Get back to work!

Effective 9/10/07, I rejoin workforce, will update you on office eye candy and such soon. I have my fingers crossed that there will be plenty of boys to amuse me in-between less satisfying endeavors, like emailing, reading, copying and stapling, that's usually how one spends their first week.

Tree in the Forest

If you kind of fuck, but no one gets off, can you still claim you're celibate?

2 months down, 4 to go.

Make me a freakin offer already

The job search is on, plenty of interviews, plenty of - hire me, i'm the greatest, how have you managed without me, I'll come in early, stay late, i'm smart, i'm cute, i'm eager to learn, happy to take on more than my fair share, will work twice as hard and produce three times as much as either person sitting in the cubes beside me...

So far I've gotten 2, dont accept another offer until you speak to us first, we however reserve the right to keep looking for someone better, who wants less money. It kind of has the familiar feel of dating. He wants you, but if someone blonder, thinner, younger, with bigger breasts comes along he'd choose her over you without giving it a second thought. The old, I don't want to commit, unless ofcourse you give me an ultimatum, and then I'd reconsider you.

I might just have to work for a woman.

It's time

I need a job. I'm broke. I'm bored, and I want to get paid to sit my ass in a chair in an office rather than on my couch, in my apartment for free.

It's been a good time, 5 months, 3 trips (two visits to Europe and a week in the Caribbean). That bi-polar ex-beau I bitched and bitched about was well worth the headache when you factor in his house on the beach and his generous gift of my own set of keys and whenever I want access. Did I mention the sweet outdoor shower, with both hot and cold water? No matter how hot it is outside, and it got pretty crazy hot this summer, you never quite get over ice water outdoor showers. 3/4 turn of the knob on the right and 1/4 turn of the left makes for the perfect after beach rinse off temp. Good times, my friends, good times. June was pretty much spent on the strip of beach less than 20 steps from his front door. That gig is long over and the cash on reserve is running low.

I'm getting myself ready. I've tried on my corporate looks, am most comfy with tight skirt suit, office sexy variety, wearing contacts not glasses. Interview suits are pressed, have 3 ready, so if I'm well received on the interview circuit, I'll have a few options. Yesterday I wore heels for a whole day, in my apt., as part of the training required to assimilate me back into the workforce. Seriously, I have my alarm clock set for 7:30am and I'm actually getting up, not just noting the morning hour, hitting off and returning to my peaceful morning sleep. I get up, go downstairs, get a deli coffee and come back up to 5A. I then sip my coffee as I leaf through magazines and watch MTV Video wake-up.

I must've logged in 1,000 hours watching MTV this summer and am ready to find out who Diddy picks in the very adorable, making the band 4, which I am enjoying so much, I regret not having watched 1 through 3. Seeing Donnie practically tear up on the episode where Diddy picks guys from the house to help him eliminate players nearly broke my heart. I've gone as far as logging in to makingtheband.mtv.com just so I can cast a daily vote for the white boy. Which reminds me I need to set my DVR so I can record the episode where P announces who made the band. August 26th, 10pm.

I take my reality TV seriously.

I love my DVR.

***

Starting August 20, I step up my return to work training. The alarm will go off at 6:30am, instead of 7:30 and it's heels everyday.

Can't hardly wait to accept a job offer and blog from a cube.

Wish me luck and let me know if your company is looking.

2 more reasons men make me sick, not "hot"

Does anyone remember the George Costanza style short balding guy I went out with twice? Well, after our 2 date roll, I confirmed what I already knew, that short bald guys don't get me hot. I tried, we went out, it was okay, but mostly he was a simpleton and conversation although pressure free, was interest free as well. Baldie and I had nothing in common. He seemed harmless and after my recent bout with bi-polar Doug, a night out with a classic nice guy seemed like a fine thing to do. I gave a not hot, not tall, not good looking, not rich nor successful guy a shot. It seemed liked a sporting thing to do. And as I said before, I tried, I was open minded, not completely shallow, and it didn't pay off. You'd think the gods of he said, she said would note that I had gone out with an ugly guy and cut me some kind of dating break. Not to be.

Before I left for vacation I told Not Hot Bald Guy that I didn't see us having a relationship, basically because we had nothing in common, I'd be busy and am planning to leave NY in October anyway (a lie). I though that would be enough to end our 2 date friendship. Not so. He called a few more times, I was polite but ended each conversation with I'm busy, can't see you, and since we have nothing in common and I'm moving soon, it makes sense that we don't go out again. I was firm but kind. Or so I thought. The call volume increased, even though I had made it clear I wasn't keen to speak again, and I know he understood it on some level because as I began screening his calls he began calling from a variety of different 212 numbers to throw me off the track and trick me into picking up. My response was to screen more stringently and eventually I ended getting a mass of voice messages and 10 page texts about how he didn't understand why I wasn't calling him back, taking his calls, etc. Was I okay, he was worried, why was I being rude? What had he done to offend me? Blah, blah, blah. It was getting freakin annoying so I sent him a 2 line text: I'm not interested in you, please do not contact me again. And just as i hit send the final wave of insane voice and text messages came through. Apparently I am a cruel bitch, "who's done this before", I used him (??) He liked me, he deserves an explanation, he was nice to me and I am evil. As a woman, I am not free to stalk men, nor do I have any desire to. If a guy says I'm not into you, I back off. If he sends mixed signals like booty calls, etc. I understand he's into the sex but not into me. I do not respond to an overt screening my call blow off by using trick phone numbers and calling from restricted lines. Unbelievable.

