Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego

So it has been way too long since I updated the blog and with good reason, the BF has landed and I have not been able to come up for air. School has been kicking my a*S and I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. All I can hope is that the final grade will show for all the hard work I have been through. The return of the BF was anything but easy. I spent three days on the phone with a ghetto South American airline threating to call the US embassy for losing a plane of 150 passengers. It looks like in order to avoid some showers in Costa Rica, some honor student at this airline decided to land the plane in a disaster zone where 250 just died from a hurricane. I spent hours on the phone trying to figure out when the plane was being removed from hurricane alley and onto safe ground in NYC. No one was able to tell me anything, every hour, they told me they landed in another country - from Honduras to Nicaragua, but never did they mention where the passengers really were which was El Salvador. So after four days of traveling from Buenos Aires to NYC, I am sure my BF was glad to be home. He told me stories of earthquakes and queens from Japan, but for the most part his adventure to El Salvador was unproductive. And I was glad that I did not have drive to JFK again just to be turned back to Jersey at 2 am in the morning. Damn the things we do for sex. A lot has changed since the return of my don quixote. The living arrangement is now a permanent one. I know there was a period of time when we both thought that it was temporary, but as my previous blogs have explained about the economics of the tri state area...People move in with each other faster here than out west because of the exuberant amount of money you pay in rent. Not to mention the six rounds of sex on a Sunday afternoon. The past month has been seamless, and I can not lie and say that the new roomate is putting a cramp in my style. Because the truth of the matter is, there is nothing but good things to say about the way things are going. You hear all the horror stories of snoring, toilet seats that stay up, fights, and toothpaste on the sink. I was scared too, because the last time someone tried to live with me, I ended up almost pulling my hair out. This time I have someone else to pull my hair. Ahh the joys of moving in together.

Daylight come and me want go home.....

