Badass

My conversation at work this morning:

My Boss: What's that under your sleeve?

Me: Oh, it's my badass tattoo from my halloween costume.

Him: (Gives me dubious look, while trying to refrain from rolling his eyes.)

Dear MTA,

Thank you ever so much for conspiring with the Universe to make my morning even worse than it was. Haven't you ever heard the expression "don't kick a (wo)man when (s)he's down?" Yeah, thanks. Why don't you go kill some puppies?

On a brighter note, thanks to the guy on the elevator, I've now gotten my 3 things over with within the span of an hour or so...so, thanks Universe. Now, can you work on fixing problem #1? Pretty please.

Thank you ever so much.

Kind regards,
Me

Na-na-na-boo-boo

Well dear friends, I have another confounding dating story that results in the early demise of an otherwise promising relationship. This one was a little surprising as C had been giving me all the signs that he was interested (i.e. inviting me to his company picnic, telling me on multiple occasions that he "wants to settle down", and also telling me outright, "I like you."). However in modern dating-speak these phrases apparently are all just thinly-veiled ploys that actually mean, "I will say whatever it takes in a seemingly genuine manner just to get in your pants."

Now, I have a pretty good BS meter, so I think that he actually meant all of these things at the time he was saying them. Maybe he genuinely meant them, or maybe they were all just thinly veiled ploys to get a little somethin' somethin'. I will probably never know. One thing I do know is that I'm glad I stuck to my guns and never let him get into said pants, otherwise I would be MIGHTY pissed right now.

What I really suspect happened to cause the demise is that I probably did or said something seemingly innocuous that he in turn translated to something scary (i.e. Me, "Hey, when are you free this week to hang out?" Him, "OMG, she wants to set a time to hang out, she must be picking out our china pattern."). I will never understand why guys think that all women are just dying to get married as soon as she can find a dress. Do I want to get married? Yes. Do I want to run to City Hall this afternoon? Absolutely not. As those of you who read this blog know, I've got a lot of shit going on in my life right now. I'm starting a new job (hooray! more on that in another post), I'm producing a play, and I'm looking for a place to live. Do I really have time for a relationship right now? No. However, for the right person I am willing to make time in my life because it's important to me.


The other thing I will never understand about men is their perception that saying the words "I don't want to date you anymore" will cause a woman to go apoplectic. Guess what? If you speak to me like a rational human being, I'll probably get it. I'm smart. In fact I'm probably smarter than you, so don't assume I'm an emotional dolt.


Here is an excerpt of the last email C sent me:

"...Wanted to ask you, can we take out relationship very slow. I am not sure if I am ready for a relationship as of now with so much going on in my life. I do like you but want to stay friends for now until I am ready. Is that okay? I am going through a lot and want to be completely upfront with you. Is that okay?"

As I was on my way out of work when I received this missive I had no time to respond and so sent him a text saying I needed to think about it. This of course set off a flurry of back-and-forth texts where he was forced to stop pussy-footing around what he really wanted to say and admit that he doesn't want to date me (for the record, according to him there is no one else, it's just he's "not ready"...despite all evidence to the contrary over the past 2 months--see above referenced phrases). Of course, he gave me one final clichéd phrase before the texting desisted: he wants to "be friends" which of course is relationship-speak for "good-bye."

Not wanting him to have the final word (I'm competitive, what can I say?) I decided that as soon as I got back into the office (in 2 days, eek!) I would delete him as a FB friend (for the record: it was his idea to become FB friends a few weeks ago). My delay was costly for as I logged on to FB this morning with the sole intention of deleting him as a "friend" I discovered that the little scamp had beaten me to it!

But guess what dear friends? I win after all because C never made it into the contacts list on my phone. So there. I win. For now anyway.

Schadenfreude

I was in Boston this past weekend with a good girlfriend of mine and we had a great time visiting, sight-seeing, eating cupcakes and reminiscing (we both met at school here). In one of our many heartfelt talks she revealed that she's really starting to feel pressure from friends and family for her and her husband to have a child. They've been married for just under 4 years and are both in their early 30s. They have some personal things they want to work on before bringing a child into the family which I think is the responsible and mature thing to do. She said she knows that, but that seeing all of their other married friends have kids is hard, and makes her feel like she's "behind." I told her the next time she feels like she's "behind" to think of my life, for as of June 30th I will not have:

- A home
- A permanent job
- A husband

She laughed and said, "well, that's true, I guess someone, somewhere is always worse off than you." Now, under normal circumstances these things (especially nos. 1 & 2) might worry me, however due to the fact that I have some kickin' guardian angels I am okay. Yes, I am technically homeless as of June 30th but thanks to the generosity of friends/family I will be safely ensconced in their homes until I am able to get my own place. And, fingers crossed number 2 will be resolved very shortly, but in the meantime I have a great Plan B in place.

In the meantime, the next time I feel "behind" (like yesterday when I logged onto FB to discover yet another one of my friends had had a baby) I will try to remember the advice I gave my friend...or I may just eat a cupcake.

