I’m a Jinius

i am running on three hours of sleep so please forgive the scatter brainedness.

friday
we go to spitzers and nurse betties. i have about twenty beers. at this point i am drunk and really want smoochies but i cant text the bartender because i deleted his number after his drunken incident last sunday. i try to cajole my phone to ring. “caaaaall meeee. caaaaaall meeeee.”

saturday
i go to arrow bar for a friend’s party. my roommate and her friend show up and we decide to bounce and go to another bar. we pass by this italian restaurant that is blasting sean paul. it looks like there’s a private party inside but we decide to crash it. as soon as we walk in some guy just hands us all beers. we dance like crazy and this midget molests my roommate and tries to dance with her. i am not kidding when i say he’s a midget. he was even shorter than me!

we leave and go to pyramid but only stay for one song because as much as i like new wave, i dont really like the people who like new wave.

at this point its like three am and we contemplate having a night cap at this bar near our apartment. we decide to go in. i head into the bathroom. as soon as i come out, my roommate comes up to me and says, “girl, your bartender is here.”

jigga….what?!

“are you sure it’s him?”
“yeah, i recognized his shoes.”

And i spot his top siders. I notice that he’s hanging out with people from his restaurant. my roommate and her friend tell me i should go over and say hello. so i walk over and pinch his waist. he buys me a drink and says, “i was pretty sure i would never hear from you again.” evidently he doesnt remember much from last week. i remind him that he was pretty obliterated. anyway, so we are hanging out and having a good time when the bouncer comes over and tells us it’s last call. except the bouncer was being a real dick about it. the bouncer tells the bartender that he needs to hurry up and leave and my bartender says something along the lines of “fuck off.”

and one things leads to another and before you know it the bartender and the bouncer are fighting eachother on the street. soon there are like twenty dudes on the street trying to break it up. it’s like all the dudes from the bartender’s restaurant squaring off against the dudes that work at the bar.

i dont understand how my night went from dancing to depeche mode to witnessing fight club.

anyway, it gets more dramatic and the bar owner tells the restaurant people that they’re never allowed to come back again. great,  i hope the owner does not think i am associated with them.

so the bartender and i walk away and i tell him that he just can’t pick fights with bouncers who look like they eat small children for breakfast. he doesnt care and seems amused by the whole thing. “did you see me pop him? i knocked him to the ground!” i roll my eyes.

we approach the subway and he says, “well, i guess i should catch my train here.” i don’t say anything. then he says, “this is the part when you say ‘why don’t you come over my place?” “oh, sorry. do you wanna come over?”

so he comes over.

and it’s really nice to wake up on a sunday morning to someone kissing your neck. and it’s also really nice to just stay in bed all day and forget that’s there’s a world outside of your door.

but eventually we both get hungry. “go make me some breakfast,” he says. ummm, yeah, little does he know that i avoid the kitchen as much as possible. we settle on going out for brunch.

after brunch we go to st dymphnas and have drinks outside. and we just chat about everything and nothing. he tells me i have a “clean personality”. is that a euphemism for boring? he laughs and doesn’t say anything. hmmmph. he also says that we have nothing in common. this is truly evident in our literary tastes. i am the type of person that likes jane austen and he prefers bukowski. we also have divergent movie tastes. he leans toward all the christopher guest movies and i like dance movies.

oh, and another thing we don’t have in common is that he loves getting into fist fights. he tells me that he did go through a brief peaceful period but then decided he was tired of it.  apparently he has had the shit kicked out of him by a gang of guys. one time he was on the ground and the last thing he remembers is someone’s foot kicking him in the face. he goes on to say that when you’ve had someone kick you in the face you kinda lose your fear of getting into fights. and that all men need to fight because they’re full of testosterone and rage and competition. i was like dude, you’re not tyler durden.

then we talk about the first time i met him and he remembers that ursy and i were sitting at the end of the bar and drinking nut brown ales. “you remembered our beer?” i am surprised. this is the same guy who doesn’t even remember how he got home last week.

after st. dymphnas we go back to my place to watch a movie. he looks through my dvds and shouts out, “M:i:III”

umm, okay, so the guy who favors bukowkski and henry miller wants to watch the cheesiest action movie of all time?

so we watch mission impossible. i make him sit on the other side of the couch because i wanted to watch juno. “i thought we’d get some major cuddle time.” did those words just come out of mr. fight club’s mouth??

and then we have another sleep over.

swoon.

as he leaves my apartment this morning, i tell him not to get into fights.

“On the subway? It’s inevitable.”

he is belligerent and uncouth and wayward and we have nothing in common. but we sure have a swell time.

im screwed.

So now I have a vague sense of what it’s like to be a single mom.

And now I know why so many rappers have “dear mama” songs. Although rappers’ moms had to take care of their kids for years, working three jobs just so their kids could have health care. My 19 yr old brother and his girlfriend were only in town for a week.

