I Heart New York

When did New York stop being a place I live and start to become home? I’m not sure I can pinpoint it exactly.

When I got back from my roadtrip in July, I did notice that upon entering the city, I breathed a sigh of relief and thought to myself, I’m home. It took me by surprise, and I kind of discounted it because I had been away for two weeks. That’s a long time to live out of a suitcase and sleep in a hotel bed every night.

But now that I’ve been in Florida for nine days, I can’t wait to get back. It kicked in around day six. Even though Boca Raton is asthetically beautiful, despite the fact that there is a neverending supply of food in my house, I miss the city. I miss walking outside and knowing that left or right provides me more choices in five steps than 500 steps could take me out my front door here. Five hundred steps out my door here would probably only get me to the front of my neighborhood where I could wave hello to the old people taking their daily walks. Some with walkers.

Before I moved to NYC, someone told me, “Be careful, after a few years in the city you will never be able to leave.” I didn’t believe them. I remember thinking, no way, I’ll be able to leave anytime. But now, I see what they mean. Even in the littlest of ways. Last night, I wanted Mexican food in the worst way…but I had to settle for Chili’s. And they didn’t even have chimichangas. I had spinach dip. Which don’t get me wrong, was delicious, but it was no chimichanga. It was no chimichanga.

In NYC, I have no less than 15 choices for Mexican within two minutes of my front door. One of which is Chipotle and another of which is Burrito San Loco, the most delicious restaurant in New York City, and a place at which I've developed the disturbing habit of stumbling toward in the hours after midnight, ordering three tacos and eating them all before I get home. Or picking them up on the way to another bar and just eating them there.

I don’t know. It’s kind of funny that I was thinking of moving back to Florida only two months ago. I already know that I’d be dead, buried and in the ground from boredom if that had happened. Somewhere in the last two years and two months I’ve become to belong in New York. It’s where my friends are. It’s my favorite place to be. Every weekend when I go out, I have a good time. I meet someone new. I give out my phone number to cute boys, some who call and some who don’t, and I don’t give a crap either way. Every weekday night I spend with a book at the new coffee shop is the best time. Every time I can get the Sunday Times and read it wherever the hell I want to makes me insanely happy.

Can I ever return back to “regular” life? Maybe. Depends where that regular life is. Depends who I’m with. But in the meantime, it’s good to know, that for the first time in a very, very long time, I know for sure, that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Great Article

Below is a link from CNN.com on how the media, particularly Fox in this case, can get away with many things we don't think about, in terms of moral consciousness.

http://www.cnn.com/2006/SHOWBIZ/TV/11/29/apontv.fox.michaelrichards.ap/index.html

It's particularly timely. In addition, Britney had another vagina slip last night. Now granted, this isn't making news on regular news outlets, only the gossip ones (which I follow like a religion!), but more and more the regular news channels are turning to bloggers to provide social commentary. So who knows what might happen with this in the next week or so.

In addition, I officially return to my original feelings about Britney. I didn't like her in 1999. I don't like her now. She's another one who should just fall off the face of the Earth. If I ever see her in New York, she gets a big punch in the face if I can break through her bodyguards and the paparazzi.

You Know What Pisses Me Off...?

That I am sitting here, trying my hardest to figure out how to make ends meet, trying to figure out what the next step in my career is (advertising, law, journalism) and I sign on to my favorite gossip site in an attempt to escape it all for a moment, only to realize that in doing so, I'm fueling the fire for a bunch of idiots to make millions more than I will ever see by doing absolutely nothing.

If I have to see one more f*ing picture of Paris or Britney's f*ing vaginas, I swear to God, I'm going to start ripping my hair out. Are we really so low as a society, that this type of behavior is not only acceptable - it's something that the media actually latches onto? It's your VAGINA! Would we stand by and just accept it if everytime Kid Rock or Eminem or (insert current media bad boy here) got up out of a car his penis and ball sack fell out? I doubt it! It would be an uproar of unbelievable proportions!

And how is it, that Janet Jackson, whose breast may or may not have accidently come out of her costume during the Super Bowl gets vilified, when in reality, that's nothing you can't find in any gas station magazine rack...yet somehow, we're not starting up the witch hunt to put the snatches of Lindsay, Paris and Britney, back where they belong - in their f*ing underwear??

I'm just SO SICK of the one-sided slant the media gives to certain people. Some people are raked across the coals, and others, like Britney, are repeatedly given free passes to lower our sense of what should/can be universally accepted as decent?

And the very fact that Spears not only gets away with this, but has built an entire multi-million dollar empire on it, makes me sick. I'm a smart girl. How is it that this podunk dumbass has more money in the bank than I can only dream of having? Maybe that just makes me the idiot. It sure seems so.