I was going to write a blog entry about the crazy person who was screaming on the subway platform of the 2 train about the different body parts that she wanted to chop up and throw in the river and how not one person on the train flinched an inch, but instead I decided to update everyone on last night's event (trust me it is worth the update). Yesterday was spent visiting the parents and checking out their new apt. They are in the process of moving into a bigger place, backyard, fireplace, etc. But I do not envy them moving. I forgot how much I hated it, until I went to visit and saw 10 million paige boxes all over what is supposed to be the living room, I then spent a couple of hours buying the BF a gift, and then realized that I can not mail it to Buenos Aires because a) it might not make it in time and b) it might be stolen. So I guess I will hold onto it for the next couple of weeks or if times get tough sell it on eBay. My aunt had called and canceled on me around 7, and so I was going to my friend bday party around 10pm. Instead the evening went as follows: In the middle of reading a case about a 77 year old man who fell down the stairs when there was a blackout failure from Con Edison...Does Con Edison owe him a duty? And if answered affirmatively then Con Edison is negligent. Anyway, I get a phone call from my aunt telling me "Is it too late to get you to meet me and your uncle? It was 8:15 at this point. "No, not too late give me about 30 minutes." I knew that was impossible, but I got dressed to impress (best jewelry and shoes) and went on my way. I got to 61st between Madison and park around 9:20pm (gotta love any area near Barneys) to a place called Geisha (right next to Serafina) and am escorted into a private elevator to a second floor (closed off) area. How come I am not surprised? I get there and my uncle gets up and greats me, and there are about 20 people in the room. I greet my aunt, my uncle's fiancee and my baby cousin. So, now my mind is wondering. Okay was this a surprise dinner that my uncle did not know about? And that is why I am just walking in when everyone is eating. Apparently my lovely uncle and his fiancee share a birthday a day apart and they planned this dinner party for themselves. So they knew where, when and how for quite sometime. They booked this place for a private four course dinner, open bar for the evening. Somehow I manage to slip off the radar on the invitation list and my aunt told me my uncle felt so bad because he overbooked, but once he saw that there was room he called me asap. First off my uncle did not call..My aunt did (she is the one who tries to keep the peace) and second off how can you overbook without your niece on the invitation list. But your two other nieces are on the list?...HMM., well it looks like my other niece (college girl) couldn't come which makes me believe I got her seat. So I decide, I am going to be the better person. Do it for your aunt and your baby cousin. Smile and just deal with it. You already know your uncle is a selfish materialistic jerk. So I order lobster, shrimp for appetizer, and as many wines, and martinis I can. Hey, big shot hosts can afford it! So, the night continued with my uncle introducing me to all his friends as his oldest niece who he is soo proud of because I am in law school and studying international relations/law, blah blah. You'd would think he was my agent. Then he brings me over to meet one of his best friends, who is none other than Kathleen Turner. Yep, you heard me. He's been best friends with her for 7 years. She takes a liking to me and tells me if I ever need international connections, just say the word. Then off to meet his other friend, Harry Belafonte's son and his girlfriend. I do the rounds, and smile and be the good networker that I am. By the end, I had bonded with a real estate mogul connection, a Hollywood actress, and the son of a legendary performer/actor/activist..."Day-O!". We then left Geisha around midnight (which I will say I loved and will def go back) One thing about my uncle that I do give him credit for is we always like the same type of places. Then we went back to his fiancee's restaurant which is the famous DB&D. Oh and she thought to show me her 4 karat engagement ring numerous times - I will say it is gorgeous and the green in me did come out a little. Then my uncle turned to me and said "oh you've never been here right?", because the place is hard to get into. I turned to him and said "yes I have I just didn't need to call you to get a reservation." HA! How was that? The truth is I had been there. You know me and restaurants, I like to check out what is the best and the one that is usually the talk of the town I will go to at least once. Well I had been there with a friend of mine over a year ago, and I didn't need to call my uncle to get "in" like he thought. So the night then ended with a grey goose martini and a walk back to my car parked on central park. He thanked me for coming, and I thanked him for "inviting" me. I know the next time I see my uncle will be at his famous shin dig wedding in CT, when I will make sure to go and make my honorable presence. I will def be the belle of the ball that night. Ahh yes the niece no one ever sees :)) Isn't she darling? Is that couture she is wearing? Afterwards, I called punk rock and met her at Manitoba's on avenue B. What a change of atmosphere. Tell me why is it, I actually know where 7th and A is now? We ended up seeing this rock band perform (yeah you could just imagine how I was dressed with jewelry that cost more than the entire wadrobe of the band) and I just wished I could have went in the bathroom and changed into jeans, tank top and flip flops. The rock band was not bad, they reminded me a little bit of poison,. Big hair, 80's rock band. Here is their website: http://www.thetowersoflondon.com/
When you go to the website - go to the music link and listen to a clip of their music so you get an idea of what I was listening to for an hour. My favorite song is "on a noose" and "f*ck it up" (ha!) I got nervous when he threw liquor in the crowd and then jumped off stage and rushed through the crowd to climb on the bar and grab the soda sprayer. I turned to punk rock and said "oh Jesus", she said "You are wearing silk I suggest you duck." So I did, and avoided getting drenched or spit on. After stepping over broken beer bottles and cigarette butts, we left. I love this girl and her boyfriend is awesome, but times like last night I wonder why I don't just carry around some wifebeaters in my car. I also wish nights like last night the BF was around so at least I would have someone to shake my head with. I got the big hair to do it, I am just missing the tight white jeans. Oh god! Okay well I was home by 4am, and now I am studying and reading about a guy who left his friend for dead in the backseat of his car. Is he negligent? I was thinking more like an idiot, but that's just my guess. Back to the books.! Until next celebrity sightings.