Don’t get me wrong, we all had a great time. But I didn’t realize that young people asked so many questions and had so much energy. By the third day I just wanted to be like, “Mama needs a nap and a whiskey” or “look it up on google!!!!” And this was all directed toward brother jinius. He is the type of person that will ask me subway directions to my apt and then ask me again an hour later and then ask me again the next day. If it were any other person, you just deal with it and give them the info, but for some reason when it is your flesh and blood you just want to knock them on the head.

My brother and I have always had more of a parental relationship. Afterall, we have a nearly ten year age difference. While my parents were at work, I changed his diapers, fed him, and basically ensured he didn’t fall and hit his head too many times. I think I succeeded. Although I may have let him slip here and there.

Wednesday
They arrive on Wednesday. I take them to Esperanto and my friend Dave meets up with us. My brother and his girlfriend try goat cheese for the first time. It’s amazing when you are older you forget how trying new foods can be so amazing and eye opening. They were both like omigod this is so good! It was really cute. And the way they interact with eachother is also very cute. It’s so heartening to see your baby brother act like a real gentleman. He is the type of person that will give his sweater to his girlfriend when she is cold. And give her half his meal. It’s also really disheartening to see such young love in front of your eyes. Dave and I were like, “when did we get so jaded?” I think it happens between the ages of 21-25. When you are taken out of the safety of the campus environment and thrown into the real world. Or maybe your significant other dicks you over senior year and says “I’m going away this summer and I want to sleep with other people.” That could be it.


After dinner we try looking for places that won’t ID. We hop into this hookah bar in the east village and the waitress comes over and asks for our drink orders. My brother orders a screw driver and his girlfriend orders a long island iced tea. They get carded. I was like um, those drinks are a dead give away that you are college freshmen!!!!! You need to order old people drinks like Ketel One and Tonic or Brooklyn Lager. That’s what my friends and I drink!

Thurs
They come by my office and I take them to this Japanese restaurant for lunch. His girlfriend is amazed by the bento boxes. Again, another thing that my jaded ass forgets to appreciate. Later that night we walk around St. Marks and I yell at my brother for trying to buy some, uh, smoking supplies.

Okay, so I’m not exactly the hip sister that will let their little brother do anything. In fact, I almost didn’t let my brother and his girlfriend even sleep in the same room. I eventually let them sleep in my bed but they had to keep the door open while I slept on the couch. Dave was like “but they’re on vacation!” Yeah, not under my roof. By the end of the trip, brother Jinius was calling me mom but it was not in a reverential way.

Friday
Brother Jinius and his girlfriend go to Long Island for the night to stay with my aunt. Freedom! This is what I mean by single mom. While the kids are away, mommy can play! So I go to Brooklyn and meet up with Sabbie and co. for bbq at the smoked joint. Afterwards, I head to Williamsburg for Emi’s party. This is where I meet the hot guy named Peter. It is one of those instances when I am standing by the door and immediately notice him walk in and it’s like HUMMANA HUMMANA.

He is tall, with dark, floppy hair, and black framed glasses. Yeah, a total Brooklyn boy. I must have been making a face because he says to me, “Why are you making that face?” Ummm, this is my “which beer should I drink?” face. Anyway, I end up latching onto him like a kodiak bear on a salmon for the rest of the night. It turns out he is from Florida so of course I am like omigod I’m also from Florida! What a small world! He is also half Asian and half Latin. And I’m like omigod I’m also Asian! But whole! Okay, I’m going to stop talking in exclamation points!

So the end of the night approaches and he’s like “Well, I’m gonna go, it was nice meeting you.”

And that is it.

I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and say, “Excuse me, I think you forgot to ask for my number.”

But I thought that would have been too presumptuous.

The next night I ask Dave and Vid what could have gone wrong. I think of these options:

a) he wasn’t interested
b) he’s gay
c) he has a girlfriend
d) he has no game

We conclude that it’s probably all of the above.

Saturday

Brother Jinius and his girlfriend come back. We walk around the West Village and Soho and have lunch at Soho Park Cafe. My bro and his girlfriend order food and I order a Hoegarden. Sometimes nothing quenches your thirst more than an ice cold beer. Some people would argue that perhaps water is more likely to quench your thirst but those are also the same people who have healthy livers. My liver probably resembles Ted Kennedy’s.

For dinner, I make this dish that Vidya and I concocted a couple of years ago. It is so effin’ good! If you ever want to impress company but don’t really feel like cooking then make this dish. Basically, it’s linguine with shrimp, mushrooms, and onions in vodka sauce. It is the hotness right there.

Dave and Vidya come over for dinner and we are amazed at how drinking Brooklyn Lager out of a glass makes such a big difference in taste. Yeah, we are constantly expanding our palates and our minds here at the jinius blog. We also spend the greater part of the evening listening to Ludacris’s “Southern Hospitality.”

