I’m a Jinius

Today is Friday which means I went out last night.

Oh my god, you guys.

OH

MY

GOD.

First of all, I lost my credit card.

Second of all, I lost my mind.

Third of all, we made a plan to cool it down because the previous Thursdays are the new Fridays were so excessive but apparently my definition of cooling it down is KEEPING IT HOT.

We started the night at Bar Carrera and then we went to Jack’s Luxury Oyster Bar for a night cap.

Unfortunately, the night cap turned into a nightmare.

We ordered oysters, some wine, next thing I know I come home and puke my brains out. And the funny thing is that I was just talking about how I never throw up after drinking and that the last time I threw up was on my birthday two years ago and that was because I was drinking tequila like I was the leading actor in Tequila Mockingbird.

Note to self: Never brag about how you never throw up because you will inevitably throw up.

Second note to self: do not have oysters at the end of the night.

Third note to self: it is okay to blame innocent shell fish for your incapacity to hold your fluids

Fourth note to self: Fridays should be the new Fridays

I woke up this morning next to a pile of cookie crumbs. I don’t think I tried to eat the cookie as so much use it as a blanket.

Anyway, this blog had too many posts about community service and acne and finding your spirit so I thought I would toss in a fun drunk story just to round things out.

Love ya like a sister.

Last night we went to the Art Parade after party at Santos’ Party House. They canceled the actual parade because of the weather but they kept the after party. I love New York! There was also an open bar featuring absinthe cocktails. Egads!

Some performers on stage:

A shot of the crowd:

Girls dressed as unicorns:

I spent a total of 25 bucks yesterday. I could live on a diet of pizza and absinthe. Or maybe not.

We gathered at Prospect Park for cheese, sopressata, and rosaaaay. We also played wiffle ball. I was incredibly sore the next day. Incredible! Chris also taught us some exercises to strengthen our legs. This resulted in performing squat thrusts in public. Oh, the horror!

That was our day of labor. Karl Marx would be proud.

-I am so dehydrated and my skin looks like it’s been left in a deep fryer for days. Something tells me that I will not be winning the affections of Fabrizio any time soon. Oh, the cruelty!

-I went out with a guy friend last night. I’ll call him “John”. So John and I start off at Spitzers and our bartender is a crackhead. Literally. She shows us these stitches in her head and keeps telling us she feels like fainting. Being the compassionate people that we are, we tell her to go to the hospital but not before getting us another round of drinks.

-I order the BLt & E. It is just so insanely good. INSANE!

-John orders the Kobe burger well done. Seriously? People, do not hang out with me if you’re going to order a burger well done. I’m too tired to expound on this logic but just take my word for it. He says that he dislikes bloody meat. OMG, I order my steaks medium rare and prefer my plate to look like I just murdered someone.

-John also tells me that he went out with a BBW. What the hell is that, I ask? He answers: A Big, Beautiful, Woman.

-Oh, Jesus.

-So he tells me that sleeping with a fat girl is the best thing ever. That it’s kind of like screwing a duvet. Umm, I don’t know if I would like that but I’m pretty sure that I would have no trouble falling asleep. He also says, “They’re built for comfort not for speed.” Yes, he is referring to an anatomical part. And, yes, I nearly spit out my rosaaaaay.

- I have been drinking so much rosaaaay that my piss is pink. That is so gross yet so hilarious!

-There are no cute guys at Spitzers. There is one cute guy next to me but he is wearing boat shoes and NOT in an ironic way.

-On a side note, David Duchovny checked himself into rehab for sex addiction. WTF? Do people really get treatments for that shit? Do they make you watch birthing videos?Because that would get me to stop having sex.

-After Spitzers, we stroll into Pianos. I say hi to Billy and Boo who are playing tunes upstairs. I run into Alex and Balint. I think I saw Balint. He kinda looks like David Duchovny but with an early nineties haircut. Just TRY to picture it.

-So I texted The Bearded Guy:

Got your message. I’m not mad. Just started seeing an ex again so haven’t been going out. Take care.

I decided to respond because my strategy of continued silence was clearly not working. And I decided to fib because it was easier than saying: LEAVE ME AND MY FAMILY ALONE!!!!!

I’ve always wanted to pretend I was in Cape Fear.

So,yeah, I lied. I’m not proud of it. And on the list of things I’ve done in my life that I am not proud of, this one would be number 533, 398. This is right up there with that time in college when I drunk dialed this dude and left a profoundly long message.

Yeah, not only did I call him. BUT I LEFT A MESSAGE!!!!

