I’m a Jinius

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.

I was having one of those days at work when people were pulling me from all sides. I wanted to put a sign up that said “I will be emotionally and physically unavailable between the hours of 9 A.M.-5 P.M., Mon-Fri”

And then on top of that I started freaking out over the diminishing balance of my bank account and the increasing rate of my spending. Yeah, I’m gonna have to stock up on rice and beans and ramen. I’m 28 but I eat like a college freshman.

So when you are having one of those days when you hate your life because you are overworked and poor, the last thing you want to do is sit in a dark theater.

My friends and I had tickets to see this scary puppet show in the East Village but my brain was too numb to handle anything artistic or requires cognitive processing on my part. And I had a feeling that if I were placed in a dark and quiet theater I would slowly start bawling to myself and make it very awkward for people in my vicinity. (more…)

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…)

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???

I am too tired to expound on why these women are frightening but I just have to say that there is a blonde Asian woman in my apartment complex who I see on a pretty regular basis and everytime I see her I kinda scream inside. I’m like ‘oh my god what the hell was that?” Oh, it’s just my blonde Asian neighbor.

The only non-Caucasian person who can get away with blonde hair is Mary J. Blige–and that’s only because What’s the 411 is like the best R&B album ever and girlfriend can do whatever the hell she wants with her extensions.