I’m a Jinius

I’m pretty sure that my bouts of bad karma are a result of hating everyone. The only people I like are my friends (and you, dear readers.) and the reason that my friends and I get along is because we’re all just the right amount of crazy, bitchy, and compassionate. The best mix in my opinion.

On Saturday, we all gathered in Brooklyn for my friend Chris’s 30th birthday party at Union Hall. Before that we all met for dinner at this French bistro nearby and had this crazy waitress named Jan (at least that’s what we called her all night) who would slap her face every time she fumbled her words which was like ALL THE TIME.

Dinner was so much fun and my face was sore from laughing so much. My friend Elissa is one of those people who can tell an innocuous story like ordering chocolate cake from room service and make it seem like the funniest thing since the first season of Golden Girls.

We also talked about Peeps and did you know that they are made of a special, secret ingredient? And then I realized, hello, Peeps! Peeps are people!!!! What do you think peep is short for??? (more…)

On Thursday, I meet up with Ursy at Resto, this Belgian restaurant in New York. I love Belgian beer and frites so I was very excited. We sit at the bar, have one drink, and decide to leave because the bartender was kinda stank. She made us feel like we should either order more or leave so guys in suits can sit down.

So we leave and go to this Indian restaurant in Curry Hill (For non New Yorkers–it’s actually an area in Manhattan called Murray Hill and there’s an abundance of South Asian restaurants, hence, the name. I love bad puns!) We order the chana masala and saag paneer but when the waiter comes to our table we kept calling it SHAG paneer. “Oh, I love that SHAG paneer.” “I love SHAG.” “Can I have more SHAG paneer?” He totally hated us. It was one of those situations when your joke is hilarious to no one.

After dinner, I come home and start watching LOST when my phone goes beep beep beep. TEXT! I look over and it’s a text from my hot bartender.

Hey, I’m going to this little show in the East Village. You should also.

Oh, I shall.

I had less than an hour to get ready so I had to assemble my best “Oh, I just picked these clothes off the floor’ outfit” when really I ransacked my closet and tried everything on like ten times. I ended up wearing a vest with a satin, lacy top underneath. I think it says serious with a hint of naughty.

I go meet him at the lounge at 11 P.M. God, when was the last time I went out to meet someone at eleven on a school night??? I can’t keep up with you recent college grads!

I spot him by the bar. He says, “It’s good to see you. I figured you’d be home watching LOST.”

Um, whatever, you don’t know me! (more…)

Find out why here.

You have been so patient, dear readers.

This blog is ostensibly about dating and going out but you have endured all my posts on LOST, 30 Rock, and a dvd on string theory. Yeah, you know you’re in a dry spell when you voluntarily watch Nova specials on physics. I DON’T EVEN LIKE SCIENCE!

But these days there has been an extra spring in my step. I break out into giggles for no apparent reason in the middle of the work day or even during a shower. I have a perpetual grin on my face like some crazed cult member.

It was raining in New York yesterday and I skipped along the puddles like they were streams of gold! A cab drove by and drenched me in puddle water–just like in the movies!!!–and I didn’t care!!! I just continued walking and grinning!

What, pray tell, could be the source of all this… happiness??? (more…)

So remember when I said that Hottie McBartender will be mine? Well, dear readers, let it be known that stalking does pay off. But more later.  I’m still too busy  grinning from ear to ear like a crazy person.

I know. I couldn’t believe it either. I was in shock reading the NYT article. Eliot Spitzer was just like every other man. His prostitute was described as 5′5 and 105 pounds. “Pretty and petite”.

Eliot Spitzer likes skinny hoes too!

Way to make your wife feel worse and also promote body image issues! It’s one thing to travel state lines to have relations with a hoe but to sleep with someone who barely has any meat on her bones? Hey insult, meet injury.

No, but seriously. Eliot Spitzer is persona non grata of the week. Talk to the palm, cuz you ain’t the bomb!

But you know how some people say that those who constantly accuse their significant others of cheating are the ones who end up cheating? Then does this mean that those who constantly prosecute organizers of prostitution rings end up participating in prostitution rings?!?!

If that were MY husband and he asked me to stand next to him during his press conference, I would turn to him and ask if he was on crack. I mean, I knew you were stupid but are you on crack now? You want me to stand next to you and look like a bigger asshole? Um, yeah, not trying to know you.

And then I’d tell him to buy a one way ticket to the island of Dr. Moreau.

