It’s cold and snowing and my throat hurts and its SO QUIET at work its almost creepy (yes, I am blogging from work, but only because this is really important and will take me five minutes). I am in a bad mood, a “wintry mix” of misery, if you will. But then I came in this morning and read this:
http://adblog.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2009/01/27/1763315.aspx
which then led me to this gem: http://www.peta.org/content/standalone/VeggieLove/Default.aspx
And, if you know me- you know I love weird shit. I have an appreciation for weird things that most people reserve for fine wines or luxury cars. When I am accidentally weird (I don’t have the ability to make it a full-time thing, but I dabble occasionally), I am oddly proud of myself. In fact, one of the most treasured memories of my ex is the first time we hung out for an extended period of time and he looked at me, head cocked and said “you can be really strange sometimes”. It pretty appropriately set the groundwork. It’s a passion of mine- right up there with TV commercials, spinach and big hair.
And well, these too hot for TV PETA commercials pretty much made my morning. Maybe even my whole day. Because I will go on the record as saying I hate PETA- I hate their attention catching antics, their offensive criticisms, their emphatic belief that animal rights come before all else, their guerrilla tactics that turn people away from the good message of being nice to animals. But damn- I love a good commercial, especially a weird one that involves big hair and spinach. And the other ones are just as great.
And, you have to appreciate the weirdness to pull this off. Not only making the commercial, but trying to buy ad space in the most mis-targeted inappropriate venue- the freaking SUPERBOWL. If there were a weird Olympics, this would definitely get PETA past the qualifying round. If PETA was a kid in middle school, he would be loudly playing by himself in the corner during a math test - completely unaware of how ridiculous, rude or out of place he was. And you know what? I would date that kid, even though I would never play with him.
So anyway, the point is- if you are looking to buy some more completely useless and mis-targeted ad space, PETA, I think we can work something out. I may wear leather and eat meat, but I can appreciate you like NBC never will.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Because sometimes the levee just breaks
I try hard not to get too political. Because when I get political, I get scary and out of control and no one wants to be my friend (in fact- I am pretty sure my parents didn’t want to be my parents during the months preceding the election. But they’re republicans). But today wasn’t really about politics- which is what is going to make this administration different from the only ones I’ve ever known. It is why for the first time in a really long time I felt proud to be a part of this country. Because as pundits and commentators were listing the flaws of this country, the history of segregation, humiliation and degradation it was much more than textbook rhetoric- for the first time in my lifetime it was an acknowledgment of substantial growth and the good direction the country is headed in. Just as I am sure that things will get worse in the coming months- I am just as positive that things will get better because I believe in the person who’s job is to make it that way. And that isn’t about being a democrat or a republican, it’s about the future of this nation and how much I believe in it.
I watched the inauguration at Haru café with a bunch of my coworkers and I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. All morning I was bouncing in my chair, live streaming CNN and just waiting ( I tried to work- I really did, but that didn’t really happen). I really wished I was in New Orleans for this, because when I think of the disenfranchised and the voiceless I think of the Ninth Ward- which should convince any nonbeliever that racism and classism are still as alive as ever. Which was why it was fitting, and why I was especially touched, when Obama mentioned us and mentioned them and the importance of kindness of strangers when the levee breaks. It was especially important (and for me- quite moving) because although our former president, the president who resided over the crisis and didn’t get his boots wet, who failed to mention us in his State of the Union address that friends of mine watched from FEMA trailers and who basically forgot about us as soon as the camera crews left -our current one recognizes and acknowledges the importance of Katrina 3 and a half years later.
And to be honest- levees are sort of breaking in my life right now. And in a lot of people’s lives. The recession is real and it is affecting everyone and nothing is really stable or secure. As much as I love Obama, I was raised by a brilliant economist and I know better than to think our problems can be solved by legislation. Our economy is cyclical and there is no way to bypass a recession. But I also believe in the crisis of confidence and I think that has a lot more weight now – I believe that the government spending will may inspire people to spend again. But even moreso, I believe that the crisis of confidence in the administration, in the fear and distrust of our leaders will also be resolved in 2009. You cant prevent these things (recession, war, etc.) from happening but you can believe in something more, in deserving something more as a nation and believing the people in charge will do their best to give it to you. And that’s not about politics, its about your life- its about trusting someone to take you in when the levee breaks.
P.S.- I cant mention/write/speak about Obama without mentioning how FIERCE and amazing Michelle is and damn, girlfriend delivered today. I used to think that I loved her but now I’m pretty sure I want to be her in a way that is mildly creepy. I’m okay with it if you are (and if you aren’t – just kidding! I would never think something so weird…). I am so excited to see her dress tonight, and her plans for this administration, but mostly her dress.
P.P.S.- Didn’t you just MELT when Obama was too excited to properly state the oath? Like- he’s so composed and held together and then finally you see him lose his shit and it was AWESOME. This whole time he’s been sort of brushing the dirt of his shoulder and it was as if it just hit him and I love that he was laughing because that’s exactly what I would have done- laughing because it wasn’t even real .OMG I am still melting thinking about it.
