Sunday, August 28, 2005
"Which way is west?" Those were the words that came out of my mouth on Friday night at 2:45 am while standing on Avenue B and 3rd street. The man with the long bangs and tattoos pointed straight ahead, and I began my journey. I walked past a bunch of grungy bars, and past a desolate park and began wondering how far until I see something familiar. I wanted to take a cab but there were none to be found. Instead a couple of hippies sleeping on the stoop of the stairs of an apartment building, and a bunch of bikers across the street was the only thing visible. After many blocks of painful walking, damn these 5 inch heels! I see the light...Like a mirage , the sign appears: "Soho Billiards". I am home! I managed to walk to Soho and I felt all of a sudden a sense of relief. I got my bearings and I was no longer walking while checking over my shoulder every five minutes. So many may be asking..How did I arrive in this land? What made me pass over into the east? The story is as such. The night began with a rendition of a sixty minute "Romeo and Juliet" by my very talented Asian BF. After 13 weeks of training, the show exemplified the hard work. The night then progressed into tapas and Sangria over to the east, where I drank and talked till late with great friends. The dinner party consisted of prn from school, my gun fighting Virginian, and of course my good looking writer friend from L.I. I suppose the night could have ended in disaster since no one knew each other but they all had a connection either through me or the actor. However, we all found ourselves getting along great discussing bad slap stick comedies, 80's classics, and the waiter who stole a 30% tip. The night almost ended after a tearful walk through Tompkins square park where my LI writer tried ever so valiantly to shower me with eye drops only so that we can be stared out by a couple walking down the street. We were not sure if they were going to run to my rescue because they thought that the writer was an abusive boyfriend who just stuck a bottle in my eye and was yelling at me to stay still while he made me cry even more. I managed to clean out the make up from my eye and regained my composure to walk across the alphabet again. I met up with Punk's friends and we ended up at this dive bar with graffiti on the bathroom walls and drunk bartenders. Nevertheless, as always I had a great time in a place that was not one I would call my own. I know the offer to stay in the west village was there by the writer, and maybe if it was two years ago I might have thought it as an easy way of getting a quickie and then getting out of it by blaming it on the alcohol. However, those days are over and the only thing I could think of that night was how I need to finish law school so I can get my own place in NYC or move in with a guy so that I can split the rent, whichever comes first. Either way, I was stuck again walking past crack heads at 3:30 am in the morning, and sitting next to a drunk worrying that I will fall asleep and miss my stop (or drool on the drunk next to me). Good thing that at this time next Friday, the only worries I will have will be whether the BF and I will be arrested and thrown into an Ecuadorian jail for disturbing the peace, and how to explain that to Dad when he bails us out. The saga continues.
Friday, August 26, 2005
"You have a lot of hair." I slowly lift my head to see a strange looking man sitting next to me on the 2 train. "It is nice and soft." I make a fake smile and pretend to read the advertisements in the car. Am I shedding? How does he know I have soft hair? Perhaps he touched it while I dozed off in between stops. Note to self: wash hair when I get home. "How did you get so much hair?" I look up to see if he is touching my head and when I realize he is not. I notice that he is staring at me kind of like a dog at the kitchen table. "You look happy?" I give him a blank stare and nod like a doll. Maybe he will think I don't speak English. "How did you get to be so happy? Are you always this happy?" I am thinking "Happy??!! Buddy, I am freaked out and praying that you and I do not get off on the same stop. Are we there yet?" And then I hear it like a sign from God "42nd street". The train conductor to the rescue. I get up and what do you know, so does Paul Mitchell. I slowly begin to see if I can get lost in the crowd, and I manage to escape. I have lived in NY long enough to know there are strange people out there, but I have a feeling that my radar is picking up more than usual this past week. Trust me I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.
Here is my first official celebrity photo. Don't worry I will not forget about the little people.
(now the trick is to find me :)
(now the trick is to find me :)
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
I remember sitting in my legal research & writing class last semester trying to write a persuasive memo on stalking and harassment. It is one year later, and I am sitting here still looking up the same cases. However this time not for class..for me. You see somehow throughout my life, I have managed to attract many psychopaths without realizing it. The last BF (Hitler) was always a little odd, but I never would have put the label "crazy" on him. Until now. If you ask me the same question today, the first words that would come to mind would be: order of protection. Recently, as you all know I have had some run-ins with the communist party, which have been anything but pretty. Nevertheless, nothing has happened yet that would move me to start shopping for a stun gun. Not so true anymore. After three phone calls, and five emails asking for money ($200), I am now filing a police report (and the stun gun is on back order). I should have done this when I got the second 5 page email. I may not have graduated law school, but I've watched enough Judge Judy to know it is harassment, stalking, and extortion all in one (okay maybe extortion is a little exaggerated). I am not sure how I got myself into this mess, but it must have been that damn magnet again (here psycho, psycho, psycho..) So off I go to file my first police report, in hopes that I can begin to celebrate the collapse of the Soviet Union. I think Pat Robertson may have a solution for this one.