So I Married an Axe Murderer

Someone once told me "You think a lot about marriage don't you? The matter at hand is not that I think a lot about marriage, but instead I am skeptical about whether there can be fidelity in the union of marriage. I am constantly presented with situations that make me wonder if everyone in this world has slowly forgotten what the words "I take you to be my faithful partner from this day forward" mean. Guys, there is no expiration date or clause that allows you to change your mind because it happens to be Wednesday. I will explain. I was waiting on line to pay for my sushi the other day when this man came up to me and told me that I was beautiful. He asked me to join him for dinner or a movie. I politely replied "I am sorry, I am seeing someone." He turned to me and answered "That's okay, I am married, the question is "are you happy?" If you all know me, even though I wanted to say other words that probably would have gotten my mouth washed out with soap. Instead, I opted for a simple response "Yes, I am". Why is it that men feel that there are always excuses or reasons why it is okay to engage in adulterous affairs? As we all have, I have also been through my share of my heartbreak. However, I have had more than just the average "It's not you, it's me" break ups. In my case, I am usually confronted with the not so traditional "Oops, didn't I mention the wife?" Yes, of course you did. Because those are facts that I can so easily forget. Hmm, brown hair, blue eyes, wife, ahh yes how could I be so silly? Men love to come up with the reasons why it excuses their behavior (a) My wife and I do not sleep together (b) We have an understanding (c) I don't love her anymore. No sex, lets you sleep with other women, and no emotional attachment..Sounds like a gay room mate to me. So based on my series of bad experiences and choices in men. I have made a list of top ten warning signs that the man of your dreams is really not the man he claims to be. Don't always trust the tan line on the ring finger ladies, take notes: (1) The only telephone numbers you have are his work and his cell phone (trust me his secretary knows who you are - you might even be cafeteria conversation) (2) He is always going away on weekend trips which you are not invited to (This is called going home) 3) He is working on all major holidays (It is 10 pm on valentines day, do you know where your boyfriend is?) 4) He has been with you for four years and he is just not ready to move in yet (not commitment phobic, already committed) 5) His cell phone always manages to be turned off at night (wouldn't want to wake her) 6) He constantly buys things for his nieces, nephews or his sister (guess whose kids those are?) 7) He confuses stories (i.e., He calls your cousin Rob, and you don't have a cousin Rob) 8) You always manage to end up back at your place (Yes, he does have a room mate her name is Mrs....) 9) He tells you his parents live in another country or are dead (unless there are no airports in this country, or you do not see a tombstone - dump him) And last but not least 10) If he seems to good to be true - HE IS! So no, I am not always thinking of marriage, but instead I am always thinking of when my time comes to walk down that aisle to make sure I have a strong prenup and a chainsaw in the garage. You can never be too careful.

East Meets West

"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.

Rain Man

"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.

Almost Famous

Here is my first official celebrity photo. Don't worry I will not forget about the little people.
http://www.paulfrank.com/photomat/gallery.cfm?event_id=2
(now the trick is to find me :)

Every Breath You Take, Every Move You Make..

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.

Faster than the speed of light.

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".

Link to Hamptons and other crazy events

Here is the link of photos of my crazy new friends and our adventures in the Hamptons amongst other places.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/46297459@N00/

I just called to say I hate you

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!

Coming to America

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.

Leaving Las Vegas

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.

Out with the old and in with the new

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.

The Cold War

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.

Bam Bam

Well the last few days has been everything but unproductive. I spent Tuesday night at Benihana with a friend from high school and somehow after "shrimp in hat tricks" ended up at the peninsula Hotel rooftop bar. This place is not only beautiful and overlooking fifth avenue, but it is also filled with people who don't leave home without their gold amex and it doesn't matter that the drinks start at $20 a pop. I think this is the only place in NY where the well vodka is Grey Goose. So after a couple of hours of schmoozing with attorneys, I decide to invite my Czar friend to meet me for a drink. Never did I think it would turn into a night of screaming on 5th at 2am. The Czar became a sloppy drunk and yelled at the bartender for bringing him Johnny Walker Black instead of Blue. I thought people usually get into arguments about paying less for a drink not more ? ? ? Regardless, I was so embarrassed and the attorneys and my Investment Banker almost had a brawl in their Italian made suits. What a night! The week only got better. Thursday night I got invited to a private party at BED. The concept of 10-12 drunk people on a bed partying it up is brilliant. The man who conjured it up is a genius. After way to many free vodka martinis (open bar is sooo dangerous) I somehow ended up on a bed with Don Vito and some of the other crew from Viva la Bam. http://www.mtv.com/onair/dyn/viva_la_bam/series.jhtml) By the way for any one who has seen the show, yes Don Vito is as disgusting as he is on tv (and fat). So after many tit grabbing attempts (some successful) to evey woman on the bed, we went to the bathroom. When we return to bed, a large man with platinum blonde hair, a goatee, bandana, and a tank top is standing next to me. Who is this man in blue? Except the one and only Hulk Hogan. Talk about lame celebrity sighting another sudo famous celebrity has joined the group..Hulk Hogan, Brooke Hogan, and I think Linda too (after the second trashy platinum blonde, you loose track) http://www.vh1.com/shows/dyn/Hogan_knows_best/91209/episode_characters.jhtml
The night ended with me in the East Village. WTF! Luckily, a bunch of drunk dials to the Czar resulted in a car service rescue before I ended going home with some movie producer from Cannes. When I wake up from this really bad reality show, someone let me know.