P.P.P.S- Does anyone else just want to cuddle with Joe Biden? No? I am loving his speech at the luncheon. I really want him to be my grandpa (even though I love the ones I have- I am just greedy)
P.P.P.P.S.- The gay man in me was SQUEALING when Aretha Franklin came on. And that hat? Yes, please.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
I Might Regret This Later
There is nothing like a trip to target to inspire some deep thoughts. My mom texted me (from downstairs) that she was going go go and asked, knowing how much i fucking love target, if i wanted to come with. now- for those of you lucky enough to not be in the northeast, let me explain that it is about 5 degrees outside and I proclaimed as I came home from work yesterday that I was not leaving the house for anything unless it got twenty degrees warmer (which would still be well below freezing, btw). but i went- because thats how much I love target. And as I waddled down the aisles (i was wearing three pairs of sweatpants), haphazardly placing things (Penelope, season 10 of Friends, Mario Party for the Wii, air fresheners, face wash, a hamper, a sweater) in the cart that I didn't have to pay for it hit me- I fucking LOVE living at home.
Now- I know this may seem like a slightly pathetic thing to say. Living at home with your parents after college still, for some people, has some sort of stigma. A mix of sympathy ("omg that SUCKS. i would hate to live with my parents") and judgement ("really? time to move out, loser"). But to those people I say- who made YOU chocolate chip pancakes with a side of love this morning? No one? Thats what I thought.
And really, I think the stigma is mostly in my head. Most of my friends moved back home with their parents, and if not, their parents support them financially. Just the other day I was reading an article on MSNBC about how people in their late 20s and early 30s are moving back home because- in case you havent heard- we're in a recession. Although the thought of having to move back home with my parents in my 30s is mildly horrifying, I can't say I don't understand it. Living with your parents is not only seriously cheap, but when you are down on your luck (which you have to be to move back home in your 30s), moving in with the people who have to love you unconditionally could be a great ego boost.
So, to help those people, my friends and myself come to terms with moving back home with their parents, I've created a list of reasons why living at home is the fucking boss.
Reason Number One: A Severely Reduced Cost of Living
Now, living at home is obviously cheaper, but in ways you can't even begin to imagine. When you don't have to pay for rent, groceries, utilities, bills or food, all of your income is expendable income. For someone like me, for which shopping is a low-grade and more expensive form of crack-cocaine, having only expandable income is dangerous and amazing at the same time. But for someone like me 4 months ago, who didn't have an income at all, it is literally the greatest thing ever. You don't even have to become accustomed to a cheaper lifestyle. In fact, its an upgrade in most circumstances because most parents don't live like college students. And, as a bonus, my parents like to buy me things, like movies and Wii games from Target. My mom will sometimes even just hand me $20 as I am walking out the door for no other reason than the fact that 22 years ago she pushed me out of her body in a sterile room while my father watched a Redskins game. For me- its economical. For them- its a financial burden that is a mix of their DNA.
Reason Number Two: An Immensely Easier Way of Life
When something breaks, or starts leaking or starts burrowing a nest into the attic space above your bed there are no more lengthy and tiring back and forth calls between landlord and you, landlord and plumber, plumber and you and again between you and landlord when you walk into the kitchen to get a granola bar and the plumber has shown up unannounced WITH A KEY and already made himself comfortable in your kitchen without even telling you. Now when something breaks, all I have to do is go downstairs and say "dad the toilet is running again!!!" and the problem is magically solved, as if there never was one to begin with. And, if I don't feel like going downstairs, a simple email will usually suffice ("Subject line: Your House is Falling Apart Through No Fault of My Own". Body Message: "A hole has appeared behind the door in the den because someone slammed the door after playing an infuriating game of Mario because, seriously, there is NO WAY TO BEAT that big brown monster in level 4, you can only run around it for hours and you know how much I hate running.")
Reason Number Three: Benny
My parents would never let me take him with me.
Reason Number Four: It's a Lot Different The Second Time Around
Now, having left my house the first time at the ripe old age of 17, my memories of living at home weren't quite so peaceful. I had a lot of feelings, and most of them were bad and made only worse by my parent's unconditional love and support. They were smothering my angsty spirit, preventing me from leaving the house in clothes that were too revealing, showing up drunk or getting a tongue ring. It was constant lying and curfews and "are you high?!" (yes) and who needs that in their life? This time around though- much different. Not only do my parents seem genuinely disinterested in what I am doing, who I am hanging out with or where I am going, they are openly accepting of my lifestyle choices. My mom tells strangers in line at the grocery store how cute my tattoo is and my dad, unlike my "friends" never lets me drink alone- because he's drinking too and probably more. They aren't smothering my spirit- they are enhancing it, or at the very least- ignoring it. I once came home completely wasted as my mom was getting up for the day and she cocked her head, looked at me and said "oh, you're alive. good." Yeah, it is good.
Reason Number 5: Built In Friends of Convenience
You know how you have friends who you will call if there's nothing else to do, but would never invite them to your birthday party? Well, meet Mom and Dad, the friends who are always there when there is nothing else to do. When there is no one around and you want to go to Applebees, split some half off appetizers and talk about your day- your parents probably don't have plans. And you know, its the craziest thing, but parents are people too and they have interesting things to say that may even add to the quality of your life. Things about their lives, about raising kid and being married, about coming of age in the 60's and having years of experience to impart unto you. And, if not, they will pay for your meal and maybe even give you $20, which is just as good anyway.
