I’m a Jinius

I woke up on Monday morning feeling like I had just been beat up. I could barely raise my right arm or bend over to tie my shoes. What the hell did I do to my body this weekend?

Oh, right, I danced for like eight hours on Saturday night and then went to a shooting range on Sunday. Gun control is overrated! But more on that later.

Friday:
My friends and I go to my favorite bar and I FINALLY score a conversation with my hot bartender. Well, I suppose it wasn’t a real conversation but more of an exchange. Of three words. And a giggle.

Bartender: Hey, good to see you again.
Me: Yeah…um…it’s good…seeing you…yeah…lol

That was the extent of our conversation. But it was dripping with subtext!

Bartender: Hey good seeing you again…for the hundredth time.
Me: I’m picturing you with your shirt off.

My roomie suggested that I should just go one night alone and talk to him. Um, right, cause that wouldn’t be creepy! But she does have a point. Hot Bartender is not the chattiest cathy and my friends and I aren’t the most stranger friendly people. I mean, one guy used to call my group of girlfriends The Riot. This was an accurate description because a) we’re a riot and hi-larious and b) when we get together we do resemble an angry mob of people.

But hot bartender will be mine. He just doesn’t know it yet. (more…)

Not to gross you out here but the first thing I did this morning was run to the bathroom and vom.

And someone was eating an egg sandwich at the office and that made me wanna vom too.

Maybe I’m pregnant with god’s child. Or maybe I got pregnant from going in a hot tub with strange men this weekend. Ha. Remember when you were in highschool and you thought you could get pregnant from just, like, sitting on a guy’s lap? Ummm, yeah, me neither.

Anyhoo, more hot tub stories later. I must go to the bathroom again.

Oh, but I’ll leave you with these two gems. If you’re feeling depressed about your life and your job it’s because you’re a narcissist! You should just kill yourself.

Read all about it here.

And Radar mag assembled a list of misogynistic movies. Um, I went to a Seven Sister school and I like most of the movies on the list. And does going to a women’s college qualify me as an expert on feminism? Well, if I had to endure years of Virginia Woolf and Our Bodies, Ourselves–then, yes.

C’mon, Superbad? Fuck you and feminism. Bridget Jones Diary? I know all the lines. Instead of analyzing the problematic depiction of women in films we should just shutup.

You can read it here. This list makes me wanna vom too.

I think I’ve finally found a video sharing site that I actually like. Vimeo is easy to use and much more aesthetically pleasing than youtube. The only problem is that after you upload your video, it takes up to TWO HOURS for it to convert to flash.

Anyhoo, my friends and I filmed this short vid using the video function on my camera. The Coen brothers we are not. We taped this on Saturday night at my apartment after just meeting my next door neighbor.

Untitled from thejinius on Vimeo.

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 think we all know why god designated the seventh day as a day of rest.

Boyfriend was popping some advil and sipping on gatorade.

(Dear Evangelical readers, that was a joke. Please don’t sue me! I have no money!)

Saturday was Henri’s birthday and we all gathered at Hacienda for libations and dancing to top 40 songs. You know you’re old when you prefer bars that play pop music instead of indie rock songs.

Anyhoo, despite being very vigilant about drinking in moderation , I still managed to suffer a massive hangover on Sunday. But I did not black out or do anything too embarrassing. In fact, I was the one looking out for other people and making sure they were okay. Wow, talk about reversing the roles.

I think the key to keeping your shit together is to limit yourself to one drink per hour and drinking water throughout the night. Of course, by the end of the night I was drinking whiskey gingers every ten minutes. But I think all the dancing mitigated the corrosive effects of liquor.

On Sunday, I downed two Zicos. Have you guys had Zico? It is so delicious. It’s fresh coconut water and great for hangovers because it has all these electrolytes. Not that I even know what electrolytes are but people seem to think they are good for you.

I guess the Zicos weren’t enough because now I’m sick. I was on the couch all day today intermittently sleeping and watching the food network. This also explains why my last blog posts have sucked ass. So thanks for being patient, you guys. Ummm, now that I have your sympathy, you think you can come across the computer screen and bring me some theraflu? Thanks. (more…)

Wanna know the best panacea for the winter blues? I shall prescribe one for you. Get thee a juicy burger, a frosty glass of brown ale, and a plate of warm donuts. Oh, and share this with great company!

