I’m a Jinius

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.

I once told my ex boyfriend that I was acting crazy because I was on my period and he replied, “Well, then you must always be on your period.”

And I know that the pms/period/or anything in the not so fresh family seems like a dubious excuse to justify irrational behavior but trust me when I say that you would be feeling pretty cranky too if you were so bloated that you felt like the Hindenberg and that you were feeling even hornier than normal but you can’t do anything because you’re on the rag and the only person you could reasonably booty call is not even available because he works in the evenings and only sends one word texts that you don’t understand and SO BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY I AM NOT USUALLY THIS CRAZY AND THAT I AM JUST VERY VERY SENSITIVE AND I AM A DELICATE FLOWER!!!!!!

Did I also mention that I’ve been like the only person in the office all week because I have to take care of all these projects?

WHY MUST I BE SO IMPORTANT??????

Relax. Relate. Release.

So, yeah, you could say I’ve been feeling a little…unhinged.

And on top of that I was feeling excluded from this particular circle of friends and I won’t go into the details because sometimes I forget that my private blog is actually very public because I have a huge mouth and tell everyone about it–anyway, I felt like I was in an episode of The Hills and that I was Heidi–HEIDI–and you would feel bad too because who wants to be the Heidi character???

And I wasn’t going to go out tonite because I wanted to avoid feeling excluded. But then I was like–wait–why am I letting this dictate my social life? I am too cute to be stuck at home on a Friday night and watching repeats of LOST!!!

Sometimes the only person who will rescue you out of your own depression is you.

So things are looking up.

And last night I was at home, doing some more work, when I saw that I had a text from my friend Binnie. She wrote, “Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of you and I miss you.”

And that just meant so much to me, you know? Here was this person who doesn’t even live in the same city as me and doesn’t even know what’s been going on and she just texted me out of the blue.

It’s nice to know that people think about you.

Sometimes I think that our existence is predicated on the belief that other people remember you exist.

And then my friend Henri called shortly after and asked if I wanted to meet him for drinks.

So I met up with him at this great wine bar in the lower east side– The Ten Bells. It’s by the same people who own Le Pere Pinard so just like it’s sibling it’s very laid back and convivial. Say hello to Fifi at the bar!

And it was a great spring night. Doors and windows were open. We looked out onto the lower east side. Indulged in aged goat cheese and many glasses of velvety red wine.

In life, there will always be people who don’t think fondly of you. Who don’t want to be in the same room as you. Who want nothing to do with you.

And you have to accept that.

But there will also be people who care about you no matter what. Who think of you even though there are miles away. Who agree with you when you say, “He can suck a fat one.”

Life is short. Playas can exit to the left. All my ryde or die bitches can stay to my right.

So all the haters betta Watch Out Now.

Get money, get money.

Last night I attended my first burger club meeting. I even created my burger club nom de guerre: Burgerlicious. Because everything sounds better with -licious attached at the end. Fergalicious. Bagelicious. Syphilliscious.

My friends started this club to find the best burger in New York City. It’s also just an excuse for us to unabashedly eat some juicy meat and wash it down with beer…or Jameson.

I am supposed to meet the club at Wollensky’s Grill at 8 PM but I have some time to kill so I meet up with Sarah and Chelsea at Dos Caminos. I am sure that margaritas and guacamole are a great way to stimulate the palate. Hmmm, maybe I’ll start my own margarita club. The quest to find the city’s most formidable margarita! Ooh, maybe the inaugural meeting will be on Cinco de Mayo!

Genius.

After Dos Caminos, I stroll into Wollensky’s Grill. Henri introduces me to the other diners and I kinda lose track of their names and he accuses me of being drunk but really it’s because all white people’s names start sounding the same after a while and I get confused. Or maybe it was the tequila on the rocks. Drats!

So all fifteen of us order the Wollensky burger. Oh, except one girl. She orders the chicken. The burger club members give her a lot of flack since they are fervent followers of the burger and after all, that is the name of the club. But I have to admit the chicken looked kinda juicy Mmmmm meeeaaaat.

Matt and Todd and I are the first to finish our burgers. We hi-five. You think this is a game biatch?!?! This is burger club !!!

Matt says he should be intimidated since I am half his size and can eat the same amount of food in the same amount of time. Yes, be afraid. Be very afraid. And when I get my first angioplasty at the age of thirty I will be muahahahahahaha-ing all the way to the hospital. (more…)

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.

