Tommy and I have nicknames for one another now.
He is Negative Ned and I am Negative Nancy. We've been steeped in negativity off late, between apartment hunting fruitlessly and going on one lousy first date after another. It seems a lifetime ago that I went on a second date...by this I mean, after a first date my inclination is to NEVER see the person again for as long as I live.
Apparently my low standards are not LOW enough: specificity being the devil.
My short checklist is as follows:
Tall
Skinny
Full head of hair--spiky preferred
Smart as Hades
Beaked nose and crooked teeth=bonus
Literally...that's it! That's ALL I'm looking for--I see these chaps milling about but it seems I'm going to have to steal someone's boyfriend to get it to work out for me.
May 8, 2006
May 5, 2006
Cinco de Mayo
My favorite non-real holiday given the heavy boozing component. St. Patrick's Day is a close second...
I'm looking forward to an evening on a roof, on a patio, in a garden with every flavor of margarita I can ingest on the rocks with salt and a lime wedge to garnish.
Incidentally, it is the date of birth of one ex-bf (horseface) of Tracey's--proof that being born on a great day will not esnure you are cool.
I'm looking forward to an evening on a roof, on a patio, in a garden with every flavor of margarita I can ingest on the rocks with salt and a lime wedge to garnish.
Incidentally, it is the date of birth of one ex-bf (horseface) of Tracey's--proof that being born on a great day will not esnure you are cool.
May 4, 2006
Faux Indian
There has been an emergence of faux Indians off late. Maybe I'm just late catching on--but Trini, West Indie, Guyanese (faux Indians) are everywhere in this city.
I just met one at my client meeting. Indian last name, white first name--West Indian--from NJ lives on the UWS. Do the West Indians live on the West Side and the East Indians (ACTUAL INDIANS) live on the East Side?
Not my type physically--but we may end up dating. He's not tall. We flirted for an hour during our "vendor meeting". He lived in San Fran for the last 8 years. He's from South Jersey, originally--not far from Great Adventure. He went to culinary school and studied acting then film making in college. He loves olives and doesn't find oysters to be an aphrodisiac--total foodie. Doesn't like the fast rides at amusement parks. He's one of three children.
He's offered to take me to happy hour on his expense account any time I need a drink--standing offer. Those are the kind of deals I like...
I'm not calling him, but if he calls me and suggests some boozing--I'm not going to turn it down.
I just met one at my client meeting. Indian last name, white first name--West Indian--from NJ lives on the UWS. Do the West Indians live on the West Side and the East Indians (ACTUAL INDIANS) live on the East Side?
Not my type physically--but we may end up dating. He's not tall. We flirted for an hour during our "vendor meeting". He lived in San Fran for the last 8 years. He's from South Jersey, originally--not far from Great Adventure. He went to culinary school and studied acting then film making in college. He loves olives and doesn't find oysters to be an aphrodisiac--total foodie. Doesn't like the fast rides at amusement parks. He's one of three children.
He's offered to take me to happy hour on his expense account any time I need a drink--standing offer. Those are the kind of deals I like...
I'm not calling him, but if he calls me and suggests some boozing--I'm not going to turn it down.
Ulysees
Former president aside, Ulysees is fast becoming my favorite outdoor pub in Manhattan. Located a short block and a half from my office, this quaint drinkery has long, wooden benches on cobble stone topped with large beer advertising umbrellas. Love it.
Carrie and Kurt met up with me for a few Dark & Stormies (gosling rum and ginger beer)--delicious! We marveled at Carrie's new blueberry--you know you mean something officially when they saddle you with a crackberry. The tiny burgers reminiscent of White Castle were far more refined with cute baby cheese atop.
My favorite thing about Ulysees is that it's packed. With Men. Suited, booted Wall Street types. It's a Kenneth Cole ad waiting for one of his famed quotes. The communcal tables and freely flowing drinks make communicating with strangers as easy as a hooker on 42nd St.
Carrie and Kurt met up with me for a few Dark & Stormies (gosling rum and ginger beer)--delicious! We marveled at Carrie's new blueberry--you know you mean something officially when they saddle you with a crackberry. The tiny burgers reminiscent of White Castle were far more refined with cute baby cheese atop.
My favorite thing about Ulysees is that it's packed. With Men. Suited, booted Wall Street types. It's a Kenneth Cole ad waiting for one of his famed quotes. The communcal tables and freely flowing drinks make communicating with strangers as easy as a hooker on 42nd St.
Can You Read Me Now?
Let me take a moment to sing the praises of Verizon Wireless.
As you know, I've been in text message purgatory the last 36 hours.
I dragged my phone's carcass to the verizon store on the corner of Water and Wall for a quick fix. I was convinced they would tell me to buy a new phone and offer to input my numbers for a nominal $20. Nothing nominal about that folks--it's a week's worth of caffeine. It's a pair of shoes at Payless. It's enough to support a small child in Gautemala for a month. And as long as I have fingers, I can punch in the digits myself.
To my surprise, the brace face behind the tech support counter merely plucked my phone and promised a fix within the half hour. I hopped to Century 21 to purchase some lime green rainboots with large daises on them lined with velvety pink fuzz.
Upon my return I had a brand new phone! It was my phone with a face lift. I lost all my Luckey pics and all the photos of my friends faces which appear when they phone me...but a small loss for the ability to text again.
TEXT ME!!!!!
As you know, I've been in text message purgatory the last 36 hours.
I dragged my phone's carcass to the verizon store on the corner of Water and Wall for a quick fix. I was convinced they would tell me to buy a new phone and offer to input my numbers for a nominal $20. Nothing nominal about that folks--it's a week's worth of caffeine. It's a pair of shoes at Payless. It's enough to support a small child in Gautemala for a month. And as long as I have fingers, I can punch in the digits myself.
To my surprise, the brace face behind the tech support counter merely plucked my phone and promised a fix within the half hour. I hopped to Century 21 to purchase some lime green rainboots with large daises on them lined with velvety pink fuzz.
Upon my return I had a brand new phone! It was my phone with a face lift. I lost all my Luckey pics and all the photos of my friends faces which appear when they phone me...but a small loss for the ability to text again.
TEXT ME!!!!!
May 3, 2006
America: The Land of Toilet Paper
Growing up, my grandmother always said that if the palm of your right hand itched it was a sign that money would unexpectedly land in your lap, while if the palm of your left hand itched it would be stripped from you, tight as you may clutch it.
I always wondered why the left hand got such the shaft. That's the hand used for butt wiping in the motherland...that's right folks, I come from the land sans TP and we use our God given appendage and holy water from the Ganges to clean our behinds. A bidet is a step up from the route we adopt.
That's the true immigrant story. The real reason behind immigration--TP!
Now that back story might help you understand why the left hand is more prone to itching than the right. Does that mean for the most part people lose money? Does that mean people that wipe their asses with the right hand are onto something and therefore inherit/come by/win money for such deviant behavior?
In a society so shackled to custom and rooted in tradition, does it pay to covertly buck the system? Wipe your ass with the wrong hand and get paid for it.
So, my right hand has been itching like mad lately...
I always wondered why the left hand got such the shaft. That's the hand used for butt wiping in the motherland...that's right folks, I come from the land sans TP and we use our God given appendage and holy water from the Ganges to clean our behinds. A bidet is a step up from the route we adopt.
That's the true immigrant story. The real reason behind immigration--TP!
Now that back story might help you understand why the left hand is more prone to itching than the right. Does that mean for the most part people lose money? Does that mean people that wipe their asses with the right hand are onto something and therefore inherit/come by/win money for such deviant behavior?
In a society so shackled to custom and rooted in tradition, does it pay to covertly buck the system? Wipe your ass with the wrong hand and get paid for it.
So, my right hand has been itching like mad lately...
What Women Talk About
Last night, Jo bought us tickets to What Women Talk About an hour-long improv show at 85 E. 4th St. It was the finale of their second season.
It was hilarious. Try to catch the podcast.
I'm a groupie!
It was hilarious. Try to catch the podcast.
I'm a groupie!
Tragedy
My mom's fiancee's father passed away over the weekend.
He was old.
I never met him.
He lived in Florida with his wife in a home.
To pay my respects, I took Monday off--bereavement day!
In light of the many responsibilities I would have had to fulfill on Monday, I found it to be a good day to be out of the office with no forewarning. I mean, I called in to inform them of the tragedy.
May he rest in peace.
He was old.
I never met him.
He lived in Florida with his wife in a home.
To pay my respects, I took Monday off--bereavement day!
In light of the many responsibilities I would have had to fulfill on Monday, I found it to be a good day to be out of the office with no forewarning. I mean, I called in to inform them of the tragedy.
May he rest in peace.
Text Breakdown
I had not realized how much I rely on text messaging till my phone mysteriously decided not to afford me that feature any more.
Apparently my phone has quit on me. It, having a mind of its own, has decided I no longer deserve, nay need, to send text messages. This makes receiving them extremely frustrating. I want to respond. I'm a respondent!
Gotta hop to the verizon store at lunch in the hopes of ameliorating this situation, but my guess is to no avail. Since I don't have phone insurance (Trace, don't even start with me!) it's a moo point (that's right a MOO! point!).
sigh. Why? Why me? Why my phone? Why text messaging?
Apparently my phone has quit on me. It, having a mind of its own, has decided I no longer deserve, nay need, to send text messages. This makes receiving them extremely frustrating. I want to respond. I'm a respondent!
Gotta hop to the verizon store at lunch in the hopes of ameliorating this situation, but my guess is to no avail. Since I don't have phone insurance (Trace, don't even start with me!) it's a moo point (that's right a MOO! point!).
sigh. Why? Why me? Why my phone? Why text messaging?
May-hem!
What is it about May that leads to mayhem?
There's nothing but drama...
Apartment Drama:
Looking haplessly for an apartment. The brokers on CL claim no fee but upon calling they feign amnesia and insist there is a LOW fee and "Don't worry about it?"
Excuse me! If I have to pay another month's rent in broker fees on top of security and first month's rent--who has that kind of money, without worrying?
Norman that's who! Damn high wage earners--I should have gone to law school.
Corporate Drama:
The office politics is peaking at a staff vs. manager face off. Being a mid-level manager I'm neither here nor there and while I love Switzerland--I don't envy their position in any war. I've finally been embraced by the staff but at what cost to my managerial responsibility and corporate climb. Ah, the age old question to be true to me or true to my career?
Luckey Drama:
Dog's been humping and chomping on every morsel of me in sight. His puppy teeth are sharp and while two of them have fallen, the rest get closer to razors by the day.
I need to get him neutered but WHERE is the time?
School Drama:
This is less drama and more the reality of my procrastinating ways. Final grades are due on Friday, but I haven't turned in the last of my papers which can't be graded if I haven't written them. Yeesh--I can't drag this on for ANOTHER semester. BOO.
There's nothing but drama...
Apartment Drama:
Looking haplessly for an apartment. The brokers on CL claim no fee but upon calling they feign amnesia and insist there is a LOW fee and "Don't worry about it?"
Excuse me! If I have to pay another month's rent in broker fees on top of security and first month's rent--who has that kind of money, without worrying?
Norman that's who! Damn high wage earners--I should have gone to law school.
Corporate Drama:
The office politics is peaking at a staff vs. manager face off. Being a mid-level manager I'm neither here nor there and while I love Switzerland--I don't envy their position in any war. I've finally been embraced by the staff but at what cost to my managerial responsibility and corporate climb. Ah, the age old question to be true to me or true to my career?
Luckey Drama:
Dog's been humping and chomping on every morsel of me in sight. His puppy teeth are sharp and while two of them have fallen, the rest get closer to razors by the day.
I need to get him neutered but WHERE is the time?
School Drama:
This is less drama and more the reality of my procrastinating ways. Final grades are due on Friday, but I haven't turned in the last of my papers which can't be graded if I haven't written them. Yeesh--I can't drag this on for ANOTHER semester. BOO.
April 28, 2006
Silent Hill
As Special K and I shared a bottle of red on my roof last night, she launched on a tangent that is her love of scary movies. I quipped, "Scary Movie 4 is NOT a scary move!"
To which she raised the ante by suggesting we go see Silent Hill tonight.
10pm at The Orpheum--here we go!
I LOVE scary movies. Truly enjoy and adore them--plot lines notwithstanding, everything from a slasher flick to a true psychological thriller are scrumptious morsels of mind-numbing fun in my mainstream entertainment spectrum.
Tommy may join if his volleyball game gets lost in the mix...looking doubtful--their team is pretty good.
I should invite Jaylin...he's a movie fiend--but he's probably heading up to Westchester as he is wont to do every other weekend and he was in town last weekend. Plus the last thing I need to do is incorporate him in my daily life--surefire way to ruin a good setup.
To which she raised the ante by suggesting we go see Silent Hill tonight.
10pm at The Orpheum--here we go!
I LOVE scary movies. Truly enjoy and adore them--plot lines notwithstanding, everything from a slasher flick to a true psychological thriller are scrumptious morsels of mind-numbing fun in my mainstream entertainment spectrum.
Tommy may join if his volleyball game gets lost in the mix...looking doubtful--their team is pretty good.
I should invite Jaylin...he's a movie fiend--but he's probably heading up to Westchester as he is wont to do every other weekend and he was in town last weekend. Plus the last thing I need to do is incorporate him in my daily life--surefire way to ruin a good setup.
Looking Sucks
Looking for apartments is as fruitless as looking for a boyfriend...damn you Manhattan. No love is lost on my fair city this week.
I'm getting exceedingly bitter about the prospects. Not finding an appropriate home to share with Tommy and Norman is fast becoming the straw that will break my sweet yet vicious back. GRRR!
The two (convertible three) bedrooms we looked at so far have been acceptable at best. Tommy isn't going to move if we can't match his current comfort level--as well he shouldn't. Norman is in Las Vegas so unable to participate in the search but wants to be looped in on the final prospects but he doesn't need a place till September--rightfully so. I'm the only one with a looming deadline and a sense of burgeoning urgency. I also have the highest standards in terms of space--closet SPACE!
If we don't find a place with a minimum of 1000sq. feet for under $4K, it's over.
I'm quickly accepting that I'm moving to Brooklyn.
I'm getting exceedingly bitter about the prospects. Not finding an appropriate home to share with Tommy and Norman is fast becoming the straw that will break my sweet yet vicious back. GRRR!
The two (convertible three) bedrooms we looked at so far have been acceptable at best. Tommy isn't going to move if we can't match his current comfort level--as well he shouldn't. Norman is in Las Vegas so unable to participate in the search but wants to be looped in on the final prospects but he doesn't need a place till September--rightfully so. I'm the only one with a looming deadline and a sense of burgeoning urgency. I also have the highest standards in terms of space--closet SPACE!
If we don't find a place with a minimum of 1000sq. feet for under $4K, it's over.
I'm quickly accepting that I'm moving to Brooklyn.
April 27, 2006
Moving!
My lease is up on June 15, 2006; with it my time on the Upper East Side has come to a close. I'm sick of it. I protested to the point that I have become what I loathe: the cute pudgy girl with monochromatic style, stapled in jersey cotton, toting a purse puppy and perfectly pedicured toes in adorable flats.
To buck this and other stigmas of becoming generic, the move is imminent.
I was scheduled to take the big step to solo living but after looking at rent prices and my closet--I realized that it's a no go in Manhattan. I'm either going to have to suck it up and move to (gasp!) Brooklyn or take on the two Jewish boys who will room with me and find that perfect apartment downtown. The only reasonable options are in the Financial District since we refuse to pay a broker's fee.
I found it fortuitous that when I opened my mailbox yesterday to find the latest issue of Time Out New York, incidentally it is their annual Apartment Search edition. I think that's a sign that my broker fee free dream apartment is out there. Already feeling frustrated with the search.
To buck this and other stigmas of becoming generic, the move is imminent.
I was scheduled to take the big step to solo living but after looking at rent prices and my closet--I realized that it's a no go in Manhattan. I'm either going to have to suck it up and move to (gasp!) Brooklyn or take on the two Jewish boys who will room with me and find that perfect apartment downtown. The only reasonable options are in the Financial District since we refuse to pay a broker's fee.
I found it fortuitous that when I opened my mailbox yesterday to find the latest issue of Time Out New York, incidentally it is their annual Apartment Search edition. I think that's a sign that my broker fee free dream apartment is out there. Already feeling frustrated with the search.
6-month Itch
I've said this before and I'll say it again...I have NO staying power.
I can get jobs--after many jobs, I realize this--but for the life of me I cannot hold onto them.
As challenging and enjoyable as my job is at the German Bank, I'm bored. Bored with this office. Bored with my commute. Bored with my work outfits. Bored with my desk. Bored with my colleagues. Bored!
Looking back at my short time in the workforce, I have NEVER lasted more than 6 months at a job. I either switch roles at the firm or switch firms altogether. It's getting to be that time of year again...a headhunter called and I'm a going to see what he has to offer. It's a VP position, so I'm pretty sure I can't smooth talk my way into the 7 years of experience I don't have, but we won't know for SURE till we give it the old college try.
"What it is...and what it will be!"
--Mr. Bones (Snoop Dogg)
I can get jobs--after many jobs, I realize this--but for the life of me I cannot hold onto them.
As challenging and enjoyable as my job is at the German Bank, I'm bored. Bored with this office. Bored with my commute. Bored with my work outfits. Bored with my desk. Bored with my colleagues. Bored!
Looking back at my short time in the workforce, I have NEVER lasted more than 6 months at a job. I either switch roles at the firm or switch firms altogether. It's getting to be that time of year again...a headhunter called and I'm a going to see what he has to offer. It's a VP position, so I'm pretty sure I can't smooth talk my way into the 7 years of experience I don't have, but we won't know for SURE till we give it the old college try.