Another reason men make me wretch: Bi-polar Doug who pretty much Jekyll/Hyded me for a few months, loved me on Sunday, blew me off Monday, stalked me on Tuesday, thought we were wrong for each other Wednesday, missed me on Thursday (you get the point) had the nerve to email me again. As if the text he sent recently didn't go through... I don't plan to respond to him ever again. He was really hot, but not that great in bed for a bi-polar whack job, not worth the effort, the bullshit, etc. I'm over it, and his occasional pathetic how are you text just pisses me off, cease desist, drop dead.

I could call Guilliano, the sexy foreign guy, he was cute and has left the appropriate amount of messages, and since I'm not returning his call, he stopped calling, it shows me he's sensible has some self respect, is hot and can find a cute girl for sex easily, so why don't I call him? It's rather hot out, need cooler weather, cooler men, would rather masturbate than put up with bullshit.

Have a feeling it's gonna be a while.

don't write, don't fuck - what do you do?

Heat has subsided (a little), but libido hasn't increased.

Back in NY and weather is not helping me feel "romantic"

i.e. still too hot to fuck

The eagle flies with the dove -

CROSBY STILLS NASH AND YOUNG lyrics

Too darn hot

I noticed it about a week ago (my overwhelming lack of desire). I haven't had or even craved a boy in over a week. Generally, I can't go even 3 days without a roll, some cuddle, a liaison, something. And yet, for the last 7-10 days I've not once glanced at a boy with hunger in my cotton drawers or wondered what size the waiter's cock or the guy in the subway sitting beside me might be. I feel strange, weak, lost, without purpose; Am I finally over meaningless sex?

It just can't be. If I give up meaningless sex, I may never have sex again, at all. And that's not me. I like sex (a lot). I have sex (plenty of it). And just cause I'm not in love, doesn't mean I don't deserve to get some lovin. I'm not gonna wait for a special guy - gonna wait for a dip in the heat. I realized today post text from 2 boys I'd normally meet (Guiliano and MG, my point exactly, I never turn down MG), that I'm just not interested in sex right now, cause it's a hot sweaty business and I'm hot and sweaty enough as is.

The a/c is on - I am off. Hope this heatwave ends soon.

I don't know what I want

But I do know what I don't want. I don't want to work. I can't express in words (but maybe via interpretive dance) how much I have enjoyed my 3 months (so far) of living off savings and not reporting to work. I am my own boss. I take afternoons naps. I can spend an entire day wandering around my neighborhood or any neighborhood I choose. Sometimes I go to the gym, the post office, meet a friend for lunch, catch a buzz midday. I went to France and the beach and up to BF's in the Bronx.

Thursday I head to Berlin. I'm meeting a friend there. I have no work to finish before vacation pressure, no deadlines, no boss waiting for me with a large pile of work upon my return. My only responsibility is to water my plants before I go, then water them again when I return. I'll get another manicure, pack a bag, that's it. Life is good. Being unemployed is great. All the naysayers that warned me I'd be bored were wrong. I read three books, have a golden bronze tan, go out late night mid week, have sex between 9am and 5pm, am never rushing to get anywhere and haven't spilled coffee on myself or forgotten my keys or lost my cell phone. Everyone I meet tells me I look really relaxed, as if they're surprised.

Taking the summer off was a great idea, my idea, no regrets, except that it can't last forever.

Can't get printer set-up & am ready to cry

Fucking typical. I choose the righteous path of setting up the new printer (instead of having all night sex with the Brazilian) only to find it can't be done. I can't get the mac and the brother to work together even though the box clearly states mac compatable. I want to cry (for several reasons). Every techie friend I have is mad at me cause I don't want to have sex with them anymore.

I will try again tomorrow to get the printer to work, and if it doesn't I will a) throw the laptop into the street from my fifth floor window, or b) place an ad on Craigslist for nice techie to come by and set up printer for $$$$.

3 cheers for craig and his lists and for the techie that will save me!