Now- I know this may seem like a slightly pathetic thing to say. Living at home with your parents after college still, for some people, has some sort of stigma. A mix of sympathy ("omg that SUCKS. i would hate to live with my parents") and judgement ("really? time to move out, loser"). But to those people I say- who made YOU chocolate chip pancakes with a side of love this morning? No one? Thats what I thought.
And really, I think the stigma is mostly in my head. Most of my friends moved back home with their parents, and if not, their parents support them financially. Just the other day I was reading an article on MSNBC about how people in their late 20s and early 30s are moving back home because- in case you havent heard- we're in a recession. Although the thought of having to move back home with my parents in my 30s is mildly horrifying, I can't say I don't understand it. Living with your parents is not only seriously cheap, but when you are down on your luck (which you have to be to move back home in your 30s), moving in with the people who have to love you unconditionally could be a great ego boost.
So, to help those people, my friends and myself come to terms with moving back home with their parents, I've created a list of reasons why living at home is the fucking boss.
Reason Number One: A Severely Reduced Cost of Living
Now, living at home is obviously cheaper, but in ways you can't even begin to imagine. When you don't have to pay for rent, groceries, utilities, bills or food, all of your income is expendable income. For someone like me, for which shopping is a low-grade and more expensive form of crack-cocaine, having only expandable income is dangerous and amazing at the same time. But for someone like me 4 months ago, who didn't have an income at all, it is literally the greatest thing ever. You don't even have to become accustomed to a cheaper lifestyle. In fact, its an upgrade in most circumstances because most parents don't live like college students. And, as a bonus, my parents like to buy me things, like movies and Wii games from Target. My mom will sometimes even just hand me $20 as I am walking out the door for no other reason than the fact that 22 years ago she pushed me out of her body in a sterile room while my father watched a Redskins game. For me- its economical. For them- its a financial burden that is a mix of their DNA.
Reason Number Two: An Immensely Easier Way of Life
When something breaks, or starts leaking or starts burrowing a nest into the attic space above your bed there are no more lengthy and tiring back and forth calls between landlord and you, landlord and plumber, plumber and you and again between you and landlord when you walk into the kitchen to get a granola bar and the plumber has shown up unannounced WITH A KEY and already made himself comfortable in your kitchen without even telling you. Now when something breaks, all I have to do is go downstairs and say "dad the toilet is running again!!!" and the problem is magically solved, as if there never was one to begin with. And, if I don't feel like going downstairs, a simple email will usually suffice ("Subject line: Your House is Falling Apart Through No Fault of My Own". Body Message: "A hole has appeared behind the door in the den because someone slammed the door after playing an infuriating game of Mario because, seriously, there is NO WAY TO BEAT that big brown monster in level 4, you can only run around it for hours and you know how much I hate running.")
Reason Number Three: Benny
My parents would never let me take him with me.
Reason Number Four: It's a Lot Different The Second Time Around
Now, having left my house the first time at the ripe old age of 17, my memories of living at home weren't quite so peaceful. I had a lot of feelings, and most of them were bad and made only worse by my parent's unconditional love and support. They were smothering my angsty spirit, preventing me from leaving the house in clothes that were too revealing, showing up drunk or getting a tongue ring. It was constant lying and curfews and "are you high?!" (yes) and who needs that in their life? This time around though- much different. Not only do my parents seem genuinely disinterested in what I am doing, who I am hanging out with or where I am going, they are openly accepting of my lifestyle choices. My mom tells strangers in line at the grocery store how cute my tattoo is and my dad, unlike my "friends" never lets me drink alone- because he's drinking too and probably more. They aren't smothering my spirit- they are enhancing it, or at the very least- ignoring it. I once came home completely wasted as my mom was getting up for the day and she cocked her head, looked at me and said "oh, you're alive. good." Yeah, it is good.
Reason Number 5: Built In Friends of Convenience
You know how you have friends who you will call if there's nothing else to do, but would never invite them to your birthday party? Well, meet Mom and Dad, the friends who are always there when there is nothing else to do. When there is no one around and you want to go to Applebees, split some half off appetizers and talk about your day- your parents probably don't have plans. And you know, its the craziest thing, but parents are people too and they have interesting things to say that may even add to the quality of your life. Things about their lives, about raising kid and being married, about coming of age in the 60's and having years of experience to impart unto you. And, if not, they will pay for your meal and maybe even give you $20, which is just as good anyway.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
How Much Is Too Much?
While dealing with a very personal and rather disgusting health problem this week, I had an unexplainable urge to blog about it. Well, not completely unexplainable. It was disgusting and unbelievable, but also epic in many ways and I felt it had the right to be documented. Also, because of the type of problem- it would have been a hilarious blog post. And no- its not an STD.
Anyway, it got me thinking about what the line is between “funny blog post” and “too much information”. I assume its different for everyone, but I needed some guidance. As an avid blog reader, I turned to other blogs to see where their line was and well…there really wasn’t one. But that may be because of the type of blogs I read and not really because such a line doesn’t exist. For the mommyblogs I read at work the line is pretty clearly drawn (either that or nothing funny, offensive or sexual happens in your life after you have children- which is also likely). But this is not a mommyblog and- God willing-it never will be.