"What it is...and what it will be!"
--Mr. Bones (Snoop Dogg)
Past Tense
I had two old friends get in touch this week.
One was my best friend in college and the other my first "work" friend (She was the first friend I make in a work context back in my ambulance chaser attorney assisting days).
Both were encountering problems. One is done and the other is in the midst of a break-up. In a weird way, I envy the drama. It's been so long since I cared about anyone. So long since a man wasn't expendable. So long since I looked forward to talking to a guy that wasn't a friend. By so long, I mean a year.
A year is a long time.
One was my best friend in college and the other my first "work" friend (She was the first friend I make in a work context back in my ambulance chaser attorney assisting days).
Both were encountering problems. One is done and the other is in the midst of a break-up. In a weird way, I envy the drama. It's been so long since I cared about anyone. So long since a man wasn't expendable. So long since I looked forward to talking to a guy that wasn't a friend. By so long, I mean a year.
A year is a long time.
Why a Cat would Kill Luckey!
See this is my qualm with cats...crazy beasts!
Suffice to say I am NOT a cat person. A work pal sent this to me--cracked me up.
April 24, 2006
An Ode to Bessie
Helen's car passed on last week. When she wrote to inform me, this is how I responded
An Ode to Bessie
I'll never forget
how we used to jet
all over Summit,
blastin' the latest hit!
Cypress Hill was a fave.
Then again, so was Dave!
Many bargains were made
with Hells Bells to parade
How I'll miss Bessie
She was never messy
Helen kept her like new
She was one of our crew.
Rest in peace, Bessie girl!
Long live the summers of our lives--shared and otherwise.
An Ode to Bessie
I'll never forget
how we used to jet
all over Summit,
blastin' the latest hit!
Cypress Hill was a fave.
Then again, so was Dave!
Many bargains were made
with Hells Bells to parade
How I'll miss Bessie
She was never messy
Helen kept her like new
She was one of our crew.
Rest in peace, Bessie girl!
Long live the summers of our lives--shared and otherwise.
Pot Shot
Norman was in town late last week, interviewing at some prestigious law firms. He has the tough decision of choosing which firm to ally himself with. Brand loyalty aside-the firm he interned with last summer--his dream firm which may in fact be as elusive as Harvard and another top-notch option. He crashed with me on Friday night and headed back to Summit to stay with the family on Saturday night.
During his short time with me...he doted on my dog, regaled me with stories and focused his energy on the choice at hand. Tommy and Special K joined us out with a pit stop at Ike's--Norman's law school buddy who he insists is straight but Lord knows I've never met a cattier Queen--for some 420. The puff puff pass made one go around before Ike got antsy and we headed out. Net effect=0.
Ike then proceeded to skip my recommended Butter stop--whence Norman could spend his $50 dinner allowance on some drinks--saying he didn't want to walk down St. Marks. Why the hell not? Why live in the village if you're going to frown on St. Marks? I mean that's like living on 45th and 8th Ave. and whining about Times Square. Boo.
We made it to the Hibernian Swift Lounge for 1/8 of a minute and promptly made our way to Cooper 35 where we sat in the chilly evening wind chugging $4 drinks to warm up. Norman's loyalty returned and he returned to the Lounge to Ike. Gary had joined us at this point and I felt comfortable ducking out of what I felt no obligation to join--IKE! We popped next door to B Bar instead.
When Norman attempted to maintain dual loyalty he was foiled. The bouncer at B Bar wasn't about to let in a pack of younger guys on a busy Friday night, so Ike and crew vanished with Norman in tow. It's hard to be a good guy. Norman keeps on trying and there's merit in that.
I learned long ago that nice girls are boring--and I sure ain't boring
During his short time with me...he doted on my dog, regaled me with stories and focused his energy on the choice at hand. Tommy and Special K joined us out with a pit stop at Ike's--Norman's law school buddy who he insists is straight but Lord knows I've never met a cattier Queen--for some 420. The puff puff pass made one go around before Ike got antsy and we headed out. Net effect=0.
Ike then proceeded to skip my recommended Butter stop--whence Norman could spend his $50 dinner allowance on some drinks--saying he didn't want to walk down St. Marks. Why the hell not? Why live in the village if you're going to frown on St. Marks? I mean that's like living on 45th and 8th Ave. and whining about Times Square. Boo.
We made it to the Hibernian Swift Lounge for 1/8 of a minute and promptly made our way to Cooper 35 where we sat in the chilly evening wind chugging $4 drinks to warm up. Norman's loyalty returned and he returned to the Lounge to Ike. Gary had joined us at this point and I felt comfortable ducking out of what I felt no obligation to join--IKE! We popped next door to B Bar instead.
When Norman attempted to maintain dual loyalty he was foiled. The bouncer at B Bar wasn't about to let in a pack of younger guys on a busy Friday night, so Ike and crew vanished with Norman in tow. It's hard to be a good guy. Norman keeps on trying and there's merit in that.
I learned long ago that nice girls are boring--and I sure ain't boring
Prime Real Estate
$6000 for a floor-through four bedroom apartment in Midtown East featuring a built-in-bar, recessed lighting, massive living room and two bathrooms with private access to the roof and no neighbors--since the floor is above commercial space and features skylights in multiple rooms. The aparment made me cream and dream! (Tracey--please pick up on the reference to the adorable gelateria in Prague).
This was the venue of the party I attended saturday night hosted by a PIKE brother turned Lehman Brother. The place was packed. The music was loud. The drinks were strong. The girls were young. The boys were finance types with CT style and Westchester attitude. There was porn projected on a wall in the "big bedroom".
The shindig was a 17-year-old's wet dream.
I had fun. Fun in the way a frat party is fun. Gary, his friend Shaun, Tommy, his big sis, and I clustered in a corner watching bad dancers shake-a-leg. The weather was atrocious. Our primary goal in attending this event was the promise of a projector on a roof with refreshments to boot. The purpose was lost due to inclement weather conditions. TSK.
The bar was a mess when we arrived and no one was manning it. Thankfully, an Indian boy who used to live there ushered me behind it and showed me where the good liquor lived...a few shots of the top shelf later, I was enjoying myself a whole lot more and so was my crew.
This was the venue of the party I attended saturday night hosted by a PIKE brother turned Lehman Brother. The place was packed. The music was loud. The drinks were strong. The girls were young. The boys were finance types with CT style and Westchester attitude. There was porn projected on a wall in the "big bedroom".
The shindig was a 17-year-old's wet dream.
I had fun. Fun in the way a frat party is fun. Gary, his friend Shaun, Tommy, his big sis, and I clustered in a corner watching bad dancers shake-a-leg. The weather was atrocious. Our primary goal in attending this event was the promise of a projector on a roof with refreshments to boot. The purpose was lost due to inclement weather conditions. TSK.
The bar was a mess when we arrived and no one was manning it. Thankfully, an Indian boy who used to live there ushered me behind it and showed me where the good liquor lived...a few shots of the top shelf later, I was enjoying myself a whole lot more and so was my crew.
Cell Phone Debacle
While I am the antithesis of Blanche DuBois as I grow older I realize that I depend more and more on the kindess of strangers.
Case and point: Saturday night (3am Sunday) I left my cell phone in a cab. The last time this happened was 3 years ago when I lived in Midtown and Ditha with Tracey had insisted it could be retrieved and found a way to make it happen as I stood mutely by--paralyzed in my hour of phone distress.
I wouldn't have even realized my phone was lost if the cabbie hadn't dialed the last number I had dialed whilst in his cab. I was comfortably resposing on Jaylin's couch, when my cell phone called him--Nelly's Ride Wit Me began blastin'--and we both looked on mystified. After repeated dial backs, the cabbie was finally attained on my phone. He said he'd drop my phone off at "the deli". Jaylin assumed this to be the 92nd St. Deli. I assumed no such thing. The cab driver had deposited me at 92nd and 1st, why would he assume that the deli on 2nd Ave. would be the best bet? Last count there were a zillion delis in Manhattan, how were we to find THIS deli.
The following day, circa 2pm when we finally crawled out of bed, bleary eyed and lazy Jaylin insisted the 92nd St. Deli--which he frequents for cigarettes and sandwiches--had my phone. I was less convinced. I'm a doubting Thomas to say the least and I balk at altruism. This said, I was hopeful because he exuded confidence in the matter--after all the cabbie had called, he stood nothing to gain by keeping my phone. When we arrived at the deli, no phone was in sight. The day guy called the night guy and NO--my phone was not at the 92nd St. Deli.
Quick as I usually am to give up--ask Ditha or Trace, I live a life of replacement...you won't find me on my hands and knees if there is a possibility of replacing the dropped item--I suggested we check at one of the two deli..s between 91st and 92nd St. on 1st Ave. We hit the jackpot at Blue Moon Deli. The owner interrogated me thus: What is your name? What type of phone do you have? What is your phone number? Who is your service provider?
Once I had passed his line of questioning he said, "I have a T-Mobile phone. You say your phone is Verizon?" I was stunned...after all this, the man didn't even HAVE my phone. BOO.
Well, Jaylin asked and I insisted that we get a look at the phone. Lo and behold, it WAS my phone. The man's eyes had deceived him--it was a verizon LG phone with a Luckey picture on the inside. YAY! Sweet Success!
Jaylin marveled at my persistence. I must say, I marveled at the fact that the cabbie to the deli to me, my phone had made it through the night. Unsure of the etiquette on tipping the guy and since I had a meager $10 in my wallet, I skipped out without giving him a dime, but I will go back to the deli for my purchasing needs, ignoring the 5 deli..s I pass as I walk to this one to repay a debt money can only begin to cover.
The annoying part of losing a phone lacking a SIM card is having to input all those numbers that get lost with it.
Case and point: Saturday night (3am Sunday) I left my cell phone in a cab. The last time this happened was 3 years ago when I lived in Midtown and Ditha with Tracey had insisted it could be retrieved and found a way to make it happen as I stood mutely by--paralyzed in my hour of phone distress.
I wouldn't have even realized my phone was lost if the cabbie hadn't dialed the last number I had dialed whilst in his cab. I was comfortably resposing on Jaylin's couch, when my cell phone called him--Nelly's Ride Wit Me began blastin'--and we both looked on mystified. After repeated dial backs, the cabbie was finally attained on my phone. He said he'd drop my phone off at "the deli". Jaylin assumed this to be the 92nd St. Deli. I assumed no such thing. The cab driver had deposited me at 92nd and 1st, why would he assume that the deli on 2nd Ave. would be the best bet? Last count there were a zillion delis in Manhattan, how were we to find THIS deli.
The following day, circa 2pm when we finally crawled out of bed, bleary eyed and lazy Jaylin insisted the 92nd St. Deli--which he frequents for cigarettes and sandwiches--had my phone. I was less convinced. I'm a doubting Thomas to say the least and I balk at altruism. This said, I was hopeful because he exuded confidence in the matter--after all the cabbie had called, he stood nothing to gain by keeping my phone. When we arrived at the deli, no phone was in sight. The day guy called the night guy and NO--my phone was not at the 92nd St. Deli.
Quick as I usually am to give up--ask Ditha or Trace, I live a life of replacement...you won't find me on my hands and knees if there is a possibility of replacing the dropped item--I suggested we check at one of the two deli..s between 91st and 92nd St. on 1st Ave. We hit the jackpot at Blue Moon Deli. The owner interrogated me thus: What is your name? What type of phone do you have? What is your phone number? Who is your service provider?
Once I had passed his line of questioning he said, "I have a T-Mobile phone. You say your phone is Verizon?" I was stunned...after all this, the man didn't even HAVE my phone. BOO.
Well, Jaylin asked and I insisted that we get a look at the phone. Lo and behold, it WAS my phone. The man's eyes had deceived him--it was a verizon LG phone with a Luckey picture on the inside. YAY! Sweet Success!
Jaylin marveled at my persistence. I must say, I marveled at the fact that the cabbie to the deli to me, my phone had made it through the night. Unsure of the etiquette on tipping the guy and since I had a meager $10 in my wallet, I skipped out without giving him a dime, but I will go back to the deli for my purchasing needs, ignoring the 5 deli..s I pass as I walk to this one to repay a debt money can only begin to cover.
The annoying part of losing a phone lacking a SIM card is having to input all those numbers that get lost with it.
April 21, 2006
2 months till Summer
In two short months the Summer of '06 will commence.
This summer I vow to
Play Tennis with strangers
Hit the Hamptons with Karen and Special K
Tour Amsterdam with Tom
Take that trip to The Cloisters with Tracey
Dance in the streets when it rains
Drink outdoors--sip sangria and suck down margaritas and mojitos
Actually wrap up my incompletes at SCHOOL.
Walk Luckey in the Park
Watch movies on roofs--starting tomorrow!
MOVE downtown!!!!!!
This summer I vow to
Play Tennis with strangers
Hit the Hamptons with Karen and Special K
Tour Amsterdam with Tom
Take that trip to The Cloisters with Tracey
Dance in the streets when it rains
Drink outdoors--sip sangria and suck down margaritas and mojitos
Actually wrap up my incompletes at SCHOOL.
Walk Luckey in the Park
Watch movies on roofs--starting tomorrow!
MOVE downtown!!!!!!
4:20pm on 4/20
Passed without event...I texted Tommy and that was the extent of the celebration.
Incidentally my 20-year-old ex-NYU student, now full-tim dealer texted me this morning to ask if I had been dealt.
Ah...life!
Incidentally my 20-year-old ex-NYU student, now full-tim dealer texted me this morning to ask if I had been dealt.
Ah...life!
April 19, 2006
Walk by Shooting
As I ran out for my morning Venti Skim Chai (that's right people! I've made the switch to TEA...and SKIM milk. Next up, a curry-free lifestyle), a photographer-type was shooting pedestrians rising from the fumes of the 2/3 stop at Wall St.
I assumed he was:
a) an artsy tourist
b) a poser New Yorker
c) an aspiring free lancer, hoping to hawk his wares to a two-bit rag.
d) a guy with too much free time and a bangin' camera
Turns out I was completely off base...as I walked by him he shot my legs mid-swing in black, jersey cotton gaucho pants. I stopped and turned immediately to interrogate the use of said photo. He automatically reached for the badge dangling from his neck to showcase that he was press. He was shooting some lifestyle shots on spec. This doesn't help!
How will I know where I can direct people to see my walking feet?
I assumed he was:
a) an artsy tourist
b) a poser New Yorker
c) an aspiring free lancer, hoping to hawk his wares to a two-bit rag.
d) a guy with too much free time and a bangin' camera
Turns out I was completely off base...as I walked by him he shot my legs mid-swing in black, jersey cotton gaucho pants. I stopped and turned immediately to interrogate the use of said photo. He automatically reached for the badge dangling from his neck to showcase that he was press. He was shooting some lifestyle shots on spec. This doesn't help!
How will I know where I can direct people to see my walking feet?
Have I been her?
As I was meandering to the 6-train this morning there was a woman in a sheer black dress steps ahead of me. I could CLEARLY see (well past outline) her black, lace thong through her outfit. Tempted as I was to inform her of the lack of coverage and insist that she install serious lighting in the vicinity of her full-length mirror, I said nothing. The attractive, white-headphoned gentleman inches ahead of me smiled and enjoyed the view. She was an attractive woman with well-crafted hind parts. Going to the gym was paying off..I wasn't going to rain on her parade.
It made me wonder--how often have I left home revealing more than I realized...
Adhere as I don't to the subway slogan: "If you see something, say something!" My day goes on.
It made me wonder--how often have I left home revealing more than I realized...
Adhere as I don't to the subway slogan: "If you see something, say something!" My day goes on.
25.5
Yesterday was my half-birthday.
Today I am closer to 26 than 25....still mid-20s but one step closer to the late.
I had an ex-boyfriend inform me that 1/2 birthdays were not "real events". Suffice to say this is a large part of why this particular boyfriend finds himself in the x-stack, but I disagree. Vehemently.
If my birthday is a monumental event, then a half birthday is half of said monument.
Today I am closer to 26 than 25....still mid-20s but one step closer to the late.
I had an ex-boyfriend inform me that 1/2 birthdays were not "real events". Suffice to say this is a large part of why this particular boyfriend finds himself in the x-stack, but I disagree. Vehemently.
If my birthday is a monumental event, then a half birthday is half of said monument.
April 17, 2006
Tracey Tour
Tracey joined me for a Friday o' Fun.
I always forget how much fun you can have without drinking till I hang out with Trace. We had a blast--rain not withstanding, though I firmly believe that it brought my recovery to a standstill.
We had soup dumplings in Chinatown--she put aside her aversion to pork for two seconds to suck up the soupy goodness. I insisted on some bubble tea to which Tracey raised me a peach green tea. She LOVES green tea. After a brief amble which included the spotting and photographing of a bucket of live frogs being sold by the pound, we sat at an outdoor cafe under a rainy awning in Little Italy. Tracey indulged in a "decadent" tiramisu which resulted in the "shakes and giggles".
We discussed seriously the topic of Tracey's first pedicure--freaked as she is by feet. Hers in particular with generous dosages of shuddering at the thought of them being touched by others--strangers! I think I've talked her into it. A mani-pedi session will be our next adventure.
Keep in mind, Tracey is the girl that spent $69 on white, Italian leather flip-flops in Chinatown. She balks at $20 for a mani-pedi.
Adage: Penny wise and pound foolish, much?
I always forget how much fun you can have without drinking till I hang out with Trace. We had a blast--rain not withstanding, though I firmly believe that it brought my recovery to a standstill.
