The storm being my upcoming week before my trip to DC for Memorial Day weekend. But first some mid-week amusement. One of the girls I interned with now had a job at the museum also. We had had similar roommate issues and had bonded over it. She seemed nice, though very young and with really severe eye makeup, which I secretly wondered how she thought it could look good. After running into each other outside the subway one day we had also exchanged some date stories and decided to go for a drink after work one day. We walked towards Soho and could not decide on a place. I had said that I wanted a place with outdoor seating but of course every place seemed to be full. We wandered for awhile until I finally chose a nice-looking place on a corner. We took a seat outside and then realized why we were able to do so--a glass of wine cost $15. We cringed and since our waitress had not come over yet I asked if we should leave. We debated then finally made our move for it. I was just going to walk quickly yet discreetly away but she took out in an almost full out run right across the street, in full view of the restuarant. I looked on in horror then realized I had left my sweater hanging on the back of the chair. I bee-lined back, grabbed it, then walked as quickly as I could after her. We rounded the corner out of breath and giggling. We kept walking and finally settled on a Carribean-esque place with tables in front of a large open window. It was expensive as well but I liked the atmosphere, despite the obnoxious British couple making out at the bar right in front of me. We chatted over drinks though it was a little awkward at times. She's not much of a partier and I, well am. I always feel a little guilty or embarrassed when I am in these types of situations--obviously going out isn't the only thing I do but it is a good way to relate to people, unless of course they don't. It also makes me feel like I should revaluate my priorities but I should probably get this all out of my system first. Luckily we had the arts in common, though I hadn't been as involved in them as I should have, which also made me feel a bit guilty. It was still a fairly enjoyable time out though and was way better than being in my apartment which was basically a brick oven now that the weather had gotten warmer. And lucky me, my subway car on the way home was officially the smelliest one I have been in. At one point I really thought I was going to puke. Luckily I did not.
The next night I was hanging out with OG and Javier. I was leaving for DC the next day and they would be gone by the time I got back. I met them by the clock tower in Grand Central. When they walked up I cracked up--both were wearing pink; Javier in a pink button up and OG with a pink sweater across his shoulders. They didn't see the humor but still accompanied me to Chipotle so I could house some dinner. We then headed over to Meatpacking. I figured the Standard beer garden would be a good place to take them and they hadn't seen the neighborhood yet. I had never been to meatpacking on a weekday and I don't know if I can brave it again. I don't know if it was the nice weather, but every place was packed and the line for the Standard was around the block. We weren't about to wait and when we couldn't find another place Javier took off by himself to take some pictures. OG and I wandered and eventually came full circle and ended up back at the Highline. This is a raised park that goes along an old railroad line. The last time I had been was in the winter but now it was totally different--greenery everywhere. And also couples. As OG and I strolled we tried to act very hard like we were not on a date like everyone else. We chatted about our time in Germany--our favorite nights out, how he had gotten together with the Swiss girl, and our friend, an American guy who was OG's roommate and the red member of Team USA (the other members being me and Baby J). It was nice after the previous annoyance of lines and waiting to get into places; now we could sit back and enjoy New York again.
Javier joined us and we wandered uptown, eventually into Chelsea. I loved the fact that we were in Chelsea with the two of them wearing pink but they were not so pleased. They wanted to find a place to eat. OG suggested one restaurant. We looked in and saw it was filled with male couples. We kept walking, no one saying anything then all bursting out laughing. We eventually settled on an Italian place, with an outdoor patio. They ate their meal, we chatted more, and I accepted their invitation to visit Mexico City. Done. We took the train up to Times Square and said our goodbyes. Walking away from OG reminded me of the goodbyes in Hamburg. It was extremely sad and I had the same feeling in my chest I would get when parting with people there. It's tough when you are able to be close with someone and then do not know if and when you will ever see them again. In this case I know it is only a matter of when but for some of the others, I know that was it. I have to learn to appreciate these connections for what they were and are and stay confident that the people I really want to see again I will.
I at least had an upcoming epic weekend in Washington to distract me.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Foreigners in Town!
I was having them come back into my life and I was pretty pleased about it. The first round was my French friend who lived with my friend Cardi in Syracuse. She (let's call her Michelle) had stayed for a year rather than a semester like Cardi and was just about to leave to go back to France. Her boyfriend had come over for a visit and they wanted to do some traveling. He had never been to NYC or the US at all so it seemed like an obvious choice.
I had fun with them when they arrived. They were only staying for three days and I would meet them after work in the evenings and work around, get dinner, etc. I liked showing them the city and now I have an official invitation to come to France. I was excited about this already and then they informed me that they have a friend who owns a boat in St. Tropez. I almost went through the roof--this could be the start to my new dreamjob as an International Party Girl! This trip needs to happen and is in the back of my head....
Anyway their last night in town I was going to meet them later. I had plans to meet my other foreign friends in town--my good friend from Mexico City (OG) whom I had studied in Hamburg with. He was one of the first people I met there and we hung out the whole five months, usually with that fucking Frenchy as well because they were good friends. We had had an awesome time though and I hadn't seem him since last summer. When we met it was literally like we picked up right where we left off. OG was with his friend Javier and they were traveling around the US, making a documentary on...porn. No, not making a porno but filming interviews with specialists and randos from the street about porn and how it affects them socially, their views on sex, etc. Here is the trailer: http://www.facebook.com/l/8dabfwMPZyy_OSqUVpaHnp2wJeQ/www.crazylittlething.org/planningdesk
The three of us wandered around the East Village, Javier snapping pictures with his fancy camera, and we finally decided to get some food. The Ukranian place had a nice patio and we sat. There I was, eating pierogies at a Ukranian restaurant in New York City with two Mexicans. Priceless. Afterwards I had to run back to the subway to meet Michelle and her boyfriend. She had been a music major and one of her professors had invited all of us to see a concert at the Scandinavia House (for free, cha-ching). We were by far the youngest people there, not that there were many of us to begin with. The concert was classical music and it was interesting. That is until I heard someone's cell phone ringing close by. I looked around annoyed until I realized--it was mine. I was the asshole whose cell phone was going off!! I was horrified and the woman behind started clucking at me. I shut it off and was unable to concentrate for the rest of the show. I had put the stupid thing on vibrate, how did the alarm still go off?? And to make it worse after the show I realized that the cellist who was playing at the time was the professor's WIFE, uuughh. Despite this he still invited the three of us to get a drink with him, his wife and the other musicians at the hotel bar next door. One of the guys was Swedish, which I was mildly excited about until we realized that he was a weirdo and kind of a dick. I didn't stay long as it was already late and I had to wake up early so I trucked it back on the subway by myself and Michelle and her boyfriend came home later.
They left the next morning and that night OG and Javier were too tired to come out. Luckily GF called me up. One of the French interns at work had invited me to her friend's happy hour earlier that day so we decided to head to that. It was on the Upper East Side and was my first time at a bar there. It was fairly horrifying. Packed to the brim with bros. But drinks were half off and of course GF hit it off with the two French girls. They had a French guy there with them and I get the feeling they were trying to set us up. Unfortunately Fabian (which is what I thought his name was even though it turned out to not be), was 22 and didn't say much. He did at least buy me a drink at the next place we went. A club called Slate which was not my seen at all, though the doorman did call me adorable, which is probably the only reason I went in. Pretty soon it was just GF, Fabian and me as the French intern had gotten as wasted as I have ever seen a continental European girl and had to be escorted home. This is when GF led us on an expedition to Chelsea--he had his eye on Fabian and wanted to see if he was gay. Once we entered the gay bar GF determined that he definitely wasn't and he was all mine. I made a half-hearted attempt but I actually enjoyed chatting with two random queens more about the differences between American and European H&M's. I then made the drunken decision to take a cab back to Astoria from Chelsea which I neeeever do (a sketchy subway ride is def worth saving $30 in my eyes). I also decided that the next day I was going to sleep all day and I didn't get out of bed til 4pm.
When I did I was for some reason craving french fries (to go along with the French theme of the weekend) so went to McDonald's (ew). While there I received a text from GF saying he was going to dinner with the two French girls tonight--I guess they really had hit it off. I agreed to join and also invited OG and Javier. Because they are Mexican and I am me we arrived to dinner on the Lower East Side about an hour late. OG charmed the table with his stories from the documentary while GF and I acted like children--he had decided that the French girls' friend who was with us looked just like Anne Frank and we were trying to out-do each other with very non-PC jokes. We also just about died later that night when we searching for a bar and we could hear sirens close by.
