A N T I C I P A T I N G --- yet trying to live life in the moment

February 28, 2007

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.

February 24, 2007

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.

February 22, 2007

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.

February 19, 2007

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!

February 08, 2007

I write Haiku

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