--and the liberal use of Lysol wipes. We were done in roughly two hours except for one room which had four, fist-sized holes in the wall. Thankfully, Sam came out on Saturday--he's Z's fashion photographer/set designer friend from Williamsburg. He escorted me to Wal-Mart where we purchased spackle, netting, a putty knife, and paintbrushes (only $25) and showed me how to fix such household problems without availing myself of the expensive services of a Hamptons handyman.
Thankfully, I had already collected a $1000 security deposit which the kids had already e-mailed to say I should keep for the damage.
Judy was a delight--not failing me on AC, gas, or threatening to break down. I have a profound fear of flat tires--specifically of getting a flat tire and having to call AAA only to realize I don't have a spare and being stranded on a bridge or in a tunnel the entire time. Thankfully, none of that happened.
However when I arrived at the house, which I had unsuspectingly rented out for a prom party to a group of ridiculous kids from North Babylon High School, was completely trashed. I had been duped by a young lady who claimed to be over 21 (supplying me with a photocopy of her licensce and signing a liability release form) seeking a rental for herself and some cousins from upstate to have a family reunion.
As Murphy's Law would have it, my faithful cleaning lady had cancelled on me due to her son suffering from illness and her motherly duties taking precedence. Sucked for me more than that kid...I assure you.
The entire indoors reeked of cigarrettes and stale alcohol. The floors were sticky especially in the kitchen and dining room. The lawn was littered with beer bottles, condom wrappers, and styrofoam remnants of what held Perdue Chicken Breasts. Hot dog buns falling from the chandelier in the foyer as well as a few strategically thrown buns atop the 12-foot high closet top.
Neither Zayan nor I could figure out a way of getting those down until Jo arrived on Saturday afternoon and suggested we mount the step stool we'd been using atop the hall dresser and use the long reach feather duster to push the bread onto the ground.
Z cleaned the outside while I worked on the inside including mopping--something I have never done before--and the liberal use of Lysol wipes. We were done in roughly two hours except for one room which had four, fist-sized holes in the wall. Thankfully, Sam came out on Saturday--he's Z's fashion photographer/set designer friend from Williamsburg. He escorted me to Wal-Mart where we purchased spackle, netting, a putty knife, and paintbrushes (only $25) and showed me how to fix such household problems without availing myself of the expensive services of a Hamptons handyman.
Thankfully, I had already collected a $1000 security deposit which the kids had already e-mailed to say I should keep for the damage.
June 26, 2008
Boycluding when Boyded
Jo sent this e-mail out today:
New word! Boyclusion!
Are we going to the movie tonight?
Sure -- are we boycluding?
Don't see why not.
To which Stella responded thus:
A conflicting definition of boyclusion could be: ending a relationship with a boy, a boyclusion
I was the one to find a workable solution with:
Boyded--works as boy dead and/or the current boy has been voided.
This way boyclusion, boycluding, boyclude, and all forms therein will remain intact in their operationsl definition of addition of a boy to a girl gathering....
Yeah--you can call me Miss. Webster!
New word! Boyclusion!
Are we going to the movie tonight?
Sure -- are we boycluding?
Don't see why not.
To which Stella responded thus:
A conflicting definition of boyclusion could be: ending a relationship with a boy, a boyclusion
I was the one to find a workable solution with:
Boyded--works as boy dead and/or the current boy has been voided.
This way boyclusion, boycluding, boyclude, and all forms therein will remain intact in their operationsl definition of addition of a boy to a girl gathering....
Yeah--you can call me Miss. Webster!
Over
Zayan and I hit up the gallery reception/opening scene a few Thursdays ago in Chelsea. As I perused the overpriced art, sipping the cheap white wine they freely pour, I came upon this piece by Robert Wagner. I stood transfixed until he arrived and snapped me out of my art-induced reverie!
Something about the cartoon underlay and the super-imposed, shadowed, emboassed, bold, upper case letters resonated with my state of mind and being. I have never wanted to buy art so badly--clearly I couldn't afford the small plaque--but I wasn't above whipping out my phone and snapping this shot. It's currently the wallpaper on my phone.
Something about the cartoon underlay and the super-imposed, shadowed, emboassed, bold, upper case letters resonated with my state of mind and being. I have never wanted to buy art so badly--clearly I couldn't afford the small plaque--but I wasn't above whipping out my phone and snapping this shot. It's currently the wallpaper on my phone.
Puppies in the Hamptons
Luckey and Vegas joined me in the Hamptons the first weekend in June. Here they are sitting side by side in their crate on a seat across from my seat aboard the LIRR headed to Hampton Bays. They have the life!