We had soup dumplings in Chinatown--she put aside her aversion to pork for two seconds to suck up the soupy goodness. I insisted on some bubble tea to which Tracey raised me a peach green tea. She LOVES green tea. After a brief amble which included the spotting and photographing of a bucket of live frogs being sold by the pound, we sat at an outdoor cafe under a rainy awning in Little Italy. Tracey indulged in a "decadent" tiramisu which resulted in the "shakes and giggles".
We discussed seriously the topic of Tracey's first pedicure--freaked as she is by feet. Hers in particular with generous dosages of shuddering at the thought of them being touched by others--strangers! I think I've talked her into it. A mani-pedi session will be our next adventure.
Keep in mind, Tracey is the girl that spent $69 on white, Italian leather flip-flops in Chinatown. She balks at $20 for a mani-pedi.
Adage: Penny wise and pound foolish, much?
Canadia
My Canadian med student pal and his girlfriend were in town this weekend with their third wheel in tow. Tommy and I dragged them to The Big Easy for beer pong in our sick and illness-induced sedated states.
Our combined effort at dazzling them with New York was measley, but we had a good excuse. We're SICK!
Our combined effort at dazzling them with New York was measley, but we had a good excuse. We're SICK!
Jaylin Jive
The great thing about Jaylin is that he cannot hurt me.
He's a 43-year old man in full blown mid-life crisis.
I'd forgotten how badly he wants a wife.
How he dreams of building a compound in lower westchester with a gate around his parents, brother with future sister-in-law, and a nuclear family of his own.
How much he talks about money without actually spending any of it.
Just how much he adores his family and values their place in his life. How he pushes for me to meet his parents.
How easily he laughs at my jokes. How quick he is to be impressed with my ideas.
He's a good guy...but SO not my guy. It's incredible how happy he would make some other girl--ANY other girl.
At this point in my life, there is no one else to spend those quality Joey-Dawson moments with in bed: side by side but not touching, palms facing the ceiling talking about his dreams.
He's a 43-year old man in full blown mid-life crisis.
I'd forgotten how badly he wants a wife.
How he dreams of building a compound in lower westchester with a gate around his parents, brother with future sister-in-law, and a nuclear family of his own.
How much he talks about money without actually spending any of it.
Just how much he adores his family and values their place in his life. How he pushes for me to meet his parents.
How easily he laughs at my jokes. How quick he is to be impressed with my ideas.
He's a good guy...but SO not my guy. It's incredible how happy he would make some other girl--ANY other girl.
At this point in my life, there is no one else to spend those quality Joey-Dawson moments with in bed: side by side but not touching, palms facing the ceiling talking about his dreams.
Garden of Aidan
Dr. Aidan and I embarked on our second date on Sunday to my brunch spot--Sushi Samba 7. I am a regular...which was apparent from the cordial greeting and prompt recollection of my office phone number sans reservation.
Due to my frequent invitation of guests to this venue, Gary and a female friend were in the audience...which was apparent from a text he sent me: "Nice white sweater!"
Instead of freaking out, I merely turned for a beauty queen wave in his direction.
Aidan and I ambled about the village and made our way to the east side, where bubble tea had to be had--he actualy LIKES it--bubbles and all. Delight.
He insisted we walk by Gramercy Park--fortuitous! Just as we were passing the keyed entrance an elderly chap was making his way in via walker. In his doctorly way, Aidan held the door and ushered me in.
The privacy of the park combined with the elitism of only entering with a key (you get a key by living in one of the select buildings surrounding the park itself) made for romantic bench time. The glorious weather and frolicking squirrels set the tone of an Elysian field in the middle of Manhattan.
Sick as I was I refused my communicable disease admission to the kingdom of Aidan--much to his chagrin and protest.
Some choice compliments from him to me were as follows:
"I like your body!"
"What...no, you're totally THIN!"
"Aw...you have such an adorable voice"
As we walked up Park Ave into Murray Hill...we passed none other than i-banker circa 2003. How the past can run into you! Thankfully other than an initial, nondescript look back, he kept walking....later when I called banker boy as I rode the 3rd Ave. bus uptown he asked "Did I just see you walking up Park Ave.?" as if he could possibly NOt have recognized me. I know I'll never forget that polyester, white hoodie with black piping...a wolf in sheep's clothing personified.
Aidan was none the wiser...making me promise him face-time later this week. He's headed to Boston to claim his stake in the brownstone pie.
Woody Allen voice aside...what if I really start to like him?
Due to my frequent invitation of guests to this venue, Gary and a female friend were in the audience...which was apparent from a text he sent me: "Nice white sweater!"
Instead of freaking out, I merely turned for a beauty queen wave in his direction.
Aidan and I ambled about the village and made our way to the east side, where bubble tea had to be had--he actualy LIKES it--bubbles and all. Delight.
He insisted we walk by Gramercy Park--fortuitous! Just as we were passing the keyed entrance an elderly chap was making his way in via walker. In his doctorly way, Aidan held the door and ushered me in.
The privacy of the park combined with the elitism of only entering with a key (you get a key by living in one of the select buildings surrounding the park itself) made for romantic bench time. The glorious weather and frolicking squirrels set the tone of an Elysian field in the middle of Manhattan.
Sick as I was I refused my communicable disease admission to the kingdom of Aidan--much to his chagrin and protest.
Some choice compliments from him to me were as follows:
"I like your body!"
"What...no, you're totally THIN!"
"Aw...you have such an adorable voice"
As we walked up Park Ave into Murray Hill...we passed none other than i-banker circa 2003. How the past can run into you! Thankfully other than an initial, nondescript look back, he kept walking....later when I called banker boy as I rode the 3rd Ave. bus uptown he asked "Did I just see you walking up Park Ave.?" as if he could possibly NOt have recognized me. I know I'll never forget that polyester, white hoodie with black piping...a wolf in sheep's clothing personified.
Aidan was none the wiser...making me promise him face-time later this week. He's headed to Boston to claim his stake in the brownstone pie.
Woody Allen voice aside...what if I really start to like him?
April 13, 2006
Jaylin's Back
As the cab snaked up 3rd Ave. the driver made an arbitrary decision to swerve off and head up 1st Ave. Traffic!
It gave me an idea to pop in and surprise Jaylin. I haven't seen or spoken to him since "the big tiff" before Thanksgiving...but knowing he wouldn't protest, I just appeared at his doorstep unannounced. He was delighted to see me.
The instant compliment, "Hmm...your face has gotten so much smaller, I almost didn't recognize you!" won him some points and the forgotten reality that he has a large deck attached to his 2nd storey apartment warmed me further. The immediate selection of WB11 re-runs of Sex and the City (with no prompting from me) on his 52-inch TV was the icing on my cake of regression. We're back, baby!
He walked me home, smoking a cigarette along the way and kissed me gently on the forehead. I'd forgotten how nice it was--familiarity. He told me my hair looked shiny and I had a walk--a walk that made a man want to follow closely behind.
I miss V.
Lesson Learned: I'm a sucker for a suck-up!
It gave me an idea to pop in and surprise Jaylin. I haven't seen or spoken to him since "the big tiff" before Thanksgiving...but knowing he wouldn't protest, I just appeared at his doorstep unannounced. He was delighted to see me.
The instant compliment, "Hmm...your face has gotten so much smaller, I almost didn't recognize you!" won him some points and the forgotten reality that he has a large deck attached to his 2nd storey apartment warmed me further. The immediate selection of WB11 re-runs of Sex and the City (with no prompting from me) on his 52-inch TV was the icing on my cake of regression. We're back, baby!
He walked me home, smoking a cigarette along the way and kissed me gently on the forehead. I'd forgotten how nice it was--familiarity. He told me my hair looked shiny and I had a walk--a walk that made a man want to follow closely behind.
I miss V.
Lesson Learned: I'm a sucker for a suck-up!
Date 1--Dr. Aidan
Last night, Aidan and I went to Cooper 35 which is quickly becoming a tri-weekly stomping ground. The attentive waiter gave us each quizzes to determine drinks that matched our personalities--I was bestowed a Manhattan (HATE WHISKEY) and Aidan was presented with a Midori Sour (which he graciously let me have). The reality that I got the boy drink did nothing to comfort me from the fear that rages--I'm a man in a woman's body.
It was endearing but perhaps I'm not as much into PDA as I have once been. We moved the party to Sin Sin shortly after calamari and tuna tartare. It's been a long time since a man gazed at me that adoringly or make as much effort to hold my hand and kiss my cheek. At one point, I thought he was going to eat me--the way he kept rubbing his scruffy face against the delicate nape of my neck and higher back. I was impressed that he paid for the drinks--yes they were cheap but that still showcases him a gentleman.
He tried his damndest to cab home with me, but since NYU approaches much sooner than the UES, I dropped him off on the way uptown. He protested but finally consented when I promised to see him again soon. I can't imagine he expects to get serious but he did reference his impending residency move as "temporary" (how can 4 years be temporary at our age?) and insisted he would be back in NYC every weekend. That seems a bit much...no?
It was endearing but perhaps I'm not as much into PDA as I have once been. We moved the party to Sin Sin shortly after calamari and tuna tartare. It's been a long time since a man gazed at me that adoringly or make as much effort to hold my hand and kiss my cheek. At one point, I thought he was going to eat me--the way he kept rubbing his scruffy face against the delicate nape of my neck and higher back. I was impressed that he paid for the drinks--yes they were cheap but that still showcases him a gentleman.
He tried his damndest to cab home with me, but since NYU approaches much sooner than the UES, I dropped him off on the way uptown. He protested but finally consented when I promised to see him again soon. I can't imagine he expects to get serious but he did reference his impending residency move as "temporary" (how can 4 years be temporary at our age?) and insisted he would be back in NYC every weekend. That seems a bit much...no?
Mani-Pedi
I hated those girls in college who got their nails done and referred to the process as "going to get my weekly mani-pedi...you want?"
Yet, yesterday as the kindly Mexican woman at the Korean run nail salon massaged my aching calves, I couldn't suppress a sigh of contentment--this was the life. At the low low price of $25--a skilled professional would clip, cuticle crop, and color my nails (hand and foot) whilst provided the added benefit of massage.
As I looked around the parlor, there were women of all ages, colors, and sizes basking in the glow of some much deserved pampering. Some comforts are universal in their appeal and comfort--across women in this instance.
Yet, yesterday as the kindly Mexican woman at the Korean run nail salon massaged my aching calves, I couldn't suppress a sigh of contentment--this was the life. At the low low price of $25--a skilled professional would clip, cuticle crop, and color my nails (hand and foot) whilst provided the added benefit of massage.
As I looked around the parlor, there were women of all ages, colors, and sizes basking in the glow of some much deserved pampering. Some comforts are universal in their appeal and comfort--across women in this instance.
Binging on Achievement
Rosie e-mailed me a contract to look over--why she thought my skill set was suited for this, we'll never know--but I promptly forwarded it to Norman. The due dilligence he exercised was not only remarkable but heartwarming.
It's refreshing to see a high school pal rise from the ashes of slackerdom into the prototype of one who achieves. I don't know what snapped from 9th grade to 10th, but that was the change that marked him. Norman has been binging on achievement ever since...not that he didn't achieve when he cared less, it just didn't register as a binge on his scale or anyone else's.
The Stanford Law graduate is currently finishing up a prestigious clerkship in LV, NV and interviewing at some fabulous Manhattan firms to be the future corporate lawyer of America. You go boy!
Oh and THANK YOU for not billing me for that hour--I swear I'll pay you back in girl advice and venue recommendations.
It's refreshing to see a high school pal rise from the ashes of slackerdom into the prototype of one who achieves. I don't know what snapped from 9th grade to 10th, but that was the change that marked him. Norman has been binging on achievement ever since...not that he didn't achieve when he cared less, it just didn't register as a binge on his scale or anyone else's.
The Stanford Law graduate is currently finishing up a prestigious clerkship in LV, NV and interviewing at some fabulous Manhattan firms to be the future corporate lawyer of America. You go boy!
Oh and THANK YOU for not billing me for that hour--I swear I'll pay you back in girl advice and venue recommendations.
April 10, 2006
Photo Face
K and I were at Mad River with Tommy on Saturday. Whilst there a celebratory moment captured us.
To check out the photo, click on Mad River. Password: tofu.
Select the date: 4/8/06
Go to Page 2
The bottom left photo shows two brown girls in a very white place.
See, diversity will get your picture taken in '00 America.
Long Live Big Smiles with Big Boobs!
To check out the photo, click on Mad River. Password: tofu.
Select the date: 4/8/06
Go to Page 2
The bottom left photo shows two brown girls in a very white place.
See, diversity will get your picture taken in '00 America.
Long Live Big Smiles with Big Boobs!
Luckey!
My puppy pet is 6 months old today. Half way to the big dog mark.
He's taken to humping my body pillow with a vigor yet to be seen on my bed. What's unbelievable is the SIZE of his doggie unit. It's freaky. It's this shade of mauve and looks inflatable. NO, I have not scrutinized it closely...I just KNOW this because of the frequency with which it appears when he is in the vicinity of the Nautica pillow.
That's right folks, dog has more of a sex life than I do--albeit with an inanimate object. Pics to come...
He's taken to humping my body pillow with a vigor yet to be seen on my bed. What's unbelievable is the SIZE of his doggie unit. It's freaky. It's this shade of mauve and looks inflatable. NO, I have not scrutinized it closely...I just KNOW this because of the frequency with which it appears when he is in the vicinity of the Nautica pillow.
That's right folks, dog has more of a sex life than I do--albeit with an inanimate object. Pics to come...
Dating the OLD
Friday night I broke down and had curry. Curry Row is my downfall.
My date with the Aussie was not enhanced by the copious drinking that went on.
It must be said...while I'm not a gold digger, I see NO point whatsoever in going out with a guy who isn't going to buy my drinks or pay for dinner. I'm quick to reach for the check at Wendy's but even on Curry Row I should not have to pay for my dinner if I have a date in tow. Why does this require mention? It should be how it is. yuck.
We talked. Well, he talked and kept reiterating how comfortable he felt talking to me and how mature I was. blegh. He then proceeded to tell me of every ex he could recall having--BORING. It's not him, I suppose. Most women would love that level of honesty and self-disclosure. I was just bored.
What's wrong with me? Perfectly nice older guy and I'm SO not interested.
Another one bites the dust.
My date with the Aussie was not enhanced by the copious drinking that went on.
It must be said...while I'm not a gold digger, I see NO point whatsoever in going out with a guy who isn't going to buy my drinks or pay for dinner. I'm quick to reach for the check at Wendy's but even on Curry Row I should not have to pay for my dinner if I have a date in tow. Why does this require mention? It should be how it is. yuck.
We talked. Well, he talked and kept reiterating how comfortable he felt talking to me and how mature I was. blegh. He then proceeded to tell me of every ex he could recall having--BORING. It's not him, I suppose. Most women would love that level of honesty and self-disclosure. I was just bored.
What's wrong with me? Perfectly nice older guy and I'm SO not interested.
Another one bites the dust.
Dr. Aidan Update
Apparently Dr. Aidan lost his phone in a cab and was unable to phone me.
He sent Rani an e-mail which he begged her to forward me as a small token of his delay in response. She informed me of this at brunch on saturday as I marveled at her eggs con stinky cheese--who knew Dr. chicks could cook too! Gosh, I feel un-accomplished.
She warned me that he was WEIRD--only the oddballs go into psychiatry apparently--considering that was the only branch of medicine that brought my thoughts to the medical door...I'm at a loss. Guess I'm an oddball!
I pre-emptively e-mailed Dr. Aidan who promptly phoned me for an hour convo. His Woody Allen voice didn't disturb me terribly, but he is WEIRD. His jokes aren't so much off-color as off-the-mark. I laugh at off-color. We're going to meet up on Wednesday.
He asked me advice about buying real estate in Boston, since he will be up there for at least four years doing his residency. I like sounding like the SME (subject matter expert) even if I'm not.
He sent Rani an e-mail which he begged her to forward me as a small token of his delay in response. She informed me of this at brunch on saturday as I marveled at her eggs con stinky cheese--who knew Dr. chicks could cook too! Gosh, I feel un-accomplished.
She warned me that he was WEIRD--only the oddballs go into psychiatry apparently--considering that was the only branch of medicine that brought my thoughts to the medical door...I'm at a loss. Guess I'm an oddball!
I pre-emptively e-mailed Dr. Aidan who promptly phoned me for an hour convo. His Woody Allen voice didn't disturb me terribly, but he is WEIRD. His jokes aren't so much off-color as off-the-mark. I laugh at off-color. We're going to meet up on Wednesday.
He asked me advice about buying real estate in Boston, since he will be up there for at least four years doing his residency. I like sounding like the SME (subject matter expert) even if I'm not.
April 7, 2006
Soup Dumplings
I'm really craving some soup dumplings.
Joe's Shanghai--I want you bad!
Located on a block that I can only liken to "The Brigadoon" of roads. It's ethereal and surreal...I think if I blink too long it will vanish into the Shanghai sky.
Or it's the African tent at Le Souk that beckons me to sit cross-legged and barbarically savor a lamb leg.
Perhaps a patio in the village with tapas and sangria.
Maybe the terrace of Sushi Samba with it's fusion and fruity flavors.
mmm...TGIF!
Joe's Shanghai--I want you bad!
Located on a block that I can only liken to "The Brigadoon" of roads. It's ethereal and surreal...I think if I blink too long it will vanish into the Shanghai sky.
Or it's the African tent at Le Souk that beckons me to sit cross-legged and barbarically savor a lamb leg.
Perhaps a patio in the village with tapas and sangria.