Fun Music

On November 13, I celebrated the impending end of my relative youth by attending the Panic! At the Disco concert with A. A. was a trooper and ponied up for the ticket, even though she's never heard a Panic! song and had no idea what they sang. I, of course, was ecstatic that I could go since I thought I wasn't going to see them and was sad about that. Through the joy that is Craigslist, I found tix relatively cheap and we headed out.

Because I'm crazy about being places on time and getting my full money's worth, I insisted we get there right at 7:30 so we could see the opening acts. One of them was a group named Jack's Mannequin and if you are a closet Laguna Beach fan like I am, this album is a must have for pretending you are Rocky, with your only BFF Tessa, abandoned by Alex once again, and left crying in your prom dress on the beach....you know, if you're into that sort of self-torture, imagination stuff. Not that I am. But maybe you are. Or maybe you'll just like the music.

It's also worth noting, simply because it's hilarious, that at the Panic! concert, more than half of the audience seemed to either be in high school or accompanied by their parents. Then there was A. and I. At one point, I looked left to the high schoolers on my left making out, looked right at A. who was looking to her right at the high schoolers making out, and then just proceeded to throw up the rock and roll sign and dance around. I was still 25 then. It was alright.

Thanks!

Just over a week ago, I hit the 1,000 mark for page views on this blog. Thanks to those of you who keep coming back to read about my ridiculous little adventures. Remember, don't forget to send the link to your friends, family, or even retarded brothers named Billo, so long as they check the Internet. I was just thinking today...again...that I should really be writing for a living, not calling the press for hours every day begging them to write about the various things I get paid to pitch. Not that it's not a good living to do that...it's just, I'd rather write. Or watch YouTube all day, but unfortunately, that won't pay the bills.

The Conclusion of the McWigger Chronicles…For Now At Least

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The McWigger Chronicles: Chapter 3

For those of you who thought the McWigger saga had come to an end (and that included me), it did not. For better or for worse, a Chapter 3 and 4 were recently added to the apparently never-ending cat-and-mouse game I will be forced to play with McWigger until a.) I move out of the East Village or b.) McWigger falls off the face of the earth, preferably as a result of fiery car crash. I don’t wish him dead, that’s pretty mean. Maybe just horribly disfigured as a result of his burns and injuries.

Anyways, after the in-store incident in which things were thrown at me, I realized that I hadn’t adequately stood up for myself to McWigger, but more or less, I was fine with this. A few days after the in-store run-in, I was telling one of my best guy friends the story and as it so happened, he was coming up two weeks later for a visit. We got to talking and thought it would be funny if him and I went into the store to fuck with McWigger a little bit. I knew that McWigg would think it disrespectful (or whatever) if I were to go in the store with another guy, and I knew it would effectively prove a point (at least that’s what I was hoping). I told my friend that if it worked out in our schedule to do that, that we should but that it was no big deal if we didn’t.

Well, as it turned out we did get the opportunity. On the Friday morning that my friend arrived, he didn’t feel like sightseeing or doing anything in particular, so I suggested that we go to the gym and then find a plan for the day. Once in the gym we realized that we could go pay McWigger a visit right after, so my friend, sweetheart that he is, worked out his arms for a solid hour. My friend is a pretty big guy, his muscles are pretty ridiculous, so by the time we finished, he was f*ing huge. We spent a few minutes perfecting our plan, which basically consisted of “go in and see what happens,” and then headed out to the shop.

So we walk in and McWigger is no where to be found. I was confident that he was either in his office or out on an errand and that if we waited long enough he would appear. So my friend and I grab a strategically placed table and wait. We didn’t get up to buy anything, we weren’t even talking. We just sat there. We came with no money - just hoodies, water bottles and towels from the gym. We meant business. My friend takes off his hoodie and is sitting there in a wifebeater. It was like 45 degrees out that day….so it was pretty obvious we weren’t there to grab coffee and catch up on old times.

So, we sit there in silence until finally McWigger comes up from his office. He looks at me, looks at my friend, (and I can see the look in his eye change) and goes behind the counter. I let my friend know that our target has arrived and I get up to excuse myself to go to the bathroom to give them some alone time.

This is why my friend kicks his awesomeness into high fucking gear. While I am in the bathroom, he and McWigger engage in a stare down, during which my friend drinks from his water bottle while simultaneously flexing his arm. Some girl was sweeping behind the counter as the stare down was happening and my friend said he realllllly had to resist the urge to call out, “Hey…umm…do you like porn??” Even though that would have been hysterical, I’m pretty sure McWigger would have fought him so it’s probably better that he didn’t’ call this out, but that would have been the funniest thing the world has ever seen.

