Do you come here often?

Are you from Guinea? Those were the words out of the mouth of some random person walking down Liberty Street. I never thought I could hear a more ridiculous pick up line, except for "Are you going to eat that?" That was the one used by the Russian who I dated a few years ago. I will say the originality led to a few months of casual dating before I ditched him for the lesser educated, richer, older, less attractive man that was my BF for years to come. You know sometimes I wonder what if? Then I remember...Oh yeah! Bedroom issues. You see, the Russian was a bodybuilder and I am a firm believer that all those muscle pills he used to pop disabled his ability to perform. Don't get me wrong ladies, he was okay for lift off. The problem was he never really "landed". I thought lesson learned, but I ended going back for more disappointment and made him my rebound guy after Hitler. Four years later, it is amazing how a booty call can reunite two people. So four days later it was over. No tears, but definitely lesson learned. Phony pick up lines are usually a sign of something wrong. A red flag. So when I was being picked up by some guy in the street by asking me if I was from some foreign country in Africa. I told myself "stay away, stay far away." The day progressed by me falling on a stranger in the train. Quite embarrassing. Especially, considering that I fell back onto areas of him I would prefer not to know until after at least three dates. I apologized and thought that would be the end of my liaison with this man. Until the doors of the train opened, and he said "Hey, your cute, what's your name?" So I guess he figured the fact that he already went to second base with me was irrelevant. He thought my looks were acceptable, and he might as well find out the name of the woman who just gave him the cheapest lap dance ever. Where is that hole to bury my head when I need it? The night ended with one more lame pick up attempt. Will this day ever end? The bartender at my new favorite drinking hole in the Village asked to see the entire Star Wars series with me. Now anyone who knows me is aware that a night full of science fiction is not my idea of a hot date. Not to mention, sitting in front of a TV for 18 hours is a little too much time with myself let along with another person I barely know. The problem is we can't piss off the man who controls the flow of alcohol at my favorite locale. So, now we think of a creative way to turn down a bad pick up line. Hey, Are you from Zimbabwe?

I bet you think this song is about you...

I am about to celebrate my 5 month anniversary with yep you guessed it Mr. blogspot himself. The way this blog started was by a really close friend who showed me the power of a blog. It originally started as a way to vent out our frustration with law school, but then became a ventilation for life. (Thanks pr0n) It allows you to reach others in a way that is fun and humorous but kind of voyeuristic (kind of how I like my sex life). I have used this blog to poke fun at my forsaken life, which has seen as many cracks in the road as a NYC potholes. Don't get me wrong, I am not saying my life is that bad. I would be ungrateful to claim such a title. However, the trial and tribulations that I go through always sound so much better once I am done making fun of it on-line. Especially knowing if I can laugh at it, then it ain't that bad. Writing is a great way to be creative, and use our lives to tell a story. You know what they say "truth is better then fiction". I have been very hesitant to allow many to read these entries, especially the BF (viceronrox you know all too well). Simply for the fear of being too exposed. But I realized if you consider them friends, then it is okay to share stories of private parts, sex, and insecurities. Which is what this is all about - insecurities. A little bit of Carrie Bradshaw, and a little bit of Charles Schulz wrapped into one. Since the people who I care about are sometimes the characters of my comic book life. I would think they would enjoy pages and pages of "pie in my face". Nonetheless, if at any point the joke is lost or the mockery of myself falls short, I write this to all my friends - sorry. I am not here to ridicule anyone but me, myself and I. Just the way, I also like to praise me, myself and I. (Carly Simon was a very smart woman). Because in the end let's face it - We are our best judges. So enjoy and laugh or criticize and sneer.

Adieu!

I've spent the past few days full of good-byes and have not had time to write. On Thursday, the going away party for the Greek took place at the Living Room. Not mine, the bar on 47th street. The night started with dinner with friends (like the movie) that was full of lots of juicy gossip. Looks like the girl that my BF dated twice (or three it is still sketchy whether there was a third) hooked up with my friend. Well traveled I will say! She must be trying really hard to find Mr. Right. Nevertheless, aside from the uncanny coincidence. I am just hoping that she doesn't jerk around my friend, because to be honest I think he can get better. That was a compliment for him, not an insult for her - or maybe it was :) As you can see a little bitterness left over from the whole dating fiasco with my BF. Nothing wrong with a little cattiness - it's healthy. Anyway, the night progressed with lots of martinis, dancing, pictures, and memories of probably the last time I will be dancing with the Greek. And so it continues...The next three days were spent with the BF. I knew it was my last few days with him, so we tried to squeeze in as many things as possible in such a short period of time. And still leave time for squeezing other things as well. After probably the best and worst weekend I have had in a really long time, it was time to say good-bye. I promised no tears but those damn things managed to fight their way through. Bastards! He never got to see them, because my pride managed to beat them to the chase. But we both knew that as soon as he boarded the plane they probably fell on both ends. I don't know how I got so sappy all of a sudden. Must have been after seeing that damn movie "The notebook"...never again. So there it is, I've become the Greek. Two months and counting until Costa Rica, and all I can think about is how quiet the house is and how empty my bed is. I could sit here and make jokes about how there will be a string of wealthy young businessmen which will now be filling my time and my blogs. But not this time, sorry guys.