Dear Facebook,

Please do not suggest that I "friend" douchebags. There is a reason I am not "friends" with them online or otherwise. Perhaps when you do your next update you can add this as a filter. The "I don't want to be friends with douchebags" filter.

Thank you.

Where have you gone?

For all 4 of you who regularly read my blog you may have noticed my absence over the past few weeks. Then again, because I talk/email to all 4 of you regularly you probably know why I've been absent. However, for those who don't, my absence has been necessitated by my participation in an ages-old Manhattan ritual...hunting for an apartment.

I have been one of those lucky, rare New Yorkers who has avoided this dreaded task for the past 8 years through a combination of rent stabilization, luck and a steady income. However, my landlord has decided that despite the fact that we're in the worst recession in a generation, and despite the fact that my roommate and I have been ideal tenants for 8 years that he is going to raise our rent. (Pause for effect.) And, because it's the worst recession in a generation my roommate and I have both had our incomes negatively affected. Now, I wasn't a math major, but I'm pretty sure the equation for this problem looks a little something like this:

<(income) + >(rent) = (- negative value!)

So, it is with a heavy heart that I have to leave my home of the past 8 years. The home where I heard the first low-flying plane on September 11, 2001. The home where I experienced the blackout of 2003 with an infestation of mice that were squatting in my stove. The home where I have experienced some of the happiest days of my life and some of the darkest moments I have known.

Everyone keeps saying that "in the end it will all work out and I'll be in a better situation," and I guess I know that, but it still doesn't make it any easier. I mean, I know that I was never going to stay in this apartment forever, but I just thought that when I finally left it would be on my own terms, not because of outside (read: heartless landlord) forces.

I know this kind of change is inevitable, but that doesn't make it an easier pill to swallow. I guess it's all just part of growing up.

Dear X,

Days go by now where I don't think about you. Those are good days. The days I do think about you, I wish you'd never been born.

Being "adult" ain't all it's cracked up to be

My friend, Megan, and I have birthdays about 2 weeks apart, so when I saw a recent Facebook status update from her saying that she wasn't liking this new age I was immediately concerned that something horrifying happens the day you turn this age. Well, it turns out it's not an age-specific thing, it's just a really, really shitty year for my friend thus far. I won't get into specifics as it's not my business to air the details of her life. All I will say is that a couple of days after her birthday she received a gift that she's been waiting for a long time only to find out mere weeks later that she can't keep it.

Megan and I became friends in late middle school, but it wasn't until freshman algebra that our friendship was really cemented. We would spend hours on the phone doing our homework together, eventually coming up with the right solutions to the complex problems (although as our teacher pointed out one day our solutions were frequently correct, but often the "long" answer to a problem that could've been solved in 5 steps instead of 15.).

Through the years Megan and I have solved our share of problems: from the time we almost lit her mom's house on fire making funnel cake on a camping stove, to finding solutions to our relationship problems, and even figuring out a way to drive in a snowstorm with no electrical systems in the car. With our combined smarts and wit it seemed like there was nothing we couldn't fix, even when the proverbial chips were down.

But now Megan has a problem that I can't help her fix. I know she will be okay because she is strong and has a lot of love and support at home, but unlike our algebra problems, there doesn't seem to be a short solution to this. I wish there was a way I could warp space and time and modern medicine and make it all right for her.

So, Meg, until I can figure out how to harness 1.21 jiggawatts, know that I am here to help make it better however I can; even if that involves attempting funnel cake.

The Next Thing I Knew...

I had a very interesting weekend, it began when I arrived home from my moonlighting gig around 2am Friday night (technically Sat morning)....

I got out of my cab on the corner because my street was blocked off due to some Big Deal production--and, by Big Deal I mean my friend, Eddie, had been texting me furiously earlier with all of the celebrity (real and potential) sightings he had been having. I also mean Big Deal, in that they had an entire Manhattan street closed down, granted it was 2am, but nonetheless, we're not talking low-budget indie here. In addition, there was a giant 6-story high crane parked on 6th Avenue fixed with a huge stadium-style light shining down my street...at 2am. I waltzed over to the nearest Production Assistant to inquire as to how long this night-shoot-masquerading-as-daytime would last (having been disrupted 2 weeks ago by Ugly Betty shining a spotlight directly into my bedroom window, I was not anxious to have a repeat bad-night's sleep). Luckily, they wrapped very quickly, but it set my weekend off to an interesting start.

Saturday found me paying a visit to my favorite, crazy Polish waxer, Lana. I should note that Lana is quite a talker and a little bit crazy, so sometimes I just let her talk and don't pay complete attention to what she's saying. Note to self, not a great idea to not pay attention to what the woman with the hot wax is saying, as I learned this weekend. Lana was busy working on me, slathering wax and chatting away and the next thing I know hair was being ripped from places on my body where hair has never been ripped from before. By that point, it was too late to say anything, lest I risk being oddly asymmetrical for the next 6-8 weeks. Next thing I know, she's thrusting a mirror in my hand to show off her handiwork. She then asked me if I wanted her to "take a little more off?" I politely declined, while secretly wondering where she was planning to "take a little more from." From what I could see (with my trusty mirror) there wasn't really much left to "take."