I might be ill - even date with Brazillian and night of sex ahead bores me

Somebody take my temperature. It's early friday and I've planned to spend tonight with Guliano, the Italian from Brazil, I mentioned he was cute, and damn, he really is. Shouldn't I be glad that he called for a second date? I guess, but guys are ample these days and I suppose you have to be hungry to want to eat. There is no chase in the chase, boys give in so easily. I'll admit, it's nice not to have to beg for it, but then again, begging would be fun too --- can't remember the last guy that I actually had to scheme to have.

I'm bored. Easy dick, is just that, easy. I'm craving something more complicated this weekend. Guiliano, with his brilliant blue eyes, thick curly hair and accent are getting blown off tonight. Sorry, but it has to be done.

I need a new printer (that implies I have an old printer, but I have NO printer), I will buy one today, set it up tonight.

Time to crank the A/C, I'm taking the night off.

Boys with accents make me swoon or "Sunday update"

Sunday with Guilano was nice. He was adorable and I was pleased to parade him around the neighborhood. Earlier, I bumped into my neighbor, a creep, who offered to have sex with me if I find myself lonely or horny and in need of some affection. He recommended I knock on his door. I laughed in his face, pretty much let him know that I would not be that lonely or horny, EVER. Later when Guliano and I were walking hand in hand down 4th Street we bumped into my creepy neighbor and I gave him a look that screamed, why would I ever knock on your door, you ugly fuck, when I have the option of a guy this cute, c'mon, do I look lonely, in need of affection?

Guiliano was romantic, funny, must have told me I was beautiful at least 50 times. I taught him a new expression, "don't hold your breath" and I failed when I tried to explain the difference between though and although. I was wrong about his English. He actually spoke well. He understood everything I said and his responses were sophisticated despite his only being in the U.S. eight months. He used past tense when he was discussing the present but that only made me like him more. The accent was amazing and his 30 second phone call in which he spoke Portuguese could have easily made me orgasm. Blue eyes, curly dark hair and a 4 year old in Brazil, named Gabriel, which probably means he also has a wife or worse a girlfriend he really loves. He said he's been living like a monk in NY and that was enough to make me believe it was because he was trying to be faithful to whatever is waiting for him in his country, Brazil, a place where it never snows. His first snow was in NY and he mentioned it was beautiful, but of course, difficult to walk in.

After the wine bar and our stroll I invited him up to my apartment. We had sex twice over 5 hours, but mostly we talked and he asked me to look in his eyes, but I couldn't. The sex was sort of awkward and I told him we could have had a beautiful first time if we had actually known each other and he told me that Americans are repressed despite the fact that we have "Girls gone wild" and are world leaders in the porn industry. He said you could spend a year talking, but everyone is a stranger the first time they remove all their clothes for someone. He said it was really nice hearing someone say "your cock feels so good," and "deeper" in a language other than his own. I wanted to tell him he showed me more kindness and warmth in one afternoon, than the last guy I dated did in over 4 months, but of course, I didn't.

Clearing Clutter

So I'm reading this feng shui, clear clutter from your home, hence your life, book and it advises to toss junk out, but I'm finding it hard. I found 10 or so journals of stuff I wrote since I moved to NY in 1999. Some of it is from a screenplay writing class I took at NYU -- it made me laugh, here goes (cause I want you to laugh too), fiction written in 2001, posted in 2007 for you.

Fiction:

The dentist reprimanded me today, too much tartar, wanted to know if I'd been flossing. He asked a lot of questions, too many for my taste, and I didn't appreciate the tone when he asked if I grind my teeth. What's he suggesting? Self righteous, religious right, obviously thought it was the teeth grinding associated with drug use. He spoke to me with a "I've known your family a long time attitude." I should have told him the tartar buildup was from sucking entirely too much cock, and that I would stop immediately and adopt a new regiment of oral care. Brush, floss, wax, 5 x's a day. That's what he wanted to hear. Takes a real sadist to be a good dentist, and Doctor Super Teeth is precisely that.

I have to look for a new dentist, but there could be repercussions, he's a vengeful bastard for sure and will probably call my mother when I miss my next cleaning. I can hear it now, I think your daughter has a drug problem, did I mention my son just got his MBA, Wharton, I know, it's disappointing, we really wanted Harvard, sad how we love our children, give them the best dental care and they let us down.

Friday - Update

Guiliano, the waiter called, his English is as bad or worse than I remembered. He was able to say I was beautiful and had a nice name and that Sunday afternoon would be a good time to meet. He sounded so shy and mentioned in Brazil women don't like to call men, they liked to be called or maybe he thought that was an American custom. Not sure. He said he was 34, which surprised me, because he looked so young. Maybe he meant 24 or something entirely unrelated and I just couldn't understand. He's been in the U.S. eight months.