I am sure my brother and his girlfriend must have thought we were so cool as we kept chanting, “Pretty ass clothes/pretty ass toes/Oh how I love these pretty ass hoes”.

So then toward the end of the night I get a text and of course, OF COURSE, it is from hot bartender. Oh, except he has officially been demoted from hot bartender to just the bartender. I’ll explain why later.

It is a universal law of booty that your person of interest will only contact you at a time when it is least convenient for you.

Anyway, my bro and his girlfriend are asleep so Dave, V, and I meet up with the bartender at this bar nearby. He looks like he has been drinking for five hours straight. He says, “I forgot how cute you are, you should have warned me.”

Ugh, it is so pathetic but I clearly suffer from Justin Bobby syndrome. If you guys don’t watch The Hills (which I’m sure is like all of you) then you won’t get the reference but basically it involves being attracted to a guy despite the fact that he is a total fuck up and lewd and crass and his only saving grace is telling you semi sweet compliments here and there. Maybe it’s because I spent my high school years going to a performing arts school and only crushing on closeted theater boys but I never went through my “bad boy” phase and now I’m making up for it…at 28.

So the bartender wants to come over but i tell him that he’ll have to sleep on the couch and that we can’t hookup. He agrees. So we go back to the apt and pass out. I eventually move to the other couch because he is literally passed out on top of me and I can’t breathe.

Sunday

Oh, and remember when I said that I shouldn’t eat indian food before going on a date? Well, now we can add linguine with vodka sauce as a pariah. My indigestion (euphemism for really bad gas) was so intense that I decided to leave the apartment at 8 in the morning and relieve myself outside. Except my dumb ass forgot to bring my keys so I was locked out of my building for a good fifteen minutes. I ring the intercom and my bro lets me in. The bartender was like where did you go? I make up some lie about buying coconut water and forgetting my keys.

My bro and his girlfriend leave to walk around so the bartender and I use the opportunity to pretend we’re in highschool. Aka fool around while the folks are away. Ugh, he may be crazy but the physical chemistry is also insane. As my friend Sarah pointed out, it’s like that old nymag article that talks about why men are attracted to crazy women. It’s hard to walk away when crazy comes wrapped in a beautiful package. Not that bartender is adonis but there is something about his craziness that I find hopelessly appealing. Ugh, call it the Babyshambles/Pete Doherty syndrome. You think you can lift them from being at rockbottom.

So the bartender leaves to go to work. My brother comes back and tells me he thinks bartender looks like a douche bag. I ask him why he thinks he looks like a douche bag. He tells me he doesn’t like his beard.

Later on, bartender and i text and I make plans to meet up with him after his shift. He tells me to come by his restaurant because they just bought a bottle of wine and they are drinking outside. So Sabbie comes over and we go to the restaurant together. We show up. Evidently, the bartender has been drinking mimosas from 10 in the morning. It is now around 5 pm.

So at this point he is in complete babyshambles mode. He is slurring. His eyes are crossed. He knocks over glasses of beer. At one point, he just walks away from the table and talks to some servers and I’m like “why the hell am i here?”

But then this is the point that pissed me off.

He says to me, in front of the other servers of the restaurant, “How’s your gay brother?”

Jigga what?

i was so pissed off that he said that not only to me but in front of his co-workers and friends who i dont even know. it was just embarrassing. i mean, that’s like making a your mama joke. No one is allowed to call my brother gay except for me.

That’s when I had it and Sabbie and I leave shortly after. We tell him that we’re leaving but I don’t think it registers. He is so obliterated that I doubt he could even register an 8.0 earthquake if it him.

So Sabbie and I go to caracas and have a lovely dinner of arepas and beers. The perfect ending to a Sunday evening.

On monday morning I get a text from the bartender “Not sure what happened to you yesterday. Or me. Yikes.”

I was going to text back. But didn’t know what to say. The scorpio in me wanted to respond with something vicious. But the Babyshambles in me just felt sorry for him. He is a wreck. And even if i did say something like ‘i left because you called my brother gay, delete my number” he probably wouldn’t even get it. I decide not to respond and to just erase him from my memory.

Isn’t it funny how a crush can go from so sweet and innocent to just disastrous?

Oh, and how appropriate that I read this today: Depressed Dudes More Likely to Drown Sorrows in Drink

I’m starting to recycle old blog titles from 2005. It’s nice to know that my life hasn’t changed in three years.

Lets see, I ran for three miles yesterday, did not drink very much water, then met up with friends for drinks and had about twenty beers so this will be an inchoate post. I’m grateful that i can even keep my eyes open let alone string together sentences.

Friday

Met up with V for drinks before the jay-z/mary j concert. Had a really good conversation about relationships, dating–you know, stuff women never talk about–and she basically told me that I have to be more open and less cold. And that I should just talk to guys the same way I talk to my girlfriends instead of rolling my eyes at them.

