pan three years later

Get back to work!

2007-09-05T08:58:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-24T15:27:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-24T13:22:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-11T14:24:00.001-04:00

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"

2007-07-31T17:03:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-07-25T22:09:00.000-04:00

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

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

2007-07-19T18:21:00.000-04:00

i.e. still too hot to fuck

The eagle flies with the dove -

2007-07-11T21:34:00.000-04:00

CROSBY STILLS NASH AND YOUNG lyrics

Too darn hot

2007-07-10T21:05:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-07T20:02:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-06T20:52:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-06T09:34:00.000-04:00

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"

2007-07-02T09:25:00.001-04:00

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

2007-06-30T11:40:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-30T07:53:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-29T17:18:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-28T16:10:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-27T00:11:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-25T10:28:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-22T21:29:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-19T10:56:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-11T13:14:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-30T17:45:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-28T09:42:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-15T17:50:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-08T20:07:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-04-19T05:50:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-04-09T00:47:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-03T18:57:00.000-04:00

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

2007-03-16T18:40:00.001-04:00

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

2007-02-28T21:28:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-24T16:43:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-22T19:59:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-19T10:21:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-08T12:23:00.000-05:00

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

Bride of Kong blathers on

2007-01-27T13:20:00.000-05:00

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!!

Letter re: New lap top, new year, second attempt at blogging

2006-12-29T12:50:00.000-05:00

Dear faithful reader,

Two things:
I have a new laptop and broke up with my boyfriend ("S")-

This means no more excuses about why I haven't had time to write. Keep in mind I really was busy this past year having nearly non-stop and possibly the best sex of my life with "S." Whenever we got close to realizing we had zero or less in common we'd skip to the bedroom scene where not having stuff in common doesn't exist and definitely doesn't matter. On the bedroom side of my studio apartment, the lights are always dim, incense and candles burn endlessly, kisses are conversation, so if parts fit and fires burn, no one need worry where the non-relationship is going. Numbing yourself with sex takes time and energy, and that, combined with my constant computer issues just made it not possible to blog. You should also know that I was attempting to blog on my 7 year old dinosaur-mac, which is no easy task. At least 5 or so times, I wrote stuff that exposed the creepiest, scariest, most vulnerable pieces of me in a paragraph or two, only to have my desktop freeze up and freak out, which spared me the humiliation of having others know a bunch of fucked up stuff about me.

In the end, it worked out. I resolved to start a blog last December and did just that, even if it was sporadic, thin at at times, and perhaps read only by a handful. I'll claim any victory I can.

Resolve, rinse, repeat.

VES

PS. If I made my time with S sound sad or bad --- that wasn't my intention at all, I thoroughly enjoyed our year together, and if I had a chance to go back in time, knowing then what I know now, I would choose to know him again. How could I resist Stephen, his kisses, his beautiful white straight teeth framed by his perfectly red lips, his piercing laugh, his guitar riffs --- so much passion buried inside that simple man. I will miss aspects of him for a long time, if not forever.

Michael says my handwriting hasn't changed since I was 16

2006-12-19T15:06:00.000-05:00

After a surprisingly rational discussion, S and I have agreed it is time to move on. Apparently he wasn’t getting what he needed from the relationship either.

Feel a light pressure was lifted and then immediately replaced by a new weight.

More than my handwriting hasn’t changed – Never satisfied, still fickle and kind of a gypsy, after all these years.

Cupcakes

2006-11-21T16:53:00.000-05:00

make the world a better place.

Happy Birthday to me (I feel 33)

2006-11-03T14:34:00.000-05:00

But am 35.

This day is dragging, am craving some recognition for my morning success AND I haven’t had a sighting of the office Italian in days

2006-10-04T15:20:00.000-04:00

I should have mentioned him sooner, the office international playboy. You know the type… tall, dark, green eyes, untamed curls, sexy accent, always on a cell saying something probably so ordinary but in Italian plays out like porn star opera and makes each and every woman in my (new) office re-apply her lipstick at least 5 or so times a day, just in case they have a chance meeting with him by the copy machine.

I guess I should have mentioned him sooner, before he becomes, guy from my office, who I shared a cab with, who told me he hangs out in my neighborhood, usually on Sunday in a restaurant across the street and only 2 blocks from my apartment, that I am considering stalking, and definitely hoping to bump into by chance, when we are both drunk and somehow end up in my apartment making out. But for now he is office Italian, and the reason I have been trying to look my best for work.