No date tonight - met a friend, saw a movie, You Kill Me, which was a disappointment, Ben Kingsley, Tea Leoni and Owen Wilson, acting was ok, story was kind of off. Movie didn't flow. The friend is actually a former beau, but so much time has passed and he's changed so much, I hardly believe him to be the same man, the one that drew me in days following the shake-up of New York, September 11, 2001. I remember the night we met and the months following, me and the entire city took a hit and needed a salve, and he was supposed to be that for me, but wasn't. He caused more pain, further scars and since he had so many of his own, I have long since forgiven him. And now, when we meet, see a movie, have dinner afterwards, I realize I never really understood him and saw only what I wanted to see and what I needed from him. I wanted someone who couldn't love me, wouldn't love me, hardly liked me at all. And he did all three, and I never thanked him.

Thursday Update

Last night I went out with a guy I used to work with. We met for drinks, chatted, it was ok. He suggested we have dinner, but I just couldn't bring myself to eat with him, I suggested another drink instead.

No call from Guiliano (yet). I did receive a call from a 646 number I didn't recognize, am going to attribute it to him.

I date a lot - Wednesday Update

So I agreed to meet the guy from the train for a drink. He's nice, short, bald, that type of guy. We had a drink, which led to three, which became dinner and when it was time for me to rush off because I had a theater ticket (a friend had a single ticket and gifted it to me), he offered to join. And as luck had it, there were 2 seats available side by side. So, he joined me (Neil LaBute's Dark Dark House - Pretty Good) and we ended the night with a cappuccino, ice cream and a cupcake. And that's where he lost me, he had a cinnamon thing, which looked tasty enough, but he was against my cupcake, went as far as saying he didn't care for them, and suddenly short, bald and doesn't like cupcakes seemed a void to deep for even me to cross over. We ended the night, with a cheek kiss and a thank you. He invited me to join him for fireworks at his beach house on the fourth, and I might actually go, because he hung on my every word, gazed at me with disbelief and that's fun sometimes.

But, even more fun than an adoring short bald guy, is an adoring young foreign waiter with brilliant blue eyes, dark curly hair who gets a frustrated look on his face because his english won't get him far enough to engage in witty banter. His English is waiter English, menu items mostly... I saw him at lunch, he waited on me and my girlfriend and I couldn't help but express my appreciation of him to her, she already knew, he's my type, I LOVE foreign boys --- anyway, I walked her back to her office and then I bumped into our waiter, and I gave him my number, Guiliano, Italian from Brazil.

**By bump into him, I mean went back to the restaurant, which was totally crowded, but he saw me and ran over immediately, I told him I would like him to call me soon, and he might, and he might not, and that's not the point.

On becoming a type and joining a club

Went to the movies tonight, saw Broken English, a movie about a 30+ year old woman who although pretty cute and kind of fun can't seem to find a Mr. Right or even Mr. Decent in New York City, population 8,213,800. You could argue the heroine was a little nutty, three quarters into the film she quits her job and goes on a short trip to Paris. Sound familiar? Yeah, it creeped me out too. Am I some standard that has become a movie cliche, the crazy 30+ girl who can't get the boy thing right and thought a few days in Paris would be better than clocking in at the office? Who knows, I did do that same thing just four months ago.

Seriously though, I can't decide if my usual, this date is going nowhere and I don't even like this guy, but perhaps I'll salvage the night by getting some sex out of it routine has become a habit or just a way of making the best of a bad situation, you know, like making lemonade out of lemons, I try to stay upbeat, live in the moment, that sort of thing. Is that so wrong? Would it be better just to end a bad date on a bad note, rather than my happy ending approach? 97% of the guys I date, and I date a lot, are pretty useless, not especially smart or funny, some are cute, some have nice teeth, they tell me date stories, mostly ones I feel I've heard. Have I actually heard everything anyone will ever say, at least 20 times before? I want to hear something new and my next first kiss to be fireworks.

Before I forget, the movie had a lesson, a moral, a drop of wisdom as tiny as the tiniest tear that falls down the cheek of a girl whose date is already 45 minutes late and can't decide whether to pack up and go home or drink another glass of wine alone at the bar, the right bar, on the exact night they agreed to meet. Better check the cell again, perhaps a message he's running late or a text that says, am on my way, nope, no such message. The lesson (?) anyone can have someone in their life, a boyfriend, a husband, a partner, and some unions are special, but most aren't and it's more a matter of settling on someone rather than not being able to attract anyone at all. Suitors line up around corners for me, I promise you that. But none have given me a feeling that they were right or decent or special, or more accurately -- they didn't deserve me, and for that reason alone, I may just find myself outside of the relationship club forever.

Note to my BF

Before I run this post in far too many directions I want to say thanks BF, that's best friend, yeah I know, who doesn't know that? Every girl has one. But what makes her best is that she joined you at the abortion clinic even though she wasn't the one who helped you get pregnant. That was the other BF, yeah boyfriend, the guy that wants all of the privileges but none of the responsibility.