It’s not that I’m rude to guys. I just don’t like people!

I guess if you’re open to being in a relationship then you have to be open to people. Keep your heart open and your legs closed! Ha.

I need new writers.

But i also think that if it’s the right person then you won’t have to work so hard at being open and it will just happen naturally. And if this person were, lets say, hot bartender, then I would be very willing to be open minded!!!!

Anyway, the concert was off the hook. Recordings do not do justice to MJB’s voice. She has the voice of a hundred person gospel choir. Talk about presence. And Hova was awesome. He even played my track…Jigga what? Oh, and Beyonce made an appearance on stage. She basically strutted on stage and shook her ass and left. Hot tranny mess.

After the concert I met up with my friend Meghan who is visiting from out of town. Meghan is one of those people who just knows everything about everything. Sometimes if I need to get some info on something I don’t even google it, I just call Meghan. She can talk about everything from the problems of secularism in France to the growing popularity of Li’l Wayne.

Saturday

I forced my ass out of bed and went for a run.

I really hate saying this and I know that as a seven sister alum I should be espousing feminist ideals and preaching positive body image messages, but as Lisa Simpson said, “That’s something a fat girl would say!” But it’s so hard to come to terms with the fact that as you get older you just can’t metabolize all the foot long meatball subs like you used to!

When I was younger, I had the metabolism of a cheetah. Now I have the metabolism of an elephant. Okay, I’m exaggerating, but it’s really depressing when you realize you have to start watching what you eat. My problem is that I watch what I eat and then end up eating what I was watching.

Anyhoo, obviously my vanity did not deter me from eating and drinking the rest of the weekend.

Later, Meghan and Nicole and I went to Spitzers for drinks, then met up with Liz and Elissa at Le Pere Pinard for wine and cheese, and ended the night at Pink Pony for dinner. My girl friends are so amazing because not only are they hot and hilarious but they’re also fucking brilliant. If I weren’t so hungover I would expound on how they are a great embodiment of what the feminist movement strives for but…I don’t have anymore braincells. All I can say is that I hope my unborn daughters grow up to be just like them.

And I also realized that at the end of the day, anyone can have flat abs if they tried really hard. But not everyone can be brilliant.

Let’s give it up for brains y’all.

Biggest muscle.


Sunday
Went for a run. Because as much as I respect brains I also like wearing t-shirts as dresses.

Met up with Sarah for margaritas at La Palapa where I deemed my margaritas not strong enough!

Later Sabbie and Allstadt showed up and we strolled over to St. Dymphnas for curry fries and beer.

Why is Guinness so good?

Okay, speaking of hot, hilarious, brilliant girlfriends, I have to end this post with an email I got from Vidya. I literally laughed so hard that I snorted.

So can I just ask you wtf is wrong with people in nyc. This morning there was a guy on the subway cutting his nails on the train. How DISGUSTING is that??? Then when I got off the train and was exiting the station, I had to go through those revolving door/turnstile things – not the regular turnstiles. And you know how everyone knows that only one person is supposed to go through that at a time right? I get in there and realized it wasn’t moving forward even though I was pushing and I look over my right shoulder and some bitch has jumped in there with me!!!! She is literally pressed up against me and she’s like – omg I’m so sorry I don’t know what I was thinking. I was like – bitch get off my back!!!! Like who does that???? I swear – sometimes I feel like I’ve had enough of the human race.

So in an effort to alienate readers I decided, henceforth, that all my blog titles will be references to hip hop/r&b songs from the mid to late nineties because–in my humble opinion–(which is the only opinion!) that era is the apex of hip hop. The Apex!!!

Just got back from dc and had a much better time than on my last visit. All my long time readers will know why this is the case and unfortunately (fortunately) for the new readers I already deleted that old post. That’s the great thing about blogs. You can post the most intimate details of your life and then delete them!

Got there on monday. Walked around Dupont Circle and that whole area. So cute! I was surprised to see so many joggers in DC. Must be nice to run without inhaling car exhaust.

Decided to treat myself to a nice dinner at Hank’s Oyster Bar. I kinda felt like that scene in Forgetting Sarah Marshall– “We have a loner here! Just one!” I sat at the bar with this week’s issue of New York mag (represent!) and ordered a glass of Viognier.

Then I asked the bartender if I should get the lobster roll or the short ribs dinner and he said the lobster roll is pretty light and the short ribs dinner is pretty heavy so I ordered the short ribs dinner. The short ribs was as thick as a log and it came with a side of collard greens and mac n cheese. The bartender said he was pretty sure I could make a dent in it. Ummm, I didn’t put a dent in it because I finished THE ENTIRE PLATE. I even licked the cheese off the bottom of my mac n cheese dish. Cholesterol what?