So I was left to turn inwardly, which is never a good solution. Anyone who knows me know that I am an overshare-er. Once I have met you for five minutes I assume you want to know about my menstrual cycle, my sex life, what I ate for dinner three nights ago, my very firm stance on mittens vs gloves, my undying love for Montel Williams, my secret desire to get hit by a NY city taxi, the medical history of my family etc. And, I assume you want to hear about it loudly. Because I am an overshare-er and an overspeaker- which is at times a deadly combination.
I blame this personality defect (or enhancement! Depending on how you look at it)on two things: 1. I am Jewish, which by very nature lends itself to being loud, abrasive and expressive. For further reference, please see every stereotype of a Jewish mother. And 2. I am from New Jersey, which by nature lends itself to being loud, abrasive and socially unaware. For further reference, please see the famed MTV documentary “True Life: I am a Jersey Shore Girl”.
Ironically though, I don’t have the same feeling about this very public blog about my very public life as I do about general social interactions. While I generally cannot keep myself in check during conversations with friends (or dates, or acquaintances, or relatives, or complete strangers who are unfortunate enough to be sitting near me), the blog is different. I can keep myself in check. I can remain composed. I can hit “delete”. There have been many times where I said something, immediately regretted it and was thankful that there was no video camera or stenographer following me around. This is one of the many reasons I would never want to go on the Real World or why I linger a few minutes rather than share an elevator ride with the SVP of my company- there is no verbal delete button and I am missing a brain-to-mouth filter.
An aside: The only exception to this is at work when I am talking to the media, but usually I have some sort of notes or outline or pitch to go off of. I am often impressed with my composure when I hang up the phone with a journalist and then I turn to my coworker to discuss the phone call and say something completely nonsensical and/or awkward…loudly. Maybe I should start hanging out with only reporters and editors?
Anyway, instead of writing a post about a rather disturbing, yet hilarious and interesting thing that happened to my body, instead I am writing about not writing about it. I am also going on the record as saying I probably wont ever write about sex- unless something totally hilarious happens and I just have to (which, for those of you who know my sexual history, is not out of the realm of possibility). I tried to think of something else to round it out to three, but that’s all I got. Apparently my line is straight vertical and runs from sex to body oddities.
In other news: its fucking cold in New York. Almost too cold to justify being alive. I am on some pretty heavy-duty antibiotics so I can’t drink (read: have fun). I got some…interesting…news from work this week that I don’t know how to process. Its supposed to snow tonight. I just spilled water all over my sweater...in front of our managing director. I have been so out of the loop since Saturday- thanks to snow and then deformity- that I have not done anything social since Friday and I miss my friends.
But, on the bright side of life: Jose is back in the states so I can call/text/harass/love him whenever I want from the safe distance of 1,000 miles. I finished that awful book and I am so angry at it that I cant even write a post about it- but the good news is I get to start my social media book. I got a full night of sleep last night which hasn’t happened in almost a week, thanks to aforementioned health problem. Asher comes back this weekend- FINALLY- and it’s a three day weekend which leaves even more time for making out. I somehow got free lunch today. I won iphone solitaire FOUR times on the way to work this morning (and I didn’t even play the whole train ride which I’m pretty sure makes me some sort of solitaire prodigy). I feel 3 million times better than I did yesterday. My favorite blogger ever just started updating again after a month long hiatus and I am not (okay, I totally am) embarrassed to say that I missed her. I am booking my ticket to New Orleans sometime this week (really). I am wearing thermal leggings under my work pants (or, as I prefer to call them because it’s funnier and I am secretly a 70 year old lady- long johns) and I don’t really know why that makes me happy- but it does.
Anyway, it got me thinking about what the line is between “funny blog post” and “too much information”. I assume its different for everyone, but I needed some guidance. As an avid blog reader, I turned to other blogs to see where their line was and well…there really wasn’t one. But that may be because of the type of blogs I read and not really because such a line doesn’t exist. For the mommyblogs I read at work the line is pretty clearly drawn (either that or nothing funny, offensive or sexual happens in your life after you have children- which is also likely). But this is not a mommyblog and- God willing-it never will be.
So I was left to turn inwardly, which is never a good solution. Anyone who knows me know that I am an overshare-er. Once I have met you for five minutes I assume you want to know about my menstrual cycle, my sex life, what I ate for dinner three nights ago, my very firm stance on mittens vs gloves, my undying love for Montel Williams, my secret desire to get hit by a NY city taxi, the medical history of my family etc. And, I assume you want to hear about it loudly. Because I am an overshare-er and an overspeaker- which is at times a deadly combination.
I blame this personality defect (or enhancement! Depending on how you look at it)on two things: 1. I am Jewish, which by very nature lends itself to being loud, abrasive and expressive. For further reference, please see every stereotype of a Jewish mother. And 2. I am from New Jersey, which by nature lends itself to being loud, abrasive and socially unaware. For further reference, please see the famed MTV documentary “True Life: I am a Jersey Shore Girl”.