BF - this post IS ABOUT YOU, even though we never shared the above mentioned abortion clinic moment, we could have, cause face it, i'm kind of a whore and stuff like that happens to me.

Love you for letting me be who I am without judgments.

(Herroeee!!!!!!)

No, I am not a fucking teacher

I took the summer off, ok? When I meet you by chance at the nail salon, waiting in the dentist's lounge and you notice I'm wearing flip flops and cutoffs midday during the week and I confirm that yes, I am not working, I am taking the summer off, don't ask me if I'm a fucking teacher, because I am not. And don't look so fucking puzzled when I snap at you.

He's got me hooked - Q&A

You knew it was gonna happen. He dumps me on Thursday and by that following Tuesday we decide our roller coaster affair is too good to walk away from without a fight. A fight indeed, a fight between me and my better judgement, me and my self respect , me and my friend/ex T.

Question to me (from me): Why did I agree to give him another chance, a chance to show me an amazing few days then send me a cryptic text or 3 saying he doesn't want a relationship, thinks we will inevitably scar each other beyond repair, and wants to end it now before it gets to a place where the stakes are too high for anyone to get out without bruises/cuts/bites/stitches and agony (?)

Answer: Because I need to. I need to tame the beast, walk on fire, taste the high, the one that gets you to a place you can't return from. He's that drug, the one that makes you feel sooo good, sooooo good, sooooooooo elated, you feel simultaneously the most in and out of control you've ever felt, both free and in a cage and when you come down, it's hard, cold, mean and cruel --- I can't say no, can't hold my ground and I fear I've stepped another foot deeper into no return.

Question: BUT why would you waste your time and jeopardize your well being on a guy who is probably bi-polar or at least more fickle than even the super fickle "me/V"

(Esoteric) Answer: Because I have a summer off to do things I will never do again, and in August I plan a 3 week cleanse/overhaul which I expect will be the start of a new phase/face of my life, so am holding on to bad habits just a while longer - savoring the unsavory and comforted just knowing that this dangerous relationship will become tedious just as the clock strikes 12 --- August 2nd.

(See - I can be cryptic also, it's not a gift held by only you)

Fair enough

Mr. Wonderful recently reported that he doesn't want to be in a relationship, that he has too much he wants to do. OK, fair enough. Am tired of ironing his shirts anyway.

He is coming by to pick up his stuff tonight. His stuff consists of 4 pairs of slacks, socks, 2 t-shirts, 2 shoulder bags, 8 manila folders filled with his previous w-2's and other personal docs, umbrella, shoes, lightweight black jacket, 4 button down work shirts, assorted toiletries and a lap top cover. That's a lot of stuff. This guy wasn't looking for a relationship, just another storage unit to stash his overflow wardrobe, I guess. I'd like to add that I left absolutely nothing at his place, because although I was open to a relationship I wasn't expecting one to actually happen and the trip to get stuff from a short affair ex's apt. is the longest distance from home.

Mr. Mixed Message Asshole gets another chance to have me iron his shirts

I held my ground for 2 whole days, but on the third, when he left work early to come by my place to get his stuff he broke me down. Men hate to lose. So I was half expecting a bit of a struggle. I took all the necessary steps to fight against it. I made a date with a boy I find quite intriguing for just an hour later. All I had to do was hand off the stuff and make a clean break into the safety of a dinner date with a record producer who tells great stories and can keep me entertained for hours. My plan failed.

Doug showed up looking like he hadn't slept in days. He didn't have his usual arrogant strut, more of a hunchback dragging his gimp leg behind him, something I'd never seen on him before. We talked for a few minutes, I apologized for my shortcomings, cause although I never mention my faults, I played a major role in the demise, including keeping the company of other men. Which technically, his mixed messages and lack of commitment forced me to do, but nonetheless, I confessed to my acting like a whore. We parted and I went in the direction of my date only to have him call back and say he wanted to discuss things further, and I told him I couldn't - that I had plans and we really didn't have anything else to discuss. And he said some sweet stuff, and I crumbled, confessed more and hung up to cancel my dinner with the record producer who was so polite and nice about the whole thing.

I complain about boys, their inability to commit, their inability to be honest and yet I am just that way. I cheat, I lie and just when things start to get good, I run, I sabotage.

I don't expect much to come of this relationship, but I am trying and for the time being I'm back on shirt ironing duty.

Mr. Wonderful now known as Mr. Mixed Message Asshole

So I won't be ironing work shirts and giving pre-work blow jobs for a while, seriously, I've decided Mr. Wonderful is really Mr. Mixed Message Asshole and I've decided to ignore his calls and texts, which will probably make him want me more, or at least think that he does, and it will seem so sincere and I will want with all my heart to give him a (third) chance --- But, I won't. And I can be sure of it because, I've gone ahead and rekindled a sex affair friendship with an always adoring ex, who although can't be the one permanently, can definitely be the one that reminds me what it feels like to be with someone who actually likes me, is NOT completely head fucked or selfish, wants to see me happy, knows how to have a good time and loves to go down*. This ex has so many pros, but truth is, so many cons too. Though when it comes to being a friend, he's practically faultless, and always seems to step in and save me from myself by doing exactly what I need him to do, set the example for what a boy should treat a girl like and compared to him, poseurs crumble.