The next day I went to a conference and it was really awesome. I felt like I was in that Blind Melon video when the bee girl runs into all the other people dressed in bee costumes and it’s like omg I belong somewhere!!!! So that was very cool. Meeting people my age interested in the same things. It made me think that maybe a move to DC would be a great strategic decision for my professional life. AND its pedestrian friendly!

After the conference, a bunch of us grabbed drinks at the 18th street lounge and then I had to catch my train back to ny. It was kidna sad. All the conference participants live and work in dc and I had to go back home in my bee costume. But thank god home is Manhattan and not bumble fuck. I quickly got over it when I took a cab back to my apartment. Oh, hellooo lover!

In other news, remember the whole Hills situation I felt like I was in? Well, my biggest concern was running into the people who didn’t invite me to their party and I ended up crashing the party. Ha. And then I got a text from hot bartender and all was forgotten. Except the annoying thing about him which was also the problem I had with the 25 yr old is that he texts me and then doesn’t follow through. Like, don’t keep texting me if you’re not gonna seal the deal. I’m only interested in bilateral relations here! I don’t need this back and forth of texting!

The next night I met up with Elissa and Vidya for dinner at Casimir and noticed that they also have a very hot bartender. Very scruffy and tattooes all over his arms. Hmmm. Shut it down, Jinius.

Afterwards, Elissa and I went to a fake mustache party and adorned our faces in pink mustaches. The highlight of the evening was going to this belgian bar and fifty of us in fake mustaches just storm the place and the two bartenders dont know how to react because clearly they must have never worked in an nyc bar before because they acted like we were just a mad mob of people and hello, this is a typical night at any other bar. Anyway, the bartender said he couldn’t handle my order before taking care of other people but he was just chatting away with people so Elissa told him that was not very cool and the best part was that she was saying all this with her fake mustache on.

Fake mustaches say, “Don’t eff with us!”

Oh and then I ended up chatting with this one dude because, clearly, men are turned on by pink mustaches and while the rest of the fake stache crew hit another bar, me and the dude stayed. He was Euro and in town for a week. He had on black framed glassses a la Daniel Liebskind and wore a red and white checkered kiffeyeh a la Arafat. At first I thought he was cute but then he really started to annoy me and I think it’s because, well, how do I say this without sounding mean?

I’m not attracted to European men.

And I think it’s because, well, how can I articulate this…

They are cheesy.

And they ain’t too proud to beg which is also a huge turn off. I told him I was tired and going home and he was like “C’mon, please, have one more drink with me.” And I was like, why you all up in my grill?

So lets hear it for American men, y’all. They may not always remember to hold doors or remember to shower but they always remember to act aloof and sullen. Hot!

On Sunday, met up with Liz and some peeps at Cafe Mogador for brunch. Even though I love Mogador’s brunch I have to say it’s not very filling. I was this close to going to Jules next door and ordering a burger. But I didn’t. Because society likes to promulgate the idea that being morbidly obese is not that hot.

So, yeah, that was my week. It was interesting to go to dc this second time around. While I was out having dinner ALONE I contemplated calling up the boy who shall not be named but lives in dc and knows I have a blog so if you’re reading this just please stop right now!

But I didn’t call cuz I didn’t have his number anyway.

Anyway, sometimes its nice to just be alone. You don’t have to share your mac n cheese and you can people watch with abandon.

And then you just appreciate it so much more when you run into your other bee people.

Friday

Before going to Nurse Bettie for Meredith’s birthday, I meet up with Emi at Paladar for some pre-party margaritas. I don’t want to have a crazy night because it’s supposed to be nice on Saturday so I order tequila on the rocks with lime juice and a vampiro which is just straight up tequila with hibiscus juice. This is my idea of “taking it easy”.

These two guys sitting behind us look like extras in a Fat Joe video and decide to give us each a rose. Like it’s The Bachelor. We decide to give these roses to our friend Meredith because everyone likes receiving hand me down roses on their birthday. (more…)

(Title courtesy of Miss Sarah)

Saturday

Since we’re all at the office on Saturday, my boss is nice enough to take us all out to lunch. We go out for Korean food in K-town where I eat my weight in kimchee and champong. I’m too tired right now to describe it but basically–it’s SPICY.

Its not news that I have digestion issues. I should assiduously avoid spicy food, dairy, and alcohol for the well being of my stomach but then I wouldn’t be able to eat anything! I usually have to pay for it in the end. Literally.

I make plans to meet up with Sarah for cocktails at The Back Room–an establishment that strives for a “speak easy” vibe by serving you $13 cocktails in tea cups. I like authenticity and all but I also like my cocktails in a proper glass.