Did I mention I joined the gym downstairs and am considering starting a bonfire of my entire existing wardrobe? You know how these Italian playboys are, they simply cannot desire a woman in last year’s fashions. I am not entirely sure, but suspect that he is the reason why the women here dress so well. I'm not totally sold on the flawless outfit as seduction so I am going to start with the lipstick approach first. If ruby red lips screaming to be kissed, matched with my thrilling personality don't lure him, I'm not sure high fashion outfits will help much.

At my new job

2006-09-14T21:30:00.000-04:00

It's been an amazingly busy first few days at my new job. I've been saying a lot of stuff like, look!! my first email at my new job, look!! my first fax at my new job, wow!! I had my first meeting in the office (at my new job), wow!! I had my first meeting outside of the office (at my new job), gee!! my first voicemail (at my new job). There are so many milestones to note. I made an excel spread sheet, wrote a letter, made small talk with my colleagues on a cab ride to a work related social affair... Did I mention, I spilled coffee on my skirt and then dabbed water on the stain in the ladies room so it wouldn't set (at my new job)? Before you know it I'll be jamming the copier --- so much to look forward to.

It's like a virgin pure white page. Every experience is so special, kind of like when you meet a boy, and all the ordinary things you do seem to have a dewy film of honeysugarrosesperfumeandbubblegum about it. Ahhhh, the first kiss, first walk in the rain, first movie, first weekend you draw the blinds and stay in bed for both days only getting up to order take out chinese which you even eat in bed, and the whole thing seems unbelievably romantic rather than slovenly, which it really kind of is.
*Sigh* Then there's the first time you're photographed together, spend a holiday together, meet each others friends, families... What about the first time he introduces you as his girlfriend? Each and every one is a relationship landmark moment.

Sadly, the magic of the first time fades away and soon you find your perfect boyfriend and job are not so perfect at all. The promise they once held is unrecognizable. For now, I will take each delightful first and marvel in it's newness and novelty and hope that it lasts at least 10 weeks or more.

Pah-leeze, As if

2006-09-08T19:46:00.000-04:00

Can you believe that guy from my old office who I had sex with twice, actually had the nerve to booty call me with the old: "I'm at a bar in your hood. Call me back."

Did he really think I'd be available on a Thursday evening to meet him for a drink? Maybe on a Tuesday, and then only if someone else I already had plans with cancelled at the very last minute when I was already at the bar waiting. In a scenario like that, I might be alright with having my thirst quenched at his expense.

The part that I find so unbelievable is that he doesn't realize that I'd have to be good and drunk and feeling awfully charitable to meet him out in a bar. Based on his time of call, 8:30pm, chances of me being bottle of tequila drunk is highlyultrasuper unlikely. Not only am I seeing someone, but, I also recently bought luxury bedlinens. For those 2 reasons alone, I could not possibly have office guy, with his entry level fuck skills and low to no endowment, grace the budoir area of my studio apartment. Did I mention the 600 threadcount? Just the thought of office guy getting sweaty on, or near my new browny gold with red lotus flowers duvet cover gives me a panicky feeling.

This should go without saying --- no, I did not call back.

Fried egg on 7 grain toast can make you smile all day OR Poem #1

2006-08-31T12:43:00.000-04:00

I tried to paint but the colors ran in a way that made a flower look like a hill with a climber who had far to go.
I painted fast and hard, but not pretty, not profound, so I wrote instead and my thoughts so deep and bright, on paper seemed harsh and trite, so I focused my energies and placed my hope in a fried egg sandwich.

In that first bite I was redeemed.
Washing the dish and pan also gave me great pleasure.

ves.

One weekend with my nephew and suddenly men find me irresistible

2006-08-29T10:34:00.000-04:00

My 12 year old nephew came to stay with me in NY for a long weekend. I'd been promising him a visit all summer and with school just one week away, it was time to give in and hang out with the kid. We had a really nice time, seriously. He came on Thursday and left Monday, and during that time he was the best roommate I'd ever had. He washed the few glasses in the sink and even took out the recyclables. We ran errands, shopped (scoop warehouse sale and the boy never complained), caught a movie, visited with friends (mine), saw a show and ate in endless diners. He's a cool kid. I really like him a lot.