*Joe, that means provide oral sex.

PS. Vieques was amazing, I plan to go back, wish with all my heart I could have stayed --- Nothing but clear blue sea, sand and mofongo.

Too busy having fun to write

1. I like a boy (actually, 2...)
2. I'm going to the beach

will check in late next week so I can report on my tan lines and boyfriends.

5 dollar day

Today was a great day. Woke up beside a really cute boy I like, gave him a pre-work blowjob, ironed his shirt while he took a shower, dropped him off at the train, on my way back saw the hunched over homeless guy who usually hovers around Ave. A and Second, I consider him "my homeless guy," the one I feel compelled to pass a spare dollar to when I'm in a --- the world is kind and I am lucky mood. Today I gave him a five.

How do you say man hating bitter woman in French?

After just a few days in Paris I've realized that the whole french are assholes business is a huge fraud, directed at americans or maybe the whole world, just to keep tourist levels manageable. I went to France prepared to brush off a few totally rude frenchman without getting myself pissed off and regretting I'd flown 7 hours to get there, but that never came to pass. Except for a few weird moments, a taxi driver that barely stopped the car when I needed to get out, which I think was mostly a misscommunication, cause if he didn't speak english, how would he know stop here, and when the door was flung open by me, he didn't errupt into a merde or sacre bleu or you moron tourists are trying to kill yourselves by opening a door in a moving car, instead he accepted my friend's euro, albeit never fully stopping, but It was probably more of a I'll stop on a proper corner instead of the middle of a busy street vs. I refuse to stop, just jump out! Then there was the ticket guy at the theater who asked us if we were students, which seemed rude for a second, as if he were commenting on our age, making fun of us, but then in an instant realized he genuinely thought we were students and was asking if we had student id's so he could provide us a discounted ticket, not exactly barbaric behavior, and in afterthought really quite sweet.

In fact, I'll take it a step further and say at some point the french gathered up their assholes loaded them on a plane and sent them to NY and Miami where they live among us and seize every opportunity to piss one of us off. I've dated 2 frenchman in the U.S., both dicks, one thought I acted stupid around my friends, had no personal scent (whatever the fuck that means) and the other asked me what I did at the gym precisely at the moment I got up from my bed naked to get him a glass of water post our mediocre sex, I'll translate further, I think he had sized up my figure as not quite fit enough for him and was also accusing me of doing something other than go to the gym on the afternoons and evening I claimed to be working out.

Cest la vie --- Can't blame the french for me dating 2 total assholes. I could flood the internet and crash entire servers if I suddenly decided to type out every scenario where a guy did something rude or said something unkind to me. I doubt any guy I dated in NY would remain unmentioned, cause if I had to name a city that had assholes to spare, it would be this one.

Somebody's dreamgirl, that's me.

2 dates, 2 dilemmas.

Should I start a new, secret, nobody knows who I am blog and rant and rave that I have been on 2 craigslist derived blind dates, one of which was a nightmare, the other was kind of nice, with a guy who is somewhat promising? Crazier than thou, me, responded to 3 ads and met 2 men, a third I am considering and now I have new stories, the embarrassing kind, that might amuse strangers and make friends worry I have finally flipped my lid, not just me saying I'm crazy, but me really backing it up.

Guy 1 -
Super successful rich, semi famous jewish business guy,
the best thing about our date was his car. That happens a lot actually, a gross, arrogant guy with story upon story about himself, generally has a flashy sportscar, which I didn't think I was into, because I'm not exactly materialistic, but an expensive, fast, shiny car is quite the aphrodisiac, makes me want to throw on a bikini and pull a Tawny Kitaen sex with a car routine.

Guy 2 -
Walk on a cloud material, tall, beautiful blue eyes, sweet, funny, amazing white smile, smart, interesting and just happens to like my type. Yeah, I'm a type, short, well rounded bottom; I also appeal to glasses fetish guys with a quick switch from contacts to librarian specs. I wear heels, so I attract my fair share of shoe fellas too. And ofcourse there is a whole tribe of men who are attracted to unstable, loud mouthed, close to the brink, semi crazy, sassy, zany, edgy, whatever you prefer to call it, I like DSM-IV personally ---- There is a breed that is drawn to us, our mood swings, mania, highs, lows, sex addiction and phobias.

I have daddy issues, control issues, authority issues, the list goes on, and for some special guy, I'm a crazy bitch dreamgirl.

And, If I can't find him on Craigslist, he can't be found.