In a nutshell...

I am so behind on updating everyone on the events of my life, so I am going to try to sum it up in one blog entry. Pull up some popcorn and a chair please. The Greek has left the island of Manhattan on July 5th. I spend the night before at the Cafeteria in Chelsea eating Mac and cheese and saying my good-byes. This is the second time I have said farewell over Mac and cheese at this place, the first was with the BF. My favorite dish has become a staple of bitterness and sad moments. The airport drop off was more stressful then it was sad. Of course my best friend has a habit of always being late. Mark my words there is going to be a gorgeous Greek running down the aisle in Hong Kong screaming "Wait don't hold the wedding without me!" Anyway, so as you probably already guessed she took her time getting to the airport for her flight that morning. Most airlines ask for a two-three hour in advance for check in to international flights..NO! Try one hour before flying. How does she do it? So after speeding down NJ Turnpike (which if anyone knows me, was more like 60MPH). We made it and she jumped out and was off. I miss her so much, but I am already planning my New Years in Hong Kong. In the past three weeks, I have been keeping busy at the gym, Bruce Lee here I come. The remainder of my time has been spent doing dinner, movies, drinks with friends old and new. The new friend is the Star Wars bartendar from my favorite locale in the Greenwich Village on my last blog entry. As per some previous blogs, I have questioned in the past whether men and women can be friends. The problem is I think they can but the guys always seem to screw it up by wanting to screw me. However, I have proven with my new established friendship that it is indeed possible. I have made it very clear that I have a BF yet we have exchanged many late nights together, movies and even a crashing at my place...And all VERY platonic (seperate bedrooms of course) So I am proud of myself. Then just when I thought the experiment was over. I come across a friend of the Greek last week, and we spent the night sharing French cuisine and enjoying our platonic conversation. Just when I am ready to add this man to the rest of my safe male friends. (But no worries, because no one is better then my Asian BF or my Virginian gun fighter-you know who you are :) All of a sudden, my bubble was busted. I was on my best behavior (no comments from the peanut gallery please), when the Russian banker decided to profess his undying love to me (okay I am exaggerating). But he did make it quite clear that if the BF decides to run off with some hot Mexican or just decides to screw up - He would be there waiting. ARGH! Why is it when you don't want them they all show up from the woodwork? Yet, when you need them it is drier then the Sahara? Nevertheless, I will continue the goody two shoes path and hope that I will not have to make that decision. Aside from the very uncomfortable conversation with the Czar, Friday night was also filled with a great couple of hours of drinking French wine at Paradou in the meat packing with my friend from law school. The dinner consisted of good looking metrosexual French waiters, but very slow service. It was nice to finally see each other outside of the large auditorium room, full of laptops with our contracts teacher showing chest hair. That's for you Prn! Last but not least, I have tried two things in the last couple of weeks that is not normal for me. Reading a piece of fiction, and seeing a science fiction film. If you have not already guessed which movie - Star Wars. And guess what guys?? I hated them both, especially the book. (I will not mention the title to avoid persecution). I guess some things will never change. Until next time.

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.