As punishment for this we ended up choosing the worst bar I have ever been to. Seriously. It was filled with ghetto people, including ghetto Koreans (?) and I paid $12 for one beer. After someone almost knocked me over bumping into me I decided we needed to leave stat. I hurried everyone along and we wandered, not sure where to go. GF and Anne left us and the rest of us eventually just wandered into a random bar. OG promptly ordered a round of tequila shots, which turned out to be literal glasses of tequila. It took me 3 swigs to get it down. We all sat at the bar chatting --French intern told us about living in Buenos Aires and I spilled the Frenchy story to her, with the help of OG. This bar was filled with a strange mix of bros and hipsters and at one point one of them grabbed my side as he walked by without saying anything. Probably not the best way to pick someone up.
After this place the girls left us and the boys were pretty well sauced. We headed back to the Back Room which was where we had originally gone after dinner. It was speakeasy I had heard about and wanted to try. When I told the boys what speakeasys (or acording to them, easy speaks or speakin-easy) they were excited to try one. Unfortunately the douche at the door told us no one under 25 was allowed. Wtf. OG bargained with him and he agreed to let us all in for $40. OG wanted to see what it was like before forking over the money so bouncer agreed to let him in for a second. Apparently he went in, grabbed a drink and followed two guys to the super back room. When the bouncer there tried to stop him he told him he was with the guys. There was a private party in the back room and OG was able to blend in for about 5 minutes before someone noticed he was not with the party. After emering from the bar about 15 minutes later, OG informed the bouncer we would not be going in. Except when the three of us went back at 3am we were let in without a problem. We sipped our drinks from our teacups and afterwards Javier walked in on two girls snorting coke in the men's room. We also had an addition to our group--Dennis Reynolds, from Ultra. I had texted him as a last resort when we couldn't find a good bar to go to and he was just joining us, as he lives nearby. He stayed with us though I'm sure he was sketched out walking into this situation--the boys were wasted and rambling about their porn documentary. I loved it. He also accompanied us to the dirtiest McDonalds I have ever been in (yes I went twice in one day, sick). After I took a cab back to Times Square with the Mexicans to catch the subway. En route I received a text from Dennis Reynolds saying I should have just stayed at his place. A little late buddy. I debated it then decided it was just best to go home. I bid the boys goodbye and headed to the N, only to discover that I had lost my weekly subway card (just purchased two days earlier). Dammit. At least the rest of the night was good.
I had fun with them when they arrived. They were only staying for three days and I would meet them after work in the evenings and work around, get dinner, etc. I liked showing them the city and now I have an official invitation to come to France. I was excited about this already and then they informed me that they have a friend who owns a boat in St. Tropez. I almost went through the roof--this could be the start to my new dreamjob as an International Party Girl! This trip needs to happen and is in the back of my head....
Anyway their last night in town I was going to meet them later. I had plans to meet my other foreign friends in town--my good friend from Mexico City (OG) whom I had studied in Hamburg with. He was one of the first people I met there and we hung out the whole five months, usually with that fucking Frenchy as well because they were good friends. We had had an awesome time though and I hadn't seem him since last summer. When we met it was literally like we picked up right where we left off. OG was with his friend Javier and they were traveling around the US, making a documentary on...porn. No, not making a porno but filming interviews with specialists and randos from the street about porn and how it affects them socially, their views on sex, etc. Here is the trailer: http://www.facebook.com/l/
The three of us wandered around the East Village, Javier snapping pictures with his fancy camera, and we finally decided to get some food. The Ukranian place had a nice patio and we sat. There I was, eating pierogies at a Ukranian restaurant in New York City with two Mexicans. Priceless. Afterwards I had to run back to the subway to meet Michelle and her boyfriend. She had been a music major and one of her professors had invited all of us to see a concert at the Scandinavia House (for free, cha-ching). We were by far the youngest people there, not that there were many of us to begin with. The concert was classical music and it was interesting. That is until I heard someone's cell phone ringing close by. I looked around annoyed until I realized--it was mine. I was the asshole whose cell phone was going off!! I was horrified and the woman behind started clucking at me. I shut it off and was unable to concentrate for the rest of the show. I had put the stupid thing on vibrate, how did the alarm still go off?? And to make it worse after the show I realized that the cellist who was playing at the time was the professor's WIFE, uuughh. Despite this he still invited the three of us to get a drink with him, his wife and the other musicians at the hotel bar next door. One of the guys was Swedish, which I was mildly excited about until we realized that he was a weirdo and kind of a dick. I didn't stay long as it was already late and I had to wake up early so I trucked it back on the subway by myself and Michelle and her boyfriend came home later.
They left the next morning and that night OG and Javier were too tired to come out. Luckily GF called me up. One of the French interns at work had invited me to her friend's happy hour earlier that day so we decided to head to that. It was on the Upper East Side and was my first time at a bar there. It was fairly horrifying. Packed to the brim with bros. But drinks were half off and of course GF hit it off with the two French girls. They had a French guy there with them and I get the feeling they were trying to set us up. Unfortunately Fabian (which is what I thought his name was even though it turned out to not be), was 22 and didn't say much. He did at least buy me a drink at the next place we went. A club called Slate which was not my seen at all, though the doorman did call me adorable, which is probably the only reason I went in. Pretty soon it was just GF, Fabian and me as the French intern had gotten as wasted as I have ever seen a continental European girl and had to be escorted home. This is when GF led us on an expedition to Chelsea--he had his eye on Fabian and wanted to see if he was gay. Once we entered the gay bar GF determined that he definitely wasn't and he was all mine. I made a half-hearted attempt but I actually enjoyed chatting with two random queens more about the differences between American and European H&M's. I then made the drunken decision to take a cab back to Astoria from Chelsea which I neeeever do (a sketchy subway ride is def worth saving $30 in my eyes). I also decided that the next day I was going to sleep all day and I didn't get out of bed til 4pm.
When I did I was for some reason craving french fries (to go along with the French theme of the weekend) so went to McDonald's (ew). While there I received a text from GF saying he was going to dinner with the two French girls tonight--I guess they really had hit it off. I agreed to join and also invited OG and Javier. Because they are Mexican and I am me we arrived to dinner on the Lower East Side about an hour late. OG charmed the table with his stories from the documentary while GF and I acted like children--he had decided that the French girls' friend who was with us looked just like Anne Frank and we were trying to out-do each other with very non-PC jokes. We also just about died later that night when we searching for a bar and we could hear sirens close by.
As punishment for this we ended up choosing the worst bar I have ever been to. Seriously. It was filled with ghetto people, including ghetto Koreans (?) and I paid $12 for one beer. After someone almost knocked me over bumping into me I decided we needed to leave stat. I hurried everyone along and we wandered, not sure where to go. GF and Anne left us and the rest of us eventually just wandered into a random bar. OG promptly ordered a round of tequila shots, which turned out to be literal glasses of tequila. It took me 3 swigs to get it down. We all sat at the bar chatting --French intern told us about living in Buenos Aires and I spilled the Frenchy story to her, with the help of OG. This bar was filled with a strange mix of bros and hipsters and at one point one of them grabbed my side as he walked by without saying anything. Probably not the best way to pick someone up.
After this place the girls left us and the boys were pretty well sauced. We headed back to the Back Room which was where we had originally gone after dinner. It was speakeasy I had heard about and wanted to try. When I told the boys what speakeasys (or acording to them, easy speaks or speakin-easy) they were excited to try one. Unfortunately the douche at the door told us no one under 25 was allowed. Wtf. OG bargained with him and he agreed to let us all in for $40. OG wanted to see what it was like before forking over the money so bouncer agreed to let him in for a second. Apparently he went in, grabbed a drink and followed two guys to the super back room. When the bouncer there tried to stop him he told him he was with the guys. There was a private party in the back room and OG was able to blend in for about 5 minutes before someone noticed he was not with the party. After emering from the bar about 15 minutes later, OG informed the bouncer we would not be going in. Except when the three of us went back at 3am we were let in without a problem. We sipped our drinks from our teacups and afterwards Javier walked in on two girls snorting coke in the men's room. We also had an addition to our group--Dennis Reynolds, from Ultra. I had texted him as a last resort when we couldn't find a good bar to go to and he was just joining us, as he lives nearby. He stayed with us though I'm sure he was sketched out walking into this situation--the boys were wasted and rambling about their porn documentary. I loved it. He also accompanied us to the dirtiest McDonalds I have ever been in (yes I went twice in one day, sick). After I took a cab back to Times Square with the Mexicans to catch the subway. En route I received a text from Dennis Reynolds saying I should have just stayed at his place. A little late buddy. I debated it then decided it was just best to go home. I bid the boys goodbye and headed to the N, only to discover that I had lost my weekly subway card (just purchased two days earlier). Dammit. At least the rest of the night was good.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Here we go again....