-Anyway, I have not been able to assuage my guilt. And my feelings of guilt amplified even more when he texted back:

Oh I’m sorry i have been kind of stupid lately. i lost a good friend recently and have been drinking a little too much lately. i should not have called you so late. i’m really sorry. your really fun to hangout with but i understand. im glad to know you are ok though.

I have three thoughts:

1. I am an asshole

2. Clearly he forgets telling me about his friend’s death.

3. I’m not really sure if a text message is an acceptable medium to bring up DEATH!


-I know, I know I’m so heartless buuuuuut…

-I’m going to hell. And if hell is showing up to work on no sleep then I’m already there.

-Oh, so I’m applying to grad school. RANDOM! I figure that my student loan debt is not insane enough so I’m applying for a masters in international relations. Because that’s a field that will make me a shit load of money. Ugh.

-I need to submit an academic writing sample. WTF. I think I’m gonna write an essay about the emergence of authoritarian regimes. Because I read an article about it in Foreign Affairs once. And now this means I have to sound like I know what I’m talking about. Ugh.

-This song captures how I feel today. Yes, I’m listening to The Strokes and going to Pianos. I’m stuck in the early ’00s. (That sentence just sounds wrong on so many levels.) Anyway, how HOT is Fabrizio in this video? It is INSANE!

The problem with being a party girl is that you are always expected to be a party girl.

If you decide to take it easy one night, you will get more boos from your friends than amateur night at the Apollo. Going home at midnight is considered anathema. Declining a round of shots is insanity. You will feel more like a freak for not drinking than for taking body shots off of random strangers. You’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t.

But I did manage to get into some shenanigans this weekend without having to go balls to the wall.

This is the Jinius guide to taking it easy:

Friday

My friend Kinan is in town from L.A. and my friend Steve is back in town from France so the whole gang meets up at Tapeo 29 for tapas and sangria. Kinan commented that my friends were really international. Yes, I like to befriend freaks from all over the globe. I hope we didn’t scare her with our freakiness. All we did was sing theme songs from Disney cartoons. In the restaurant.

Afterwards, I head over to Cherry Tavern to say hello to Meredith who is there with some friends. I chat with one fellow who is particularly easy on the eyes. Meredith comes up to me and offers some interesting background info.

Meredith: He used to be an Abercombie model
Me: Really?!
Meredith: Well, like ten years ago.

Some of the guys try to pressure me into doing a shot of Southern Comfort but I decline. I may have laughably low will power but you will never force me to do a shot that smells like the devil’s bathroom.

Then I go home and watch While You Were Sleeping. Now I know why people go out drinking on Friday nights. I regret passing up that shot of Southern Comfort.

On Saturday, I go to my coffee shop and wait in line to order a sandwich when I start sweating heavily and feel my stomach about to come out of my mouth. I run to the bathroom and projectile. Some woman accidentally opens the door and probably thinks I’m the next Tracie Gold. The 6 block walk home is HELLACIOUS. Every smell triggers more nausea and I curse myself for living in the East Village and not some odorless land. (more…)

1. Go to Shake Shack for a burger and chocolate shake

2. Watch the U.S. Open games at Madison Square Park

3. Have a Mai Tai at the Rusty Knot and pretend I’m in the Florida keys

4. Go to the beer garden in Williamsburg and have bratwurst whilst flirting with a random guy at the communal table, hoping he is turned on by fragrance of onions and grilled meat

5. A picnic in the park. I haven’t gone to the park ALL SUMMER. I can’t embrace fall without brie, soppresata, and rosaaaay in the park!

6. Watch the new Batman movie. I know, I know, I am one of two people who haven’t seen the new Batman movie. I’m too busy doing important things like watching Jon and Kate Plus Eight.

7. Go to the beach or pool or anything with water–preferably clean, clear water free of hypodermic needles

8. Have rosaaay on the rooftop of Juliette in Williamsburg

9. Barbecue. For the love of god, someone please have another barbecue! I have not consumed enough grilled meat this summer!

10. Summer smoochies! I need to unleash my not so inner trollop and have another summer fling before I hibernate for the winter.

11. Margaritas and guacamole outdoors

12. Crackitos at Paladar

13. Afternoon in Red Hook

14. Green tea icecream from Sundaes and Cones

15. An outdoor summer concert. I can’t believe I missed all the shows at McCarren and Central park. Where did the summer go????

Evidently all my summer activities involve food and drink and smoochies of some sort. This should not be difficult to accomplish.

-I totally forgot to renew my domain name so I spent the better part of Wednesday frantically emailing my host server. I was scared that if I didn’t renew right away that some spam spider would kidnap my domain and make it into a porn site (this is what happened when I deleted my blogger account). So if one day you click on my blog only to find nsfw content, then you know it’s because I am too irresponsible to maintain a blog.