Trains, Planes and Automobiles

My third day at work and I am late. Don't roll your eyes just yet. I get a phone call from mom at 7:45 am telling me to leave the house early because there's an accident in the Lincoln. I catch the bus at 8:10, almost 30 minutes earlier to avoid being late. Instead, I end up sitting on the bus an hour and a half. Damn I need an IPOD! 30 minutes late. Back in the old days , it wouldn't even phase me since I knew I had a 18 hour shift to look forward to. However in a 7 hour work day every minute counts, and I am slowly learning that. So I spend the rest of the day working on x-rays. No, I have not been promoted to doctor just yet. Products liability = lots of medical records. Listen, so long as I am not sitting on the floor putting labels on 10,000 green file folders at 4 am, waiting for Rays pizza to deliver...I will gladly look at broken ankles anytime. Thanks to the new job, I have gone back to my roots of riding the the subway. God, I miss the good ole days when a token was a $1. Anyway, I see this very attractive guy standing next to me with a briefcase (of course he is) and he is reading a book. I lean over to see the title of the book. The first reason is because I think maybe I can strike up a conversation with him, mmm. Hey, a little mass transit chat never hurt anyone. Second reason was to make sure he wasn't reading a book called "The joy of embalming" (you got to be careful in NYC). So my handsome stranger turned out to be reading a book called "Emotional Intelligence: Why it can matter more than your IQ". I tried not to laugh (aloud at least)! I was not sure if he was reading this book so he can seem like the sensitive type in order to pick up the ladies (so I am not the only one checking out the goods on NYC metro), or because he is some weirdo who enjoys self help books. What is emotional intelligence anyway? Last time I checked, people tend to loose brain cells when emotions get involved. Besides, after my ex I stopped trying to find a man with any intelligence for that matter. But, I guess the trick is when you stop looking you find.

Captain, we are coming in for a landing.

I am laying down on the bed naked with my legs wide open, spread eagle, and the attractive blonde has her head in between my thighs. I know this must sound like either a scene from a porno or one of my BF's fantasies. But it actually isn't either. Instead it is a wonderful, yet very painful experience that I endured on Wednesday. And women all over the world put themselves through this suffering all the time. That's right, I went in for the infamous Brazilian Wax. Men, if you are reading this you might not understand exactly what that means. Imagine taking any possible hair growth that exists on you private parts (and other parts in between and surrounding areas) ripping it out of the skin in one fast "swoop" with hot wax. Sounds pleasant doesn't it??!! Well, it is as painful as it sounds if not more (I hear childbirth is a walk in the park compared to this), but the results are amazing. They say 1) It makes sex better (is that possible?) 2) Great for those skimpy bikinis 3) No more freaking razors! 4) And your significant other will thank you when he is down there as well (and you will too). So there you have it, the pain of beauty. The strangest thing is after all this humiliation the lady asks you if you want what they call a "landing strip". WTF! Who is landing? Last I checked there were no airplanes or little men standing on my v#g*na directing traffic. Jesus, I wish I got that much action. So, I opted for no "landing strip", just the plain old Hitler design. I won't even attempt to describe that. Anyone can just put two and two together and figure it out. Just please don't stare at my crotch next time we meet. So, would I do it again? Absolutely. But ladies you are warned, be strong, and be prepared to be in stranger positions that even your boyfriend has seen...Not to mention places he didn't even know existed (nor did I). Oh, and one final thought, tweezers are involved. AAHH!!

Roller Coaster Ride

After 8 interviews, about 40+ jobs applied to, 7 telephone interviews, and 3 offers, I am finally employed. It took a lot of persistence, patience, and hours of sitting at the computer searching, and I had to meet about 10 head hunters. Do they really bring back heads? No, so why the stupid name? Now I have the dream job: 9-5 (I didn't think those hours still existed), a month of vacation, unlimited sick, all benefits paid for, and actual responsibility besides punching holes in paper. Did I mention they like law students, and even told me to take off for finals? Where were they last semester, I would have been $10,000 richer??? For the first time in three years, I realize there are people who care about your well being and not just the bottom line. Thank God, I finally overcame another hiccup in 2005 (the longest 8 days of my life). After 2004, I could have sworn it could not get any worse. Instead I was greeted in the new year with a leave of absence from school, being pushed out the door of my job after I sacrificed family, friends and school for them, being unemployed and broke, two deaths of grandmothers of my two best friends, and the occasional reminder that my ex is still up to no good (that makes girl#4). Jesus, good thing I have tough skin. Right when I begin to think in the month of May things are going to get easier. I will have to deal with a new job, the BF leaving in a week for his 6 month excursion, and the best friend leaving to Hong Kong permanently at the end of the month. Just when I started to get used to having the BF around, he is packing his stuff and leaving on his trip around Latin America to write (is that what they call it nowadays?). I will also have to deal with "the talk" at some point in the next week. You know, the dreaded "are you going to bang anyone else while your away, and am I allowed too?" The truth is, as much as I try to act like this modern liberal woman that is okay with no boundaries. I actually don't like the idea of him sleeping with another hot Latina, nor the idea of me having to deal with another skinny white guy. I am quite content with the one I have, and do not have the patience to start molding another one either. With girlfriends it is so much easier. She will move across the world, I will cry, we will write, call, and I will fly there as much as I can, and rack up frequent flyer miles like you couldn't imagine. There are no rules, talks, and nights of wondering if she is sleeping with another women. And if she was, that would merely be another exciting topic to discuss over coffee.