Ironically though, I don’t have the same feeling about this very public blog about my very public life as I do about general social interactions. While I generally cannot keep myself in check during conversations with friends (or dates, or acquaintances, or relatives, or complete strangers who are unfortunate enough to be sitting near me), the blog is different. I can keep myself in check. I can remain composed. I can hit “delete”. There have been many times where I said something, immediately regretted it and was thankful that there was no video camera or stenographer following me around. This is one of the many reasons I would never want to go on the Real World or why I linger a few minutes rather than share an elevator ride with the SVP of my company- there is no verbal delete button and I am missing a brain-to-mouth filter.
An aside: The only exception to this is at work when I am talking to the media, but usually I have some sort of notes or outline or pitch to go off of. I am often impressed with my composure when I hang up the phone with a journalist and then I turn to my coworker to discuss the phone call and say something completely nonsensical and/or awkward…loudly. Maybe I should start hanging out with only reporters and editors?
Anyway, instead of writing a post about a rather disturbing, yet hilarious and interesting thing that happened to my body, instead I am writing about not writing about it. I am also going on the record as saying I probably wont ever write about sex- unless something totally hilarious happens and I just have to (which, for those of you who know my sexual history, is not out of the realm of possibility). I tried to think of something else to round it out to three, but that’s all I got. Apparently my line is straight vertical and runs from sex to body oddities.
In other news: its fucking cold in New York. Almost too cold to justify being alive. I am on some pretty heavy-duty antibiotics so I can’t drink (read: have fun). I got some…interesting…news from work this week that I don’t know how to process. Its supposed to snow tonight. I just spilled water all over my sweater...in front of our managing director. I have been so out of the loop since Saturday- thanks to snow and then deformity- that I have not done anything social since Friday and I miss my friends.
But, on the bright side of life: Jose is back in the states so I can call/text/harass/love him whenever I want from the safe distance of 1,000 miles. I finished that awful book and I am so angry at it that I cant even write a post about it- but the good news is I get to start my social media book. I got a full night of sleep last night which hasn’t happened in almost a week, thanks to aforementioned health problem. Asher comes back this weekend- FINALLY- and it’s a three day weekend which leaves even more time for making out. I somehow got free lunch today. I won iphone solitaire FOUR times on the way to work this morning (and I didn’t even play the whole train ride which I’m pretty sure makes me some sort of solitaire prodigy). I feel 3 million times better than I did yesterday. My favorite blogger ever just started updating again after a month long hiatus and I am not (okay, I totally am) embarrassed to say that I missed her. I am booking my ticket to New Orleans sometime this week (really). I am wearing thermal leggings under my work pants (or, as I prefer to call them because it’s funnier and I am secretly a 70 year old lady- long johns) and I don’t really know why that makes me happy- but it does.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Quality Week
Here I am again, blogging on a Saturday night like a winner. But, this time I have an excuse- snow. I was supposed to go to Motown with Aimee and Melissa, but it was too snowy. Then we were going to do a Weeds night (I WILL get through season three one day) but its too snowy to even drive over there. So now I am snowed in, watching Blades of Glory, flipping through People magazine. I am trying to will myself to finish this awful book that I plan on writing a post about but have to finish first, because I am one of those assholes who has to finish a book before they start the next, even though I have a pile of 4 or 5 good books I literally cannot wait to tear into and therefore sincerely resent this awful book even more (moment of self actualization: i just realized how lame is it to resent literature, but upon further reflection I realize that I really mean it and therefore will not delete it).
Anyway, this week was insanely busy. We are launching a big program for one of our new clients so we've been really busy working on that. Our media materials are crossing the wire on Tuesday so I predict next week to be even crazier than this one. I am really excited for this program though and I think our branding efforts for this client are going to be a lot of fun to work on, particularly as we get farther into it. For another client we have some pretty cool national hits in the making, so thats exciting as well. We also signed a new client this week and I dont think I will be working on it because its a corporate client, its a really interesting client with a lot of potential for some great outreach. I hope there will be some opportunity to work on it a little bit because I am really interested in what they do.
After work this week I went out basically every night which is definitely different for me. Mexican with Shayner on Monday, drinks with Sar on Tuesday, Thai with Mary on Wednesday (at this BOMB ass thai place right on my block that I had never even noticed before), and then last night was thai with Shayna again and one of her friends from school. After, we went to this bar (Dinky's? Ding Dong?), which was basically empty, decorated like a practice garage for teenaged boys who think they are in a "band", and sold us a 5-pack of Pabst for $10- or in one word "awesome". Good times with good people.
Also- I may have found an apt!! Its beautiful (from what I can tell), in Park Slope (which is one of my favorite areas of the city) right across from Prospect park, big closet and really affordable rent. And the girl who lives there (aka my potential roommate) sounds really normal and not like a psycho and I think expects nakedness to remain private (like in the shower or while boning). Also- she has a dog (yay!), it would be a straight shot commute and we are pretty much on the same move-in schedule. Anyway-- fingers crossed!
Oh- I watched Towelhead last Saturday night and holy shit I have never felt more uncomfortable as a result of the movie. I expected a good coming of age tale, mixed in with a little bit of the anti-war and "don't hate brown people" messages but no. It was about a 13 year old, having sex. With everyone, but particularly a fucking SEXY Aaron Eckhart and then getting smacked around by her dad for being a disgrace. And while there was a mild anti-war sentiment. And the "brown people are just like you and me" message was pretty clear-- brown, black, yellow, white, purple, we're all fucked up.