Hanging around the city together I suppose we looked like a mom and son. I am technically old enough to be his mother and men in the street seemed really into that. My street approval ratings were freakishly high for all 5 days we scoured the city together. Men saw me holding his hand and in a moment they got that creepy animal seduction stare. It was pretty unexpected. All that 3 summers ago MILF stuff just didn't seem like street truth to me. I never gave moms a second thought, especially as competition, cause I'm in NY and hot mommies are in L.A. Isn't that where magazine perfect moms like Rachel Hunter and Kate Hudson live? Regardless of my no make-up, jeans, sneakers and tee look, I got the hungry twiceover from guys of every race, black, white, hispanic and asian (just kidding, everyone knows asian guys never give the wolflike, I will devour you if given the chance look). Men's response to me when accessorized with a 12 year old boy, leads me to believe that a woman who is capable of mothering is a total turn on for men. Me, a short, average looking brunette armed with a healthy 12 year old boy was instantly transformed into a universally desired woman. At a glance, I was capable of handling men's needs/neediness (cooking, cleaning, caring, nurturing, bandaging).

For many reasons, when Monday arrived I was sad to see the kid go. I kind of liked that the super hot dad in Banana Republic buying jeans for his 15 year old son ( I know that because he chatted me up while we waited for our individual boys outside the dressing room) was clearly smitten with me, an aunt that seemed like a mom. I noticed him, noticing that I, had no wedding ring on (neither did he) and I know he was about to take it a step further with questions like where do you work, etc. in an effort to give/take my number, but I do have a boyfriend, and I was pretty sure that being outed as the aunt would have plummeted my attractiveness level from woman with a kid whose biological clock no longer ticks cause she's satiated in the kids department to lonely aunt who loves playing mommy and desperately wants a kid of her own, neither of which is true, but men love to assess these situations and size us up as quickly as we do them... So at first chance I grabbed my nephew, paid for his new jeans and ran out of the store into the crowded soho streets where sexy dad would never be able to find us.

Interestingly enough, other women who saw me and my nephew and interacted with us, didn't take us for mother and son at all. The tailor who measured my sleeves for shortening asked if he was my brother because she could tell I was "way too young" to have a son his age. Not true at all, she was buttering me up right before she quoted $25 for shortening the sleeves on a jacket that only cost me $50. I am not too young to have a sixth grader, I just don't have the look or wear and tear of a woman with kids, and other women sense that. I'm exhausted, but not in the way that moms are. My tired look is from too many glasses of wine and waiting up for my musician boyfriend to come over after gigs so we can have sex late late late night. Big difference.

I asked nicely

2006-08-23T23:37:00.000-04:00

This makes 2 times in recent weeks that I asked nicely for something and voila it was mine. The nice folks (folk?) at blog of the day were kind enough to grant me BOTD status for "SMF" my August 22 entry. All this blogging is fun and i enjoy the blah di dah, but I kind of like the thought of someone out there actually reading it vs. me just tap tap tapping away for nada.

Stuff is good. No complaints. I am tan and happy, well rested and relaxed. Things are aligned in a way that I should be ok to start a diet tomorrow so I can be my slim super cutest for my new job. Two tiny acts of kindness directed towards me and I am ready to pay the universe back by being cuter and slimmer and wearing my heels to the office (not my less sexy flats) for at least the first few weeks of my new gig.

Not impressed? No icecream, no pizza, more fruit, no beer... situps and skipping cocktails is plenty of proof that I am a worthy recipient of recent kindnesses directed towards me. I can take a few weeks of healthy living, but any more than that and I am bound to unravel. Any good I may have done will be erased when I turn into a professional grade cranky asshole, deprived of my snacks and naps for
too long.

SMF

2006-08-22T17:45:00.000-04:00

2 weeks notice, 3 of the sweetest words, when used in that order, post fetching a cup of ice for a fat fuck with a comb over. Yeah, I'll admit that mostly I loved my job, the one I had these past two years only because the job I had the year before that sucked so hard. I went from the worst job in Manhattan to a pretty ok job, with a generous salary for my individual contribution --- by comparison, my last job was great, amazing, a joy each day, but after 2 years and a much better offer, I had to say sayonara mother fuckers. And I mean that in the sweetest way. That's who I am. I'll give my best, work late and hard, but it won't last forever.