By the next weekend things were luckily starting to pick up. I had plans and ridic stories were happening, once again. Let's begin:
This particular Thursday night was supposed to be another intern get-together but it really just ended up being JM and me. This was fine with me as the location for this outing was just a few blocks from my apartment--the Beer Garden. The weather was finally starting to get relatively nice and JM had never been. Upon her arrival she informed me that she had met two guys in the past few days and had invited them both. I am always slightly concerned with the mixing of different groups in social settings and became more so when she stated that one guy was Russian and the other only had one hand. This could either go really well or very badly. Once the Russian guy joined us I knew it would be the latter. He was immediately obnoxious--condescending, arrogant and talking only about himself and only to JM. And it didn't look like we were going to be able to get rid of him--he had invited two other friends along who weren't quite as bad but still not people I wanted to be associating with. They made lame jokes and I sat drinking my Czech beer, trying to think of a way out of the situation. One of the other interns had more success--about 5 minutes after showing up she assessed the situation and wisely decided that she had to meet her friend at the "other" beer garden. She was out the door before I knew it. Just the two of us, stuck with these idiots. Original Russian decided they wanted to go to the outside part of the garden and I was hoping they would stay there but shortly after he came back in and told JM that "they were leaving, they weren't having fun". JM gave it her blessing but of course he just stood there, arguing with her for her not wanting him to stay. I listened to this and grew angrier and angrier. I had been sick of this guy from the beginning and now he was being a real dick. I debated what to do in my head and finally just went for it. "Maybe you should just fucking leave. No one wants you here anyway you fucking douchebag! Leave!", were the words that escaped my mouth. I pointed to the door, slammed my fist on the table and yelled this again. I felt bad for making a scene but I figured this was the surest way to get them to go.
Apparently Russians think differently than we do. He did not leave. He pulled up a chair, got too close to me and informed me that he liked Polish girls. He then proceeded to stare at me the rest of the time I sat there. Was this guy for real?? Finally I had had enough. I was going to the bathroom and JM was coming with me. I made sure she brought her purse and we hightailed it out the front door. We ran to the subway, making sure they weren't behind us. She texted her handless friend, who had shown up just in time to witness the chaos. He seemed nice but obviously couldn't get a word in with what went down. He met us and we actually did go to the "other" beer garden to meet the other intern. It was filled with bros and I didn't stay long as it was getting late. I left and back at the subway the machine wouldn't take my money and luckily the guy let me through for free. I must have been flustered by this and somehow got on the train going in the wrong direction so it took me about double the time to get home as it should have.
The next night I headed back to Williamsburg, to Polish Princess's new place. She had moved in with T and things weren't going well at the moment. They had gotten into a blowout right before he had left for a business trip to London. He wasn't responding to her and she was understandably having some anxiety over this. I listened to this while she chopped up fruit for a giant bowl of sangria she was making. She was having some friends over to join later. They certainly livened things up as they were some of the most hilarious girls I've ever met. Two of them were roommates in Bushwick and recounted stories about their terrible neighbors--nonstop reggaeton blasting, the lady downstairs getting drunk and locking herself out of her apartment on a weekly basis, and the chronic masturbator in the building next door. Apparently he would bang on the window when people walked by and go to town when they looked up. One friend had the idea that in retaliation, she should have a tv in her window (facing into his) constantly playing horrible things, such as a horse shitting on another horse (her idea, not mine). Another friend recounted a story from earlier that night when she had accidentally farted loudly in front of her male roommate while he was eating dinner. She said nothing, then asked what he was doing that night. And finally the other friend had the fatbooth app on her phone, which I hadn't seen before, and loved. She took pictures of all of us while humping the air and yelling "I'm gonna make you fat bitch!". We all died at the results; Polish Princess's was the best, because her upper lip had pretty much disappeared. After these shenanigans everyone started to trickle out and I decided to stay over there because why head back to Astoria at that hour?? In the morning we slept late and got crepes for breakfast. I left after that, took a nap at my place, showered and then headed BACK to Williamsburg. We had made the decision to go treat ourselves to dinner at the Argentine steakhouse. Polish Princess was feeling down and this was technically my graduation night, though there was no way I was trucking back to Cuse for the ceremony. It was a deeelish meal but afterwards I was a little nervous--I had eaten an excessive amount and the jeggings I was wearing were a size too small. I had to be very careful when I sat or I would split my jeggings. I kept this in mind on my subway ride to the East Village and stood. I also got hollered at my every disgusting individual on that train car, which was a fanstastic.
I walked to the bar where I was meeting JM for her friend's birthday party. I took my time as she is usually late but by the time I arrived they still had not even left their apartment. I wandered around and started to get worried because my phone was dying. I texted both Ibanker and GF (gay friend) quickly to try and arrange backup plans in case I couldnt meet up with JM. No one was responding and I was close to leaving when both the boys texted back and JM arrived outside the bar simultaneously. Annoyed, I directed GF to the bar and told Ibanker to keep me updated on his night (I was determined to meet up with that fucker because at this point we hadn't seen each other since St. Patrick's Day--2 months ago. This was due to our trips, his being sick and working 18 hour days, seriously, and friends in town. Or these could all be excuses, but I knew it had to happen soon or this would all fall apart).
Anyway GF showed up and immediately hit it off with JM. We stood around chatting and laughing at the wasted guy who broke three different glasses at three different points in the night. Towards the end of our time at this bar it was very crowded and GF and I were having a hard time getting a drink. He pushed me to the front and ordered me to "show some boob". Instead of this I climbed up on chair (carefully, jeggings) and knelt on it so I stood far above everyone else. This tactic failed and GF still got served long before me, god dammit. After this we had had enough and leaving JM behind, hopped in a cab to meet Ibanker at a bar in Meatpacking. Of course there was a line out front and after my bragging to Ibanker that this would not be a problem for us we stood there for about 10 minutes while the bouncer looked past us. Even my skintight jeggings wouldn't do it. What a crock. Finally Ibanker met us outside and said they were heading to a bar in Greenwich. I was vaguely annoyed as we had just crossed town but I pushed that aside as I was happy to see him. He was with one of the Ibankers from the Euro trip and some super European girl I wasn't a huge fan of. This was GF's second time meeting Ibanker--the first was the John Mayer night when GF had been extremely wasted and not so friendly. I think he felt guilty about this; he paid for our cab ride and chatted it up with Ibanker. They ended up hitting it off which was good. The bar of choice was Automatic Slims, the scene of my extreme wastedness the night of the reunion with all the Ibankers. Luckily I kept it a little more together this time--I remembered all the conversations and didn't lose my jacket. At the end of the night Ibanker and I were the only two left from our group so I headed back to Union Square with him (because why go back to Astoria at that hour??). In his apartment he informed me that since he had been working from 7am to 1am most days his room was a mess. He wasn't kidding--the floor was filled with clothes, mostly suits, and every drawer and his dresser was open. While we were sitting and talking his closet exploded-everything on the top shelf tumbled out all at once. I died. We had a good night and I think we were both happy to see each other. He told me that he really liked me, but nothing was established about us, and I'm not sure if I want to bring it up. We also still do not sleep together, which is another thing that I would like to investigate but am a bit nervous to discover the results. For now things can keep going the way they have been and hopefully I won't get my ass kicked. And more good news--I made it through the night without splitting my jeggings!
This particular Thursday night was supposed to be another intern get-together but it really just ended up being JM and me. This was fine with me as the location for this outing was just a few blocks from my apartment--the Beer Garden. The weather was finally starting to get relatively nice and JM had never been. Upon her arrival she informed me that she had met two guys in the past few days and had invited them both. I am always slightly concerned with the mixing of different groups in social settings and became more so when she stated that one guy was Russian and the other only had one hand. This could either go really well or very badly. Once the Russian guy joined us I knew it would be the latter. He was immediately obnoxious--condescending, arrogant and talking only about himself and only to JM. And it didn't look like we were going to be able to get rid of him--he had invited two other friends along who weren't quite as bad but still not people I wanted to be associating with. They made lame jokes and I sat drinking my Czech beer, trying to think of a way out of the situation. One of the other interns had more success--about 5 minutes after showing up she assessed the situation and wisely decided that she had to meet her friend at the "other" beer garden. She was out the door before I knew it. Just the two of us, stuck with these idiots. Original Russian decided they wanted to go to the outside part of the garden and I was hoping they would stay there but shortly after he came back in and told JM that "they were leaving, they weren't having fun". JM gave it her blessing but of course he just stood there, arguing with her for her not wanting him to stay. I listened to this and grew angrier and angrier. I had been sick of this guy from the beginning and now he was being a real dick. I debated what to do in my head and finally just went for it. "Maybe you should just fucking leave. No one wants you here anyway you fucking douchebag! Leave!", were the words that escaped my mouth. I pointed to the door, slammed my fist on the table and yelled this again. I felt bad for making a scene but I figured this was the surest way to get them to go.