Vidya and I went to my favorite new bar (well, it’s actually a restaurant but I always end up sitting at the bar!) last night. She had a Manhattan and I started off with beer. I figure it’s not a sage decision to be drinking bourbon on an empty stomach. (more…)

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…)

I know, I know. How could I do that to him? And on Valentines Day of all days?!?!

But I heard the siren call of open bar at The Delancey and all my friends were going. So I was all “peace out, home slice.”

Sorry, baby, but I had to hang out with three dimensional people.

Anyway my ass had to dance to Bonafide Lovin’. (Thanks Fleetweek DJs! You guys rock the hizzouse!!!)

Oh, I learned that Guinness is neither low carb nor low cal. It’s a myth. Like evolution. In fact it has alot of sugar. I wish I had learned this earlier, I had like three pints last night!!! I knew there was a reason it tastes like a milk shake!

So this beer drinking thing is at least helping me in the “staying relatively sober so I can remember how I get home” department. But it’s no good for the expansion of my waist line. I can’t win!!!

Ilana forwarded me this NY Times article about a woman who went to our alma mater back in the sixties and made extra money in college by babysitting. And through babysitting she discovered the joys of raiding her employer’s fridge. Something I fondly remember exploiting as well.

I think the most memorable family I babysat for was this Italian couple with three boys ranging in age from 4-7. Okay, I don’t know how those parents did this on a daily basis because do you know how hard it is to look after THREE RAMBUNCTIOUS ITALIAN BOYS??? Oh my god, I need a massage just thinking about it. I must’ve been 18 or 19 at the time and I remember being so tired after the first gig that I came home and vowed I would never babysit again and passed out in bed.

But I returned. The money was too good. And the food was even better.

The parents were straight up from Italy and ran an Italian restaurant in the city. So you can just imagine the heavenly treats they had stored in their fridge. Fresh mozzarella.Lightly breaded chicken cutlets that were so juicy I could gobble three at a time. Leftover pasta with the most heavenly marinara sauce. I could bathe in that marinara! Oh, and the sweets! They had an entire pantry just devoted to imported Italian cookies and chocolate!

For a 19 year old college student who subsisted on the monotonous menu of a meal plan, this was heaven. If heaven were a kitchen on the Upper West Side. (more…)

In honor of VD, this week’s blog theme will be Modern Love. Today’s episode is about Match.com!

I am by no means an onling dating expert. I only did it for a couple of months and went out with two guys. I was also probs more picky than the average person. I got annoyed at guys who had spelling errors and typos in their profile. Um, yeah, don’t date bloggers.

But I culled tips and stories from my guy and girl friends who also did match.com and put together a comprehensive yet haphazard guide to popping your online dating cherry. Let’s just hope your cherry doesn’t explode like the Hindenburg.

So now I will pass on these stories and suggestions to you. Yes, dear readers, my friends and I date crazy people so you don’t have to.

Okay, you may ask yourself “why go out with someone on Match.com?” I mean, it’s a risky move–like investing in a junk bond. But sometimes online dating is helpful because it gives YOU the upper hand. You, dear reader, are selecting from a pool of people who all want to be selected.

I have to admit that when I first joined Match it was a bit of an ego boost. Within the first couple of hours after putting up my profile I had a bunch of emails in my inbox. But then I examined these men who were sending me emails and winks (winks are an innocuous way of saying hey I’m interested but if you don’t write back it won’t hurt my ego because I didn’t go out of my way to write you a message…more on winking later) and I noticed that half of these dudes didn’t even live in New York City. Most of them didn’t even live in the tri-state area!

I specifically put in my profile that I was only seeking men who lived in NYC. Why the hell were dudes in Virginia writing me??? Did they really think I was going to see them long distance?

So,yeah, be prepared to get messages from people who don’t live near you. And when you don’t answer them, be prepared to get second or third messages from them. That’s what I noticed about Match guys. They are persistent. I think it’s because most of them don’t even remember messaging you in the first place. They must just send out blanket messages to all the women on there.

Okay, so that’s the initial stage of Match. Now let’s get to the good part. How to determine if the elusive person behind the screen is your potential partner. Or potential nightmare. (more…)