My problems with the movie were numerous- so much so that I have to talk them out. First of all, holy uncomfortable awkwardness, Batman. Watching a 13 year old realize her sexual identity in most movies is sort of quirky and adorable, stirring a nostalgia about the first time you realized you had boobs or that all of your friends had gotten their period and you still hadnt. Watching a 13 year old's hooha being shaved by her mom's bf in the first scene does not fit into any of those categories and certainly did not inspire any sort of nostalgia. That basically sets the stage for the entire movie, where she moves on from discovering her growing hair, to getting her period, to kissing, to foreplay, to having sex etc. And thats not part of the story line- that IS the story line. The whole time I was watching it it felt wrong- like the feds were going to bust in any moment or Chris Hansen was going to jump out of my closet (which would really be a dream come true for me, but thats a personality defect to explore in another post). Not only did the movie just feel wrong- it felt wrong for THREE HOURS. Also, Aaron Eckhart plays this sketchy neighbor who ends up having sex with her (of course) and he was an overall creep but HOLY SHIT did he look GOOD. I am not a fan of blondes (or white guys in general really) but damnit if he wasnt the sexiest statuatory rapist I've ever seen. Which made me even MORE uncomfortable that I found him attractive. Just thinking about it to write this posts makes me so uncomforatble I might have to shower after this.
Anyway-This post sucks. My creative energy has been zapped. I usually get the urge to blog at work, but I won't blog on their time so I have to wait until I get home and by then the ideas aren't really flowing anymore. Im going to go finish that book so hopefully I can rant about it tomorrow.
Anyway, this week was insanely busy. We are launching a big program for one of our new clients so we've been really busy working on that. Our media materials are crossing the wire on Tuesday so I predict next week to be even crazier than this one. I am really excited for this program though and I think our branding efforts for this client are going to be a lot of fun to work on, particularly as we get farther into it. For another client we have some pretty cool national hits in the making, so thats exciting as well. We also signed a new client this week and I dont think I will be working on it because its a corporate client, its a really interesting client with a lot of potential for some great outreach. I hope there will be some opportunity to work on it a little bit because I am really interested in what they do.
After work this week I went out basically every night which is definitely different for me. Mexican with Shayner on Monday, drinks with Sar on Tuesday, Thai with Mary on Wednesday (at this BOMB ass thai place right on my block that I had never even noticed before), and then last night was thai with Shayna again and one of her friends from school. After, we went to this bar (Dinky's? Ding Dong?), which was basically empty, decorated like a practice garage for teenaged boys who think they are in a "band", and sold us a 5-pack of Pabst for $10- or in one word "awesome". Good times with good people.
Also- I may have found an apt!! Its beautiful (from what I can tell), in Park Slope (which is one of my favorite areas of the city) right across from Prospect park, big closet and really affordable rent. And the girl who lives there (aka my potential roommate) sounds really normal and not like a psycho and I think expects nakedness to remain private (like in the shower or while boning). Also- she has a dog (yay!), it would be a straight shot commute and we are pretty much on the same move-in schedule. Anyway-- fingers crossed!
Oh- I watched Towelhead last Saturday night and holy shit I have never felt more uncomfortable as a result of the movie. I expected a good coming of age tale, mixed in with a little bit of the anti-war and "don't hate brown people" messages but no. It was about a 13 year old, having sex. With everyone, but particularly a fucking SEXY Aaron Eckhart and then getting smacked around by her dad for being a disgrace. And while there was a mild anti-war sentiment. And the "brown people are just like you and me" message was pretty clear-- brown, black, yellow, white, purple, we're all fucked up.
My problems with the movie were numerous- so much so that I have to talk them out. First of all, holy uncomfortable awkwardness, Batman. Watching a 13 year old realize her sexual identity in most movies is sort of quirky and adorable, stirring a nostalgia about the first time you realized you had boobs or that all of your friends had gotten their period and you still hadnt. Watching a 13 year old's hooha being shaved by her mom's bf in the first scene does not fit into any of those categories and certainly did not inspire any sort of nostalgia. That basically sets the stage for the entire movie, where she moves on from discovering her growing hair, to getting her period, to kissing, to foreplay, to having sex etc. And thats not part of the story line- that IS the story line. The whole time I was watching it it felt wrong- like the feds were going to bust in any moment or Chris Hansen was going to jump out of my closet (which would really be a dream come true for me, but thats a personality defect to explore in another post). Not only did the movie just feel wrong- it felt wrong for THREE HOURS. Also, Aaron Eckhart plays this sketchy neighbor who ends up having sex with her (of course) and he was an overall creep but HOLY SHIT did he look GOOD. I am not a fan of blondes (or white guys in general really) but damnit if he wasnt the sexiest statuatory rapist I've ever seen. Which made me even MORE uncomfortable that I found him attractive. Just thinking about it to write this posts makes me so uncomforatble I might have to shower after this.
Anyway-This post sucks. My creative energy has been zapped. I usually get the urge to blog at work, but I won't blog on their time so I have to wait until I get home and by then the ideas aren't really flowing anymore. Im going to go finish that book so hopefully I can rant about it tomorrow.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Knowing What It Means...