I remember learning about the “tragic hero” in highschool English and how their hubris would ultimately lead to their demise. And at the time, my highschool brain only recognized tragic heroes as Macbeth or Othello and then I grew up and realized that Shakespeare knew what the fuck he was talking about!!! You can’t make this shit up. Hilarious.

Well, ladies, we can all learn a lesson from this.

1. Do not marry men who are overly self righteous or litigious.
2. Check your husband’s email and texts. Okay, maybe not. But men do stupid shit like leave their emails open and what are you supposed to do? Just walk away and not read it???
3. If you do decide to accompany your guilty husband to a press conference you should do something hilarious in the middle of it like just start screaming “LIAAAAAR”.
4. Or go to his press conference wearing this shirt:

I had drinks with a guy friend on Friday night and at around midnight his phone started flashing. He flips open his phone and shows me a text from this girl he hooked up with before.

UR hot…lets makeout.

I laugh. I think I know a thing or two about texting while drunk and horny. What is it about happy hour that augments your desire for gadgets and boys?

He texts back and asks the girl if she is drunk. Seconds later, she replies:

Maybe…hehe.

And then she called him. Ah, the drunk communication trifecta: two texts and a call.

Isn’t that cute? My guy friend asks.

It was cute. And of course it made me wish that I had someone to drunk dial ME!! And at that moment I felt kinda bad for being so snappy with the 25 year old. He’s 25. Of course he’s going to feel horny at midnight and send random texts. And then I feel worse for telling him he has texticular cancer. If only because it’s probably not all that nice to bring up CANCER in a digital discourse.

And then I remember all those times I was embarrassed at my drunk texts and in retrospect I really don’t think they were that bad.

What’s so wrong with telling someone that you think they’re attractive and exhorting them to make out with you? This very second? And insisting that they should leave their co-worker’s/best friend’s/dying sister’s farewell party and come meet me at the other side of town?

What, pray tell, is so wrong with that???

On this edition of the Jinius blog, I introduce a new segment called “Let Me Break It Down For You”–in which I break down complex, arcane subjects into simpler concepts. Just think of me as your cyber enzyme.

Today’s segment focuses on “good pick up lines gone wrong”.

As someone who has worn glasses for the past twenty years, I have often received the line “I like your glasses” from various men at bars and Barnes & Noble (a hot spot for guys who don’t read books to pick up “bookish” girls.)

Okay, this is a perfectly acceptable if not innocuous compliment as I, in fact, do wear glasses. (When I was younger, my glasses were an object of ridicule. Now they are an object of fetishism. Men will fetishize anything!)

So its flattering to get compliments on my glasses. But every now and then this conversation takes a turn into perilous territory when the guy asks, “Can I try them on?”

Okay.

Let. Me. Break. It. Down. For. You.

Unlike most of the hipsters who wear oversized frames to achieve that geek chic look, I actually have to wear glasses because I am completely blind without them. Yeah, if the zombie apocalypse happened tomorrow and I lost my glasses then I would be the first person to die not only because I can’t do a pull-up to save my life but because I wouldn’t be able to discern human beings from zombies.

Hey, Mom, is that you?? ARrrrgh! Why are you eating my arm??? AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGH!!!!!!

I wear glasses because I have a visual disability. Therefore, it is completely unacceptable to ask if you can try them on when we are at a dimly lit bar. Would you ask a girl in a wheelchair if you can take a spin in her wheelchair?? Would you ask a blind person if you can play catch with her seeing eye dog?? Then don’t ask a girl with glasses if you can try on her glasses!!!!

You’re welcome.

I was on facebook and found this dude I used to have a crush on in highschool and discovered that he is now COMPLETELY BALD!!!

If I had only known in highschool that all guys eventually grow beer bellies and lose their hair I would have been a lot more assertive.

So, ladies, if you’re ever afraid to talk to a guy remember that one day they look like this:

And then the next day they turn into this:

Friday
It was the end of the week and I decided to reward myself by going to happy hour. (Did BF Skinner invent happy hour?) My friends and I convened at my new favorite bar. It’s my favorite because they serve this drink that is like the master cleanse but spiked with bourbon and they have a hot bartender who graduated highschool in 2002 (wtf??) and gives out free donuts. Is it a coincidence that now every time I see a donut I start salivating? Is someone doing a behavioral experiment on me??

Anyhoo, my hot bartender was not there which was probably a good thing because my friends and I quickly became the loudest people in the place. We knew we were loud when we stopped talking and could actually hear the music in the background.Everyone around us was chatting quietly and eating dinner whereas we were laughing like hyenas. Whatever, I think we were entertaining. If only to ourselves. (more…)