I knew my days were numbered and that it wouldn't be much longer after I had sex with a guy from the office. I was bored, needed a diversion, and if sex with a co-worker doesn't add some daytime drama, nothing will. Isn't that horrible... I claim to cheat on my dear sweet boyfriend because I'm bored at work. My boyfriend is a musician, not the type of job where money rolls in consistently, so I am relied upon at times to pick up my fair share of bar tabs and such. We can't both be broke, can we? That wouldn't help the relationship much either, so if I have to sleep with a guy from the office just to keep up my morale, I'm willing to do just that.

Incidentally, office guy was a joke to sleep with --- his skills were completely non existent, so was his cock and broke musician boyfriend has inches to spare and kisses so sweet and skilled I have absolutely no excuse for ever needing to seek kisses and such elsewhere. Cheating can't be about sex, cause if it was, I'd clearly be faithful, at least this time. God knows I have been faithful to far less accomplished lovers than "S".

I'm hoping my summertime hook ups, sneaking around and being a slut doesn't end up a habit. Twice in the past two weeks I have been able to control myself when a extra-relationship hookup was looming. In the moment when things were about to go a step too far, I closed my eyes and imagined a bucket of ice water falling over me - within seconds I was soggy and ashamed and able to pull myself together. It's not easy behaving in a manner suitable to a girl with some dignity and a boyfriend. The clock ticks and I get older each second. I wonder how much longer guys will be perving on me? Will I regret not taking advantage of these days of ample suitors and boys still eager to bed me?

I love Michael Knight

2006-08-02T10:51:00.000-04:00

Reality TV confession time. After last season I vowed not to watch another lame ass episode of American Idol, except for initial tryouts when whack jobs take off their straight jackets and show up to sing their hearts out. I watched, I watched, I whined, I bitched, I complained and in the end I found happiness when Katherine did not win. Later, when rumor TV outed her as a bulimic, I cheered on the inside, cause I knew, I just sensed - that she was a girl on the verge of eating a dozen cupcakes and that although she proudly sported her D-cups, I could plainly see that once she turned the corner on 21 and reached the more humbling age of 31 she'd be a fat ass. Super shiny hair and teeth of a superior grade white won't console her when she, already a size 12 I presume, ends up a size 16. And as I understand it, binging and purging isn't easy on the teeth... Unless ofcourse she's a laxative junkie variety bulimic --- Nothing I care to discourse on further.

I am not watching the current reality music competition, the one with the rockers... Not a single episode. I know it exists and I'm staying away. My TV watching energies are all being focused on fashion for now - Project Runway.

And, I love Michael Knight.

(Hey Diana, I took your advice)

2006-07-28T10:57:00.000-04:00

Lame and bizarre email from my previous boyfriend/fiancee, current stalker and serious loser.

Synopsis: I went to a foreign country, met a boy, fell in love, fell out of love. What I thought was a semi-mutual breakup has turned into a one sided unrequited email stalking. Seriously. He continues to email me weekly although I have not responded to him since March.

received 7/27/06. (the note is completely unedited,I even left in the boring parts and typos)

To: Me, From: Him

subject: vacation people and on arguments

i was planning to have my annual vacation in early sep.
but like last year i suddenly feel tired again.
last year I met you, for almost half a year I lived with the thought of you in my mind.
recently i was on a business trip to Kayseri, somewhere in middle anatolia (the name comes from Kaiserium which is a derivation of the word Caeserium-- and you're smart enough to know what it means...) anyway that's not the point.
the point there is our dealer's nephew there is going to get married on this friday...he was complaining about his prolonged engagement...he said that there were so many arguments that they were having at the moment...
in the end he said it was a better idea to get merried asap and let the issues be solved as these two people get to know each other better undera tighter bind.
anyway, I just sat down like a good boy and listened silently.
i heard this from so many people.
and in the end this happened to me.
if I stayed there, I know that I could have sorted out our issues. very stupid ones indeed. but anyway that was not meant to happen that way. one cannot beat his destiny. i'm still shocked in some way though...

well...one thing's for sure...one day these disturbing self confession type of mails will end,too, but that will not mean that I was able to forget you. That I cannot do. My grey file, with our pics inside, lies3 out there on my desk untouched. I can't find the power to hide it away. It just is there.

one day...perhaps after a long while...one day perhaps your disappointment towards me ceases, perhaps one day we can sit down, only for an honest coffee, and talk.

a.