I hail a cab and as soon as I get in I feel a rumble in my stomach. Actually, not a rumble but more like a fucking riot with villagers plunging pitchforks into my sides. I do some yogic breathing and fervently pray to god to stop the pain, but that spicy food is battling with my intestines. I show up to the bar and promptly go to the restroom. Except I can’t relax because there are girls in there reapplying gloss. Tangent: You can always tell a girl is new to Manhattan by the amount of time that goes into her make up and her outfit. Newbies wear dresses from Intermix. I wear spandex from American Apparel.

I leave the bathroom and ask Sarah if maybe I could use her brother’s bathroom because he lives in the area. Mind you, her brother was also my date to my high school prom. I’m sure I could have taken our intimacy to another level by coming over to his apartment and destroying his plumbing.

But Prom Date is asleep and I am having difficulty standing straight. I notice that there are actually some cute guys at the bar but I figure it’s probably not a good idea to mack it when you’re bending over in pain. I apologize to Sarah and flee. I get in a cab and implore the cab driver to go as fast as he can. He must’ve thought I was sick from drinking too much but I was not. For once.

I arrive at my apartment and just throw my purse on the floor and run to the bathroom.

I suppose I’ve given too much information on the intricacies of my bowels but… we’re friends right??? Unless you’re creepy. In that case, lets stay anonymous strangers who divulge intimate details of our private lives!

Sunday

I meet up with Sarah and Chelsea at La Palapa. They have this insane happy hour on Sundays from like 5-7. Margaritas are $4.50 and bar food is $2.95. Recession what?

The host is a chatty cathy and interrupts our conversation. I am annoyed. Hello, I have important things to discuss! Like the Real Housewives of New York!

In one episode, one of the “real housewives” orders a skinny margarita. It’s basically tequila on the rocks with a splash of lime juice. I have two. They should change the name to a skinny, drunk margarita.

Sarah leaves to go to this film screening and Chelsea and I drink some more and have guacamole with chips and spicy salsa and queso fundido with jalapenos and onions. Digestion issues what?

Afterwards, we meet up with Sarah at The Bitter End to ostensibly see some band play but really we go because there is open bar. Chelsea and I roll up to the Bitter End and declare that the line is too long so we sneak into Peculiar Pub to have beer until the line dies. Genius!

Sarah tells us to hurry up inside so Chelsea manages to smuggle her FULL PINT GLASS in her bag and I chug my beer in about two seconds. Geniusosity!

We wait in line and Sarah sends me a text that this guy I went out with a couple of times is randomly there and you know me, I am full of propriety after consuming three alcoholic beverages in the span of thirty minutes. No, really, it was fine. I can be a nice person! Sometimes!

Sarah’s friend was there and he smuggled in a bottle of fucking Veuve so we are poppin bubbly in plastic cups because we are classy like that.

So we see two bands play.

Did I tell you that I think I hate live music? Well, not all live music. I like live music when I am allowed to get up and dance around. I don’t like live music if I am forced to sit and be quiet.

We leave the Bitter End and go back to Peculiar Pub because clearly I have forgotten that I actually work on Mondays.

Then I stop into Artichoke and get a slice of pizza because NY Mag gave it such a great review that you’d think they wanted this pizza to be their new left testicle.

I try it.

It is good. But not new left testicle good.

While I was walking home, I started thinking about exes and how there are people who can’t be friends with their exes and those who can. I manage to stay friends with most of the guys I’ve dated as long as they weren’t total fucktards. And I think it’s because when I see them I have absolutely no feeling. Its so odd to me that you can be so unattached to someone you used to be in love with or heartbroken over. I think it’s because when you are in love or hearthbroken over someone they are like an object that you imbue all these feelings for. You say things like “Omigod he was so amazing; I will never meet anyone so amazing.” Or “I hate him! He’s an asshole!”

And then one day you don’t feel anything.

And you see them and think, Oh, he’s just this dude. This vessel. He could be anything or anyone. His existence is completely contingent on your feelings for him. And if you don’t have any feelings, then he doesn’t exist.

I am tired today.

I am at work today. Let me point out that it is Saturday and gorgeous out. My co-worker brought in a box of beard papa’s and had just enough so that everyone on our floor could have only one. After I ate mine I went into the fridge and took another one. That was my way of telling the office, “This is what you get for fucking with my weekend.”

Beard papas are so delicious and almost worth a journey to the office on a Saturday. The Beard Papa’s website describes itself as “World’s best cream puffs”. I think that is an understatement.

I don’t know what it is but lately I’ve had the most urgent sugar cravings. The other day I went to Subway and had an oatmeal cookie, a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie, and a dark chocolate macadamia nut cookie. And then yesterday I had a donut, another oatmeal cookie, and downed a fruit juice. I’m like children of the corn syrup. I wonder if all these sugar cravings is a sign that maybe I’m pregnant??? That would be hilarious. My baby would be half Asian/half hot bartender and !00% alcoholic.

I hope that hot bartender never finds my blog.