-Speaking of flakiness, I unwittingly walked around the office wearing one brown high heeled shoe and one black high heeled shoe. It’s not like they are even the same style or heel height. Sometimes I also leave books in the refrigerator. And sometimes I buy groceries but leave them at the checkout counter. I guess I am just always wrapped in reverie. Or I’m just exhibiting early signs of Alzheimers.

-My weekend was awesome. Spent most of the time catching up with peeps I haven’t seen in forevs. On Friday, I met up with Vidya and her boyfriend for happy hour(s). Devoted most of the time crushing on Don Draper on Mad Men. Then I went home and caught an episode of Mad Men and fell asleep. Was awakened at midnite by a phone call from Henri saying that he was at Angels and Kings so I got my ass out of bed and met up with him.

-Angels and Kings is owned by Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy and Flat Ironed Hair Fame. The bar is okay but I am convinced that there are no more good bars in the East Village. ANOTHER good reason to move to Brooklyn SOON.

-There was a group of underaged girls in black wigs there. I know they were underaged and wearing wigs because Henri’s friend hooked up with one of them.

-Don’t trust girls in black wigs.

-I don’t wear a black wig thank you very much.

-On Saturday, went to PS1 with Henri and Vidya. If you guys have never been to PS 1 then hurry up and go now! Basically, it’s an afternoon dance party at the Museum of Modern Art’s Long Island City location. They have DJs and you can drink beer while looking at LOTS of attractive people. Oh, and art installations. But SERIOUSLY I think all the attractive people came out of hiding and went to PS 1.

-I even saw this dude I sorta dated in high school! (I say sorta because is it really considered dating when all you ever did was hangout at your locker between classes?) Anyway, I didn’t say hi because I was afraid he wouldn’t recognize me. And he obviously didn’t because he walked right in front of me and didn’t say anything.

-After PS 1, Henri and I went to a beer garden in Williamsburg. Drank too many belgian ales and ate bratwurst. Met a boy and exchanged the digits. We may have exchanged smoochies as well. Tee-hee.

-On Sunday, I had Sunday FunDay with Vidya and Sabbie. We started off at Inoteca and had panini and rosaaaay. Sabs had to leave afterwards so Vidya and I headed to Spitzers for more rosaaaay. During Sunday Funday it is imperative to drink a minimum of two alcoholic beverages and bar hop to at least two bars. It’s called Sunday FunDAY for a reason. It has to take up the entire day.

-The bartender at Spitzers kept commenting that we looked like we were having alot of fun. For some reason, Vidya and I always manage to be the loudest people anywhere. We are probs the loudest people in Manhattan.

-Then we drunk dialed Ursy–an original member of the Sunday Funday clan. She didn’t pick up so we left a long, rambling message. Something to the effect of “Omigod I’m so drunk and Sunday Funday isn’t the same without youuuuuu.”

-After Spitzers we headed to Schillers for jalapeno margaritas and mac n cheese. The bartender totally judged us for being too drunk. He said, “You’re drunk.” I don’t know why he thought that. I mean, we had only been drinking for,oh, seven hours.

-I’ve been trying not to go out during the week. Instead I spend my time watching old episodes of Mad Men and trying to finish The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. If you like tales about comic books, the immigrant experience, and World War 2, then you will probs like this book. I’ve already teared up about three times. The first time I cried I was on a plane to Vegas and thought it was just the altitude but I don’t have an excuse as to why I teared up the subsequent times.

-I am swooning over the clothes in Mad Men. I even went shopping for high waisted pencil skirts. From now on, I will prance around town in pencil skirts and heels whilst brandishing a cigarette in one hand and a glass of rye on the other. This may prove problematic on the subway.

-Oh, and between watching Mad Men and reading Kavalier and Clay (which takes place in the 1940s when the U.S. produced more tobacco than food), all I want to do is smoke cigarettes.

-So the dude I met on Saturday was actually pretty cool. He’s half Jewish and half Latin. Works in the film industry so he’s creative but also smart. He’s really nice and NORMAL. Oh, and he’s MY AGE. And he has a BEARD. He’s like a walking Jinius archetype!!!

-But then the next day I freaked out and hoped he wouldn’t call me because I am so fucked up with intimacy issues. I like to sabotage things before they even form and make excuses like “oh, what if he gets in the way of my social life or oh, what if my friends don’t like him?” I mean, who does that after meeting someone for the first time? Oh, yeah, ME.