Kind of like gawker, but not

2006-07-07T16:06:00.000-04:00

Chelsea Clinton is not a dog. It has been confirmed to me that she is pretty, or to quote my ex-boyfriend who spotted her this past fourth of July in Manhattan attending a bbq with her man, she was "way prettier than I'd ever imagined." Isn't that great news?

Chelsea is not a dog, she is not hard to glance at, difficult to remain focused upon, a sight that makes eyes sore and those with vision prefer blindness. This part is unconfirmed, but I would wager she's not only surprisingly cute, but also funny and cool and has her dad's overall sheen and charm-i-ness. I am relieved. I am satisfied. I am pleased.

I can now rest easy, never having to worry again, that my favorite ex president and alleged sex machine has to shoulder the burden of loving an ugly child. A burden I will probably have to bear myself one day, if I ever settle down, quit being a junior spinster and marry one of my boyfriends. I know that if a future parent of a hard to look at baby list exists, my name is at the top. I am kind of mean that way. I've said, "Damn, did you see that ugly baby?" and "My god, that kid looked fucked up" too many times for there not to be repercussions.

I'm sorry, but all babies are not cute. There are ugly babies, plenty of them, and one day I will have one of my very own. Bill Clinton, however does not, because his baby turned out pretty.

exhale.

Friday's Addendum to Thursday's Oath

2006-06-23T11:57:00.000-04:00

An insightful (i.e. know-it-all) friend, who read yesterday's vow, called to advise me that it was in need of some amendment. It was pointed out to me that I rarely, if ever cry, and am probably having more sex than just about every person I know, definitely anyone who lives in my apartment building. As such, I should like to remove, cry less and fuck more from my previous vow, and will focus my energies on loving more and fighting less.

nit-pickers.

~ Thursday's Oath ~

2006-06-22T09:59:00.000-04:00

I woke up today, a day not unlike any other day, with the desire to make a difference, be a better person. I planned to do this by crying less, loving more, fighting less, fucking more. Why not? This could be the vow I actually keep.

Not like my vow to eat more fruit, less ice cream or my vow to go inside the gym and not walk briskly past it in an aerobic burst of energy, which is kind of like working out but lasts all of 6 seconds and makes me feel sporty and fit just long enough to get me past the gym doors without guilting me into walking in. Not that walking in works either. I’ve gone up the steps, in the door, into the locker room and just changed my mind, walked right back out into the street, with the sweet taste of defiance on my lips. I can’t be one of those people who’s a slave to a treadmill, who finds solace in tight abs, not me, not who I am at all.

I’m more the hear about a sample sale, try to find the location, walk 15 blocks out of my way, finally find the building, scale 8 flights of stairs because the elevator is broken, then furiously rummage the racks and boxes and bins, find something cute and boldly try it on in front of other women, and sometimes men, me on display, flaws exposed under harsh sample sale room fluorescents, no shame, no apologies type. That’s who I am. The sweaty, frazzled, maniac shopper who you see stripped down to her drawers trying on a too tight but deeply discounted dress in the middle of the sale room floor at the Diane von Furstenberg sample sale.

Next time you see me, cut me some slack. I'm trying to be a better person and it's not my fault they don't have a dressing room.

Three Shades Darker Than Completely Pale

2006-05-16T12:00:00.000-04:00

Sun on all four sides is a bit intimidating and I might have gone a little crazy with the spf. I used 45 all week, the white coppertone kind, with the tiny round mirror embedded on the front of the bottle. The mirror would have come in handy if I had not had a friend around to advise me on whether or not all the lotion had been absorbed and also if the mirror hadn't gotten all gunked up from my greasy hands and fingers handling the bottle after applying the lotion myself. I ended up back in New York without a golden tan to remind me of my sunnier days during the previous week. I was just three shades darker than completely pale. Which kind of made me feel like a fraud. Here I was filled with sunny serenity, and yet didn't have the sun kissed cheeks to prove it.

I panicked, momentarily, fearing that my boss seeing my pale face post vacation wouldn't even believe that I was away, which wouldn't have been a big deal, except that by pure chance I chose one of the busiest/craziest weeks of the year, second only to the annual budget crunch and fiscal year end, to be out of the office. You can't just take off a week to clean out your garage. Time off during the second busiest work week of the year can only be accepted by higher ups if you purchased a non-refundable ticket to a temporary paradise that will refresh, renew and enable you upon return to work even harder than you did before, which is way harder than you ever thought you'd have to when you accepted the job.