In other news, Nerve.com emailed me and said they fixed my gender. Glad to know that I’m still considered a woman. I perused the site last night and tried to ignore the fact that I was at home on a Friday night, drinking a glass of red wine, and looking at personals. At least I wasn’t watching WE’s Cinematherapy.

But looking through the personals was kinda like a horror movie in itself because I instantly recognized one dude I dated via Match.com. Ugh, the online dating world is too small! This was the guy who had very deceptive photographs in his profile and turned out to be much heavier in real life. Not that I care about those things. I mean, when I make jokes about the morbidly obese of course I’m not referring to people I am dating! Anyway, this dude is using THE SAME PHOTO from his match profile. And mind you I met him on Match a year ago. I want to email him and be like “Please use a photo from this century.”

Anyway, all the red wine fueled my curiosity and wonder so I clicked on his profile. He says that people tell him he looks like Robbie Williams. It’s almost as if he is taunting me to make a fat joke.

I am so mean. I’m horrible. Who am I to judge? But at least I don’t post photos of myself from 1994.

So in an effort to be more social I decided to sign up for Nerve.com’s dating service.

Online socializing is still socializing, right?

After about twenty minutes of filling out all these tedious questions about my eye and hair color (why do they need to know this? won’t they see my photo?) and things you like and dislike (I wrote that I like steak and beer), I viewed my final profile and noticed that under gender, I was listed as a man.

So I tried editing my gender but Nerve.com requires that you contact Customer Service in order to update your gender.

But I wasn’t updating my gender like it was some facebook status–I was just fixing a mistake that the computer system made in the first place!

So I deleted the account and started over and AGAIN my profile was listed as a MAN. Do you think a man would use the screen name petite_lala????

I emailed Nerve’s customer service and the dude who emailed me back told me that in order to update my gender I had to make a payment or something and then I realized that online socializing takes more effort than socializing with real people so I retired my lofty ambitions of going back to the online dating world.

Plus, I am not paying money just so I can tell the world that I’M NOT A MAN.

In random news, I was thinking about a weird childhood memory this morning. I guess sitting at a cubicle and staring at a computer screen will create a state of hypnosis and evoke random thoughts from your memory’s periphery.

And I remembered the first time I went to sleep away camp. I was in the fifth grade. And I went balls to the wall during the camp meals because it was like the first time I got away from my mom’s korean food and could indulge in all this American gastronomic glory like beefaroni.

God I loved beefaroni.

Anyway, so my endless consumption of starch and curious meat products ultimately led to the clogging of my digestive system and I was severely constipated. I don’t think I went to the bathroom for like three days straight. I couldn’t really participate in any of the camp’s physical activities because having three days worth of beefaroni in your system really limits your athletic prowess. I literally felt like I had a stack of bricks in my stomach.

So I went to the camp infirmary.

The nurse asked me what was wrong.

Except at the time, my limited fifth grade mind did not know the medical term for being clogged up. My mind was racing. My brain was like a rolodex, just flipping through vocab words, trying to figure out what to say to this nurse. How could I explain my ailment in a mature and succinct way to this nurse–this little old white lady???

So I just resorted to using a word from my Miami patois. A word that all the young Latin kids in school used to discuss their bowels.

I said:

I can’t ca-ca.

I don’t understand how I can be sick for the third time this year. I mean, I take preventative measures. I eat garlic. I eat so much garlic that I might have to start wearing deodorant again because that shit comes out of your pores. I eat kale. KALE. I exercise. Why would I torture myself with leafy greens and exercise if I am still getting sick???

Oh, I know why.

Because people like to cough on me.

Has that ever happened to you? When someone doesn’t cover their mouth so they decide to just cough ON you like you are part of the air?

A co-worker actually did that to me yesterday and I was so offended that I said, “You need to cover your mouth!”

That really pisses me off. Just as much as people who fart in restaurants.

And having a cold is far worse than the flu. At least with the flu you can miss work and sleep all day but with a cold you’re still fine enough to show up but every little activity makes you completely miserable.

Like trying to open a bottle of gatorade for instance.

Are they trying to make gatorade child resistant or something because opening the bottle requires the strength of a gladiator.

I got so frustrated I almost threw the bottle at the wall.

Sometimes I think I have anger issues.

But I only get angry when seemingly simple things turn unnecessarily complex.

Like trying to fall asleep.

Or opening a jar of marinara sauce or waiting for a subway that never appears or sitting by your phone and hoping that some hot bartender will call you and offer to make you a hot toddy only to curse yourself for deleting his number.

And New York is like a callous lover when you’re sick. Whipping your face with cold wind and protracting every menial task into an arduous affair.

I just want a hot toddy.

Or a hot body. Ha.

I was thinking the other day that I hate sharing my bed with guys because I can never fall asleep. It doesn’t matter how big or nice their bed is, I just can’t get comfortable. I like to extend my body so that it colonizes the entire bed. If I had it my way I would just kick the guy off and do my own thing. Like this:

But lately I find myself spooning my pillow as if it were a person.