Don't knock the picture quality--it was taken on my Samsun Juke on a moving train!
June 23, 2008
Life Plan: Revised
After much introspection--6 years, more accurately the last 6 months--I've figured out what I want to do for the rest of my life.
That's right...I'm ready to commit...to myself. That's definitely the first step on the path to committing to someone else. I digress.
I've decided to apply to graduate school for Clinical Psychology (concentrating in personality disorders). That's correct, I'm voluntarily signing up for 5 more years of school (aka abject poverty).
My slow arrival to this point is mired in distractions like law school and business school--both of which have MUCH higher ROIs--thankfully, I didn't spend the money despite the time wasted.
Upon graduation, I wish to start my own practice (yay therapy), publish pop psychology articles that will hopefully eventually be consolidated into a compilation while I adjunct at an university focused on the Boulder model (scientist-practitioner)and not the Ivy-induced researcher as scientist methodology.
Of course, I had to wait till my awesome GRE scores EXPIRED to come to this conclusion but such is my life. Yeah! So now I have to take the GRE...again.
That's right...I'm ready to commit...to myself. That's definitely the first step on the path to committing to someone else. I digress.
I've decided to apply to graduate school for Clinical Psychology (concentrating in personality disorders). That's correct, I'm voluntarily signing up for 5 more years of school (aka abject poverty).
My slow arrival to this point is mired in distractions like law school and business school--both of which have MUCH higher ROIs--thankfully, I didn't spend the money despite the time wasted.
Upon graduation, I wish to start my own practice (yay therapy), publish pop psychology articles that will hopefully eventually be consolidated into a compilation while I adjunct at an university focused on the Boulder model (scientist-practitioner)and not the Ivy-induced researcher as scientist methodology.
Of course, I had to wait till my awesome GRE scores EXPIRED to come to this conclusion but such is my life. Yeah! So now I have to take the GRE...again.
June 20, 2008
Jumper
You havent seen my place but it's a basement with a modest outdoor area--there is a post circa May '07 with a photo of the outdoor area--the outside is guarded by a black grate door which a small child could fit his/her hand through. This door locks automatically when you close it. The outdoor area is about 7-8 below street level and approximately 3ftx14ft.
I locked myself out of the black door but without my keys obviously hadn't locked the main apt. door which requires a manual mechanism of inserting the key in the lock to secure it.
I went to FDNY which is about half a block away but couldn't find the door to ask the fireman to loan me a ladder or better yet a fireman--figured it was a bit much to just start screaming "FIRE!".
Then I went to NYPD which is caddy corner to FDNY but there was a long line and it appears the crossing guards had just come off duty. So after much contemplation and disregarding a few dozen passing males as possible jumpers...I jumped!
I was going to offer one of the stronger looking guys $10 to just pop down and open the door for me but it seemed like a bad idea to let my neighbors know I was so rob-able.
I'm wearing a short skirt which was part of the reason I even hesitated making the jump-not too short but above the knee. By the way flip-flops, as you might suspect, are not great for landing
I hit my head on the wall. I was worried I was gonna conk out--thankfully I have enough hair to not show any head bruising--I'm fine. I also landed on my shoulder which I had not considered as a possibility. I feel like that is going to leave a bruise.
I was mostly worried about my knees pre-jump but that was not an issue at all. I didn't even think I might hit my head or my shoulder in my effort to rescue myself.
I mean it's really not that high once you climb over the hip-high black fence at street level. When I sat on the ledge and dangled my feet I wanted to lower myself using my arms so I'd only drop about 3 feet instead of 7 feet below me. That plan was thwarted by my absolute lack of upper body strength. Damn boobs!
I must have looked like I was casing the joint since I loitered for a good 30 minutes trying to decide if I should even do it. The thought of paying a locksmith a minimum of $150 and the failed attempts at alternative rescues finalized the jump.
See, I don't need a man to rescue me. Don't get me wrong, it would have been VERY nice to have one on hand for just such an instance but I just rescued myself--in a short skirt, no less.
I locked myself out of the black door but without my keys obviously hadn't locked the main apt. door which requires a manual mechanism of inserting the key in the lock to secure it.
I went to FDNY which is about half a block away but couldn't find the door to ask the fireman to loan me a ladder or better yet a fireman--figured it was a bit much to just start screaming "FIRE!".
Then I went to NYPD which is caddy corner to FDNY but there was a long line and it appears the crossing guards had just come off duty. So after much contemplation and disregarding a few dozen passing males as possible jumpers...I jumped!
I was going to offer one of the stronger looking guys $10 to just pop down and open the door for me but it seemed like a bad idea to let my neighbors know I was so rob-able.