Maybe the terrace of Sushi Samba with it's fusion and fruity flavors.
mmm...TGIF!
April 6, 2006
Goodbye Love
You don't want baggage without lifetime guarantees.
You don't want to watch me die?
I just came to say
Goodbye love goodbye love
Came to say goodbye love, goodbye
Just came to say
Goodbye love
Goodbye love
Came to say goodbye love goodbye
Just came to say goodbye love
Goodbye love goodbye love goodbye love
As you may recall, I saw Rent again on Broadway last Sunday. This song struck a particular chord...however it is most poignant now.
Just got off the phone with V--at work munching on a Burger King chicken sandwich at a hurried 3:30pm lunch--whence he told me to move on with my life.
He said, in simple English, that he didn't want me waiting around for him. Waiting for something that would NEVER happen. He's not going down "that road" again and he's "100% committed, not 99.9% but 100% committed to his current relationship". Most girls would respect a man that said that. I'm not most girls. Not to say I don't respect V--but that statement certainly didn't elevate him any in my eyes. This song kept playing in my mind as I sat in silence. A stony silence. He said the requisite right things: I care about you. I'll always care about you. I just want you to be happy. blah blah blah. I have no doubt he meant them...but how quickly he forgets that on this side of the phone wires it just sounds hollow and concilliatory--trite and tenuous.
Goodbye V...goodbye V
Just came to say goodbye V.
You don't want to watch me die?
I just came to say
Goodbye love goodbye love
Came to say goodbye love, goodbye
Just came to say
Goodbye love
Goodbye love
Came to say goodbye love goodbye
Just came to say goodbye love
Goodbye love goodbye love goodbye love
As you may recall, I saw Rent again on Broadway last Sunday. This song struck a particular chord...however it is most poignant now.
Just got off the phone with V--at work munching on a Burger King chicken sandwich at a hurried 3:30pm lunch--whence he told me to move on with my life.
He said, in simple English, that he didn't want me waiting around for him. Waiting for something that would NEVER happen. He's not going down "that road" again and he's "100% committed, not 99.9% but 100% committed to his current relationship". Most girls would respect a man that said that. I'm not most girls. Not to say I don't respect V--but that statement certainly didn't elevate him any in my eyes. This song kept playing in my mind as I sat in silence. A stony silence. He said the requisite right things: I care about you. I'll always care about you. I just want you to be happy. blah blah blah. I have no doubt he meant them...but how quickly he forgets that on this side of the phone wires it just sounds hollow and concilliatory--trite and tenuous.
Goodbye V...goodbye V
Just came to say goodbye V.
Vibrating in my Seat
No, it's not one of those spiffy massager chairs--this jitteriness is a side effect of no coffee...the sun drenching my workspace...and the reality that the work day is FAR from over.
I have so much to do but none of it is due today and without the sense of urgency I am not getting one thing done. Frittering the day is not as easy or fun as it used to be. Wish I could knit at my desk or read Anais Nin to my heart's content. Though I bet I could put the tiny book that is Little Birds inside a volumnious binder and read comfortably. I used to do that as a child with Harlequin novels enveloped in science textbooks in India--yeah, I'm a rebel.
Well, blogging isn't making me seem any more professional...best to go!
I already took a jaunt to the bank...another to subway and have saved the 3pm mark for my daily Starbucks amble...but the 2 hours between now and then...gag me with a spoon, already!
I have so much to do but none of it is due today and without the sense of urgency I am not getting one thing done. Frittering the day is not as easy or fun as it used to be. Wish I could knit at my desk or read Anais Nin to my heart's content. Though I bet I could put the tiny book that is Little Birds inside a volumnious binder and read comfortably. I used to do that as a child with Harlequin novels enveloped in science textbooks in India--yeah, I'm a rebel.
Well, blogging isn't making me seem any more professional...best to go!
I already took a jaunt to the bank...another to subway and have saved the 3pm mark for my daily Starbucks amble...but the 2 hours between now and then...gag me with a spoon, already!
April 5, 2006
Thursday Night Dining Club
Started a new blog with Dino today: Thursday Night Dining Club!
Everyone should check out our reviews from last month.
Venues include:
Southwest NY
Dish as per Citysearch
Food Bar as per Sheckys
Rocking Horse Cafe
Everyone should check out our reviews from last month.
Venues include:
Southwest NY
Dish as per Citysearch
Food Bar as per Sheckys
Rocking Horse Cafe
April 4, 2006
Hobbies
A few months ago Beth got me thinking about my hobbies--lack thereof rather--and I've since developed these:
1. Blogging (ok, so I had been blogging when she mentioned it, but it still counts)
2. Knitting (useful for gift giving)
3. Yoga (it's exercise--right?)
4. Event Planning (ok, this is less a hobby and more a circumstantial reality)
5. Author-focused Reading (my obsession with Anais Nin continues--currently on Little Birds--I feel a bit dirty reading it on the subway!)
Some hobbies I hope to develop in Q2 include:
1. Origami
2. Tennis (I was a strong intermediate in high school, so I'm hoping to get back to that level.)
3. Ballroom Dancing (been trying to get this on the life agenda for almost a DECADE now)
1. Blogging (ok, so I had been blogging when she mentioned it, but it still counts)
2. Knitting (useful for gift giving)
3. Yoga (it's exercise--right?)
4. Event Planning (ok, this is less a hobby and more a circumstantial reality)
5. Author-focused Reading (my obsession with Anais Nin continues--currently on Little Birds--I feel a bit dirty reading it on the subway!)
Some hobbies I hope to develop in Q2 include:
1. Origami
2. Tennis (I was a strong intermediate in high school, so I'm hoping to get back to that level.)
3. Ballroom Dancing (been trying to get this on the life agenda for almost a DECADE now)
April 3, 2006
Elenora
Whilst at Karma on Friday night with Rani, Special K, Rosie, Dr. Aidan and some other NYU med kids I ran into an ex's best friend's gal pal. That's right folks--3 degrees of separation on that one.
The last time I had seen her was AT Karma almost two years ago. She was with her new man. We caught up for a few minutes. It was nice to know that even though I might not have ever meant anything to this ex of mine, I forged an impression that lasted past first encounters with friends of his friends. I loved his friends and as I look back on the mistake that was my relationship with him--they are who I miss. Too bad you have to break-up with the friends too when you break out of bad relationships.
Elenora and I hugged as we parted. She took my number and put it in her cell phone--I know she won't call but I'm comforted that she cared enough to carry out the masquerade of friendship miscarried due to a relationship aborted early in the second trimester.
cest'la vie.
The last time I had seen her was AT Karma almost two years ago. She was with her new man. We caught up for a few minutes. It was nice to know that even though I might not have ever meant anything to this ex of mine, I forged an impression that lasted past first encounters with friends of his friends. I loved his friends and as I look back on the mistake that was my relationship with him--they are who I miss. Too bad you have to break-up with the friends too when you break out of bad relationships.
Elenora and I hugged as we parted. She took my number and put it in her cell phone--I know she won't call but I'm comforted that she cared enough to carry out the masquerade of friendship miscarried due to a relationship aborted early in the second trimester.
cest'la vie.
Rent
I rushed back into the city from Jersey to go on a date with my classmate. He's an international student from Australia studying Public Administration at Columbia University. As I'd mentioned in a previous post, he's a strapping man at 6'4" with twinkling blue eyes and a completely shaved head to mask the lack of growth therein.
He's sweet and charming. I'm trying to coax a spark into being merely for the conversational bliss that is his company--but no spark is forthcoming.
More importantly, since I'm currently scheming ways on convincing V to return to me, once and for all, ending the charade that has been our courtship off late, I need to distract myself with the realities of "other men".
Dr. Aidan is another example of a perfectly desirable Jewish man with the credentials necessary. Alas, he reminds me of Norman in so many ways--my high school best friend!
He's sweet and charming. I'm trying to coax a spark into being merely for the conversational bliss that is his company--but no spark is forthcoming.
More importantly, since I'm currently scheming ways on convincing V to return to me, once and for all, ending the charade that has been our courtship off late, I need to distract myself with the realities of "other men".
Dr. Aidan is another example of a perfectly desirable Jewish man with the credentials necessary. Alas, he reminds me of Norman in so many ways--my high school best friend!
Bridal Bath
Sunday afternoon, I found myself at a bridal shower in New Jersey with Jo, Lauren, Kelli, Beth and Beth's gf (Alisa). The moments of gift opening can only be summed up as an out-of-TV experience, specifically the baby shower episode when the Sex and the City women head to Connecticut.
My mother drove me to and from the event, which was vaguely reminiscent of middle school with requisite embarrassment and maternal misgivings. Though unlike in middle school when she came to get me it was the other girls that were jealous of my seamless escape.
The event itself was a burgeoning success; however bringing a baked good wasn't the way to go, given the elaborate present opening focus of this event. You live, you learn.
Lesson learned: Drink BEFORE bridal showers!
My mother drove me to and from the event, which was vaguely reminiscent of middle school with requisite embarrassment and maternal misgivings. Though unlike in middle school when she came to get me it was the other girls that were jealous of my seamless escape.
The event itself was a burgeoning success; however bringing a baked good wasn't the way to go, given the elaborate present opening focus of this event. You live, you learn.
Lesson learned: Drink BEFORE bridal showers!
Dr. Aidan
On Friday night, Rani brought out a few of her med student friends. Among them was Dr. Aidan who I began chatting up at the mention of matching at a Psychiatry residency at a Harvard affiliate in Beantown. While I hadn't instantly gravitated towards him, his openness and willingness to listen (go figure!) really got me intellecutualizing. I found myself rambling about the nuances between psychologists (the bastard cousin or psychiatrists) and psychiatrists. He had firm ideas on the "medicine" of psychiatry coupling with talk therapy to idealistically aid the patient into a cycle of wellness. He also believed that psychologists, unlike psychiatrists were quacks, to which I took personal offense and launched on a crusade which he crushed with his sweet demeanor and understanding tones.
I liked his ethics: "If the patient is functioning, (s)he has no need for me. I don't want that patient coming to me. I'm here to help those people whose functioning has been impaired." A noble stand. Likewise, his humility whilst narrating stories that showcased patient trauma without maligning them with bravado resembling a messiah complex had me a tingle.
After some time, it became apparent that Dr. Aidan and I had more than a cerebral connection. It was sweet how he took to sitting by me and coaxing me away from the group at large. He has my number, now we just have to see if he calls...
Tommy and Special K have dubbed him Clark Kent for his bespectacled yet polished physique with a healthy dose of bumbling.
I liked his ethics: "If the patient is functioning, (s)he has no need for me. I don't want that patient coming to me. I'm here to help those people whose functioning has been impaired." A noble stand. Likewise, his humility whilst narrating stories that showcased patient trauma without maligning them with bravado resembling a messiah complex had me a tingle.
After some time, it became apparent that Dr. Aidan and I had more than a cerebral connection. It was sweet how he took to sitting by me and coaxing me away from the group at large. He has my number, now we just have to see if he calls...
Tommy and Special K have dubbed him Clark Kent for his bespectacled yet polished physique with a healthy dose of bumbling.
The Text
Ex-fling, banker thing from 2003 texted me at 11:08pm on April 1:
"It's my birthday!"
My assumption is that it was a mass phone-wide text sent to all women in his blackberry from 2000 onwards--but then again, maybe it was directed to me.
I am wont to phone him once a year merely to express: "How's my favorite joke? Having a good birthday?" This is our thing, since his birthday does fall on April Fool's Day and while he's no fool, he sure made a fool of me back in the day.
"It's my birthday!"
My assumption is that it was a mass phone-wide text sent to all women in his blackberry from 2000 onwards--but then again, maybe it was directed to me.
I am wont to phone him once a year merely to express: "How's my favorite joke? Having a good birthday?" This is our thing, since his birthday does fall on April Fool's Day and while he's no fool, he sure made a fool of me back in the day.
March 31, 2006
Another Day
Work's been busy. I mean really busy, lately. Being swamped is a good feeling but in a bad way. I like not having to watch the clock, but I hate realizing that the day is done and my work hasn't begun.
A lot of it is busy work, but some of it is actually very interesting design work. I think what's interesting is that I'm actually interested--in something. Genuinely keen to prove myself and learn more. That's not in the slackers handbook--I'm a bit out of my element. I'm a performer. Yes. I'm just not used to caring about my performance. Fresh.
Heading to the Jerz tomorrow with Luckey to pick up my red and gold outfit for Mom's wedding. Hope it looks right with the tailoring--they have to add a whole extra slab of material to fit the mighty bosom!
A lot of it is busy work, but some of it is actually very interesting design work. I think what's interesting is that I'm actually interested--in something. Genuinely keen to prove myself and learn more. That's not in the slackers handbook--I'm a bit out of my element. I'm a performer. Yes. I'm just not used to caring about my performance. Fresh.
Heading to the Jerz tomorrow with Luckey to pick up my red and gold outfit for Mom's wedding. Hope it looks right with the tailoring--they have to add a whole extra slab of material to fit the mighty bosom!
March 30, 2006
Food Bar
Taurean, Dino, and I went to Food Bar in Chelsea for our weekly Thursday night dinner. Taurean decided he needed to do some shopping at Bang Bang afterwards, so we escorted him to the store--mostly to protect him from getting stolen. He's rather paranoid that the pretty gay boys want him--Dino and I are less convinced but we humor him.
The food at Food Bar was average, the Ambercrombie model-esque waiter completely flaked on Dino's order: sea bass. I guess you should know better than to order fish in Chelsea. My Zentini (green tea liquer and vodka) was strong, Taurean's twist on it involved gin, sprite, and sugar in a highball glass--much better bet.
As Taurean and I wove our way to the 2/3 a soothsayer pronounced "You have a face for a commercial. Next week is the week." We promptly popped into a corner store whence Taurean bought lotto tickets, I should have but didn't. It's not luck that I need--it's love. Though I suppose luck in love would be helpful.
The food at Food Bar was average, the Ambercrombie model-esque waiter completely flaked on Dino's order: sea bass. I guess you should know better than to order fish in Chelsea. My Zentini (green tea liquer and vodka) was strong, Taurean's twist on it involved gin, sprite, and sugar in a highball glass--much better bet.
As Taurean and I wove our way to the 2/3 a soothsayer pronounced "You have a face for a commercial. Next week is the week." We promptly popped into a corner store whence Taurean bought lotto tickets, I should have but didn't. It's not luck that I need--it's love. Though I suppose luck in love would be helpful.
Hamptons House
I'm at that point in my life when I can actually afford a summer share in the hamptons. A quarter share, mind you, but a share nonetheless. The process of finding the right fit is another matter altogether. It needs to be affordable, close to the Jitney stop and the town. The people in the house NEED to be young, single, professional, and attractive. Most houses are split 50/50 or so they claim.
Special K and Karen are going to join me on this adventure but the task of finding the house falls on me which is a fair bit of pressure since we can't very well go outt and see it before hand. But it's that time of year when the meet and greets are underway--after all you want to know which 30 people you will drunkenly spend the summer weekends with at the Hamptons.
Special K and Karen are going to join me on this adventure but the task of finding the house falls on me which is a fair bit of pressure since we can't very well go outt and see it before hand. But it's that time of year when the meet and greets are underway--after all you want to know which 30 people you will drunkenly spend the summer weekends with at the Hamptons.
March 28, 2006
The March Installment of THE V SAGA
So, ignoring V was a futile endeavor. He caught me unawares at work. I picked up without a glance at the mighty caller ID and there was his voice. MY cheery work greeting left me no out, "Hi. It's (me) at the (German) Bank!" grrr. wily!
We talked for an hour and a half in which time he impressed upon me that my success of hiding an emotion from him could only be likened to Luckey's inability to hold back a tail wag when I come home from work. sigh. Foiled again.
On my way home from Smoke on Sunday night, I called V and an unusual picking up of the phone was his reaction. Charmed. We made some small talk, but I did finally put it on the line. In a rather bush beating manner, I expressed that while I didn't expect him to return to me--Lord knows I've asked and reneged--or even have the audacity to hope for renewal that it was time we got to a place where he didn't punish me for the choices of the past. I recognize full well that my actions have consequences and them I will face, but if he loves me--really loves me--then he knows I love him back. Really. Truly. Forever this time.
He didn't want to talk about it and none of his cards were revealed. He did, catering to my utterly unclear circumnavigation of the matter, insist that I had gotten over this type of inclination in the past--the fleeting fancy would pass. I know there is no way to assure him it won't...only time. And time I am willing to give...so the wait continues.
We talked for an hour and a half in which time he impressed upon me that my success of hiding an emotion from him could only be likened to Luckey's inability to hold back a tail wag when I come home from work. sigh. Foiled again.
On my way home from Smoke on Sunday night, I called V and an unusual picking up of the phone was his reaction. Charmed. We made some small talk, but I did finally put it on the line. In a rather bush beating manner, I expressed that while I didn't expect him to return to me--Lord knows I've asked and reneged--or even have the audacity to hope for renewal that it was time we got to a place where he didn't punish me for the choices of the past. I recognize full well that my actions have consequences and them I will face, but if he loves me--really loves me--then he knows I love him back. Really. Truly. Forever this time.
He didn't want to talk about it and none of his cards were revealed. He did, catering to my utterly unclear circumnavigation of the matter, insist that I had gotten over this type of inclination in the past--the fleeting fancy would pass. I know there is no way to assure him it won't...only time. And time I am willing to give...so the wait continues.
March 27, 2006
Piano Man
Whilst at Smoke last night, I met Matt Ray. Read all about his famous exploits on his site. He had on adorable, black geeky glasses which I'm a true sucker for and an aura of humility that belied his 33 years--14 of which have been professional.