I'd like to start off this post by saying that while I do like New York and it is exciting to work (and soon to be live!) in one of the busiest cities in the world, I would undoubtedly move back to New Orleans in a heartbeat for a career-track job and a bowl of gumbo. The only reason I really honestly left was that there simply isn't that big career for me there. Sure, there are amazing PR jobs at award winning agencies and celebrated nonprofits (which incidentally- is where I honestly see myself in 20 years anyway), but it will always be small-pond because that's the nature of the city. Why go national when you can go local? Why represent a client in LA when you can go homegrown? Who needs the rest of the country when you live in the best city in it? And, like many other things in NOLA, that is both the reason I left and the reason I miss it. Because no one really understands New Orleans until they are New Orleans (go ahead- the rest of you can roll your eyes) and everything is different there and nothing is either good or bad- it's usually both.
I mean, let's break it down with the elements of Mardi Gras, which is really just a hyper-exaggerated version of what NOLA is like all the time. I think everyone can understand how five days of straight drinking (I am talking get up at 9 for parades, start drinking, don't stop until 4 am, rinse and repeat kind of straight drinking) would be both good and bad. Tourists- good of the economy, bad for my mood. Boobs- good from sorority girls from Mississippi, bad from 65 y/o ladies in dressed only in a fishnet body suit (which is an actual sighting, not a figment of my over-active imagination). Parades- good for 1 hour, bad for 120. You get the idea. And that's the way the city is all the time-- completely ridiculous and nonsensical which is both amazing and frustrating at the same time.
And to me, NY is the opposite. Everything just is in NY. There are pockets of culture and eccentricity here and there, but overall its sort of just is. Not good. Not bad. There is fun to be had here and I am extremely happy, but it will just never have the feel of New Orleans for certain reasons, most of which probably go unnoticed to the unfortunate souls who have never had the opportunity to experience anything else.
To be honest, I was inspired to write this post in the bathroom. Well not in the bathroom—at the door to the bathroom. Because I forgot the key and had to walk back to my office and get it. Why do we have a key to the bathroom on the 16th floor of an office building? Who are we trying to keep out? Or, more importantly, who is trying to get in? Going up to the 16th floor of a nondescript office building on Union Square to use the bathroom hardly seems like most people's definition of a good idea. In New Orleans, not only have countless businesses of which I was not a patron let me use their bathroom, I have actually been invited into strangers homes to use their personal ones**. But not here. Here, we need a key to the bathroom in our own offices sixteen stories above ground. But this is what I mean—its not good, its not really bad, its just the way it is for no apparent reason.
This is one of countless examples of things I run into on a daily basis. And that's not really annoying and its definitely not enough to dislike the city—they are just little observations and reminders of why New Orleans is better and why it is where I belong.
I mean, let's break it down with the elements of Mardi Gras, which is really just a hyper-exaggerated version of what NOLA is like all the time. I think everyone can understand how five days of straight drinking (I am talking get up at 9 for parades, start drinking, don't stop until 4 am, rinse and repeat kind of straight drinking) would be both good and bad. Tourists- good of the economy, bad for my mood. Boobs- good from sorority girls from Mississippi, bad from 65 y/o ladies in dressed only in a fishnet body suit (which is an actual sighting, not a figment of my over-active imagination). Parades- good for 1 hour, bad for 120. You get the idea. And that's the way the city is all the time-- completely ridiculous and nonsensical which is both amazing and frustrating at the same time.
And to me, NY is the opposite. Everything just is in NY. There are pockets of culture and eccentricity here and there, but overall its sort of just is. Not good. Not bad. There is fun to be had here and I am extremely happy, but it will just never have the feel of New Orleans for certain reasons, most of which probably go unnoticed to the unfortunate souls who have never had the opportunity to experience anything else.
To be honest, I was inspired to write this post in the bathroom. Well not in the bathroom—at the door to the bathroom. Because I forgot the key and had to walk back to my office and get it. Why do we have a key to the bathroom on the 16th floor of an office building? Who are we trying to keep out? Or, more importantly, who is trying to get in? Going up to the 16th floor of a nondescript office building on Union Square to use the bathroom hardly seems like most people's definition of a good idea. In New Orleans, not only have countless businesses of which I was not a patron let me use their bathroom, I have actually been invited into strangers homes to use their personal ones**. But not here. Here, we need a key to the bathroom in our own offices sixteen stories above ground. But this is what I mean—its not good, its not really bad, its just the way it is for no apparent reason.
This is one of countless examples of things I run into on a daily basis. And that's not really annoying and its definitely not enough to dislike the city—they are just little observations and reminders of why New Orleans is better and why it is where I belong.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Saturday Nights Used to be Much More Exciting
It is Saturday night at 10 pm and I am blogging. Even worse, I dont really have anything to say because literally nothing has happened in the past three days so this is going to be a random collection of thoughts because I am bored and missing college and trying not to think about how much it sucks to be 22 and home on a Saturday night by choice because I think about things like "oh, going out costs money" now and I am trying to milk this free ride for as long as I can before I move (i.e. dinner with the parents, an abundance of beer and free movies on demand).
Anyway, I have pretty much done nothing since new years because I am broke and tired and cold and I am waiting anxiously to get back to work, if only to hang out with people other than my parents and my dog. Also, I cant check my work email for some reason and this is stressing me out greatly. So in summation: I need a life.