Apparently Russians think differently than we do. He did not leave. He pulled up a chair, got too close to me and informed me that he liked Polish girls. He then proceeded to stare at me the rest of the time I sat there. Was this guy for real?? Finally I had had enough. I was going to the bathroom and JM was coming with me. I made sure she brought her purse and we hightailed it out the front door. We ran to the subway, making sure they weren't behind us. She texted her handless friend, who had shown up just in time to witness the chaos. He seemed nice but obviously couldn't get a word in with what went down. He met us and we actually did go to the "other" beer garden to meet the other intern. It was filled with bros and I didn't stay long as it was getting late. I left and back at the subway the machine wouldn't take my money and luckily the guy let me through for free. I must have been flustered by this and somehow got on the train going in the wrong direction so it took me about double the time to get home as it should have.
The next night I headed back to Williamsburg, to Polish Princess's new place. She had moved in with T and things weren't going well at the moment. They had gotten into a blowout right before he had left for a business trip to London. He wasn't responding to her and she was understandably having some anxiety over this. I listened to this while she chopped up fruit for a giant bowl of sangria she was making. She was having some friends over to join later. They certainly livened things up as they were some of the most hilarious girls I've ever met. Two of them were roommates in Bushwick and recounted stories about their terrible neighbors--nonstop reggaeton blasting, the lady downstairs getting drunk and locking herself out of her apartment on a weekly basis, and the chronic masturbator in the building next door. Apparently he would bang on the window when people walked by and go to town when they looked up. One friend had the idea that in retaliation, she should have a tv in her window (facing into his) constantly playing horrible things, such as a horse shitting on another horse (her idea, not mine). Another friend recounted a story from earlier that night when she had accidentally farted loudly in front of her male roommate while he was eating dinner. She said nothing, then asked what he was doing that night. And finally the other friend had the fatbooth app on her phone, which I hadn't seen before, and loved. She took pictures of all of us while humping the air and yelling "I'm gonna make you fat bitch!". We all died at the results; Polish Princess's was the best, because her upper lip had pretty much disappeared. After these shenanigans everyone started to trickle out and I decided to stay over there because why head back to Astoria at that hour?? In the morning we slept late and got crepes for breakfast. I left after that, took a nap at my place, showered and then headed BACK to Williamsburg. We had made the decision to go treat ourselves to dinner at the Argentine steakhouse. Polish Princess was feeling down and this was technically my graduation night, though there was no way I was trucking back to Cuse for the ceremony. It was a deeelish meal but afterwards I was a little nervous--I had eaten an excessive amount and the jeggings I was wearing were a size too small. I had to be very careful when I sat or I would split my jeggings. I kept this in mind on my subway ride to the East Village and stood. I also got hollered at my every disgusting individual on that train car, which was a fanstastic.
I walked to the bar where I was meeting JM for her friend's birthday party. I took my time as she is usually late but by the time I arrived they still had not even left their apartment. I wandered around and started to get worried because my phone was dying. I texted both Ibanker and GF (gay friend) quickly to try and arrange backup plans in case I couldnt meet up with JM. No one was responding and I was close to leaving when both the boys texted back and JM arrived outside the bar simultaneously. Annoyed, I directed GF to the bar and told Ibanker to keep me updated on his night (I was determined to meet up with that fucker because at this point we hadn't seen each other since St. Patrick's Day--2 months ago. This was due to our trips, his being sick and working 18 hour days, seriously, and friends in town. Or these could all be excuses, but I knew it had to happen soon or this would all fall apart).
Anyway GF showed up and immediately hit it off with JM. We stood around chatting and laughing at the wasted guy who broke three different glasses at three different points in the night. Towards the end of our time at this bar it was very crowded and GF and I were having a hard time getting a drink. He pushed me to the front and ordered me to "show some boob". Instead of this I climbed up on chair (carefully, jeggings) and knelt on it so I stood far above everyone else. This tactic failed and GF still got served long before me, god dammit. After this we had had enough and leaving JM behind, hopped in a cab to meet Ibanker at a bar in Meatpacking. Of course there was a line out front and after my bragging to Ibanker that this would not be a problem for us we stood there for about 10 minutes while the bouncer looked past us. Even my skintight jeggings wouldn't do it. What a crock. Finally Ibanker met us outside and said they were heading to a bar in Greenwich. I was vaguely annoyed as we had just crossed town but I pushed that aside as I was happy to see him. He was with one of the Ibankers from the Euro trip and some super European girl I wasn't a huge fan of. This was GF's second time meeting Ibanker--the first was the John Mayer night when GF had been extremely wasted and not so friendly. I think he felt guilty about this; he paid for our cab ride and chatted it up with Ibanker. They ended up hitting it off which was good. The bar of choice was Automatic Slims, the scene of my extreme wastedness the night of the reunion with all the Ibankers. Luckily I kept it a little more together this time--I remembered all the conversations and didn't lose my jacket. At the end of the night Ibanker and I were the only two left from our group so I headed back to Union Square with him (because why go back to Astoria at that hour??). In his apartment he informed me that since he had been working from 7am to 1am most days his room was a mess. He wasn't kidding--the floor was filled with clothes, mostly suits, and every drawer and his dresser was open. While we were sitting and talking his closet exploded-everything on the top shelf tumbled out all at once. I died. We had a good night and I think we were both happy to see each other. He told me that he really liked me, but nothing was established about us, and I'm not sure if I want to bring it up. We also still do not sleep together, which is another thing that I would like to investigate but am a bit nervous to discover the results. For now things can keep going the way they have been and hopefully I won't get my ass kicked. And more good news--I made it through the night without splitting my jeggings!
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Interns Moving In....
So at this point I had made my return to NYC from my little trip to Cuse. I was back in action and ready once again to take on NYC. Except my first Friday night in town I had no plans. I headed home after work, mildly content with the idea of staying in that night. After about an hour putzing around my apartment I wanted out. I had texted Ibanker (we were once again talking) to see if he wanted to hang out. No response. I wasn't pleased. Luckily around 10, when I was just at my wit's end, I received a text from one of the interns I had worked with. He was from Syracuse as well and we had figured out that we had gone to the same high school. I hadn't known him then because he was a freshman when I was a senior. We had buddied up however and he inquired what I was doing that night. Nothing. Yet. I invited him to come out to the beer garden near my apartment and was surprised when he actually agreed. I sat around for awhile longer until he finally arrived around 1 am, solo and drunk. We walked over and proceeded to sit there, yapping about god knows what and drinking beers the size of our face. We were the last people to leave the bar and we then decided to obviously get food. We walked around the desolute neighborhood in the exact opposite direction of the 24 hour diner a block away from my apartment. I almost had heart attack laughing when I came very close to stepping on a dead crow in the middle of the road and also invited myself to his camp near Syracuse for over the summer. He seemed fairly nervous that I would actually show up. I then came to the realization that we should've gone to the diner in question so we turned around and headed there. As we walked in I announced that the last time I was here I had (almost) puked in the bathroom (the night of BK and JW in town). Luckily I did not this time--I kept my eggs down and even was able to witness the start of a domestic violence incident in the table next to ours.
Upon leaving I assumed that High School would just take the subway home but no no. He wanted to keep drinking and not knowing what else to do (it was 4 am) I said that we could have a drink at my apartment. And not wanting to be anywhere else in my apartment we sat in my room. Now High School has a girlfriend--he has never told me directly but it is displayed on facebook. So why he was in another's girl bedroom at 4 in the morning seemed a bit sketch. I was not sure how to approach this situation and since I had just suffered a big-time rejection I was in no state to put myself out there. Too bad since I had a 23 year old alone in my room but I did not sit on the bed with him and kept going through facebook pictures and blabbing to distract myself. This went on until 6am when he finally decided to leave. Good idea since it was already light out and he didn't seem to be making any moves. So at least now I am not a homewrecker.