His babyface and boyish demeanor endeared him to me instantly. At the close of his first set with Deana Leonhart, I walked up to the bar (not just to close out the tab but also to speak to him) and applauded his finesse with the ivory keys. He took me to be a player at which point I foolishly mentioned that I played the harp when in reality I put my lips together and blow on occassion, which DOES not constitute any level of profiency especially when talking to a successful, professional musician--the likes of Matt Ray. Now, I'm embarrassed!
In order to be a true groupie he told me I had to come watch him play again. So I'll be heading to the Rainbow Room on Friday to watch his fingers make magic again as rich people get their groove on the revolving dance floor. He's genuinely modest and the richness of his demeanor makes me want him as my musical best friend.
His babyface and boyish demeanor endeared him to me instantly. At the close of his first set with Deana Leonhart, I walked up to the bar (not just to close out the tab but also to speak to him) and applauded his finesse with the ivory keys. He took me to be a player at which point I foolishly mentioned that I played the harp when in reality I put my lips together and blow on occassion, which DOES not constitute any level of profiency especially when talking to a successful, professional musician--the likes of Matt Ray. Now, I'm embarrassed!
In order to be a true groupie he told me I had to come watch him play again. So I'll be heading to the Rainbow Room on Friday to watch his fingers make magic again as rich people get their groove on the revolving dance floor. He's genuinely modest and the richness of his demeanor makes me want him as my musical best friend.
UN Peacemaker
I've always known that people had interesting jobs. Some of those jobs are even important. In my Mediation class of my Basic Practicum on Conflict Resolution and Mediation this weekend, I met an Australian computer engineer/chiropractor turned lawyer who is studying Public Administration. He took a fancy to me.
Frequently presenting me with an orange to awaken my sleep-deprived brain and inviting me to lunch on both days of the session. He informed me last night at Smoke that my unique $1 ring had intrigued him. He said there were many pretty girls in New York (me being one of them) but few had impressed him as I had. I'm entirely unsure as to what I could have done to be as impressive as he made me out to sound, but a compliment when directed to me is not wasted. So my coy smile gave way to a polite "Thank you" and a humble head bob.
He's a towering chap, probably at least 6'3" but he's not a skinny boy. He's most definitely a man. A man with smart glasses, kind eyes, and hair closely shaved to hide the lack of it. I'm not one to swoon at an accent, but I found less charming than his accent the reality that he asked me to repeat myself a few too many times to allow the conversation to flow at a pace I enjoy. Patience never was my virtue.
The whole time I was out with him all I could think was he'd be a great double date to go on with Jo and Evan. And I'm seeing him again next week just so I can get to a point where it won't seem odd for us to go out and get a drink with Jo and Evan.
I'm not sure I can see past V right now, but if you can't have a crush it's still nice to be someone's crush.
Frequently presenting me with an orange to awaken my sleep-deprived brain and inviting me to lunch on both days of the session. He informed me last night at Smoke that my unique $1 ring had intrigued him. He said there were many pretty girls in New York (me being one of them) but few had impressed him as I had. I'm entirely unsure as to what I could have done to be as impressive as he made me out to sound, but a compliment when directed to me is not wasted. So my coy smile gave way to a polite "Thank you" and a humble head bob.
He's a towering chap, probably at least 6'3" but he's not a skinny boy. He's most definitely a man. A man with smart glasses, kind eyes, and hair closely shaved to hide the lack of it. I'm not one to swoon at an accent, but I found less charming than his accent the reality that he asked me to repeat myself a few too many times to allow the conversation to flow at a pace I enjoy. Patience never was my virtue.
The whole time I was out with him all I could think was he'd be a great double date to go on with Jo and Evan. And I'm seeing him again next week just so I can get to a point where it won't seem odd for us to go out and get a drink with Jo and Evan.
I'm not sure I can see past V right now, but if you can't have a crush it's still nice to be someone's crush.
March 24, 2006
Breathing Room
I haven't had a second to breathe today...it's been go go go go since I got here at an admittedly late 9:15am, especially since I'm rushing to class at 3:15pm to get all the way UP to Columbia.
My procrastinating ways have hit the top wrung on a steep, iron ladder. I missed this weekend class last semester (twice) and once this semester--this is my LAST shot to take it or it gets pushed BACK to summer term. I have weeekend classes the last two weekends in April as well--I hope the sunshine and warmer climate propel me to ATTEND those. Pushing back classes seem great at the time but really screw you over in reality--especially when you enroll for new classes willy-nilly with no regard for the incompletes from semesters of yore.
Trace and I caught Beyond Honor at Village East Cinema last night. There's a visual on FGM *female genital mutilation* that I am unable to erase. The movie was terrific in its ability to make ME (the jaded) squirm. There were points I covered my eyes and dared not peek between my fingers for lack of intestine-shredding implements in close reach. I finally understood why EVERY guy sputters when he sees another dude get kicked/hit in the balls. Oh me. Oh my!
I can't say the ending blew me away (pun intended) but I found it necessary which is a rarity in the realm of triteness.
I am thankful for my intact clitoris today! What about you? (obviously that question only applies if you HAVE one!)
My procrastinating ways have hit the top wrung on a steep, iron ladder. I missed this weekend class last semester (twice) and once this semester--this is my LAST shot to take it or it gets pushed BACK to summer term. I have weeekend classes the last two weekends in April as well--I hope the sunshine and warmer climate propel me to ATTEND those. Pushing back classes seem great at the time but really screw you over in reality--especially when you enroll for new classes willy-nilly with no regard for the incompletes from semesters of yore.
Trace and I caught Beyond Honor at Village East Cinema last night. There's a visual on FGM *female genital mutilation* that I am unable to erase. The movie was terrific in its ability to make ME (the jaded) squirm. There were points I covered my eyes and dared not peek between my fingers for lack of intestine-shredding implements in close reach. I finally understood why EVERY guy sputters when he sees another dude get kicked/hit in the balls. Oh me. Oh my!
I can't say the ending blew me away (pun intended) but I found it necessary which is a rarity in the realm of triteness.
I am thankful for my intact clitoris today! What about you? (obviously that question only applies if you HAVE one!)
March 23, 2006
Congrats Robin Z
One of my co-workers went on maternity leave last Friday. She delivered a 7lb. 11 oz. baby boy this morning at 2am. This e-mail is dedicated to Nathan Tyler Backpack! Welcome to the World.
When I heard the news, I was genuinely happy for Robin. I'm not a fan of the baby nor do I support the industry of women that make them--but I have the utmost respect for mothers, particularly my own--all her neuroses included. I'm putting this up here as a contrast to my personal views. In supporting a woman's right to choose--I support this woman for having the baby she always wanted. I don't want kids, but I sure am happy that people that do are having them and loving them and raising them to be my future boyfriends a la The Graduate.
When I heard the news, I was genuinely happy for Robin. I'm not a fan of the baby nor do I support the industry of women that make them--but I have the utmost respect for mothers, particularly my own--all her neuroses included. I'm putting this up here as a contrast to my personal views. In supporting a woman's right to choose--I support this woman for having the baby she always wanted. I don't want kids, but I sure am happy that people that do are having them and loving them and raising them to be my future boyfriends a la The Graduate.
Nobody Cares...SHUT THE HELL UP!
I'm on the phone with a client, speaking in my most sacchrine of voices and clicking in the loudest possible manner with absolute silence greeting his monotone monologue, I want to reach into the phone and staple his mouth shut.
How can someone be SO UTTERLY clueless as to the level of boredom they are subjecting their audience to? Dear Lordy. The whole enterprise makes me wish I was deaf.
How can someone be SO UTTERLY clueless as to the level of boredom they are subjecting their audience to? Dear Lordy. The whole enterprise makes me wish I was deaf.
I'm a grown-up
I interviewed a man whose work history dated further back than my lifespan today. Suffice to say, it was awkward. He laughed at all my jokes and we discussed the nuances of training and adult learning in theories across cultures--specifically Asian vs. American. I think it may have been more awkward for him than me, but there is no way of telling. I couldn't get past his Parkinsons' resembling tremors and the extreme slow and redundant manner of speech.
March 22, 2006
Anew
So, my nights consist of watching Netflix, knitting, and petting the puppy. Riveting, I know!
What I realize is that I need new friends. All mine are "married"--the quotes indicate that the law may disagree with me, but for all intents and purposes, they are a lost to me. Plus, in all truth none of those girls really burst with party spirit--even in college, most of them preferred a quiet night in to boozing at the pubs: a function of athleticism and/or a Protestant work ethic--both of which missed me entirely.
If birds of a feather flock together, does this mean I have to find a new flock altogether?
Case and point, Lauren sent a mass e-mail last night with a 50-point list of reasons to tell they are NOT in college anymore and about 75% of them pertained to drinking. Let me tell you, except for 4-5 things on that list, I still HAPPILY do all those things. I think it's my unapologetic admission of this that separates me from the rest of them.
I knew this day would come, I just figured it would align with "baby-making", apparently I was wrong. So, the quest to make new friends is in full effect. Couple that with my prospective move, it's a whole new life I'm making for myself--and Luckey, of course.
Before you throw me a pity party, I do have a few single friends left like Tommy, Rani, Gary, and Special K--but they aren't likely to be available simultaneously and either money/work or desire hold them back from going out half as much as I do.
Notice, I'm not complaining about being single--I'm whining about not having anyone to play with. For an only child, I still shun my company whenever possible. I like having a posse--a group to chill with and hit a museum, a pub, a gallery, a movie, a play, a wine tasting, a bookstore, a grocey store, or a lecture. Now, I'm not recommending we storm an aisle at Gristede's, but I like to have a pool of people to select from when choosing how I spend my one-on-one fun time. So, having a boyfriend would only begin to solve that problem....he'd be ONE person added to the pool, but it is fast shrinking. It used to be at a healthy 20-25 at any given time, but now it's dwindled down to a 4-5 not counting all the couples, which it's hard to count.
Unlike, Ditha I'm not a fan of playing third wheel. I'm not that kinda of gal. If I can't flirt with the dude, his purpose in sharing my airspace is lost on me. I admit it. I'm not saying there aren't guys, I have little to no attraction to--there are--but there is not weirdness because I've already hooked-up with them or I think of them in the "brother" context (which makes hooking up with them unthinkable and truthfully a bit disgusting-Incest is NOT best!). Maybe it's my own territorial issues when it comes to men or maybe it's that I just need a harem of gay boyfriends, but I don't see a reason to split one man's attention--especially with someone who OWNS him. Where is the fun in that? I repeat I'm just not that kinda gal.
What I realize is that I need new friends. All mine are "married"--the quotes indicate that the law may disagree with me, but for all intents and purposes, they are a lost to me. Plus, in all truth none of those girls really burst with party spirit--even in college, most of them preferred a quiet night in to boozing at the pubs: a function of athleticism and/or a Protestant work ethic--both of which missed me entirely.
If birds of a feather flock together, does this mean I have to find a new flock altogether?
Case and point, Lauren sent a mass e-mail last night with a 50-point list of reasons to tell they are NOT in college anymore and about 75% of them pertained to drinking. Let me tell you, except for 4-5 things on that list, I still HAPPILY do all those things. I think it's my unapologetic admission of this that separates me from the rest of them.
I knew this day would come, I just figured it would align with "baby-making", apparently I was wrong. So, the quest to make new friends is in full effect. Couple that with my prospective move, it's a whole new life I'm making for myself--and Luckey, of course.
Before you throw me a pity party, I do have a few single friends left like Tommy, Rani, Gary, and Special K--but they aren't likely to be available simultaneously and either money/work or desire hold them back from going out half as much as I do.
Notice, I'm not complaining about being single--I'm whining about not having anyone to play with. For an only child, I still shun my company whenever possible. I like having a posse--a group to chill with and hit a museum, a pub, a gallery, a movie, a play, a wine tasting, a bookstore, a grocey store, or a lecture. Now, I'm not recommending we storm an aisle at Gristede's, but I like to have a pool of people to select from when choosing how I spend my one-on-one fun time. So, having a boyfriend would only begin to solve that problem....he'd be ONE person added to the pool, but it is fast shrinking. It used to be at a healthy 20-25 at any given time, but now it's dwindled down to a 4-5 not counting all the couples, which it's hard to count.
Unlike, Ditha I'm not a fan of playing third wheel. I'm not that kinda of gal. If I can't flirt with the dude, his purpose in sharing my airspace is lost on me. I admit it. I'm not saying there aren't guys, I have little to no attraction to--there are--but there is not weirdness because I've already hooked-up with them or I think of them in the "brother" context (which makes hooking up with them unthinkable and truthfully a bit disgusting-Incest is NOT best!). Maybe it's my own territorial issues when it comes to men or maybe it's that I just need a harem of gay boyfriends, but I don't see a reason to split one man's attention--especially with someone who OWNS him. Where is the fun in that? I repeat I'm just not that kinda gal.
Act of Defiance
Yesterday, I took Luckey to puppy school. He's getting really good. He has the sit command down pat. Now if we could only work on Heel and NO BITING (aka Leave it!). He's been so good about his wee wee pad, he even ambled over and popped on it this morning, but all that was undone when he PEED on the other end of the kitchen floor--far from the wee wee pad. WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT LUCKEY?????
March 21, 2006
Quote of the Day
Life is a parade. Some march. Some watch.
--Jack Morton
I can't get over how simple that is. How true. I sure love quotes.
I'm the kinda gal that would buy a book of quotes before I bought anything but Proust.
If you know any good ones, please post!
--Jack Morton
I can't get over how simple that is. How true. I sure love quotes.
I'm the kinda gal that would buy a book of quotes before I bought anything but Proust.
If you know any good ones, please post!
Is that an 8-track?
Riding the 5 downtown this morning at 7:42am, I spied a man with cane and what appeared to resemble an 8-track...upon closer examiniation I realized it was just an OLD-school cassette player. That's right folks, some people still have them and USE them.
Where would you even go about buying cassette tapes these days?
I mean records have that sexy,retro-chic thing going on...which makes them vintage and pack some pizzazz on the resale front, but is a cassette old school enough?
Giddyup kiddies, I used to own a tape player with requisite mix tapes to boot. In fact, when I was in India during COLLEGE (banished as I was for my brief semester of academic probation which led to "the semester which shall not be named" when I "dropped my basket") V made me a mix tape with spoken word attached and mailed it all the way to The Hind....those were the days of yore--Summer of 1999!
Where would you even go about buying cassette tapes these days?
I mean records have that sexy,retro-chic thing going on...which makes them vintage and pack some pizzazz on the resale front, but is a cassette old school enough?
Giddyup kiddies, I used to own a tape player with requisite mix tapes to boot. In fact, when I was in India during COLLEGE (banished as I was for my brief semester of academic probation which led to "the semester which shall not be named" when I "dropped my basket") V made me a mix tape with spoken word attached and mailed it all the way to The Hind....those were the days of yore--Summer of 1999!
March 20, 2006
Livin' La Vida Sola
Ditha e-mailed me from India this morning to say she might not be back for another six months. She made profuse apologies for being a delinquent roomie and suggested I move as per my May 16th self-imposed guidelines. Her tone was apologetic as always.
I'm relieved. I'd been considering branching out on my own. It's high time I lived on my own. Supporting yourself never seems self-sufficient, when you have a built-in buddy. Plus, I won't ever be ALONE again--I have Luckey.
So the hunt is on for a studio south of 14th Street that I can afford and will fit all my shoes. Seems daunting and impossible, but affordable housing may be a potential lead. There may be some middle income housing I'd just make the cut to be considered for and if that panned out--I'd be GOLDEN. East Village, here I come!
I'm relieved. I'd been considering branching out on my own. It's high time I lived on my own. Supporting yourself never seems self-sufficient, when you have a built-in buddy. Plus, I won't ever be ALONE again--I have Luckey.
So the hunt is on for a studio south of 14th Street that I can afford and will fit all my shoes. Seems daunting and impossible, but affordable housing may be a potential lead. There may be some middle income housing I'd just make the cut to be considered for and if that panned out--I'd be GOLDEN. East Village, here I come!
Recap of the Weekend
Friday
St. Patty's Day madness was tame, tame tame. Hit up 6s & 8s on the Lower East Side, dropped by 99 Allen twice for the 5 for $1 dumpling deal (incidentally their hot & sour soup is some of the best around for $1), then landed up at The Other Room since Fiddlesticks was charging a cover and if there is one thing I DO NOT DO--It is pay a cover to pay exborbitant drink prices.
Saturday
Woke up early for a weekend at 9:40am.
Finally watched my Netflix movie--Kama Sutra--which was amazing. Not just for the generous heapings of erotica but the rich cinematography and passionate acting. I think it may be one of my favorite films after the intial viewing.
Hit up yoga at Laughing Lotus. Got the weekly Jamba Juice kick--really enjoyed the Mango Mantra. Did some groceries which included a generous amount of fruit if not vegetables. The requisite Campbell's soup packets, avacaodoes and habaneros to make fresh guac when the whim hits, marshmallows, and sliced mushrooms for my quesadillas fix.
Trixie (an old high school friend I reconnected with when I rode the train in from Summit to Penn Station a few weeks ago) had her 25th b'day party in Brooklyn. Tracey joined me on the L-train to Graham Ave. I knit her a hat with a cute flower on it, which she showcased her love for by wearing all night long. $5 mixed drinks made the trip well worth it. I didn't stay long...but it was my first time meeting her long-term, live-in boyfriend who incidentally went to high school with us but I had never met. She had a crush on him back then--sometimes those get realized well into your "real life".