Aside from my non-existent tan, I also brought back a few souvenirs and a new appreciation, or more accurately, a renewed appreciation of tequila. One of the waiters from "S" and my favorite beachfront restaurant greeted us each time we returned as Mr. and Mrs. tequila, and I liked it. We did order a tequila or 2 but I think the warm greeting and pleasure to see us return had more to do with our enormous generosity post tequila dinners, when we were all happy to be alive and tipping Mexican waiters 50% because we felt guilty paying less than 100 bucks for lobster for 2 with countless cocktails. He couldn't exactly call us Mr. and Mrs. Big Tipper, now could he?

We stumbled back from our dinners to our perfectly dreamy villa, where our bottle of Corralejo, shared by me, "S" and we realized later, the cleaning staff, awaited us. We sipped a few more under the most brilliantly starry nights, nothing but beach and possibility ahead of us and the rest of the world behind.

Meeting With My Now Married Ex-boyfriend is Never a Good Idea

2006-04-27T09:54:00.000-04:00

Not for the reasons you imagine, it's not the innocent mouth kiss hello and good bye, or the fact that he's married. It's because he is still in college football player shape, dresses impeccably, has great conversation skills, English tea caliber table manners, picks the best restaurants and always pays the bill without hesitation. I did notice this meeting that his teeth had dulled slightly from 19 year old super star white to a mere really really white. They were still perfectly straight. He has always had the freshest breath, nicest smile, the type of things you take for granted. You don't realize that one day you'll go out on a date with Mr. breath not so fresh, teeth kind of gray. Life lets you down that way.

For days "S" will not be enough for me. His teeth are extremely straight and white, but his table manners and conversations skills just don't match up with married ex. Last night, only 6 hours after having been seated at a cozy table in the garden of an upscale Italian restaurant, I was now seated in a window at a midtown dive. The rapt attention I held at lunch, the conversation so easy, the excitement, none of it was there. Earlier, I had felt adored, now I wondered if "S" wouldn't rather be at the next table sitting with these 2 low grade bimbos he seemed to have glanced at one too many times for my comfort. I suggested "S" spend the night at his own apartment. He did end up coming to mine, and everything was nice, but still changed.

Meeting with my ex-boyfriend who is far more successful than I ever imagined he could be, is just not good for me. It's life at it's cruelest. I never thought that highly of him in the years we dated. I never thought that history would hold him as the best looking guy I ever called boyfriend. I was sure when I passed on him, that there were plenty better guys out there for me. I was confident I would end up with someone far better than him, no question.

I was wrong.

This Time Last Year or The Story of How I Flashed Al Gore, Who Probably Thought I Was a Hooker

2006-04-25T11:26:00.000-04:00

I can hear it now, “Tipper, we have to move back to Tennessee, NY is full of sinners. I saw a hooker in Starbucks today.” “Al, you’re over reacting.” “I am not! She lifted up her dress in the middle of the day, in a public place in a move that was clearly meant to advertise her wares, Tipper, trust me, I know Evil when I see it.”

More like: I was meeting someone a block away at Balthazar and arrived early. I thought a quick cup of coffee would be a safe idea, way safer than starting out at the bar and ending up drunk even before my lunch appointment started. That just isn’t a good idea when you have to head back to the office before too long. The coffee was just a time killer. I barely took a sip. I mostly stared into my compact, touched up my lipstick and made sure my garter/hose were secure. Maybe I’m a little shameless, but I didn’t think examining my hose in a crowded Starbucks in Soho qualified me as a blatant exhibitionist. It was a pretty automatic move and I didn’t think much of the eye contact I made with a table of three obviously southern business men who’s glance I caught when I looked up from my hemline. I continued my wait, repeatedly looked at my watch and sipped my coffee, wishing someone would get up and I could have their oversized, overstuffed seat.

It wasn’t until 15 or so minutes later, when a very young, very gay and very excited Starbucks employee approached me that I’d realized the men I pulled my dress up in front of included former VP and bible verse lover, Al Gore. The Starbucks guy just wanted me to know he thought it was great how I showed off my stuff, and he was waiting for the secret service guys to cuff me. A woman, who I hadn’t noticed before, with a thick French accent, was giddy with excitement at having spotted a celeb. I was thinking, since when is Al Gore a celebrity? I assured French woman and Starbucks guy it was unintentional. I promptly left the suddenly and eerily empty coffee shop.