School has started and I realize that whenever that occurs everything in my life slowly starts to resemble a final exam question. As I was speeding down McCarter Highway this morning trying to make the early bird special at the parking lot near the train I take to work..I thought. What happens if I run over someone or get in an accident? The hypothetical would go as such: Plaintiff would sue for damages for personal injury and negligence. Myself, the defendant, would argue that my employer should be held liable because I was within the scope of my employment. In order to make it on time to work, I was forced to speed which caused the accident. And the parking lot would be held contributory liable for the accident, because but for the early bird special, I would not have been speeding to make it there by 8 am, and would not have caused the accident. In the end, I made it to work and I got my $5 discount on parking, all at the same time while studying for torts. Amazing. The morning only got more exciting as I was trying to get through the turnstiles that were made for people who have eating disorders. Then to my surprise I was sexually assaulted by none other than the turnstile himself. As my skirt lifted up to reveal much more than I wanted to show the man behind me. I pulled it down, and ran off into the train, knowing that the man was thinking "good thing it is not granny panty day".
Monday, August 22, 2005
Saturday, August 20, 2005
The little yellow envelope on the cell phone is showing one unread message. Strange? I didn't hear the phone ring. And good thing, because low and behold the Czar is back in town. The message went something like this "I have been thinking over the past couple of weeks." Funny, because the only thing I was doing these past couple of weeks was planning an escape route and changing my locks. Where is that sledgehammer? The message continues "I realize I have a little more to tell you in addition to the last email" A little more to tell me!? Is a twenty page email insulting me and calling me a whore (in sophisticated terms) as well as a cheat and a liar not enough. Did I mention selfish and cruel? Yeah, because I thought the same thing when he asked for money back from one of our outings. That's like asking for a refund on a flight you already took because you didn't like where it landed. Personally, I like to think of it as an investment in a company that just went public, and all of a sudden the market takes a nose dive, you just got to write it off. Besides, they always say never to play the foreign market, too risky. So, perhaps there is something he forgot. What was I thinking? I must call and get the remainder of my insults because I would not be complete without them. WTF! This man has balls the size of his ego. Lesson learned, never be friends with a man who is mean to wait staff. Never be friends with someone who thinks money is an adjective used to describe their personality, and most importantly never be friends with someone who offers to be your knight in shining armor and steals your license (just a theory) Because in the end they are all just cursed frogs!
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
What is the true definition of a one night stand? You see many, many years ago before a quarter of my life was over, I decided to splurge in the realm of such (in a strange and foreign land). The rendezvous became a wonderful memory in my scrapbook and my belt, and also became a string of emails and short visits for years to come. The one night was never repeated but the communication was always there. My Brit and I shared stories of our long term relationships for a good part of the last five years. Last year when Hitler and I broke up, he also broke up with his busty beauty of three, and we both offered each other a consoling shoulder to sweat on, but it never happened. So why am I surprised that he has decided to put NYC as part of his frequent flyer destinations. I notified him of the new beau (not so new anymore), and even though disappointed, he still insisted on a trip down memory lane. I believe the trip to S.A. will be a great way to remind myself why I should not play with fire. As if I have not learned from the Czar that when men do not get to ride the tan horse they become extremely angry. Considering that I do not have time to take out another restraining order, I have opted to turn down the BBC. I am going to stick with my good ole American hippy, and just hope that this is the last time that an ocean separates me and my fix. The next time I see the Midwestern it better be in the US of A, or I am blocking this border baby.
It has been two weeks since I have been back from Costa Rica and I am already planning my next trip. It looks like Labor Day will be spent flying out to see the BF in South America. It better be more than just sex that provokes me to take a 6 hour flight to another continent for the weekend, otherwise I lost a brain cell somewhere in the Hamptons. In general, that weekend in LI is still vague to me, however I remember there was some nakedness in a pool and I managed to test out the abilities of my tonsils. The exercise involved tequila and a hot tub, which has now been posted on another blog (which belongs to one of the hipsters that joined us) http://gregtheboyfriend.blogspot.com. I always thought that if a picture of me ended up on the net, somehow I would be receiving royalties for it, but instead it is free for all to see. Good thing I managed to keep the top on for this one. Actually, the partying has tired me out somewhat. Maybe I am getting old? When is being hung over for three days straight not fun anymore?? I think the recurring nightmares of my liver holding me in a headlock threatening to kill me might be what did it for me. So this weekend I practiced being a home body. I cleaned things other than empty liquor bottles, I ate meals that were not cold and in a box, and I actually changed clothes and showered..alone. Friday is almost here and I can not say that it will not consist of another stage dance at "punks" favorite bar on Avenue A. If I have anything to do with it, I will be home before my carriage turns into a pumpkin, or at least before my face turns the color of pumpkin whichever comes first.