I slept basically all of the next day until I had to get up and get ready for my Saturday night. I was meeting some of the other interns (High School didn't end up making it...baby) for dinner and a night out. Ever since eating the most delish pho of my life in Germany I had been wanting to get more. So I had successfully convinced some of the other interns to try it with me. I met one of them, JM, at a museum where she worked on the weekends to walk to the pho place in Chinatown. I was not quite sure how to get there--I kept walking and the street looked suddenly familliar. I looked up and directly across from was Ibanker's bedroom windown. Ahhhh! I walked as quickly as I could--what if he looked out and saw me there, like a stalker?? I made it by then realized I had gone the wrong way and had to turn around, walking by it again! Chances are he was not there but after he had never responded to my text to hang out I figured I shouldn't be creeping around outside his apartment. I finally made it to meet JM and we walked roughly half the length of the island of Manhattan to the restuarant. Another intern (codename-Denim) and her boyfriend met us for dinner. I was very disappointed with the pho but enjoyed the dinner nonetheless. We then walked to the second place I wanted to try--Painkiller Tiki Bar. This was an extremely dark and narrow bar with extremely expensive and strong frozen cocktails. I was pleased. After some time there we decided to yet another place I wanted to try--Revision Lounge, which supposedly had coffins you could sit in (perhaps a foreshadowing of where my lifestyle is leading me??). Upon arrival of course we could not enter the coffin room because of a private party (bitches) so were forced to sit in the front, which was just an average bar. Except at first it seemed to be filled with lesbians but as the night progressed it became packed with finance bros, he paid no attention to me. JM decided to catch her train back to Long Island but I stayed to third-wheel it with Denim and her boyfriend. They decided to go to a club/bar near NYU and I followed. As soon as I walked in I knew it wasn't my scene--I was about 45 years old compared to everyone else there and my night before had started to catch up with me. I was in no mood for dancing. I felt like I was 19 again with Judgers partying at GW bars. I stood with the two of them being awkward. I noticed that one of the guys there looked familiar--after some pondering I realized that he was one of the guys in the apartment where I had met Miami about a month before. I debated saying hi then realized I didn't feel like dealing with. I decided to leave and Im sure Denim and her bf were relieved.
The next day I wandered through Central Park alone. When I returned home I decided it was time to give Ibanker a piece of my mind--no response to my text, no way buddy. So I sent one to him with just one word- "rude". He immediately responded, confused. I said that he didn't respond to me and he forwarded me the text he had sent me, inviting me out with him and the other Ibankers. He retorted that I had never responded to him. My phone never got it. Oops. I felt a bit dumb but I was at least glad that he hadn't ignored me. I played it off with a lame joke and decided we were on speaking terms again.
Upon leaving I assumed that High School would just take the subway home but no no. He wanted to keep drinking and not knowing what else to do (it was 4 am) I said that we could have a drink at my apartment. And not wanting to be anywhere else in my apartment we sat in my room. Now High School has a girlfriend--he has never told me directly but it is displayed on facebook. So why he was in another's girl bedroom at 4 in the morning seemed a bit sketch. I was not sure how to approach this situation and since I had just suffered a big-time rejection I was in no state to put myself out there. Too bad since I had a 23 year old alone in my room but I did not sit on the bed with him and kept going through facebook pictures and blabbing to distract myself. This went on until 6am when he finally decided to leave. Good idea since it was already light out and he didn't seem to be making any moves. So at least now I am not a homewrecker.
I slept basically all of the next day until I had to get up and get ready for my Saturday night. I was meeting some of the other interns (High School didn't end up making it...baby) for dinner and a night out. Ever since eating the most delish pho of my life in Germany I had been wanting to get more. So I had successfully convinced some of the other interns to try it with me. I met one of them, JM, at a museum where she worked on the weekends to walk to the pho place in Chinatown. I was not quite sure how to get there--I kept walking and the street looked suddenly familliar. I looked up and directly across from was Ibanker's bedroom windown. Ahhhh! I walked as quickly as I could--what if he looked out and saw me there, like a stalker?? I made it by then realized I had gone the wrong way and had to turn around, walking by it again! Chances are he was not there but after he had never responded to my text to hang out I figured I shouldn't be creeping around outside his apartment. I finally made it to meet JM and we walked roughly half the length of the island of Manhattan to the restuarant. Another intern (codename-Denim) and her boyfriend met us for dinner. I was very disappointed with the pho but enjoyed the dinner nonetheless. We then walked to the second place I wanted to try--Painkiller Tiki Bar. This was an extremely dark and narrow bar with extremely expensive and strong frozen cocktails. I was pleased. After some time there we decided to yet another place I wanted to try--Revision Lounge, which supposedly had coffins you could sit in (perhaps a foreshadowing of where my lifestyle is leading me??). Upon arrival of course we could not enter the coffin room because of a private party (bitches) so were forced to sit in the front, which was just an average bar. Except at first it seemed to be filled with lesbians but as the night progressed it became packed with finance bros, he paid no attention to me. JM decided to catch her train back to Long Island but I stayed to third-wheel it with Denim and her boyfriend. They decided to go to a club/bar near NYU and I followed. As soon as I walked in I knew it wasn't my scene--I was about 45 years old compared to everyone else there and my night before had started to catch up with me. I was in no mood for dancing. I felt like I was 19 again with Judgers partying at GW bars. I stood with the two of them being awkward. I noticed that one of the guys there looked familiar--after some pondering I realized that he was one of the guys in the apartment where I had met Miami about a month before. I debated saying hi then realized I didn't feel like dealing with. I decided to leave and Im sure Denim and her bf were relieved.
The next day I wandered through Central Park alone. When I returned home I decided it was time to give Ibanker a piece of my mind--no response to my text, no way buddy. So I sent one to him with just one word- "rude". He immediately responded, confused. I said that he didn't respond to me and he forwarded me the text he had sent me, inviting me out with him and the other Ibankers. He retorted that I had never responded to him. My phone never got it. Oops. I felt a bit dumb but I was at least glad that he hadn't ignored me. I played it off with a lame joke and decided we were on speaking terms again.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Cuse Background Part 1
Let's rewind a bit here, so that I may give you some background on my life in the Cuse last fall. It was two weeks after my return from Europe and I was still reeling. I hadn't left the house much since I had been back and luckily Mairey, being a good friend, decided to drag me out for a night on the town to cheer me up. I agreed since all I was doing was obsessively checking facebook, and decided being away from a computer would do me some good. I volunteered to drive since I knew I couldn't get drunk (would def cry). I had also invited my German friend Cardi along--she had been my helper while I was in Hamburg and now she was in Syracuse, doing her exchange semester. She is barely 21, innocent and blonde. Mairey is one of the most sociable girls I know and I was looking pretty good in a new dress, due to all the weight I'd lost. We were doomed from the start.
We went straight to a new bar that had opened, King of Clubs. Not 10 seconds after we had walked in the door, a guy approached us and asked if we wanted to join their table. I rolled my eyes at the same time Mairey said yes. Thankfully she did as they really did have a table, filled to the brim with champagne and grey goose and surrounded by SU law guys. I couldn't believe I was actually in Syracuse. We walked over and they immediately pounced. There were about 8 of them and half took a special liking to Cardi. I felt bad for her but she held her own. I sat on the couch chatting with a particularly good-looking one, though not my type at all; I was surprised he was actually talking to me. We all spent the night drinking champage (only a couple glasses for me), while the guys harassed Cardi and I did a pretty good job at being socialable. I was excited because a few of them were going to be at the giant electro fest I was going to in NYC the next weekend (spoiler-- we never met up). Judgers showed up at one point as well and one of the guys drifted from Cardi to her. Around last call the guy I had been talking to asked for my number and invited us back to one of the guy's apartments for an after-party. We agreed and he then conned me into giving him and the guy who had been talking to Mairey a ride there. We walked into the apartment and were greeted by an ungodly sight--one of the guys had his shirt off, his gut almost pulling down his pants, and was dancing and rapping along to some song. I immediately loved that this was Cardi's first week in the US and this was her introduction to going out in Syracuse. We stayed for a bit, I ate a burrito with my law school guy and then I decided it was time to cart everyone home.
This was not the end of these guys, oh no. When I thought the night was over, Mairey apparently met her guy out again after I dropped her off. She went back to his place and he apparently spent the whole night begging for a blow job. They never spoke again. Judgers took her guy's offer of a dinner date seriously and allowed him to take her out. When they went back to his place after to watch a movie, he stripped down to his boxers. She shot him down and they never spoke again. Cardi resisted from the beginning and never spoke to any of them again.
Then there's me. My law school guy never called and I figured it was a no-go. Then he saw me out at a show a few months later. It was good timing for him as I was to the point where I needed to be over Frenchy, no matter what the cost. We hooked up twice and have never spoken again, aside from the occassional drunk text. Now he is in NYC and I dread the day when I see him out. Or do I?