As I am leaving the office my boss says to me, “You’re leaving so early.” I feel bad but leave anyway because I figure I shouldn’t deny him the pleasure of missing my presence.

I am so exhausted and ready to hit the sack but I have to persevere like a no-limit soldier and make it to the lower east side for my friend Steve’s going away dinner. He’s my favorite Frenchman and this is his last weekend in New York before he goes to Africa for two months. Is it just me or is Africa like the new West Coast?

So we all congregate at Le Pere Pinard and have glasses of wine at the bar. I order a rose but I can’t tell if it’s my congested nose or my weak palate but it kinda tastes like rotten apple cider. I have Steve taste it and he agrees that it is a bit odd. If a Frenchman declares it odd then it must be odd! So he talks to the bartender in French and the bartender says something about how it is a special kind of rose with a distinct flavor and that it was like produced from his mother’s vineyard.

I don’t think he liked me after that.

Whatever, the first five buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned. If you can’t conceal your bare chest then I can’t conceal my disdain for your mother’s wine. Actually, I don’t know if the wine was really from his mother’s vineyard. I think they were just trying to fuck with me because I don’t speak French. Why must I instantly believe everything I see and hear?? (more…)

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.

I woke up on Sunday morning with frosting all over my face.

But first let me tell you about this conversation I had with my friend Sabbie.

So she came over the day and asked about the 23 year old hot bartender and I told her that I deleted his number.

Oh, right, did I tell you guys that?

And she was all “Why did you do that??”

I said it’s because I didn’t wanna end up liking him. And you know how these things work. We’d probably hang out for a while until things got messy and then it would just end badly like everything else. So might as well just nip it in the bud.

And then she says, “So, what, you’re just never going to date again??”

Ummm, yeah, pretty much.

Anyway, she’s going abroad for a month and she said that by the time she comes back I better have worked things out with hot bartender. I guess I should listen to her. Every time I follow her advice, things seem to work out in the end. Sabbie is one of those people who thinks life falls into place when you’re honest with yourself and other people. Just because she’s one of the most level-headed people I know and is aware of my relationship behavior and patterns, she thinks she knows everything!

Friday night I stayed in and cleaned the apartment while listening to Cat Power. If you’re going to wallow in your own emotional quagmire you might as well indulge in some weepy indie music.

On Saturday night I headed to Brooklyn for Vidya’s brother’s birthday soiree. I knew from the evite that it was going to be a bunch of her brother’s friends and their plus ones but it didn’t really hit me until I got to the party that I was going to be surrounded by couples. Have you ever gone to a party and realized YOU ARE THE ONLY SINGLE PERSON IN THE ENTIRE PARTY.

Oh, sorry, me and Vidya were the only single people. We decided that the only way to deal with the situation was to get wasted. We even said to eachother, “Lets get wasted.”

So we did.

And you know me, after a couple of drinks I just feeling like making out with someone but the only guy at the party that I would’ve madeout with was someone I actually hooked up with a couple of times but I couldn’t hit on him there because he was at the party with HIS WIFE.

A small hurdle.

I think that depressed me a little bit because he’s actually one of those guys who’s just a genuinely nice guy and every time I run into him he always says, “You look great” and he’s just so fucking polite it hurts and his wife is one of those people who would bite your head off if you looked at her the wrong way.

I don’t get it. I mean, I know I’m crazy but I’m crazy in a “ha-ha” way. She seems crazy in a “oh shit” way. Why do guys always hookup with the fun girls and end up settling down with the crazy ones? And if it’s not the crazy ones then it’s always the boring ones. When are the fun girls with mild drinking problems gonna get their due?!?!

So I took my anger out in red velvet cupcakes. Vidya is a fucking domestic goddess and made red velvet cupcakes–from scratch! I think I ate two. Or four. Or SIX. Vidya said that every time she turned around, she saw me at the counter stuffing my face with cupcakes. Even her friend said to her, “Wow, Ji is having ANOTHER cupcake.”

Um, yeah, the next morning I puked red. Ha.

That also explains the frosting all over my face.

Oh, but there was one couple who did not fit the stereotype of the alpha husband and boring wife. In fact, the story of how they met is super cute.  They were at this party in college and the husband had to carry his wife out of the party because she had passed out from drinking too much.

Swoon.

Any guy who can handle his girlfriend when she’s drunk and passed out can handle anything.

Something tells me I will meet my future husband that way.