Sunday
Thought about going to church. Didn't.
Knit Jo a hat with the requisite flower (giving her the option to undo it by securing it with a safety pin in lieu of darning it on).
Watched Saathiya which Ditha had purchased on her last Indian Invasion, found it utterly lacking in the masala I like in my masala flicks to be imbued with.
Spent all day with Luckey, napping intermittently--playing--coaxing to perform on command. He's completed trained to pee on his wee wee pad, we continue to work on proper placement on poop.
Didn't pay bills. Didn't clean. Didn't read. Didn't blog. Considered all of them at least twice.
St. Patty's Day madness was tame, tame tame. Hit up 6s & 8s on the Lower East Side, dropped by 99 Allen twice for the 5 for $1 dumpling deal (incidentally their hot & sour soup is some of the best around for $1), then landed up at The Other Room since Fiddlesticks was charging a cover and if there is one thing I DO NOT DO--It is pay a cover to pay exborbitant drink prices.
Saturday
Woke up early for a weekend at 9:40am.
Finally watched my Netflix movie--Kama Sutra--which was amazing. Not just for the generous heapings of erotica but the rich cinematography and passionate acting. I think it may be one of my favorite films after the intial viewing.
Hit up yoga at Laughing Lotus. Got the weekly Jamba Juice kick--really enjoyed the Mango Mantra. Did some groceries which included a generous amount of fruit if not vegetables. The requisite Campbell's soup packets, avacaodoes and habaneros to make fresh guac when the whim hits, marshmallows, and sliced mushrooms for my quesadillas fix.
Trixie (an old high school friend I reconnected with when I rode the train in from Summit to Penn Station a few weeks ago) had her 25th b'day party in Brooklyn. Tracey joined me on the L-train to Graham Ave. I knit her a hat with a cute flower on it, which she showcased her love for by wearing all night long. $5 mixed drinks made the trip well worth it. I didn't stay long...but it was my first time meeting her long-term, live-in boyfriend who incidentally went to high school with us but I had never met. She had a crush on him back then--sometimes those get realized well into your "real life".
Sunday
Thought about going to church. Didn't.
Knit Jo a hat with the requisite flower (giving her the option to undo it by securing it with a safety pin in lieu of darning it on).
Watched Saathiya which Ditha had purchased on her last Indian Invasion, found it utterly lacking in the masala I like in my masala flicks to be imbued with.
Spent all day with Luckey, napping intermittently--playing--coaxing to perform on command. He's completed trained to pee on his wee wee pad, we continue to work on proper placement on poop.
Didn't pay bills. Didn't clean. Didn't read. Didn't blog. Considered all of them at least twice.
March 17, 2006
Return of Jaylin
Jaylin and I ended up IMing last night--after months of not talking. We're having dinner next week--maybe.
It's a strange coincidence. I was just thinking to myself that I had NO ONE to drunk dial tonight in my St. Patty's celebratory stupor. V and I aren't speaking. I am no longer interested in any contact with the last boyfriend. Sk8ter boi and I left it on rocky terms--he wasn't too thrilled at my miniscule attention span and general flaking on tentative plans.
This is the first time in my post-pubertal life that I'm lacking in the crush department. Not a boy of interest for MILES. I've heard women call this feeling empowerment. I've heard women complain of loneliness. It's not that I'm ambivalent, I guess nonchalance is my state. I'm not sure what to make of it. It's been this way for a few months now and I can't say I mind it terribly but I can't say I can envision this going on indefinitely either. I guess, just with getting over a break-up (it takes time), I wish I knew how long this would last too.
I feel ready to start something up again. Nothing too serious, but I've never been one to keep it at the requisite level of casual either--so what is there for the middle ground, even-keeled girl with a dash of crazy?
I'm not a commitphobe per se, but I wouldn't describe myself as the woman who seeks it out. It's about monogamy to me and I learned the hard way that monogamy and committment are not synonyms! Jo calls it a MSP (monogamous sex partner)--I'd like to take it a step farther, make it personal a la 50-cent "Before I be your buddy in bed, let me be your best friend!"
It's a strange coincidence. I was just thinking to myself that I had NO ONE to drunk dial tonight in my St. Patty's celebratory stupor. V and I aren't speaking. I am no longer interested in any contact with the last boyfriend. Sk8ter boi and I left it on rocky terms--he wasn't too thrilled at my miniscule attention span and general flaking on tentative plans.
This is the first time in my post-pubertal life that I'm lacking in the crush department. Not a boy of interest for MILES. I've heard women call this feeling empowerment. I've heard women complain of loneliness. It's not that I'm ambivalent, I guess nonchalance is my state. I'm not sure what to make of it. It's been this way for a few months now and I can't say I mind it terribly but I can't say I can envision this going on indefinitely either. I guess, just with getting over a break-up (it takes time), I wish I knew how long this would last too.
I feel ready to start something up again. Nothing too serious, but I've never been one to keep it at the requisite level of casual either--so what is there for the middle ground, even-keeled girl with a dash of crazy?
I'm not a commitphobe per se, but I wouldn't describe myself as the woman who seeks it out. It's about monogamy to me and I learned the hard way that monogamy and committment are not synonyms! Jo calls it a MSP (monogamous sex partner)--I'd like to take it a step farther, make it personal a la 50-cent "Before I be your buddy in bed, let me be your best friend!"
No knots in knitting!
I learned to knit a flower and a leaf, separately, in knitting 103 last night. The leaf is an easy endeavor--roughly 5 minutes and I can make you a fistful of them. The flower, however, took me two FULL hours to create. My tiny, New York bred, Chinese instructor using her needles as wand flicked hers into existence. She's a freshman at The New School studying Art Management with an emphasis on Dance. The things kids these days get into--riveting.
My incessant whining led to her giving me her flower to take home. So now, two hats can be bestowed with flowers and perhaps a patchwork of leaves can grace the gray clutch I built. I need to find lining for that bag--the garment district should sell bright green or red silky satin interiors. I'm not at all sure how to proceed with negotiating prices on that--I hardly have a bulk order to place.
My incessant whining led to her giving me her flower to take home. So now, two hats can be bestowed with flowers and perhaps a patchwork of leaves can grace the gray clutch I built. I need to find lining for that bag--the garment district should sell bright green or red silky satin interiors. I'm not at all sure how to proceed with negotiating prices on that--I hardly have a bulk order to place.
St. Patty's Day
Apparently the famed Saint Patrick's Day parade on 5th Avenue is run by the Catholic church (albeit on the public street)and therefore prohibits Irish queers from marching under their rainbow flag. I had no idea. I learned this factoid via flyer when Taurean, Dino, and I had dinner in Chelsea earlier this week.
Incidentally, said Irish gay folk have meetings on the second Saturday of every month at the LGBT Center. Just the place to meet my future gay boyfriend...though not being queer or Irish, I'm not certain if I'd be welcome. Won't know if I don't try, I suppose.
Today is the #1 Drinking Holiday as per MSNBC. I plan to take great advantage of the fact that it falls on a Friday. Starting the night at 6's & 8's and moving up to Fiddlesticks to wrap. Not too Irish, but I'm not entirely a pub kinda gal. Brilliantly, let the camera I've been toting all week at home--today would have been the perfect opportunity to take some scandalous photos.
Oy Vey! Incidentally, Purim is ranked 5th on the Drinking Holiday list--to my genuine surprise. Go Jews! See, it's not just guilt, there is eating--drinking--and merry-making too.
Incidentally, said Irish gay folk have meetings on the second Saturday of every month at the LGBT Center. Just the place to meet my future gay boyfriend...though not being queer or Irish, I'm not certain if I'd be welcome. Won't know if I don't try, I suppose.
Today is the #1 Drinking Holiday as per MSNBC. I plan to take great advantage of the fact that it falls on a Friday. Starting the night at 6's & 8's and moving up to Fiddlesticks to wrap. Not too Irish, but I'm not entirely a pub kinda gal. Brilliantly, let the camera I've been toting all week at home--today would have been the perfect opportunity to take some scandalous photos.
Oy Vey! Incidentally, Purim is ranked 5th on the Drinking Holiday list--to my genuine surprise. Go Jews! See, it's not just guilt, there is eating--drinking--and merry-making too.
March 16, 2006
Vicious Law 103--IF it can go wrong, IT will!
It's not even 10am and I've been at work for 3 hours already.
Everything that could potentially go wrong in those three hours has gone wrong. As if being awake before 7am wasn't punishment enough, the validation that you are incompetent before that hour is unnecessary and somewhat cruel. Don't prove me right, fate! Just leave me be. Live and let live.
I had a class to set up. Along with not having access to the floor it is scheduled to run on, the materials were spiral bound instead of the requisite soft binding. The room was a mess from the meeting prior--yesterday, no doubt. The LCD projector was set up by AV but ceased working conveniently before the class started. AV was missing from the scene after multiple calls and pages to their special 911 line. None of the participants had arrived at 8:45am for the 8:30am session; turns out the learning management system had failed to send a reminder. The reminder that was sent three days prior, in lieu of the day before, listed the wrong room. After fruitlessly phoning everyone on the list--only to get their voicemail--and e-mailing them in hopes they were blackberry-clad, I realized that it was all a moot point with the projector not working.
Finally, as I walked up the stairs from the training rooms--the light of God shone in from the glass encasement that is my daily prison, showcasing a glorious model turned actor wearing a set of magnificient white wings a la Victoria Secret.
Everything that could potentially go wrong in those three hours has gone wrong. As if being awake before 7am wasn't punishment enough, the validation that you are incompetent before that hour is unnecessary and somewhat cruel. Don't prove me right, fate! Just leave me be. Live and let live.
I had a class to set up. Along with not having access to the floor it is scheduled to run on, the materials were spiral bound instead of the requisite soft binding. The room was a mess from the meeting prior--yesterday, no doubt. The LCD projector was set up by AV but ceased working conveniently before the class started. AV was missing from the scene after multiple calls and pages to their special 911 line. None of the participants had arrived at 8:45am for the 8:30am session; turns out the learning management system had failed to send a reminder. The reminder that was sent three days prior, in lieu of the day before, listed the wrong room. After fruitlessly phoning everyone on the list--only to get their voicemail--and e-mailing them in hopes they were blackberry-clad, I realized that it was all a moot point with the projector not working.
Finally, as I walked up the stairs from the training rooms--the light of God shone in from the glass encasement that is my daily prison, showcasing a glorious model turned actor wearing a set of magnificient white wings a la Victoria Secret.
March 15, 2006
Like the Average American Marriage
my time with V has come to an end.
We were friends for a solid 3.5 months before we started dating. We stayed monogamously together for another 3.5 years. After we broke up, despite the ups and downs and general torment of staying close to your ex--we've managed a strong friendship for 3.5 years, but today after 7.25 years of togetherness in varying measure, it's over.
The time has come and gone for this inevitable end...and it was rather anti-climactic, but in truth it's been long overdue. It wasn't anything he said, but it was in all the ways he said it. V always had a knack for delivery--a purpose I dare not mimic. I say and he does. It's the way we've always been. And thus we end. With me saying goodbye and him standing by the door with his fingers firmly on the knob.
As I delete his number from my phone, the realization like a few others before him sets in...this ritual is mitigated by the reality that these digits are seared into my memory--years of dialing cannot be undone by a mere "Erase", but it's a start. Like one other number I've forgotten and another I haven't dialed in a good long while, this remembrance too shall pass and with it an era will close. The Era that was Mine and V's!
To quote one of my fave lines from one of my fave bollywood masala flicks--Hum Tum.
"Hamaree koee kahani nahi hai. Bus The End hai. The End!"
Loose translation: "We don't have a(ny) story. Just the end. The End!"
We were friends for a solid 3.5 months before we started dating. We stayed monogamously together for another 3.5 years. After we broke up, despite the ups and downs and general torment of staying close to your ex--we've managed a strong friendship for 3.5 years, but today after 7.25 years of togetherness in varying measure, it's over.
The time has come and gone for this inevitable end...and it was rather anti-climactic, but in truth it's been long overdue. It wasn't anything he said, but it was in all the ways he said it. V always had a knack for delivery--a purpose I dare not mimic. I say and he does. It's the way we've always been. And thus we end. With me saying goodbye and him standing by the door with his fingers firmly on the knob.
As I delete his number from my phone, the realization like a few others before him sets in...this ritual is mitigated by the reality that these digits are seared into my memory--years of dialing cannot be undone by a mere "Erase", but it's a start. Like one other number I've forgotten and another I haven't dialed in a good long while, this remembrance too shall pass and with it an era will close. The Era that was Mine and V's!
To quote one of my fave lines from one of my fave bollywood masala flicks--Hum Tum.
"Hamaree koee kahani nahi hai. Bus The End hai. The End!"
Loose translation: "We don't have a(ny) story. Just the end. The End!"
Brown Wedding
Vikram Chatwal is living my life. This article gives you a sense of what it means to get married in India. Not so much what the marriage means but the pomp and circumstance surrouding ceremony. Guests at the Chatwal-Sachdev wedding included Bill Clinton, the Prime Minister of India, Shahrukh Khan, and assorted other rich folk flown in from the US and London.
It's hard to feel bad for Vikram even if his father arranged his marriage. Sant Chatwal chose a 25-year old Indian model (Priya Sachdev) with a degree from the London School of Economics for his 34-year old, Wharton MBA graduate son. Not to mention the decadent lifestyle his father has afforded Vikram thus far: his private apartment in the Trump Building facing the Park in Manhattan with his own chef and an Aston Martin at his disposal. I guess that's what happens when you grow up in an Upper East Side penthouse and your father owns 12 hotels in Manhattan.
Indian Standard Time (IST involves running roughly 2 hours late, particularly to important events) exists because Indian events are always a production--a LONG production. There is no incentive to be on time, since you will be there FOREVER and a day.
It's hard to feel bad for Vikram even if his father arranged his marriage. Sant Chatwal chose a 25-year old Indian model (Priya Sachdev) with a degree from the London School of Economics for his 34-year old, Wharton MBA graduate son. Not to mention the decadent lifestyle his father has afforded Vikram thus far: his private apartment in the Trump Building facing the Park in Manhattan with his own chef and an Aston Martin at his disposal. I guess that's what happens when you grow up in an Upper East Side penthouse and your father owns 12 hotels in Manhattan.
Indian Standard Time (IST involves running roughly 2 hours late, particularly to important events) exists because Indian events are always a production--a LONG production. There is no incentive to be on time, since you will be there FOREVER and a day.
March 14, 2006
Some people doodle...I rhyme
Sifting through the many supplies in my drawer at work, I came across these musings from a meeting I sat through in the fall...
Untitled
stare as I might
into the bright light
I don't see you...
Undone
Plucking the pebbles
Off the Sandy Shore
I remember us then,
wish we were there, once more!
Unless
Sitting on the dock of the bay
I don't care what they say.
I love you, come what may!
Just love me back, okay?
Un-real
Strike a pose
Fingers around a rose
You moved close
I stood on tip toes
We were nose to nose
My breath froze
The world slowed
Untitled
stare as I might
into the bright light
I don't see you...
Undone
Plucking the pebbles
Off the Sandy Shore
I remember us then,
wish we were there, once more!
Unless
Sitting on the dock of the bay
I don't care what they say.
I love you, come what may!
Just love me back, okay?
Un-real
Strike a pose
Fingers around a rose
You moved close
I stood on tip toes
We were nose to nose
My breath froze
The world slowed
Hot Guy....Blah Girl
Riding the 4 (or was it the 5?) train down from 86th Street this morning, I saw a sight that is not oft seen: a gorgeous (by all human standards) guy with a very average looking girl (dark roots in her blonde hair, imperfect nose job, small--square--teeth a la Invisalign).
Now it is hardly remarkable to see the opposite: gorgeous women date psuedo UN-attractive men all the time. Some argue the uggos (ugly men) have money, others argue that women being less visual and more tactile and/or emotional have a different meter for judging attractiveness which surpasses the physical. I won't take sides on this--I think they both hold true, just depends on the woman and her circumstance.
That said, the HOT guy on the subway had that perfect dark-hair, spiked high and a six o'clock shadow hovering on his pale face. He had on "perfect" fit jeans and a black pin-stripe jacket. His blue eyes twinkled and he didn't look freshly awakened like most of the other riders. He represents "the look" that I love oh-so much. It's less in the blue eyes and fair skin and more in the spiky hair, scruffy face, and jeans/jacket combo...hubba hubba hello.
Now it is hardly remarkable to see the opposite: gorgeous women date psuedo UN-attractive men all the time. Some argue the uggos (ugly men) have money, others argue that women being less visual and more tactile and/or emotional have a different meter for judging attractiveness which surpasses the physical. I won't take sides on this--I think they both hold true, just depends on the woman and her circumstance.
That said, the HOT guy on the subway had that perfect dark-hair, spiked high and a six o'clock shadow hovering on his pale face. He had on "perfect" fit jeans and a black pin-stripe jacket. His blue eyes twinkled and he didn't look freshly awakened like most of the other riders. He represents "the look" that I love oh-so much. It's less in the blue eyes and fair skin and more in the spiky hair, scruffy face, and jeans/jacket combo...hubba hubba hello.
March 13, 2006
3/10-12
This weekend was an exercise in single self-renewal...particularly Saturday.