I'm wearing a short skirt which was part of the reason I even hesitated making the jump-not too short but above the knee. By the way flip-flops, as you might suspect, are not great for landing
I hit my head on the wall. I was worried I was gonna conk out--thankfully I have enough hair to not show any head bruising--I'm fine. I also landed on my shoulder which I had not considered as a possibility. I feel like that is going to leave a bruise.
I was mostly worried about my knees pre-jump but that was not an issue at all. I didn't even think I might hit my head or my shoulder in my effort to rescue myself.
I mean it's really not that high once you climb over the hip-high black fence at street level. When I sat on the ledge and dangled my feet I wanted to lower myself using my arms so I'd only drop about 3 feet instead of 7 feet below me. That plan was thwarted by my absolute lack of upper body strength. Damn boobs!
I must have looked like I was casing the joint since I loitered for a good 30 minutes trying to decide if I should even do it. The thought of paying a locksmith a minimum of $150 and the failed attempts at alternative rescues finalized the jump.
See, I don't need a man to rescue me. Don't get me wrong, it would have been VERY nice to have one on hand for just such an instance but I just rescued myself--in a short skirt, no less.
June 10, 2008
Quitter
The thing about self-awareness is that it keeps you from beating yourself up for the things you do that others might chide you for doing.
Despite my love of the corporate monkey lifestyle and THE outfits, I am NOT a corporate monkey. I keep pushing this round peg into that square hole and it is past the point of insanity.
Bye Bye Moolbreg! Hello Hamptons!
Despite my love of the corporate monkey lifestyle and THE outfits, I am NOT a corporate monkey. I keep pushing this round peg into that square hole and it is past the point of insanity.
Bye Bye Moolbreg! Hello Hamptons!
June 5, 2008
Salman @ 7
Salman Rushdie will be readng at Barnes and Noble in Union Square today at 7pm.
Zayan and I are going on our weekly culture club jaunt to see this famed author. While there will be no Ex Sex, it's really nice to spend time with someone you know in every context without the awkwardness of having to explore many of those concepts.
Will write a review post with a SATC synopsis as well as Rushdie's ruminations.
Zayan and I are going on our weekly culture club jaunt to see this famed author. While there will be no Ex Sex, it's really nice to spend time with someone you know in every context without the awkwardness of having to explore many of those concepts.
Will write a review post with a SATC synopsis as well as Rushdie's ruminations.
June 4, 2008
Joe D
One of the boys in my house this summer, Joe D, met me for a drink this evening at Mantra. We chatted like old friends and I trash talked like a freshman playing beer pong but the more we talked the greater the references to D'Souza.
Joe used to work with D'Souza not too long ago. He described him as "exceptionally hard working, fiercely competitive, and incredibly ambitious". While I can't disagree with any of these observations, especially in the work context, it got me thinking about the other sides to this man I had lived with. He's also fiercely loyal and protective of those he deems "family" and a bit of a booze bag. But other than those two additions I really don't have much to go on.
Oh yeah. He's a complete tom cat in the sack. Hmm....I do miss that man.
Joe used to work with D'Souza not too long ago. He described him as "exceptionally hard working, fiercely competitive, and incredibly ambitious". While I can't disagree with any of these observations, especially in the work context, it got me thinking about the other sides to this man I had lived with. He's also fiercely loyal and protective of those he deems "family" and a bit of a booze bag. But other than those two additions I really don't have much to go on.
Oh yeah. He's a complete tom cat in the sack. Hmm....I do miss that man.
Non-Dating
Zayan and I broke up a little over 3 years ago. Despite that reality, he's as close to a soul-mate as I think I may get in this lifetime. Not because our love was eternal but because we have that much in common. I have never felt so completely at conversational comfort with anyone in my life. We have the same pop culture references and that is only the beginning of our shared interests. While he is much more politically savvy and interested than I am, he's also infinitely better read. The only child-ness of us created for a great deal of "ME" time. Thus the issue in the relationship department which is wholly alleviated in the friendship department.
We've been non-dating but engaging in behavior that from the outside would appear to be dating for the last 4-6 months. We go to dinner, independent films, book readings and more book readings. We're, in fact, going to Barnes and Noble in Union Square tomorrow to hear his idol--Salman Rushdie--read from his latest book. He wrote his senior thesis on Midnight's Children which I stopped 100 pages shy of finishing--just couldn't get myself to plough through--but so close to the end. Incidentally, Top Chef host Padmalakshmi used to be married to said writer not too long ago. I digress.
It's unnerving for the intensity of the spark you once shared with someone--someone you spent angst encased years believing to be the one--to evaporate into oblivion. It's weirder still being friends with an ex with no desire or potential for ex sex.