So I come up to the bathroom and my friend informs me that him and McWigger have been eye-fucking (haha) for five minutes. I say perfect, the last thing to do then is just acknowledge him while I am here with you and then the job will be done.

Well sure enough, no big surprise, McWigger does the work for me. He walks past me and my friend, arranges something on the wall that I am facing, turns back around, brushes me on the arm with something between a tap and a sweeping motion and goes, in a very trying-hard-to-sound-cool-but-clearly-not-cool voice, “Whats up?” and keeps walking.

So I look at him dead in the eye, pivot as he turns and go, in a very-sarcastic-trying-hard-not-to-laugh-but-wish-I-could-punch-you-in-the-face voice, “Whats up.” Eyebrow raised for added sassiness.

He doesn’t respond. Happy with this outcome, I nod my head at my friend and we know we are finished. We get up and leave, McWigger’s eyes burning a goddamn hole in my back and once we’re a safe distance away I jump up and down with delight, pretty sure that McWigger got the point and that he now knows not to fuck with me anymore.

I wasn’t quite sure if that meant I was allowed to go into the store again but I was happy with the situation for the time being and thought that if I let enough time pass maybe the next time I went in there I would be left alone.

However, I learned just a few days later that it was not to be.

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of the McWigger Chronicles!

Reason Number 1,234 Why I Am Not Sexy

On my way to meet a new potential fashion client, I put on my coolest outfit and rush off into the night to meet her at a coffee shop. Feeling pretty confident, I make eye contact with some hot guy on the corner and promptly lose the ground beneath me trying to take a step onto the sidewalk. He notices, calls me out and I mumble something about snipers.

Minutes later, a Chinese thug/gangster/I don't know what in his mid-40's, possibly 50's, sticks his tongue out at me.

This is what I like to call "par for the course."

Turning 26 Has Been Fun, Thanks to Me (ok, and my friends too)

I was nervous about turning 26, as evidenced by the last few weeks’ worth of postings on getting older, fate and blah blah blah.

But I have to admit, now that the day has come and gone, it wasn’t so bad and because I had so much fun turning 26 I really can’t complain and can only hope that by starting the age off on the right foot that I am setting myself up for a good year.

It’s kind of like how my roommate once told me that if on New Years, at the stroke of midnight or right after, you should walk around the block (or whatever is handy) with a suitcase if you want to travel that year. So, on the New Year’s of 2004/2005, I did just that and sure enough, I went to like four countries and 12 cities that year. You can chalk it up to coincidence, but I didn’t do that on the 2005/2006 New Year’s and I’ve done very little traveling.

So, if I start out 26 by having fun, my batting average indicates that this should sustain itself and the year will be just fine. Until it’s time for me to turn 27 and we begin this process all over again.

However, exactly one week ago today, I headed to the Heaven on Earth that is Gainesville, Florida for a weekend reunion with my friends. None of us had been together in Gainesville since RR and I got up and out in 2003. Back then, I couldn’t wait to leave and get started with my life. I thought it would be kind of sad or bizarre to be back but in fact, it was the exact opposite. All I could do was smile. I just had so many good memories everywhere, and to be back with my friends was awesome. I snuck back into my old dorm with O-Shaw, which still smelled like a combo of Herbal Essences shampoo and ramen noodles, snapped some photos of my old dorm room, walked around campus, ate at my favorite pizza place, and generally behaved like a tourist.

However, my favorite moment was perhaps on the first night, when we went into a bar to grab a drink and no sooner had I sat down than I saw someone I knew across the bar. Just like old times! I don’t care how old you are, it’s always fun to go in some place and have to slowly make your way across because you have to stop and talk to everyone you know in there.

I think the most fun night was Friday, when the last clear thing I remember is taking my friend up on his offer of using his credit card at the bar and buying shots for everyone. Fast forward through some dancing and then I was getting a piggy back ride (which was offered to me by a hot kid and who am I to turn him down?) and eating fried chicken while in a nurse’s hat and using a stethoscope to check for heart murmurs and irregular heartbeats on people I didn’t really know.

Follow that up on Saturday with a one-point victory in the Swamp, resulting in only the absolute and sheer joy that something like that brings, getting a mild case of food poisoning but then rallying to go out again on Saturday night, which was considerably calmer than Friday but no less fun.

Then this Saturday, one final party with my friends here in NYC and my entry into 26 will be complete. And hopefully an entry that comes with the Gators getting into a national championship game. Fingers crossed.

I Just Turned 26 Years Old

More on how I feel about this later!