Friday, August 05, 2005
I have spent the morning thinking of all these little topics I wanted to tackle in my blog. For example, do you know that turtles have sex for four hours a day for five months straight during mating season? I think I want to be reincarnated as a turtle. Also, are tattoos at 27 a bad thing? Will my skin get all saggy and wrinkled? And will the butterfly look more like Elmer Fudd? I also think I am becoming a hypocrite, which is not a good trait to have. The new room mate was never fully explained in my last blog entry so here it goes... I no longer have the option of running around naked in my apartment due to a kind gesture of letting a friend stay at my place for two weeks. Then two weeks became four, because she did not find an apartment and I needed a dog sitter. It managed to work out I suppose, until I come back and now she is staying another two weeks. My math was never good but I know that two and four make way too many weeks in my house for free. And if you all know me, I can not live with anyone. I am a loner, and I like my space. I did not spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to share my toothpaste. The living situation has been amicable because she is my friend, and I am never home. I managed to get some cash from her, but don't fall off your chair I am actually not interested in the money. (Trust me guys that might be the only time you hear that line come out of my mouth). So instead of becoming a hypocrite, and acting like I am enjoying not being able to do cardio strip tease with the music blaring. I am putting my foot down. So that is the room mate story. This weekend I will be taking off to the Hamptons again for a house party with my punk rock friend (office mate from work) and all her punk rock crew. I am so excited, considering that I am so out of my element. Hanging out with her has given me a truer appreciation for my liver, and the east village. Not to mention that I have spent the past few days researching a woman's level of tolerance for pain (so that I may join in the rankings of tattooed law students). If I was in high school now, I can just hear the voice of my parents "she is a bad influence". But being 12 years older and wiser, being a "bad influence" is my new requirements for friends. As we get older we slowly start to retract to our younger years in a good way. It has come to the point where drinking until my face green, enjoying topless moments on a bar stool or blacking out and waking up with pizza on my chest laying in an overflowed bath tub is almost appealing. Punk rock has told me these are just a few of the little moments to look forward to. I am thinking the rest probably can not be published.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
I'm baaaaack!!!!! It has been a long month, and I have lots to say. I apologize to my friends that rely on this blog as an update to my zanny and crazy life. After the last entry, lots has occurred. Let's start with the basics...Previous entries in this blog have touched on the topic of men and women being friends. And the consensus was that the possibility of that is almost as good as the possibility of peace in the middle east. However, the last few weeks have brought on another challenge in my life. My BF was still traveling through the unbearable heat of Mexico, when the Czar made clear his not so innocent intentions. He tried to offer the noble attempt of "waiting for me" in case things between me and the BF don't work out. (please refer back to previous blog entries for further detail) What a terrible offer! Oh, I hope your relationship fails so that I can pick up the pieces of your broken heart. Nevertheless, I remained faithful and never promised any hope of a relationship. After many weekdays and weekends together (i.e., Hamptons, Cape Cod), he still pursued like a hunter during deer season. As difficult as temptation was, especially when the courting and the compliments were so over the top. At one point, I thought I would drown in the stuff. I kept repeating the fact that there is a BF in the picture, so no way he is getting anything but a friendly smile and a handshake. I am an avid believer of the golden rule and the last thing I need is bad karma. Not to mention I would not like the BF hooking up with anyone from the Eastern bloc either (or any block), so no dice buddy. On one last final offer, he says "Go to Costa Rica, my child and come back with a decision." So like a prophet from the bible , I was sent on my journey to become wiser, and hopefully come back changed (or at least in my mind). Since when did my life turn into Days of our lives? So off we go to Costa Rica, and into the arms of my wonderful BF. Just a small note on the country of monkeys, volcanoes, and green pastures. Costa Rica is amazing (and I am not just saying that because I was there romancing the stone). I highly recommended it as a vacation hot spot for everyone. After 500 pictures, 17 days of off road driving, beautiful green lush landscapes, wonderful food (seafood, yum), friendly people, monkeys, dolphins, turtles having sex, dark tans, surfers, close calls with the police, and long sessions of uninterrupted intimacy (and sex)..Well, I am back. Wiser? Yes. The last few days back have been spent dealing with housekeeping issues such as: new room mate, school registration, loans, and a pissed off Volvo. After much mental exhaustion, I had to tackle one last task. Getting rid of the non-adulterous relationship with my friend the Czar. After a long, difficult and angry conversation behind the iron curtain, I have lost one more friend. (bitterness showed his ugly face). So there you have it. The past few weeks resulted in being reunited with the long lost BF (just tanner), a romantic vacation, a wiser me, days of hiking in the jungle, close encounters with jaguars and cops, a new room mate, a lost license (there is a conspiracy theory behind that one), a semi broken volvo, and last but not least - one less friend in my life.