Not much longer now

The only reason I maintain this P.O.S. (piece of shit) blog is so that Missy R. can keep up with me, without actually having to call. The things I'll do for a friend...

Truth is I'm pretty much bored with it. It's not authentic, it's completely censored and I just don't want to share my whole fucking head with ex boyfriends and others who know who I am, but don't really know who I am. Get it? Yeah, I didn't think so.

I want to rant about how some of my friends suck, that they're selfish and I often imagine life without them around, not dead or anything, but not in my life. I have so many good and exciting things going on and you are not one of them. You use me and when I need you, you're never there, and you're not very funny or cool and hanging out with you has become a chore, SO;

that's it. I've made my decision, consider this my two weeks notice, I'm tying up loose ends, then I'm writing you off.

2 weeks and 2 worlds later

2/28/07, 9:00pm, I leave a message for the guy, who i don't exactly like, but am obsessing over because he's stopped calling me.
2/28/07, 9:45pm, The guy, that I left the message for, that I don't love, that I think should love me, but doesn't, calls back.
2/28/07, 10:53pm, The guy I am obsessing over, who is a dullard, is boring me on the phone, conversation is thin and going no where
2/28/07, 10:55pm, The girl (me), who was previously obsessing about a guy who wasn't into her, isn't into him either.
2/28/07, 10:56pm (I thank him for returning the call, and promptly say good bye)

So, I'm no longer into the guy who didn't deserve a shot, but got one anyway, then didn't realize how lucky he was, who should have made every conceivable effort to win me over, but didn't. Two weeks later I fully realize, he was lame, an accountant, lives in NJ, has borderline erection and ejaculation issues, can't get dirty into it or heavy hit, and in the end comes out dry. Oddly, he continues to text me, every few nights, not for booty, not for anything, except to say, how are ya?

Well, If you must know, I'm doing rather well; I'm out to dinner, shopping with a friend, having a drink, sleeping with a guy, watching a movie, telling a funny story, getting dressed to go to a party, that's how I am.

Truth is, I'm on the verge of a perfect spring. I gave notice at work today, that March 30th will be my last day at the "Co." After an hour long attempt, by the person I report to, to persuade me to stay, I point blank say, what's in it for me? What's the benefit for me? Why should I want to stay? I say to him, get me an offer, on paper that I can consider over the weekend, otherwise, we have nothing else to say. How much did I have in mind? I dropped the number, he dropped his jaw. That's what it would take to keep me here. My point exactly.

So now I tidy up my files, delegate my work, update Mr. Chief Legal Officer on the status of my projects and end another chapter. I feel like a ten year old, on a sunny fourth of July, my ice pop melting faster than I can eat it. Sugar water dripping down my arm, food coloring staining my shirt, me trying to get past the lemon to get to the blueberry without the entire pop falling off the stick. That's how I feel; that's how I am.

That. Is. How. I. Am.

2 weeks can make a world of difference, can lighten a load, change a path, find you laughing while you type alone in your apt., knowing that spring and sandals and a few days in Paris are only 2 more weeks away.

How I roll

Does 2 whole days of going to the gym and eating healthy count as being on a roll?

Monday, gym. Tuesday, gym. Wednesday, intermix warehouse sale. Seriously, shopping can be a workout; I broke a sweat. (After combing the racks, I tried on 5 dresses and found a black one that fit perfectly. I was ok with the size 8, but wished it were a 6. I'll most likely cut the size tag out. It looks great on and there's no reason to taint the dress with a size note. I also got a yellow pair of Havianas)

I am so fucking ready to wear flip flops on a lazy sunday on Ave. B, me vacillating between having brunch or a fresh juice, not a smoothie, no yogurt, just fruit squeezed into juice, followed by a quick wander around my neighborhood. It's March and flip flop and wandering season are only 90 days away.

I'm rambling -
avoiding mentioning that I broke down and called the guy I thought I liked, but don't. The same guy who I thought was trying to be my boyfriend, but isn't. I'm pretty annoyed that he hasn't called me since last week. Last I heard from him was a lame text on Saturday night, while I was at a party with T. Who incidentally noticed I texted back at midnight and was not pleased. I called him tonight, on his cell at 8:30pm, he didn't pick up and I left an uninspired message. You know the script, hi, it's VES, not important, just calling to say hi, I'd been meaning to email you, but I've been busy at work and haven't heard from you. Hope you aren't working too hard. (*END*)

It's as if calling a dullard has some how made me dull. It would be best if he didn't call back and I didn't end up going out for another dinner, another night of better than mediocre, but nothing to blog about, sex. I need a few weeks off.

***

One last thing:
MISSY, You said you would call, but didn't. You are a girlfriend, not some guy I used to work with, who I bumped into at a party, who I had sex and dinner with. YOU, I actually expect to call me.