Friday
Rosie joined me at Knit NY to pick out yarn for a hat I will soon have completed for her. I got my bubble tea fix and hopped the bus across town to meet Tommy. He had comped tickets for the Capoeira show at The Joyce Theater. It was a show rich in sinuous movements by rippling, tanned bodies exuding a youth and vigor Brazil is positively stereotyped of possessing. Following the show, we meant to drink ourselves silly at Earth NYC again, but in lieu of repeating last weekend we left after two free drinks a pop. Complimentary vodka bar or not, that many Indians in one bar is just too much for me plus the fear of running into fedora from last weekend was too high. I meant to call him back, but the inclination to hit send on my phone wasn't high enough. Got home right around midnight. Played with Luckey, knitted for a bit, and went promptly to bed.
Saturday
Called Shiv for our planned brunch, but he was in a stupor with guests sprawled over his apartment, sleeping off Friday night. We talked for 45 minutes and he promised we were ON for Sunday. Ah, bankers!
I mosied over to Yoga at Laughing Lotus having missed the first class in the Beginner series (given my killer hangover last week), I was nervous. Ran into Tommy and Danny (his eventual brother-in-law) at Modell's as I was purchasing my yoga mat...we meant to have some Jamba Juice, but the line (15 people, no exaggeration) and lateness of the hour given my 3pm class in Flatiron ruined my chances.
Yoga was fine. Being late to yoga is a mistake I will not make again. In the packed class, people are not quick to move their mats and make room for a brown girl fresh off the Upper East Side. Given my heritage, I was not outstanding. But the constant encouragement and soothing tones the yogini bestowed upon me, ballooned within to form an instant love for this meditative state with health benefits.
I ambled up to 42nd Street and joined the long line of Jamba Juice drinkers. My Aloha Pineapple is not what I'd expected though I continue to marvel at how much 16 oz. can fill me.
Luckey was thrilled to see me, but I didn't take him for the walk I've wanted to...collapsing instead before my TV. Nothing was on and Kama Sutra went un-watched--so glad I downgraded to ONE rental on Netflix! I made some guacamole--from scratch--ate and slept the evening away.
Sunday
I woke up at 10am refreshed...having spent 15 hours in a lounging state of affairs, I was ready for brunch. Shiv called as planned and I made my way to Chelsea only to be told that he had encountered a "work emergency"--a brief tour of his glorious apartment and a quick cab ride uptown was all my old friend could offer me. How old we've grown? His profuse apologies were unfounded, but I was happy to see him living his dream. I hadn't caught him on a good day--but I know this is what he wanted five years ago--to see him get it is the joy only a friend can show.
I joined Lauren, Tauren, Summer, and a married couple for the Whitney Biennial. It was sub-par to say the least...but my favorite piece is housed in this museum's permanent collection--Georgia O'Keefe's Summer Days (which I have fondly nicknamed "Afterlife"). I also enjoy the Hopper collection on dispaly on the top floor.
Lauren stopped by to meet Luckey. He quickly won her over with his fear of all things reflective, leaning cautiously near mirrors and my shiny, black outdoor grill.
Jo and Evan joined Luckey and I for a fine dinner of plum tomatoes with guacomole and goat cheese, mushroom and cheese quesadillas, and vegetarian lasagne. The strawberries and cannolis they brought were an apt closing. Evan's broccoli allergy didn't act up--worried as I was for his health and well-being. Luckey was the proud recipient of a purple, stuffed bunny; cheese-flavored bone, and a long-handled toothbrush. We had a lovely evening playing with the pet, flipping through my puppy book and discussing the merits of frienemies. I loaned them Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle since their lives had thus far been deprived of this joy.
After they left, Luckey and I watched Grey's Anatomy and I finished reading Collages by Anais Nin. I can't get enough of her. Onto Little Birds this morning for my subway ride to the financial district.
So another weekend wraps...this week is choc-ful of tea, puppy obedience school, dinner with Dino and Taurean, Knitting with Carrie, and some St. Patty's Day debauchery.
Incidentally, here is the update on my Post date: New Photo!
Friday
Rosie joined me at Knit NY to pick out yarn for a hat I will soon have completed for her. I got my bubble tea fix and hopped the bus across town to meet Tommy. He had comped tickets for the Capoeira show at The Joyce Theater. It was a show rich in sinuous movements by rippling, tanned bodies exuding a youth and vigor Brazil is positively stereotyped of possessing. Following the show, we meant to drink ourselves silly at Earth NYC again, but in lieu of repeating last weekend we left after two free drinks a pop. Complimentary vodka bar or not, that many Indians in one bar is just too much for me plus the fear of running into fedora from last weekend was too high. I meant to call him back, but the inclination to hit send on my phone wasn't high enough. Got home right around midnight. Played with Luckey, knitted for a bit, and went promptly to bed.
Saturday
Called Shiv for our planned brunch, but he was in a stupor with guests sprawled over his apartment, sleeping off Friday night. We talked for 45 minutes and he promised we were ON for Sunday. Ah, bankers!
I mosied over to Yoga at Laughing Lotus having missed the first class in the Beginner series (given my killer hangover last week), I was nervous. Ran into Tommy and Danny (his eventual brother-in-law) at Modell's as I was purchasing my yoga mat...we meant to have some Jamba Juice, but the line (15 people, no exaggeration) and lateness of the hour given my 3pm class in Flatiron ruined my chances.
Yoga was fine. Being late to yoga is a mistake I will not make again. In the packed class, people are not quick to move their mats and make room for a brown girl fresh off the Upper East Side. Given my heritage, I was not outstanding. But the constant encouragement and soothing tones the yogini bestowed upon me, ballooned within to form an instant love for this meditative state with health benefits.
I ambled up to 42nd Street and joined the long line of Jamba Juice drinkers. My Aloha Pineapple is not what I'd expected though I continue to marvel at how much 16 oz. can fill me.
Luckey was thrilled to see me, but I didn't take him for the walk I've wanted to...collapsing instead before my TV. Nothing was on and Kama Sutra went un-watched--so glad I downgraded to ONE rental on Netflix! I made some guacamole--from scratch--ate and slept the evening away.
Sunday
I woke up at 10am refreshed...having spent 15 hours in a lounging state of affairs, I was ready for brunch. Shiv called as planned and I made my way to Chelsea only to be told that he had encountered a "work emergency"--a brief tour of his glorious apartment and a quick cab ride uptown was all my old friend could offer me. How old we've grown? His profuse apologies were unfounded, but I was happy to see him living his dream. I hadn't caught him on a good day--but I know this is what he wanted five years ago--to see him get it is the joy only a friend can show.
I joined Lauren, Tauren, Summer, and a married couple for the Whitney Biennial. It was sub-par to say the least...but my favorite piece is housed in this museum's permanent collection--Georgia O'Keefe's Summer Days (which I have fondly nicknamed "Afterlife"). I also enjoy the Hopper collection on dispaly on the top floor.
Lauren stopped by to meet Luckey. He quickly won her over with his fear of all things reflective, leaning cautiously near mirrors and my shiny, black outdoor grill.
Jo and Evan joined Luckey and I for a fine dinner of plum tomatoes with guacomole and goat cheese, mushroom and cheese quesadillas, and vegetarian lasagne. The strawberries and cannolis they brought were an apt closing. Evan's broccoli allergy didn't act up--worried as I was for his health and well-being. Luckey was the proud recipient of a purple, stuffed bunny; cheese-flavored bone, and a long-handled toothbrush. We had a lovely evening playing with the pet, flipping through my puppy book and discussing the merits of frienemies. I loaned them Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle since their lives had thus far been deprived of this joy.
After they left, Luckey and I watched Grey's Anatomy and I finished reading Collages by Anais Nin. I can't get enough of her. Onto Little Birds this morning for my subway ride to the financial district.
So another weekend wraps...this week is choc-ful of tea, puppy obedience school, dinner with Dino and Taurean, Knitting with Carrie, and some St. Patty's Day debauchery.
Incidentally, here is the update on my Post date: New Photo!
March 10, 2006
Meeting the Boyfriend
Jo introduced me to her new boyfriend, Evan, last night...officially. She set up a drink thing at Washington Square Hotel and we sat and talked for hours about nothing--but we covered everything.
They have this easy way about them. In the time I have known her, I have not seen her so happy. I've never seen her so peaceful. That is a credit to Evan. I e-mailed her today to say that I was proud of her for coming this long way.
I've never managed to be happy and at peace in a romantic relationship. I've been happy and I've been peaceful but to achieve these possibly consecutive planes simultaneously is a feat that defies me.
Thus, I am single.
A bit of background on Jo. She tends not to let people in. She's fiercely independent at the cost of sacrificing the interdependence good relationships breed for the fear of developing an unhealthy co-dependence that rob your indepedence. She is also intense. By intense I mean passionate plus. That plus is a floating term, that ephemeral something that cannot be pinned to specific definitions and captured in the web of categorical meaning. As a writer, I think this intensity is what makes her good, keeps her strong and gives her the fire to create.
I can't say seeing them gave me hope. And I won't say they embody everything I want in a relationship, but I do think that they work. To each their own, I always say...but these two--well, I don't mind being their third wheel. And that is a credit to them.
They have this easy way about them. In the time I have known her, I have not seen her so happy. I've never seen her so peaceful. That is a credit to Evan. I e-mailed her today to say that I was proud of her for coming this long way.
I've never managed to be happy and at peace in a romantic relationship. I've been happy and I've been peaceful but to achieve these possibly consecutive planes simultaneously is a feat that defies me.
Thus, I am single.
A bit of background on Jo. She tends not to let people in. She's fiercely independent at the cost of sacrificing the interdependence good relationships breed for the fear of developing an unhealthy co-dependence that rob your indepedence. She is also intense. By intense I mean passionate plus. That plus is a floating term, that ephemeral something that cannot be pinned to specific definitions and captured in the web of categorical meaning. As a writer, I think this intensity is what makes her good, keeps her strong and gives her the fire to create.
I can't say seeing them gave me hope. And I won't say they embody everything I want in a relationship, but I do think that they work. To each their own, I always say...but these two--well, I don't mind being their third wheel. And that is a credit to them.
BFF
I had dinner with Dino and Taurean at Southwest NY last night. I haven't seen Dino in nearly a year, but when I did see him--it was as if time has not passed at all. We had no news to exchange, though so much has changed. He's perm at his temp job...I'm a the German Bank. The girlfriend of his roomie is as crazy as ever and my roomie is shooting movies in India.
What hasn't changed is that we are both single and till there is something new to report on that front the consistent hello goes like this:
"Where have you been darling?"
"Missing you, my dear. Working hard?"
"Working smart. I miss you more."
"What's new?"
"Not much. You?"
"Same old."
"I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm so glad we're doing this."
"We have to stop putting so much time and space between us."
"Word!"
Don't even ask about the goodbyes, they are longer and far more frivolous than the hello. Taurean humors us. We share inappropriate deatils of our private lives, no judgements. But the frenetic bouts of laugher are sobered by Tauren's sage advice--he's always teling us, slackers, to shape up. Inspiration is his gift.
Dino and I are like children on daddy's day off. We oogle other people's food, order $6 juice, and snicker as Taurean rambles about deep, thought-provoking issues that bring us to maturity.
Later, as we stand shoulder to shoulder (admittedly, I'm at chest level at best on those two)--I can't believe how far we've come. Just five years ago we were sitting on M-level shirking our responsibility at our second fit of Organic Chemistry. We were the future doctors of America then...who are we now? I venture to say we still don't know but I like to think we are a lot farther along.
What hasn't changed is that we are both single and till there is something new to report on that front the consistent hello goes like this:
"Where have you been darling?"
"Missing you, my dear. Working hard?"
"Working smart. I miss you more."
"What's new?"
"Not much. You?"
"Same old."
"I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm so glad we're doing this."
"We have to stop putting so much time and space between us."
"Word!"
Don't even ask about the goodbyes, they are longer and far more frivolous than the hello. Taurean humors us. We share inappropriate deatils of our private lives, no judgements. But the frenetic bouts of laugher are sobered by Tauren's sage advice--he's always teling us, slackers, to shape up. Inspiration is his gift.
Dino and I are like children on daddy's day off. We oogle other people's food, order $6 juice, and snicker as Taurean rambles about deep, thought-provoking issues that bring us to maturity.
Later, as we stand shoulder to shoulder (admittedly, I'm at chest level at best on those two)--I can't believe how far we've come. Just five years ago we were sitting on M-level shirking our responsibility at our second fit of Organic Chemistry. We were the future doctors of America then...who are we now? I venture to say we still don't know but I like to think we are a lot farther along.
March 9, 2006
Life Without Curry
It's officially been a full week since I had curry. I am alive. I have definitely been eating less..and I can only hope that my stomach is shrinking. Not just visibly but also in its capacity. C'mon JC--I'm giving up curry, give me a lil' something to be happy about.
Last night at Klong with Rosie, I had to resist the urge to order the Panang or Massam Curry. The Spicy Basil Noodles were my savior. I splurged and went for the Thai Sweet Iced Tea and even skipped my stop at THE teahouse on the way home--having missed tea this week, the stop would have been justified--but I quelled that need.
I always mean to try new things, it's just that I cannot get myself to reinvent the wheel of yumminess--why take a chance when I have a guarantee.
Last night at Klong with Rosie, I had to resist the urge to order the Panang or Massam Curry. The Spicy Basil Noodles were my savior. I splurged and went for the Thai Sweet Iced Tea and even skipped my stop at THE teahouse on the way home--having missed tea this week, the stop would have been justified--but I quelled that need.
I always mean to try new things, it's just that I cannot get myself to reinvent the wheel of yumminess--why take a chance when I have a guarantee.
Scarf
Carrie couldn't make it to knitting last night, so I was left to fend for myself against the Level II knitters who are far more intense than the Level I kids.
I was knitting along in Level I...I even practiced by making an extra hat at home, but Level II knocked me out of the running for star knitter.
I was, by far, the worst in my class of three. The instructor kept having to slow down to focus on my needs and help me with mistakes. Part of the problem--I was casting on wrong!
This is an egregious error. Casting ON is the process by which you initially secure the yarn to the needle forming the very base of your project. It is critical to get this foundation correct as it affects the quality of your end product.
The Level II instructor was friendly and chatty, while I was quiet and focused--trying my hardest to get it right. She called me a "perfectionist" at one point and "incredibly patient" at another--giving credence to the fact that you can meet someone and get the EXACT opposite read from their visage as it related to the core of who they actually are.
Suffice to say, my Level I instructor for all her prowess as a knitter was not a great teacher. While I didn't enjoy the good-natured ribbing my Level II instructor doled generously to me, I learned how to knit--and do it RIGHT! Thanks, Sarah.
Now that I can knit and purl (described as "the opposite of knitting")--the world of yarn is my paint. I can create, create, create. The needle's the limit.
Knitting is quickly becoming an all-consuming habit. I never thought at 25--I would be the girl who raced home to knit and play with her puppy. Then again, I never thought I'd be patient enough to knit or caring enough have a dog. The benefit of setting low expectations is that you're always pleasantly surprised when you exceed them.
I was knitting along in Level I...I even practiced by making an extra hat at home, but Level II knocked me out of the running for star knitter.
I was, by far, the worst in my class of three. The instructor kept having to slow down to focus on my needs and help me with mistakes. Part of the problem--I was casting on wrong!
This is an egregious error. Casting ON is the process by which you initially secure the yarn to the needle forming the very base of your project. It is critical to get this foundation correct as it affects the quality of your end product.
The Level II instructor was friendly and chatty, while I was quiet and focused--trying my hardest to get it right. She called me a "perfectionist" at one point and "incredibly patient" at another--giving credence to the fact that you can meet someone and get the EXACT opposite read from their visage as it related to the core of who they actually are.
Suffice to say, my Level I instructor for all her prowess as a knitter was not a great teacher. While I didn't enjoy the good-natured ribbing my Level II instructor doled generously to me, I learned how to knit--and do it RIGHT! Thanks, Sarah.
Now that I can knit and purl (described as "the opposite of knitting")--the world of yarn is my paint. I can create, create, create. The needle's the limit.
Knitting is quickly becoming an all-consuming habit. I never thought at 25--I would be the girl who raced home to knit and play with her puppy. Then again, I never thought I'd be patient enough to knit or caring enough have a dog. The benefit of setting low expectations is that you're always pleasantly surprised when you exceed them.
March 8, 2006
8-Letter Words
When singular, it is an 8-letter word that has a B somewhere within it. When pluralized, the "s" precedes the B.
Another singular 8-letter word that has ONLY one vowel in it.
"y" counts as a vowel.
Post answers at will!
Another singular 8-letter word that has ONLY one vowel in it.
"y" counts as a vowel.
Post answers at will!
March 7, 2006
I *heart* Luckey!
In all seriousness, biases aside, isn't he just the CUTEST dog in the history of mankind across all time? He's on Puppy Wars Much to my chagrin, he's only won 56% of the votes. Just not fair! Thanks for turning me into a competitive, crazed non-show dog owner, TOMMY!!!!!What really gets me are his eyes. I actually had a stranger tell me that we look alike. I'm not sure I see it--maybe the eyes (that's Ditha's take on it!). Mostly old Upper East Side grannies stop me to ask about him and coo in glee--I've been regaled with stories of their dogs as well. At 5 months he's a dream--model behavior, considering he's a puppy. We made a little progress in obedience school today. My dog trainer actually recognized me from the Post. That's the first time I've felt like a celebrity. It was awesome!
Ditha loves his nose the best. I remain partial to his big, baby boy eyes. SO cute. There was a boy at puppy obedience with his gf and their beautiful golden retriever who couldn't get over how adorable and teeny Luckey was. Sammy, the retriever, frequently tries to chomp on Luckey--most likely mistaking him for one of her stuffed toys at home...proving once again that size matters. I've been asked if he's a toy (as in the variety of dog) but he's not to my knowledge.