Sometimes it is nice to wake from slumber and find yourself ensconced in warm arms. And have them rub your bare belly and whisper “you have soft skin”.

And you reply to such a sweet sentiment by saying:

Oh, it’s because I moisturize with Nivea every day.

Friday

One of the superiors at the office asked me to work this weekend and I was kinda stank about it. I told him I didn’t think I should come unless it’s urgent. Then he looked at me funny and didn’t respond.

Came home and tried to nap because I haven’t been able to sleep for the past two weeks. Imagine waking up every evening at 2 A.M. and not being able to fall back asleep. No wonder I feel like a bitchy zombie all the time.

Then headed to Nurse Bettie where my friends and I danced to Prince and Peaches.

There was a group of three Asian girls there and for some reason I just hated all of them. Do you ever just hate people for no apparent reason? I think it’s because one girl was on her blackberry the entire time and you could tell she thought she was all that but really she couldn’t dance for shit and then her friend was trying to sing along to Montell Jordan and I just wanted to punch her.

I really need sleep.

Saturday

It was beautiful out and I felt guilty that I was curled up in fetal position. I don’t know what it is about nice New York days that cajole you to come outside and make you feel like a bad person if you don’t. I grew up in Miami where every day is a nice day so nice New York days are second tier at best . But I went out anyway.

Went to my neighborhood coffee shop and sat outside. I sat next to this couple who were so obviously on their first date. You could also tell they must have met online because they were both so awkward. Most casual conversations have a rhythm to it. The interjections of “Oh, yeah, I like that restaurant too” or just going off on tangents because conversations aren’t scripted. But these people were talking in monologues. First the guy would talk about his job and then the girl would follow by talking about her job.

It’s kinda sad when you see people trying so hard to create chemistry.

I wanted to shoot them just so I could put them out of their misery.

Then I decided to walk around the lower east side because it was so nice out.
It really was the kind of the day that made you glow inside. Now I understand all the hoopla about nice New York days.

Also, this really cute blind woman asked me to help her cross the street. She had a lot of moxie and she made me laugh. She asked me to help her find Duane Reade. After I walked her over, we said bye, and I crossed the street. But I waited at the corner until I saw her go inside the store. I would’ve felt bad if she had been mugged or pushed under my watch..

That night went to Spitzer’s Corner with Meredith and Vidya and had THE WORST SERVICE EVER. I bet Tom Colicchio of Top Chef would not approve. V and I got our orders first and Meredith didn’t get her order until like an hour later.

And to make things worse, someone next to us totally dropped an F bomb. I am not exaggerating when I say that I felt like someone smothered my face with a rotten egg. And I think I knew who it came out of too. We had a communal table at Spitzers and there was a group of guys next to us and one of them totally looked like the kind of person who had no qualms dropping gas bombs in a dining establishment. And you could tell he was the culprit because he totally looked over at us when we started grimacing and making choking noises.

We also shared a table with these three women who for some reason just annoyed the shit out of me. They looked like they had never come this far downtown before. And you could tell they never went out because they kept sizing up all the men and saying, “Oh, he’s cute” when, hello, there was no one attractive there.

After Spitzers we headed to Arrow Bar for this after party where they also had an open bar. Score! The open bar was cool but the crowd was questionable. Too many girls trying to look like the cast of Gossip Girl. Women over 25 should not wear plaid head bands. We left after one drink. You know you’re old when you don’t have the energy to take advantage of open bar.

I came home and watched Clueless. I forgot how much I loved that movie. Although I always hated Brittany Murphy’s character Tai. Especially the part when she insults Cher and says, “You’re a virgin who can’t drive.” Yeah, I had someone say something like that to me when I was in college. I didn’t realize all these people were humping in highschool. Had I known I would have tried harder at losing my virginity but I was too busy watching Clueless apparently.

Sunday

I woke up with the worst freaking sore throat. I felt like that commercial when the kids go, “I have a porcupine in my thwoat.”

I watched LOST and it was the episode about Sun and Jin and of course I have a special fondness for them because they are Korean and of course I totally sobbed like a baby at the end of the episode.

I don’t know why but I just got so emotional over characters who are distant in the beginning of the relationship and then grow to accept eachother’s flaws and love eachother.

I think it makes us feel reassured that one day someone will like our crazy selves.

Went to Whole Foods and bought a twelve dollar bottle of melatonin. Twelve! That shit didn’t even work. Went to bed at one and woke up at five because my throat was killing me. So I gargled with salt water and also snorted salt water up my nose for further irrigation.

I had alot of weird dreams that night. Apparently one of the side effects of melatonin is vivid dreams. All my dreams involved guys I dated and hooked up with. It was like the ghosts of booty past were haunting me.

I did not have a peaceful sleep.