My point: it’s stocking season world, beware. I have thighs and I’m not scared to expose them.

Sand in my shorts

2006-04-17T12:51:00.000-04:00

14 more city days, then sunny Mexico.

I'm going to spend 7 whole days with the guy I've been seeing ("S"). Four plane rides (stopover in Atlanta both ways) and a week in paradise can put a lot of pressure on a situation. No option of: you go to your apartment and I'll go to mine, no friends to join us, no diversions, no pressing errands, no excuses and no where to run(/hide).

So far S and I have spent one weekend together, Friday evening to Monday morning. We called it vacation training. I had pms and that means plenty of mood/personality changes. We still managed to have fun, at least that's what we said and agreed upon. By Sunday I was used to his face and him being around all the time.

I did notice that we spent a full week apart immediately following our together weekend and haven't made another attempt at being together at length, without interruption since.

When he said A, he meant B

2006-04-06T15:06:00.000-04:00

I should have known when he said his penis was medium sized and that he only went down on "girls he was in love with" it really meant he had a small penis and wasn't especially skilled in the plan B ways of providing girls pleasure. Lesson one: Medium means small and small means tiny.

Lesson two: If it falls from the lips of a guy with a beer in his hand, chances are it's not really a conversation you're in but the target in a plot for getting panties around ankles. If there's a chance he can take you home that night instead of having to call you to meet again a week later, he'll choose the same night option every time. When a guy is sending a clear channel signal that he is single, looking, successful and monied, he is counting on you to seize the moment because a catch so good won't be available for long... He actually expects you to believe that if you let him out of your sight for even a moment some mythical Manhattan man catcher will snag him during the short walk from the bar to the cab on the corner, so don't let him out of your sight. The catch me tonight approach, is a bar standard and generally works on my younger, more naive sisters. It's not for use on a slightly older, way wiser, been in plenty of bars type like me. I find that approach highly transparent and any glimpse of it makes me want to lead a guy on all night, use my best seduction techniques, imply plenty, conveniently forget to mention I have a boyfriend so that after investing several predator hours in trying to bed me, he ends up feeling used, having been taken for a ride.

In my 10 plus years of meeting boys in bars, I can comfortably say I've heard it all and am pretty spot-on with the he said this and means that part of knowing boys. A more disturbing trend I've noticed lately is in the behavior of my current's dear friends. I have repeatedly been flirted with and hit-on by guys that are supposed to be good friends of the guy I've been seeing these past months. It's pretty weird and at first I thought perhaps I'd become somewhat arrogant over time, thinking no man could resist me, but a come-on is a come-on and I'm old enough to read the signs. Perhaps when "Sleazy Guy 1" touched my bottom, I overreacted. My response of "Don't touch me, are you fucking crazy?" was met with "Oh, I was admiring your pants." I guess its possible (but highly unlikely) that my well styled look/adorable pants were just so irresistible, he had to touch the fabric to confirm such a dreamy outfit was in fact real. Another so called friend, I'll call him "Sleazy Guy 2" openly insulted my beau whenever we were left alone in what appeared to be a don't leave the party with him, but instead with me maneuver. A disturbing trend indeed, as if a girl comes to a party with her boyfriend and could be persuaded to leave with her boyfriend's buddy instead.

Pan Three Years Later

2006-03-27T09:58:00.000-05:00

March 29, 2006

Inaugural Post -- such pressure.

I will be brief.

Female, 30's, possible mid life crisis, living in NY and loving it most of the time. I have a non-creative admin. job that enables me to have a pretty freakin decent life, no bling, no limos, plenty of pairs of shoes and an occasional 5 star hotel. The rent is promptly paid and I can always afford a cocktail.

My street approval rating (number of guys that glance, stare, smile, stutter) is up. Superficial shit like looks and cash flow are not the issue.

But, there are always issues.

I came to NY to write, partied a ton instead, managed to have 5 or so useless boyfriends and ended up in Corporate, New York/USA. I type a lot and sort through email and paper. (Please read in a robot voice: I am proficient in excel and always report to work on time)... Enter crisis.

Just need more, will keep you posted on how I'm finding it.