Ex Sex is the best...yet here I am, not wanting or having any of it. What the hell is up with me?
We've been non-dating but engaging in behavior that from the outside would appear to be dating for the last 4-6 months. We go to dinner, independent films, book readings and more book readings. We're, in fact, going to Barnes and Noble in Union Square tomorrow to hear his idol--Salman Rushdie--read from his latest book. He wrote his senior thesis on Midnight's Children which I stopped 100 pages shy of finishing--just couldn't get myself to plough through--but so close to the end. Incidentally, Top Chef host Padmalakshmi used to be married to said writer not too long ago. I digress.
It's unnerving for the intensity of the spark you once shared with someone--someone you spent angst encased years believing to be the one--to evaporate into oblivion. It's weirder still being friends with an ex with no desire or potential for ex sex.
Ex Sex is the best...yet here I am, not wanting or having any of it. What the hell is up with me?
Sleeping with Strangers
I've always wanted to sleep with a stranger. In a city like New York this is not a difficult task. You could have one good eye, weigh 2000lbs, sport some crutches but still manage to go home with a complete stranger. In the six years I've been here, I have always meant to take this final step into complete left leaning liberality yet find myself undone.
My 6-year New York-a-versary is on July 14--not too far at all. So I feel like the time is now, yet tonight I just couldn't get myself to do it.
He had bright blue eyes under raven lashes and un-manscaped brows. He was tall--that perfect tall that in my flops he could rest his chin gently atop that soft spot on my head. He was interesting--we spent a ridiculous amount of time discussing religion and politics without actually offending one another. He kept buying me drinks. It wasn't sketchy--despite being in Midtown past happy hour. His suit was perfectly pressed and the tie was loosened without signalling looseness. They even played fucking Bon Jovi at the moment he chose to disclose he grew up in suburban NJ...and I still couldn't do it. It's not that he asked me to go home with him as much as all the leaning and general gazing signalled the cues I wasn't following.
I'm just not sure what happened. I've always wanted to try it...this was my chance...but I choked. I'm not sure what happened or why it happened...but I just finally came to terms with the fact that I will never be the girl who goes home with a perfect stranger, no matter how drunk I am. Not me. I'm just not Sweet or Vicious enough. I'm kinda bummed out to the max.
Damn Opal. Damn Ketel One and Club Sodas. Damn Bon Jon!
My 6-year New York-a-versary is on July 14--not too far at all. So I feel like the time is now, yet tonight I just couldn't get myself to do it.
He had bright blue eyes under raven lashes and un-manscaped brows. He was tall--that perfect tall that in my flops he could rest his chin gently atop that soft spot on my head. He was interesting--we spent a ridiculous amount of time discussing religion and politics without actually offending one another. He kept buying me drinks. It wasn't sketchy--despite being in Midtown past happy hour. His suit was perfectly pressed and the tie was loosened without signalling looseness. They even played fucking Bon Jovi at the moment he chose to disclose he grew up in suburban NJ...and I still couldn't do it. It's not that he asked me to go home with him as much as all the leaning and general gazing signalled the cues I wasn't following.
I'm just not sure what happened. I've always wanted to try it...this was my chance...but I choked. I'm not sure what happened or why it happened...but I just finally came to terms with the fact that I will never be the girl who goes home with a perfect stranger, no matter how drunk I am. Not me. I'm just not Sweet or Vicious enough. I'm kinda bummed out to the max.
Damn Opal. Damn Ketel One and Club Sodas. Damn Bon Jon!
June 2, 2008
SATC: 7:45pm TODAY
I'm meeting the Tea girls at Cafe Deville at 6pm today to sip some cosmos before walking over to Village East to view Sex and the City: The Movie.
I'm vibrating in my seat...so excited.
More to come post-movie.
XOXO,
Sweet yet Vicious
I'm vibrating in my seat...so excited.
More to come post-movie.
XOXO,
Sweet yet Vicious
June 1, 2008
Deleting D'Souza
The post break-up cell phone deletion is a requisite on the road to getting past the X...I'd put off this important milestone since we share a dog and some of his crap is still in my apartment...but this weekend of solitutde in the Hamptons has led to much needed introspection. The deed is done.
Now, I never deleted V and Zayan made it back into the phone a year or so post-break up so I'm not the typical delete and be done with it gal; maybe it's not a permanent removal but for now the number has been extracted with the viciousness of a tooth past its prime. On to distractions...
Now, I never deleted V and Zayan made it back into the phone a year or so post-break up so I'm not the typical delete and be done with it gal; maybe it's not a permanent removal but for now the number has been extracted with the viciousness of a tooth past its prime. On to distractions...
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