Follow-up: Our second, seperate incident with different SU law school guys. This was about a month before I left for NYC and is a night which boosts my confidence when I think of it. I feel as though stuff like this doesn't happen often and one needs to bask in it when it does so here I go. Mairey and I had decided at the last minute to head downtown on this Thursday night. She was coming by to get me so I dressed in a hurry--I kept the turtleneck on which I had worn to my job at the coffee chain and reeked like, well, coffee. I put on a high-waisted 80s skirt and some lacy black tights. This wasn't exactly a come-hither outfit but I was proved wrong. We spent the night drinking at our fave bar Awful Al's then at last called headed to the local pizza place to eat. While in line I noticed a very drunk guy eyeing us. To my horror, he stumbled towards us and slurred some sort of drunken pick-up line in my ear. I said thank you and quickly turned away. Luckily he stumbled back to his friend, but I felt his eyes on us the entire time we were in line. Once we purchased our pizza, we sat at a table. Drunky was standing close by watching us. At one point while we were eating I looked up and a not bad looking guy was standing at our table, holding a rose. He offered it to me, said some sort of line and we began to chat. I guessed correctly that he was in SU law school and didn't check to see if he knew my law school guy (he almost definitely would). In the midst of our conversation, drunky stumbled towards us and interrupted. No one understood what he said so law school and I resumed our conversation. Drunky kept standing and saying something. Law school asked us if we knew him and we said absolutely not. He turned to him asked him to leave and drunky began to yell. Law school yelled back, his friend rushed over and they began to push each other. Mairey and I looked at each other in horror--we got up to leave but of course the whole fiasco followed us outside. Somehow it ended without anything more than a quick scuffle and the boys went their seperate ways. Too bad law school was too busy fighting to ask for my number.
So Mairey and I were responsible for a late night fight at a pizza shop, in which we were not involved. Fantastic.
We went straight to a new bar that had opened, King of Clubs. Not 10 seconds after we had walked in the door, a guy approached us and asked if we wanted to join their table. I rolled my eyes at the same time Mairey said yes. Thankfully she did as they really did have a table, filled to the brim with champagne and grey goose and surrounded by SU law guys. I couldn't believe I was actually in Syracuse. We walked over and they immediately pounced. There were about 8 of them and half took a special liking to Cardi. I felt bad for her but she held her own. I sat on the couch chatting with a particularly good-looking one, though not my type at all; I was surprised he was actually talking to me. We all spent the night drinking champage (only a couple glasses for me), while the guys harassed Cardi and I did a pretty good job at being socialable. I was excited because a few of them were going to be at the giant electro fest I was going to in NYC the next weekend (spoiler-- we never met up). Judgers showed up at one point as well and one of the guys drifted from Cardi to her. Around last call the guy I had been talking to asked for my number and invited us back to one of the guy's apartments for an after-party. We agreed and he then conned me into giving him and the guy who had been talking to Mairey a ride there. We walked into the apartment and were greeted by an ungodly sight--one of the guys had his shirt off, his gut almost pulling down his pants, and was dancing and rapping along to some song. I immediately loved that this was Cardi's first week in the US and this was her introduction to going out in Syracuse. We stayed for a bit, I ate a burrito with my law school guy and then I decided it was time to cart everyone home.
This was not the end of these guys, oh no. When I thought the night was over, Mairey apparently met her guy out again after I dropped her off. She went back to his place and he apparently spent the whole night begging for a blow job. They never spoke again. Judgers took her guy's offer of a dinner date seriously and allowed him to take her out. When they went back to his place after to watch a movie, he stripped down to his boxers. She shot him down and they never spoke again. Cardi resisted from the beginning and never spoke to any of them again.
Then there's me. My law school guy never called and I figured it was a no-go. Then he saw me out at a show a few months later. It was good timing for him as I was to the point where I needed to be over Frenchy, no matter what the cost. We hooked up twice and have never spoken again, aside from the occassional drunk text. Now he is in NYC and I dread the day when I see him out. Or do I?
Follow-up: Our second, seperate incident with different SU law school guys. This was about a month before I left for NYC and is a night which boosts my confidence when I think of it. I feel as though stuff like this doesn't happen often and one needs to bask in it when it does so here I go. Mairey and I had decided at the last minute to head downtown on this Thursday night. She was coming by to get me so I dressed in a hurry--I kept the turtleneck on which I had worn to my job at the coffee chain and reeked like, well, coffee. I put on a high-waisted 80s skirt and some lacy black tights. This wasn't exactly a come-hither outfit but I was proved wrong. We spent the night drinking at our fave bar Awful Al's then at last called headed to the local pizza place to eat. While in line I noticed a very drunk guy eyeing us. To my horror, he stumbled towards us and slurred some sort of drunken pick-up line in my ear. I said thank you and quickly turned away. Luckily he stumbled back to his friend, but I felt his eyes on us the entire time we were in line. Once we purchased our pizza, we sat at a table. Drunky was standing close by watching us. At one point while we were eating I looked up and a not bad looking guy was standing at our table, holding a rose. He offered it to me, said some sort of line and we began to chat. I guessed correctly that he was in SU law school and didn't check to see if he knew my law school guy (he almost definitely would). In the midst of our conversation, drunky stumbled towards us and interrupted. No one understood what he said so law school and I resumed our conversation. Drunky kept standing and saying something. Law school asked us if we knew him and we said absolutely not. He turned to him asked him to leave and drunky began to yell. Law school yelled back, his friend rushed over and they began to push each other. Mairey and I looked at each other in horror--we got up to leave but of course the whole fiasco followed us outside. Somehow it ended without anything more than a quick scuffle and the boys went their seperate ways. Too bad law school was too busy fighting to ask for my number.
So Mairey and I were responsible for a late night fight at a pizza shop, in which we were not involved. Fantastic.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Loose in the Cuse
And fortunately for me, not the sexual kind. Yes the past few weeks in New York hadn't been going well. My internships were ending, I had a few days off, so I decided why not head back to the comfort of Cuse (my hometown) since I hadn't been there since I'd left four months ago. Now for those of you who aren't familiar with Cuse, it's a real gem of a town. Not. It's an economically depressed, gray city filled with snow and white trash. But it does hold a special place in my heart--some of the most fun I've had has been in Cuse, specifically the East Side. My greyhound bus pulled in late but luckily my bff Mairey had volunteered to pick me up. We headed to a truck-stop diner not too far away where we were the only girls in the place. I recounted my life the past couple of weeks to Mairey (mainly the fiasco with Cute Guy) over a $3.50 plate of eggs and was pleased to be back.
This continued the next day when I drove around in my Volvo, blasting house music and doing assorted errands. The weather was actually decent and I felt like the belle of the ball. I was excited for that night--Mairey and I were scheduled to go out on the town, where last fall we had had many interesting nights (background story to come). After my day of attention Mairey picked me up, sporting my token booties, and we headed to Armory. It was good to be back but since my expectations were high the night did not live up to them. The bars were empty, except for local guys with chin straps. A SU law guy certainly would have made things more interesting (see background story to come). We ended the night at one of my least favorite bars (b/c of their infamous Thursday night special $1.50 jack and cokes). Mairey is basically the mayor of Cuse and met up with a guy she had recently met out. He had two friends with him, both of whom were wearing Ed Hardy. I was a little drunk and had spent pretty much the whole night inside my own head and paid them no mind. Apparently one was interested--he asked Mairey about me and then when I didn't show interest went to dance with some girl, all the while looking at me. I took no notice of this whatsoever as I sat in a corner and sulkily sipped my jack and coke. After last call we headed to the pizza place, where for awhile I thought I was destined to meet my future husband (see background story to come again). Unfortunately this could not happen, as these same guys followed us and sat with us. I grew mildly excited when one told me he was German but about 3 words in I realized that he was only born in Germany, probably on a military base. I tuned out his blabbing and housed my broccoli pizza.
I also managed to meet up with my old friend Fidel who happened to be in town for only one of the nights I was. I met her and her friend from law school (whom we'll call Raul) at a townie bar not far from my house. I was pleased to see Fidel as we used to be partners in crime in high school. We sat for a couple hours, drinking beers and they recounted stories from their law school days, which involved trolling for drugs, walking through screen doors, and hooking up in a random car to be discovered by its owner. Fantastic--fit for their own blog. Now the next day Fidel suggested I friend Raul on facebook. I concurred but when I went to do it almost had a heart attack when noticed that we had a surprise mutual friend--Cute Guy. No joke. They weren't from the same town nor had they gone to school together but there he was. Why wouldn't this guy leave my life?? After some detective work on the part of Fidel, we determined that he had been at their law school graduation last year and hooked up with one of their friends. How surprising. I added Raul anyway, and now it is likely formerly Cute Guy really thinks I'm an actual stalker.