Crying over spilled beer

Should I begin by thanking T for spilling beer on my pillow cushion covers and rug? Technically, I was the one who knocked the bottle off the table – But, the beer was his, and I only knocked it down because of a sudden awkward move I made trying to escape his kiss and snuggle grip. The spill was T’s fault, not mine.

T and I are in 2 different places about “us.” “Us” being a former couple, who dated, lived together, and then broke up. We didn’t work that way. We work as friends. T is interesting and creative and a talker and thinker and smart. Our time together is really comfortable, just as time spent with a good friend should be. Since I broke up with Stephen we’ve had sex a few times, which has been nice and helpful and convenient but makes me feel like the woman whom he put a down payment on an engagement ring for but never gave her because she broke up with him before he could even ask. That woman had a narrow escape, and maybe a month delay would have forced her (me) to have to say, No, I don’t want to marry you. I don’t love you that way. Loosen your grip, please; I need to go.




Should I thank T? This time yes, because it was the thought of stale beer scented cushions that got me to the Laundromat at 9:30am on a Saturday. The cushions look better, brighter and smell flower petal fresh. Which reminds me, I guess I should also thank T for leaving my fridge slightly open (all night). I discovered my warm fridge when I returned to my apartment, victorious from the Laundromat. Another push in the direction of cleaning something that needed cleaning, but not perhaps that very second. I tossed out bottles of stuff that long needed to go. It’s not wise to keep things past their shelf life, even if the cool fridge gives the impression it’s safe to use that ginger dressing you purchased sometime back in 2003, it’s not. Although seemingly harmless, there are items on every shelf that if used, will have consequences.

Thanks.

desert-dry and craving

I want to drink life - fast, furious, head back, bottle upright, so that it pours out of both sides of my mouth, spills onto my blouse.

That would quench my thirst, at least for a day.

Lately

I've been working longer hours for smaller rewards. Six months into my not new anymore job and I find the fact that I've been delegated harder work, that I'm not exactly qualified to do, more stressful than exhilarating. It feels like - if I knew the kind of stuff they are expecting me to do wouldn't I be working somewhere else making double the money? My resume never mentioned finance or accounting and somehow I'm doing things that require some knowledge and skill in both those areas.

Other stuff that falls under the category of lately:
I might like a boy and he's trying to be my boyfriend, sort of.
I've been spending way too much comfortable time with a former serious beau and I need to remember all the things about the time we dated that led us to not work out.
I have 3 weddings to attend this year and I need to get into I'm not married at 35 because I don't want to be, not because I'm not gorgeous, shape.

And ---
Saturday I bought the cutest pair of Gucci platform sandals, yes, went into Neiman's with snow encrusted boots but left with a box of "little orphan annie, the sun will come out tomorrow" confidence. Spring beckons and before too long I'll be sporting perfectly polished toes from perfectly adorable footwear. My last mani pedi was a shade of May flowers (pink) that seemed a bit premature to the manicurist but has given me the best, days are getting longer feeling, you could imagine. The sun sets tonight at 5:35pm in Manhattan. Which makes the entire city the perfect backdrop for my date (with the boy I might like). Face it, we all look better in dim lighting and if he's on the fence about how pretty he thinks I am, a dimly lit city will definitely push him in the direction of she's beautiful rather than she's not as pretty as she needs to be in order for me to want to date her. Not that I'm even sure if I want to date him, but I'd rather be the one saying no thanks, perhaps friends.



One last thing, work is a four day week. Hooray!

I write Haiku

You should see my blog
short sweet sporadic entries no one ever reads

Bride of Kong blathers on

I decided to keep the blog up and running and yet somehow can't seem to stand up and report --- feel like the entire world has suddenly turned back on and I am amazed at how much I missed out on last year. Great sex is great but great life is amazing. Had the yummiest shrimp curry at a chicish indian place in tribeca, munched on thai on first ave., sipped a hot chocolate on a beautiful and clear night in New York in front of a cafe waiting for a boy who never showed up - yes, stood up, but not even bothered, did i mention that I hadn't had a cup of cocoa in over a year and had forgotten how sweet and satisfying holding a warm cup on a cool night can be? The world is king kong and I am the tiny woman in it's obsessive grip. I worked hard last week and really contributed to the success of the company where I work. Will higher ups care? Nah. Will friends and lovers and strangers ever know how thoughtful and kind I really am and that Gorilla Life Kong has made this woman a bit wary about leaving herself at risk? I had sex with a virtual stranger last week and felt no shame or anxiety afterwards. I bought the cutest cashmere scarf and it has kept me warm and I love to wrap it around my super cute neck which connects my head to my body.

And finally, before I forget, I got a booty text during daylight hours from a boy asking if I would be available later that (friday) night for an hour.

People make me laugh -- but I make myself cackle, guffaw, roar.

Fuck Fight Type - and blather!!