-So the title of this post is a line from Mad Men. Don Draper jokingly tells his beatnik mistress that they should get married. She dismisses him with: “I don’t make plans and I don’t make breakfast.” This line captures my view on relationships. Oh, except I will make challah back french toast.

-But, of course, now that he hasn’t called, I want him to call me.

-I need therapy!

Now that we are approaching August, I am trying to live each day like it’s the last day of summer. That means every day should involve at least one or two of the following: barbecue, pool party, rosaaay, Daisy Dukes and bourbon.

And this weekend my friends and I manage to do all those things. (more…)

1. So last night I am out with Michael and his friends at Spitzers (be tee dubs I am OBSESSED with their BLT&E sandwich. I want to carry its picture in my wallet and call it every night) and I get a text. It is from the bearded guy. He has sent me about three texts in the past week and I have not responded. I feel like at this point it is just better to ignore than respond. I mean, how do you break up with someone when you were never dating in the first place?

His text says: Hey are you mad at me you don’t answer my text

I am with a bunch of dudes and they all think that I should just politely tell him I’m not interested because it’s the nice thing to do and it will impede him from texting again. I don’t know about you, people with feelings, but if someone sent me a text expressing they were not interested in me I think I would cry and then eat the entire contents of my fridge.

So I text my girlfriends and ask what they would do to show how differently girls and guys respond.

Ursy says: Tell him you are supermad at him or tell him you moved.

(I like this one)

Vidya says: No u should not respond. unless you want that kind of attention which I assume u don’t.

(For the record, I do not appreciate slightly creepy verbiage via text. Although I would have nothing to blog about if i didn’t receive them.)

Sarah says: If you must, say: I am not angry or upset, this is just not going to work.

(Sarah sounds like a dude)

2. Mean Girls was on the other day and it’s just one of those movies that gets funnier with each viewing. My new favorite line is: I don’t hate you because you’re fat. You’re fat because I hate you.

I am soooo gonna say that to my friends.

3. I texted the bartender last night and he never wrote me back. I am tempted to text: Are you mad at me? You don’t answer my text.

4. See, guys do this shit to girls all the time. And as long as women refer to men to make their moral decisions, the world will continue to be populated by assholes and liars.

5.So that was the first time I ever texted the bartender to hangout. And I think it will also be my last. Whatevs, at least my texts make sense. The bartender’s texts are like the Da Vinci Code and I need Tom Hanks to explicate them.

6.I can see the search words people use on this blog and I guess guys I formerly dated are reading it because they are typing their name in the search box. Are you really that vain to think that I would blog about you and use your real name? Because everyone knows I use really creative nicknames. Like the bearded guy!

7. I have stomach cellulite. I know, I know, HOT. So I googled how to get rid of it because I thought you could only get cellulite on your legs but apparently you can also get it on your stomach and arms. Ugh.

So these are some of the causes:

Cellulite on the stomach, especially in the lower portion, are thought to be linked to digestive disorders. Indeed, many women with stomach cellulite have irritable bowel, constipation, or liver disorders.

True. True. Double True.

It is so hot in New York right now that the city feels like it is wrapped in a hot, wet towel. It is so hot that I had three nervous breakdowns in the span of half an hour. It is so hot that you could get drunk off of one beer. It is so hot that when I said goodbye to Ursy on her last night in New York, I cried and had no tears left because I was so dehydrated. No, I still cried like a big baby. But more on that later.

Thursday

For Ursy’s last weekend in New York, we decided to eat at Supper Restaurant in the East Village for her last supper.

Supper is one of my favorite Italian restaurants in the city. It’s laid back, the food is good, and it’s inexpensive. My only complaint is that the hostess acts like the Mayor of Stankonia. I don’t understand the need for such attitude when ostensibly the hostess’s role is to greet and welcome the customers. The hostess sets the tone for the rest of the evening. And she started it on a bitter note. Hello, we are in a recession. If you want asses in your seats then you need to treat people like you actually want them in your restaurant.

Basically, she wouldn’t seat the two of us until Sabbie showed up. Okay, I get that some restaurants don’t like to seat you until your whole party arrives–especially if your restaurant is busy and there are other parties waiting. But we were just three people. It’s not like we were a party of twenty and only two of us had shown up. And the restaurant was not that busy. Plus, did I mention how freaking how it is in New York and that we were grilling on the sidewalk like fucking shawarma?!?!

So Sabbie shows up and we are finally seated. And the rest of the meal was lovely because it’s not really about the restaurant but the people you are with. And these are my favorite lizzadies. Oh, and it also helped that the waiter gave us a bowl of icecream on the house. Fabulosity! (more…)