Hat maker, hat maker
I've been knitting hats. My first hat I presented to Ditha as she departed yesterday for her Telugu TV movie shoot in Hyderabad, India. She will have NO practical use for a gray, wool hat in the Hind--but at least she will travel to the airport in a hand-knit head covering. By the time she returns in May, I hope no hats of the warming variety will be required.
Yesterday, I made Tommy a hat to replace his gangsta green hat which is mysteriously missing. It wasn't me! No, really Tom-it wasn't me! It's an apt thank you for the Capoeria show he's taking me to on Friday. The perks of working at an Artists Credit Union abound.
I'm going to knit Tracey an orange hat tonight. I'm hoping to add a cute little flower on hers as soon as I learn how to crochet!
This was the item I learned to make at my Knitting 101 class at Knit New York last week.
I will go back tomorrow for Knitting 102. My fingers are crossed in the hopes that we will be trained to create a multi-colored scarf this week.
Yesterday, I made Tommy a hat to replace his gangsta green hat which is mysteriously missing. It wasn't me! No, really Tom-it wasn't me! It's an apt thank you for the Capoeria show he's taking me to on Friday. The perks of working at an Artists Credit Union abound.
I'm going to knit Tracey an orange hat tonight. I'm hoping to add a cute little flower on hers as soon as I learn how to crochet!
This was the item I learned to make at my Knitting 101 class at Knit New York last week.
I will go back tomorrow for Knitting 102. My fingers are crossed in the hopes that we will be trained to create a multi-colored scarf this week.
March 6, 2006
Earth NYC
Friday nights are Out of Control at Earth NYC! Tommy, Karen, Ditha, Gary and I took full advantage of the no cover, complimentary open bar from 9pm-11pm.
Typical "velvet rope syndrome" prevailed. The bouncer asked if we were on a list or there for a private party--when we got inside the space was desolate--I practically saw haystacks rolling past the gorgeous Indian cushioned interior.
The waitress was incredibly rude. We sat at a "Reserved" table since there were exactly 4 people in the 300 person space when we arrived. We acquiesed to her request that "food must be ordered to sit down"...Ditha and I oogling the Chicken Manchurian and Tommy looking sheepisly on. Once our food was out, she brought us our check, informing us that we need to pay up and move out of the seats. Why? There wasn't a soul in sight.
20% gratuity had been tacked on to our party of three, which I didn't protest but I drew a friendly arrow from "additional tip" to the following comment:
"Perhaps if the service had been acceptable, I would have considered an additional tip."
The waitress promptly began the all-night process of sucking up to me. She offered us an open table near the door. It was chilly so she raced off to turn up the heat--not that I think this was even possible without making the other people in the place too warm. She brought me drinks from the open bar--sometimes two at a time, to match my drinking at open bar events. Tommy refused to drink anything she brought for fear that she may have spit in it--or worse! I mean, how much worse could she do between the bar and our table?
At the end of the evening I wrote her this note on the last check--Ditha craftily slid my credit card out of the pocket in the receipt and paid with cash, now that she's a Tollywood hotshot she's PAYING for me!--
"Caroline has been a delight. She met needs before we could process having them. Having waited tables in the past, I know this is a mark of a great server. Thanks, C!"
On Larry and Tommy's dare, I casually ambled over to a nervous, Asian boy dressed in requisite plaid sweater vest--chatted him up and learned that his name was "Eddie". Shortly after I ambled back to my table to collect on the $5 reward, a posse of Asian girls had swarmed around him, accepting him as their own--no brown girls allowed. It's amazing how one woman's attention will breed the envy of women previously uninterested. Human nature!
It was a debaucherous evening. A charming black man in a fedora approached me and offered his number. I smiled coyly but withdrew. I'm not calling you brotha...you can call me if you want to--providing him with my digits, slyly. He's been texting and I'm not sure the interest extends past his hat.
There were some Indian boys who came to America for college but stayed on--I even ended up smoking a cigarrette (which I NEVER do) since my company was delighting them to such a degree--then we danced and danced and danced.
Typical "velvet rope syndrome" prevailed. The bouncer asked if we were on a list or there for a private party--when we got inside the space was desolate--I practically saw haystacks rolling past the gorgeous Indian cushioned interior.
The waitress was incredibly rude. We sat at a "Reserved" table since there were exactly 4 people in the 300 person space when we arrived. We acquiesed to her request that "food must be ordered to sit down"...Ditha and I oogling the Chicken Manchurian and Tommy looking sheepisly on. Once our food was out, she brought us our check, informing us that we need to pay up and move out of the seats. Why? There wasn't a soul in sight.
20% gratuity had been tacked on to our party of three, which I didn't protest but I drew a friendly arrow from "additional tip" to the following comment:
"Perhaps if the service had been acceptable, I would have considered an additional tip."
The waitress promptly began the all-night process of sucking up to me. She offered us an open table near the door. It was chilly so she raced off to turn up the heat--not that I think this was even possible without making the other people in the place too warm. She brought me drinks from the open bar--sometimes two at a time, to match my drinking at open bar events. Tommy refused to drink anything she brought for fear that she may have spit in it--or worse! I mean, how much worse could she do between the bar and our table?
At the end of the evening I wrote her this note on the last check--Ditha craftily slid my credit card out of the pocket in the receipt and paid with cash, now that she's a Tollywood hotshot she's PAYING for me!--
"Caroline has been a delight. She met needs before we could process having them. Having waited tables in the past, I know this is a mark of a great server. Thanks, C!"
On Larry and Tommy's dare, I casually ambled over to a nervous, Asian boy dressed in requisite plaid sweater vest--chatted him up and learned that his name was "Eddie". Shortly after I ambled back to my table to collect on the $5 reward, a posse of Asian girls had swarmed around him, accepting him as their own--no brown girls allowed. It's amazing how one woman's attention will breed the envy of women previously uninterested. Human nature!
It was a debaucherous evening. A charming black man in a fedora approached me and offered his number. I smiled coyly but withdrew. I'm not calling you brotha...you can call me if you want to--providing him with my digits, slyly. He's been texting and I'm not sure the interest extends past his hat.
There were some Indian boys who came to America for college but stayed on--I even ended up smoking a cigarrette (which I NEVER do) since my company was delighting them to such a degree--then we danced and danced and danced.
Dinner Party
Summer, Taurean, Tommy, Gary, and Special K were over on Saturday for a little dinner party at my aparment. Luckey had a blast with the number of toes available for chomping.
I made a mean lasagne, albeit a bit dry, and my virgin effort at garlic bread was successful. Tommy had come over the night prior to make chocolate mousse--really not as difficult to make considering the delicacy it is--he even came over early to help me (make!) the guacamole. Li's recipe was put to full effect.
Ditha, my roomie, came home to a sleepy bunch who were wrapping up a midnight viewing of my Netflixed Mississippi Masala. Denzel was FINE when he was young. Though his acting in Training Day is unbeatable. At 2am, all the guests were gone and I was tuckered out too.
Luckey who had been freshly groomed and is a bit too shaven for anyone's taste, still has the cutest little face and it made me happy to tuck him into his crate and climb into bed alone.
I made a mean lasagne, albeit a bit dry, and my virgin effort at garlic bread was successful. Tommy had come over the night prior to make chocolate mousse--really not as difficult to make considering the delicacy it is--he even came over early to help me (make!) the guacamole. Li's recipe was put to full effect.
Ditha, my roomie, came home to a sleepy bunch who were wrapping up a midnight viewing of my Netflixed Mississippi Masala. Denzel was FINE when he was young. Though his acting in Training Day is unbeatable. At 2am, all the guests were gone and I was tuckered out too.
Luckey who had been freshly groomed and is a bit too shaven for anyone's taste, still has the cutest little face and it made me happy to tuck him into his crate and climb into bed alone.
In the Post Again!
I went out with Arnold on Sunday night on the NY Post dime at The Blue Water Grill. The story to be posted in the next day or two--keep checking back on their site. He was much better looking in person. But there was no chemistry. He had an interesting life story--beginning on a vineyard in Hungary, traipising through Australia and landing up in Brooklyn. He confirmed that I truly am not a fan of accents.
I rushed home for Grey's Anatomy, completely forgetting the Oscars were taking the place of McDreamy. Well, that tells you the caliber of the date. But a bottle of wine, two passion fruit cosmos, and $20/glass Hungarian dessert wine later I was ready to go home to Luckey.
I rushed home for Grey's Anatomy, completely forgetting the Oscars were taking the place of McDreamy. Well, that tells you the caliber of the date. But a bottle of wine, two passion fruit cosmos, and $20/glass Hungarian dessert wine later I was ready to go home to Luckey.
March 3, 2006
Direct Quote
Tracey calls me up this afternoon and repeats a quote she's currently marveling about. I always find amusement and genuine delight in the elements that come together to create a marvel.
"Life's a trick. Act like a magician."
This begs the question: Is life a trick? Do you act like a magician?
"Life's a trick. Act like a magician."
This begs the question: Is life a trick? Do you act like a magician?
I won't share
With Family and Friends:
1. Toothbrush/Tongue Cleaner
2. Underwear
3. Roll-on deodorant
4. Razor
5. Handkerchief
Add to that list with acquaintances and strangers, I won't share:
6. Towel
7. Socks
8. Hairbrush
9. Bed (including linens and pillows)
10.Lollipop (Ring pop, gum--mid chew)
What wouldn't you share?
1. Toothbrush/Tongue Cleaner
2. Underwear
3. Roll-on deodorant
4. Razor
5. Handkerchief
Add to that list with acquaintances and strangers, I won't share:
6. Towel
7. Socks
8. Hairbrush
9. Bed (including linens and pillows)
10.Lollipop (Ring pop, gum--mid chew)
What wouldn't you share?
March 2, 2006
She's Me!
She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me
She can lead you to live
She can take your or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free
She steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
Oh-she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh-and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
She will promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
The other day I was asked to name the song/lyrics that were my theme. Immediately I recalled this song playing on repeat on my freshman year roomie's boombox. Yes, this is it--This is me! Thanks, Billy Joel.
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me
She can lead you to live
She can take your or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free
She steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
Oh-she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh-and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
She will promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
The other day I was asked to name the song/lyrics that were my theme. Immediately I recalled this song playing on repeat on my freshman year roomie's boombox. Yes, this is it--This is me! Thanks, Billy Joel.
Sage Advice
I e-mailed my mom the link to Dooce's post on Laura Hirschman, timely in that my mother had just informed me of Hirschman's ramblings on working mothers just the week prior. We have big talks on car rides (this is our tradition). She launched on this topic while I was a captive audience in her soccer mom mobile, when I joined her for a pre-wedding shopping extravaganza in Edison (the Jackson Heights of New Jersey, India Town). Click THIS to read what my mom is reacting to in her e-mail to me this morning, pasted below.
My darling Child,
Thanks for that Blog. You are so right, I don't think I could cut and paste the link.
I think I want my daughter to make choices that she wants. I was blessed to have a Dad and Mom, who gave me the freedom to make a good living for us,without having to worry about who was watching you when I was doing my residencies. They gave me the chances to help us get a good life, given that my situation needed me to be a mother and a provider. The fact of the matter is our ability to make the right choices, given our circumstances. Women should be educated and be able to help with finances, should the circumstances arise.
There is no single formula that fits us all.
We all make the choices that we have to live with.
May God give you the ability to make good choices in the future, while right now you get the skills necessary for any choice that you eventually will want to make.
Love,
Mamma
My darling Child,
Thanks for that Blog. You are so right, I don't think I could cut and paste the link.
I think I want my daughter to make choices that she wants. I was blessed to have a Dad and Mom, who gave me the freedom to make a good living for us,without having to worry about who was watching you when I was doing my residencies. They gave me the chances to help us get a good life, given that my situation needed me to be a mother and a provider. The fact of the matter is our ability to make the right choices, given our circumstances. Women should be educated and be able to help with finances, should the circumstances arise.
There is no single formula that fits us all.
We all make the choices that we have to live with.
May God give you the ability to make good choices in the future, while right now you get the skills necessary for any choice that you eventually will want to make.
Love,
Mamma
March 1, 2006
Lent: Ash Wednesday
In the name of all that is good I am giving up curry for Lent.
I'm entirely unsure of what I will eat for the next 40 days and 40 nights, but curry will not be it. For anyone who knows me, I eat curry a minimum of four days a week. That's right, folks--it is the STAPLE of this Indian's diet.
It was between curry and alcohol so it's amazing that curry lost. But I am more of a lush than a glutton and this is the self-awareness I've found today. The somber truth that St. Patty's Day falls within the parameters of Lent as well as the reality that tonight I'm hosting a corporate promotion event with an open bar--best not to break your lenten resolution on Ash Wednesday itself.
It could have been caffeine, but I may very well lose my job if it was caffeine so in the interest of self-preservation that got x-nayed. Not to mention the grande mocha frappuccino staring at me at this very moment. Tsk tsk!
I'm not Catholic, but growing up I always bore the Ash on my forehead with pride. Since moving to America in 1992 this has not been the case, branded as I am, passively, by the color of my skin choosing not to actively brand myself with the Godly mark. The reality is that I haven't been as close to God instead moving close to all things secular--puberty on. But this year, this lapsed Protestant who enjoys Mass (Catholic service), plans to head over to St. Patty's in the PM to bear the ashen mark for the short subway ride home to the UES.
Have to set an example for the dog, after all.
I'm entirely unsure of what I will eat for the next 40 days and 40 nights, but curry will not be it. For anyone who knows me, I eat curry a minimum of four days a week. That's right, folks--it is the STAPLE of this Indian's diet.
It was between curry and alcohol so it's amazing that curry lost. But I am more of a lush than a glutton and this is the self-awareness I've found today. The somber truth that St. Patty's Day falls within the parameters of Lent as well as the reality that tonight I'm hosting a corporate promotion event with an open bar--best not to break your lenten resolution on Ash Wednesday itself.
It could have been caffeine, but I may very well lose my job if it was caffeine so in the interest of self-preservation that got x-nayed. Not to mention the grande mocha frappuccino staring at me at this very moment. Tsk tsk!
I'm not Catholic, but growing up I always bore the Ash on my forehead with pride. Since moving to America in 1992 this has not been the case, branded as I am, passively, by the color of my skin choosing not to actively brand myself with the Godly mark. The reality is that I haven't been as close to God instead moving close to all things secular--puberty on. But this year, this lapsed Protestant who enjoys Mass (Catholic service), plans to head over to St. Patty's in the PM to bear the ashen mark for the short subway ride home to the UES.
Have to set an example for the dog, after all.
Tribeca
I got to leave work this morning to check out a restaurant for an event we're having this evening. Whilst in Tribeca*, where the restaurant is located, I realized that I wanted to move there. On my wee budget that is an impossibility at the current time--but all that it means to be New York is embodied in Tribeca. Not the village, but Tribeca. The amazing architecture and chic shops aside, the very air down there exudes sophistication.
I passed by Urban Archeaology which is soon to be my favorite store--well, just as soon as I can afford a place which affords itself a claw-footed bathtub. Located on the same block as Tribeca Grill**, this warehouse space had that classy New York vibe that stores in other cities beg to encapsulate but fail or even if they succeed, they just aren't in NEW YORK.
*Tribeca--TRIangle BElow CAnal
**Tribeca Grill is famed for its co-ownership by the legendary actor Rober DeNiro. Who is incidentally married to a not-at-all famous African American woman. Go DeNiro.
I passed by Urban Archeaology which is soon to be my favorite store--well, just as soon as I can afford a place which affords itself a claw-footed bathtub. Located on the same block as Tribeca Grill**, this warehouse space had that classy New York vibe that stores in other cities beg to encapsulate but fail or even if they succeed, they just aren't in NEW YORK.
*Tribeca--TRIangle BElow CAnal
**Tribeca Grill is famed for its co-ownership by the legendary actor Rober DeNiro. Who is incidentally married to a not-at-all famous African American woman. Go DeNiro.
Corporate Celebrity
I'm not sure if this happens at all companies or just the Fortune 100 ones, but since that is the entireity of my corporate experience I am forced to make generalizations based on that sample about corporations at large.
That disclaimer done, I will move to the point of this post:
Climbing the corporate ladder has many benefits, the least of which is the pay increase--but for a praise-driven fiend like myself, it is the celebrity status that senior management exudes that is the true driver. This said, it is the likes of me that allow for this celebrity status subscription of regular Joe's who've hit it big in business. But the truth is, I'm a blase version of the true hero worshippers who idolize their bosses or their bosses' bosses. The role model factor aside, the truth is that these people weild power or at the least authority--which are not one as the same, I took a whole class on this topic at TC--which is extremely attractive. When one is a people influencer it is the varition of these critical variables that make the upwardly mobile, truly mobile.
It's an interesting and diminished way to get to the profession of prestige umpteen models and actors strive for from the greater public. But in a large global organization acquiring real visibility is a feat and a treat!
That disclaimer done, I will move to the point of this post:
Climbing the corporate ladder has many benefits, the least of which is the pay increase--but for a praise-driven fiend like myself, it is the celebrity status that senior management exudes that is the true driver. This said, it is the likes of me that allow for this celebrity status subscription of regular Joe's who've hit it big in business. But the truth is, I'm a blase version of the true hero worshippers who idolize their bosses or their bosses' bosses. The role model factor aside, the truth is that these people weild power or at the least authority--which are not one as the same, I took a whole class on this topic at TC--which is extremely attractive. When one is a people influencer it is the varition of these critical variables that make the upwardly mobile, truly mobile.
It's an interesting and diminished way to get to the profession of prestige umpteen models and actors strive for from the greater public. But in a large global organization acquiring real visibility is a feat and a treat!
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