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.
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