The rest of the weekend passed somewhat uneventfully, but after the 12 hours of excitement on Saturday I was pretty glad to have nothing else to report.

The 25th Hour

When I was in high school there was this club in a nearby city called "The 25th Hour" and on certain nights it was for under 18's, meaning high schoolers could go as no alcohol would be served. They had these radio ads that ran which used the song "the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire" as part of their, I guess, jingle.

Well, the other night at my apartment the roof was, almost, on fire. In my attempts to be more frugal I have decided to eat most of my meals at home, which I realized was going to involve me finally cooking something other than Campbell's soup and Kraft Mac 'n Cheese. So, I decided to bake a potato, and this being a modern era (and the fact that my oven has never quite worked right since there was a fire in there---this one not my fault) I decided to bake it in the microwave. I put said potato on a plate and set the microwave off to do its job. Since I put it in for a good 10 minutes, I decided to go into the living room to eat my salad while it cooked. Well, after a good amount of time my roommate (who, thank goodness was doing dishes in the kitchen) called out, "um, I think you should come in here." As soon as I got up I could see black smoke billowing out of the microwave. I immediately ran over turned it off and unplugged it, got the fire extinguisher out from under the sink and instructed my roommate to dismantle the smoke detector and open all the windows in the apartment.

And then I just stood there waiting....

For what, I'm not sure. Maybe for the fire to exit the safely contained confines of the box, or maybe for it to explode, I'm not sure. Thank goodness it didn't explode, or leave the confines of the box. It eventually burned itself out leaving the acrid smell of fire in our apartment along with the lingering smoke that was still billowing around the ceiling. When I eventually felt it was safe to open the door of the microwave it was to discover the potato still intact, but practically disintegrated and the plate it was sitting on charred to a crisp. Apparently the plate wasn't microwave safe. Okay. Well, lesson learned, do not heat non-microwave safe dishes beyond a certain point in the microwave lest they start a toxic-smelling fire.

Happily, the microwave is still operational, and 3 days later the smell of smoke has practically dissipated from the apartment. However, I think I'll stick to soup and pasta for now until I muster up the courage to attempt cooking again.

Oh the places you'll go

A couple of weeks ago I decided that I should do something productive with my free time other than look for jobs and watch daytime TV, so I decided to join New York Cares. For those of you who don't know what that is, New York Cares is a volunteer organization in New York City that connects New Yorkers with charities/organizations that need volunteers. Before you are allowed to volunteer on a project you must attend an orientation meeting, and mine was last night at no less a place than City Hall.

As a seasoned New Yorker things in the city (like celebrity sightings or film crews on your street) aren't supposed to phase or impress me, but I'm not going to lie, walking into City Hall was pretty damn cool. Not only is the building itself impressive, but the history inside is simply palpable.

So, now I am fully orientated and allowed to start volunteering stay tuned to hear about my first project....And, if you are interested in joining check out http://www.nycares.org/

Things that go bump in the night

Last night I was on my way to my friend Emily's apartment when I stumbled across something unusual--even by New York standards. It was just past dusk, dark enough that it wasn't light, but not quite middle-of-the-night dark. I was walking along Central Park North (aka 110th Street) on the North side of the street--as I didn't want to walk too close to the park at this twilight hour--when something caught my eye in the middle of the sidewalk. At first glance I assumed it was a dog, but then I realized there was no owner with it. As I walked closer I then thought maybe it was a cat that had escaped, but I then realized it was a little too big to be a cat. I had a moment of panic when I thought maybe it was one of those mutant rats that you hear about in the subway that grows to gargantuan proportions, but then realized that even a mutant rat couldn't grow that big.



I was about 15 feet from it a woman walked out of her apartment building and looked to the right, and then looked at me and said, "Oh that damn raccoon is out here every night." I looked at her in disbelief and said, "that's a raccoon?" Upon closer inspection I realized that it was indeed a raccoon in the middle of a Manhattan sidewalk eating, what else, pizza! I thanked the woman for enlightening me and hightailed it across four lanes of traffic, as I would rather tussle with a NYC cabbie than a giant raccoon.

Boy Bands

My sister is going out tonight with a guy named Hanson. I asked her if she was going to sing "Mmm-bop" when she met up with him. Not that I should judge, the last time I had a date I got stood up. Maybe I should try to find a guy named NKOTB?

Growing Up

If someone had told me 10 years ago when I moved to NYC that I would still be living here, still be single, not own property and not have a proper job I wouldn't have believed it. But, here I am 10 years out: single, in a rental apartment (a great apartment, but a rental) and without a proper job. As my mother likes to ask me frequently, "when are you going to grow up?" It's not that I don't want those things, it's just that I've spent the past 3 years veering from a traditional path and now that I'm getting back into a more traditional groove, I feel like I'm playing a wicked game of catch-up. This blog is going to chronicle my journey as I get my life back on track and try to become more like an adult.