The next night was a welcome home party for a friend--S dot--who had been teaching abroad in a faraway Asian country for a year. I was pretty pumped for a good old-fashioned house party on the East Side. The particular group of people who were going to be there were a group of guys (and some girls) that we had hung out with summers during college (see background story to come)--we called them the East Side Boys. And I, as a West Side Girl, was the only representative to make it to the party. I was greeted by S dot who weighed about 15 pounds less since I had last seen him, over a year ago. I led him to the buffet table, where I piled up a plate (for me, not him). I caught up with almost all of the East Side Boys, many of whom were still around and many who had moved away. One has been and is apparently still in love with Mairey and casually asked where she was. Another, UPenn, always sketched me out and kept asking me to try a bottle of the beer he had brewed (with his new girlfriend, he kept adding). Judgers (infamous Euro trip with ibankers) made an appearance and my old friend Mal Pal was there as well. We had also been good friends in high school but had a falling off right after graduation and had had a tumultous relationship ever since. She was being friendly this night though and we chatted for a good part of it, by the bonfire. I played a couple rounds of flip cup (which I was ecstatic about) and then noticed much of the party had disappeared. On my way to the bathroom I heard Mal Pal's voice coming from behind a closed door. I knocked and waltzed in, not thinking at all that something unwholesome could be going on at a party behind a closed door. I looked around and slowly noticed the dollar bills and white bags filled with powder. S dot and Mal Pal were taking in their fill (apparently that's the reason he was so skinny). I was not surprised but not exactly impressed. Is a welcome home party with a buffet really the time and place for that? And how have I gone 25 years in my life without ever seeing coke, and the place I see it is in Syracuse, NY? I exited, filled up my plate played a few more rounds of flip cup and finally headed back to the Volvo to cross town--it just wasn't the same without my fellow West Side Girls.
So my trip to Cuse was successful. I had rested and recovered, had some quality friend and fam time and had done an obscene amount of shopping. I was also able to shock some people, while I was late and speeding to meet my parents for dinner. I needed to change and had no time to stop. At a redlight I whipped off my shirt and pulled on my dress. Taking off my pants was much harder but I did it. And when I looked up the dad and the kids in the minivan next to me were staring. Get over it. So I was disappointed to be leaving and dreading heading back to my apartment with roomie (who had been sending me texts with his critiques about my living habits all weekend). At the bus station there was some confusion about which bus was heading to NYC and I almost didn't get on the right one. The French teenager next to me was trying to sort it out--at one point he turned to me with a look of complete fear in his eyes and said "I zon't want zo stay here!". I couldn't blame him. We were then subjected to a completely full, four and a half hour bus ride. When we arrived at Port Authority I hauled my suitcase (which was somehow heavier than when I left) onto the subway and made my way back to Astoria. The next morning Roomie and I had a blowout fight over my hair in the bathtub drain. Welcome back, me!
This continued the next day when I drove around in my Volvo, blasting house music and doing assorted errands. The weather was actually decent and I felt like the belle of the ball. I was excited for that night--Mairey and I were scheduled to go out on the town, where last fall we had had many interesting nights (background story to come). After my day of attention Mairey picked me up, sporting my token booties, and we headed to Armory. It was good to be back but since my expectations were high the night did not live up to them. The bars were empty, except for local guys with chin straps. A SU law guy certainly would have made things more interesting (see background story to come). We ended the night at one of my least favorite bars (b/c of their infamous Thursday night special $1.50 jack and cokes). Mairey is basically the mayor of Cuse and met up with a guy she had recently met out. He had two friends with him, both of whom were wearing Ed Hardy. I was a little drunk and had spent pretty much the whole night inside my own head and paid them no mind. Apparently one was interested--he asked Mairey about me and then when I didn't show interest went to dance with some girl, all the while looking at me. I took no notice of this whatsoever as I sat in a corner and sulkily sipped my jack and coke. After last call we headed to the pizza place, where for awhile I thought I was destined to meet my future husband (see background story to come again). Unfortunately this could not happen, as these same guys followed us and sat with us. I grew mildly excited when one told me he was German but about 3 words in I realized that he was only born in Germany, probably on a military base. I tuned out his blabbing and housed my broccoli pizza.
I also managed to meet up with my old friend Fidel who happened to be in town for only one of the nights I was. I met her and her friend from law school (whom we'll call Raul) at a townie bar not far from my house. I was pleased to see Fidel as we used to be partners in crime in high school. We sat for a couple hours, drinking beers and they recounted stories from their law school days, which involved trolling for drugs, walking through screen doors, and hooking up in a random car to be discovered by its owner. Fantastic--fit for their own blog. Now the next day Fidel suggested I friend Raul on facebook. I concurred but when I went to do it almost had a heart attack when noticed that we had a surprise mutual friend--Cute Guy. No joke. They weren't from the same town nor had they gone to school together but there he was. Why wouldn't this guy leave my life?? After some detective work on the part of Fidel, we determined that he had been at their law school graduation last year and hooked up with one of their friends. How surprising. I added Raul anyway, and now it is likely formerly Cute Guy really thinks I'm an actual stalker.
The next night was a welcome home party for a friend--S dot--who had been teaching abroad in a faraway Asian country for a year. I was pretty pumped for a good old-fashioned house party on the East Side. The particular group of people who were going to be there were a group of guys (and some girls) that we had hung out with summers during college (see background story to come)--we called them the East Side Boys. And I, as a West Side Girl, was the only representative to make it to the party. I was greeted by S dot who weighed about 15 pounds less since I had last seen him, over a year ago. I led him to the buffet table, where I piled up a plate (for me, not him). I caught up with almost all of the East Side Boys, many of whom were still around and many who had moved away. One has been and is apparently still in love with Mairey and casually asked where she was. Another, UPenn, always sketched me out and kept asking me to try a bottle of the beer he had brewed (with his new girlfriend, he kept adding). Judgers (infamous Euro trip with ibankers) made an appearance and my old friend Mal Pal was there as well. We had also been good friends in high school but had a falling off right after graduation and had had a tumultous relationship ever since. She was being friendly this night though and we chatted for a good part of it, by the bonfire. I played a couple rounds of flip cup (which I was ecstatic about) and then noticed much of the party had disappeared. On my way to the bathroom I heard Mal Pal's voice coming from behind a closed door. I knocked and waltzed in, not thinking at all that something unwholesome could be going on at a party behind a closed door. I looked around and slowly noticed the dollar bills and white bags filled with powder. S dot and Mal Pal were taking in their fill (apparently that's the reason he was so skinny). I was not surprised but not exactly impressed. Is a welcome home party with a buffet really the time and place for that? And how have I gone 25 years in my life without ever seeing coke, and the place I see it is in Syracuse, NY? I exited, filled up my plate played a few more rounds of flip cup and finally headed back to the Volvo to cross town--it just wasn't the same without my fellow West Side Girls.
So my trip to Cuse was successful. I had rested and recovered, had some quality friend and fam time and had done an obscene amount of shopping. I was also able to shock some people, while I was late and speeding to meet my parents for dinner. I needed to change and had no time to stop. At a redlight I whipped off my shirt and pulled on my dress. Taking off my pants was much harder but I did it. And when I looked up the dad and the kids in the minivan next to me were staring. Get over it. So I was disappointed to be leaving and dreading heading back to my apartment with roomie (who had been sending me texts with his critiques about my living habits all weekend). At the bus station there was some confusion about which bus was heading to NYC and I almost didn't get on the right one. The French teenager next to me was trying to sort it out--at one point he turned to me with a look of complete fear in his eyes and said "I zon't want zo stay here!". I couldn't blame him. We were then subjected to a completely full, four and a half hour bus ride. When we arrived at Port Authority I hauled my suitcase (which was somehow heavier than when I left) onto the subway and made my way back to Astoria. The next morning Roomie and I had a blowout fight over my hair in the bathtub drain. Welcome back, me!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
NYC can kick your ass
And then sometimes it kicks ass. Unfortunately lately I have been dealing with the former. It was like as soon as I decided I was going to be staying the shit hit the fan. With everything. My job at the fucking coffee chain was horrifying. On top of the fact that I was usually hungover while working my co-workers weren't exactly the nicest people. One manager in particulary had an especially strong aversion to me--she would boss me around constantly and have me do all the physically laborious tasks even when there were guys working. I ended up in tears one day. This particular day I was working I also found out that one of the disgusting workers had come in with bedbugs and no one had bothered to tell me. I had to throw all the clothes in my locker away. And on top of this I also was not getting paid the correct rate because of some b.s. with me transfering from another district. This job fucking sucked and I couldn't wait to get out.
After my shift I went to meet Roommate and his friends for his extended birthday celebration. They were coming from Dinosaur BBQ and I was bitter that I had missed it. We arrived at the bar and everyone promptly left except for Roommate and his semi-cute friend. I started drinking and decided that we were going to German bar across the street. We headed there, with me basically dragging the two of them. Once there I ordered a beer bigger than my face and proceeded to blab about Germany, myself and other topics that no one but me would be interested in. This turned out to be mine and Roommate's last friendly outing. Things had been up and down with us ever since I moved in. Maybe I was secretly bitter because he wasn't gay like I thought he was and he probably was still bitter that I had left him at the bar the night of Cute Guy. Or maybe he is just a dick like I was quickly starting to learn. He was insensitive, condescending, and extremely uptight. He would nitpick about everything--for example, he would send me a text message that I had put a dish away in the wrong spot, or that it had had food on it so he put it back in the sink. As irritating as this was, I decided it was worth it to suck it up and had signed another 4 month sublet with this guy. Big mistake, as I was soon to find out (story to come soon).
The next day I was once again anxious sitting around the apartment. I had just finished my last paper for grad school, Roommate was there creeping around, and I was feeling badly about Cute Guy (this is when I sent the apology text...it took him a day and a half to send his less than flattering response). I wanted out so I called my friend Polish Princess from my first night in Williamsburg. We hadn't really hung out since and a couple weeks prior to this she had sent me a message that she had things to tell me about. I called her and she said that we would get together once she got back from the Turkish baths (uhh excuse me, the what?). On the subway there later that night I predicted that this big news was a guy. I was right. I arrived at her apartment and she introduced me to T, her new boyfriend that she was going to be moving in with the next weekend. I was immediately concerned as they had only been dating for a short time, but T turned out to be extremely nice. He was from California and defintely seemed it. The three of us chatted over the dinner that PP cooked us and she was horrified when I spilled my story about Cute Guy. She couldn't believe that I had done that, which made me question my actions, but I decided that it was going to end whether I had counted or not.
We headed out for a night out afterwards. We got crazy drinks at a speakeasy and mingled with slightly annoying European guys at the next bar. I ended up talking to a Swiss guy for a minute and was especially charming--"You better get back to your friends, they might break up with you" was one of the responses I gave him so I'm sure he was impressed. We stayed out pretty late and I ended up drinking a fair amount in typical Williamsburg fashion. I stayed on their couch and a few hours later dragged myself out the door to truck to work at the coffee chain. Happy Easter to me. I spent the day more hungover than I had ever been there and wildly out of dresscode. At the end of the shift I packed up a huge bagfull of the food they were going to throw away and decided to head home. There was a dj playing in Williamsburg that night that I wanted to see but it was of course sold out and no one had responded about trying to get tickets. While on the subway I received a text from PP saying they were willing to try and get some. Luckily I was able to dodge out of the train just in time at Union Square and get on the L. Back to Williamsburg for me, in the same outfit as the night before. I met them for some food and while inside the restaurant it started to pour. We stayed awhile trying to wait it out but it was unrelentless. We had no choice but to head over, as it was getting late. We began to walk and halfway there it was coming down so hard that I could barely see in front of me. I was the only one with a flimsy umbrella so by the time we arrived we were completely soaked. There was no chance of getting tickets so we trucked back to her apartment. We were so wet that T was forced to take off his shoes and walk barefoot. My paper bag full of food was falling apart and my makeup was running down my face. I looked like a deranged homeless lady. I stayed at her apartment for a minute to dry off while PP and T cuddled on the couch and I looked on slightly bitter. I then headed home, took a shower and immediately passed out.
The next day I had off. It was both a really good and really bad day. I was offered a job at another museum (temporary and part-time of course but something) and the weather was lovely. I went to Buffalo Exchange to sell some clothes and then met another intern at the Beer Garden later that night. But I was upset about Cute Guy and his d bag response later that night put me in a foul mood (we haven't spoken since and I dread the day I see him out). I was trying to put together my new desk chair from Ikea, trying not to cry about it, with d bag Roommate looking on critiquing what I was doing but not helping. Is it a coincidence that these two have the same name?...nope, apparently it is a name for dicks. It was at this point that I was extremely excited to head back to Syracuse in a couple of days for a long weekend. NYC and I needed a break.
After my shift I went to meet Roommate and his friends for his extended birthday celebration. They were coming from Dinosaur BBQ and I was bitter that I had missed it. We arrived at the bar and everyone promptly left except for Roommate and his semi-cute friend. I started drinking and decided that we were going to German bar across the street. We headed there, with me basically dragging the two of them. Once there I ordered a beer bigger than my face and proceeded to blab about Germany, myself and other topics that no one but me would be interested in. This turned out to be mine and Roommate's last friendly outing. Things had been up and down with us ever since I moved in. Maybe I was secretly bitter because he wasn't gay like I thought he was and he probably was still bitter that I had left him at the bar the night of Cute Guy. Or maybe he is just a dick like I was quickly starting to learn. He was insensitive, condescending, and extremely uptight. He would nitpick about everything--for example, he would send me a text message that I had put a dish away in the wrong spot, or that it had had food on it so he put it back in the sink. As irritating as this was, I decided it was worth it to suck it up and had signed another 4 month sublet with this guy. Big mistake, as I was soon to find out (story to come soon).
The next day I was once again anxious sitting around the apartment. I had just finished my last paper for grad school, Roommate was there creeping around, and I was feeling badly about Cute Guy (this is when I sent the apology text...it took him a day and a half to send his less than flattering response). I wanted out so I called my friend Polish Princess from my first night in Williamsburg. We hadn't really hung out since and a couple weeks prior to this she had sent me a message that she had things to tell me about. I called her and she said that we would get together once she got back from the Turkish baths (uhh excuse me, the what?). On the subway there later that night I predicted that this big news was a guy. I was right. I arrived at her apartment and she introduced me to T, her new boyfriend that she was going to be moving in with the next weekend. I was immediately concerned as they had only been dating for a short time, but T turned out to be extremely nice. He was from California and defintely seemed it. The three of us chatted over the dinner that PP cooked us and she was horrified when I spilled my story about Cute Guy. She couldn't believe that I had done that, which made me question my actions, but I decided that it was going to end whether I had counted or not.
We headed out for a night out afterwards. We got crazy drinks at a speakeasy and mingled with slightly annoying European guys at the next bar. I ended up talking to a Swiss guy for a minute and was especially charming--"You better get back to your friends, they might break up with you" was one of the responses I gave him so I'm sure he was impressed. We stayed out pretty late and I ended up drinking a fair amount in typical Williamsburg fashion. I stayed on their couch and a few hours later dragged myself out the door to truck to work at the coffee chain. Happy Easter to me. I spent the day more hungover than I had ever been there and wildly out of dresscode. At the end of the shift I packed up a huge bagfull of the food they were going to throw away and decided to head home. There was a dj playing in Williamsburg that night that I wanted to see but it was of course sold out and no one had responded about trying to get tickets. While on the subway I received a text from PP saying they were willing to try and get some. Luckily I was able to dodge out of the train just in time at Union Square and get on the L. Back to Williamsburg for me, in the same outfit as the night before. I met them for some food and while inside the restaurant it started to pour. We stayed awhile trying to wait it out but it was unrelentless. We had no choice but to head over, as it was getting late. We began to walk and halfway there it was coming down so hard that I could barely see in front of me. I was the only one with a flimsy umbrella so by the time we arrived we were completely soaked. There was no chance of getting tickets so we trucked back to her apartment. We were so wet that T was forced to take off his shoes and walk barefoot. My paper bag full of food was falling apart and my makeup was running down my face. I looked like a deranged homeless lady. I stayed at her apartment for a minute to dry off while PP and T cuddled on the couch and I looked on slightly bitter. I then headed home, took a shower and immediately passed out.
The next day I had off. It was both a really good and really bad day. I was offered a job at another museum (temporary and part-time of course but something) and the weather was lovely. I went to Buffalo Exchange to sell some clothes and then met another intern at the Beer Garden later that night. But I was upset about Cute Guy and his d bag response later that night put me in a foul mood (we haven't spoken since and I dread the day I see him out). I was trying to put together my new desk chair from Ikea, trying not to cry about it, with d bag Roommate looking on critiquing what I was doing but not helping. Is it a coincidence that these two have the same name?...nope, apparently it is a name for dicks. It was at this point that I was extremely excited to head back to Syracuse in a couple of days for a long weekend. NYC and I needed a break.
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