In the spirit of having an active 2009 and holding true to my resolutions, I looked into joining the AKPsi alumni association and that shit is expensive. Damn, girlfriend is on a budget. Shouldn't my leadership and dedication and VPness at least get me a free semester? A tshirt or something? Shit. Colleen said she advises a chapter of Gamma Phi in LA and maybe I could do that. But I'm really not that invested and don't particularly feel like following all those stupid national rules. Maybe I could invite some head of membership guy into my new nudist-colony apartment and get a free year or something.
Anyway, I think I need a hobby. Mostly because when I was talking to Asher, he was telling me very interesting things like how to surgically perform a sex change operation and how to get more MPG on a Ferarri, and the only things I had to counter with was my knowledge of Lizard Man and Mojitos. My only hobby is reading a shit ton and (as nerdy as this sounds) researching things I find interesting, but the problem is that things that I find interesting no one else does. Like I haven't ever had the chance to really express my knowledge and passion for the Virginia Plan or the history of vibrators or civil war photography or social media (except at work) because no one cares (and really, rightfully so). I used to like to craft but now I cant think of anything I would want to make that I would need, even though its not really about needing it as much as it is about wanting to make it. And no one cares about crafts either so I am back to square one. I am not pretentious enough to be really into music or films, what's left?
Speaking of being the least pretentious film critic ever: I rented Mamma Mia and it sucked. A pox on everyone who said it was great. (a pox? is that real? did I make that up? I refuse to google). Colin Firth singing is a joke and basically the only thing good about it was watching Pierce Brosnan be sexy, which is ordinarily enough for me but I guess I was feeling particularly critical. Also, they totally blew the ABBA load like 15 minutes into the film because they had sung both "Mamma Mia" and "Dancing Queen" already and really, whats the point after that?
I am watching Towelhead after I write this thought provoking and highly intellectual post, and I have higher hopes for that one.
I got my hair dyed today, motivated by sheer boredom. Which i know i know, I was just complaining about being broke but I never said it wasn't self-inflicted. Anyway, I am waiting for an expense check from work which will basically cover the costs anyway. It is dark brown (but not blackish like the last time) and the cut is really great. I went to a new girl who fixed my terrible haircut from this summer where "bangs" were sticking out every which way. I will post a picture tomorrow when I have a chance to shower and style it myself, because everyone knows it looks better after you play with it yourself. Also, I am laying in the dark and dont feel like turning my lights on.
Blogging. In the dark. At 10:30 on a Saturday night.
Anyway, I have pretty much done nothing since new years because I am broke and tired and cold and I am waiting anxiously to get back to work, if only to hang out with people other than my parents and my dog. Also, I cant check my work email for some reason and this is stressing me out greatly. So in summation: I need a life.
In the spirit of having an active 2009 and holding true to my resolutions, I looked into joining the AKPsi alumni association and that shit is expensive. Damn, girlfriend is on a budget. Shouldn't my leadership and dedication and VPness at least get me a free semester? A tshirt or something? Shit. Colleen said she advises a chapter of Gamma Phi in LA and maybe I could do that. But I'm really not that invested and don't particularly feel like following all those stupid national rules. Maybe I could invite some head of membership guy into my new nudist-colony apartment and get a free year or something.
Anyway, I think I need a hobby. Mostly because when I was talking to Asher, he was telling me very interesting things like how to surgically perform a sex change operation and how to get more MPG on a Ferarri, and the only things I had to counter with was my knowledge of Lizard Man and Mojitos. My only hobby is reading a shit ton and (as nerdy as this sounds) researching things I find interesting, but the problem is that things that I find interesting no one else does. Like I haven't ever had the chance to really express my knowledge and passion for the Virginia Plan or the history of vibrators or civil war photography or social media (except at work) because no one cares (and really, rightfully so). I used to like to craft but now I cant think of anything I would want to make that I would need, even though its not really about needing it as much as it is about wanting to make it. And no one cares about crafts either so I am back to square one. I am not pretentious enough to be really into music or films, what's left?
Speaking of being the least pretentious film critic ever: I rented Mamma Mia and it sucked. A pox on everyone who said it was great. (a pox? is that real? did I make that up? I refuse to google). Colin Firth singing is a joke and basically the only thing good about it was watching Pierce Brosnan be sexy, which is ordinarily enough for me but I guess I was feeling particularly critical. Also, they totally blew the ABBA load like 15 minutes into the film because they had sung both "Mamma Mia" and "Dancing Queen" already and really, whats the point after that?
I am watching Towelhead after I write this thought provoking and highly intellectual post, and I have higher hopes for that one.
I got my hair dyed today, motivated by sheer boredom. Which i know i know, I was just complaining about being broke but I never said it wasn't self-inflicted. Anyway, I am waiting for an expense check from work which will basically cover the costs anyway. It is dark brown (but not blackish like the last time) and the cut is really great. I went to a new girl who fixed my terrible haircut from this summer where "bangs" were sticking out every which way. I will post a picture tomorrow when I have a chance to shower and style it myself, because everyone knows it looks better after you play with it yourself. Also, I am laying in the dark and dont feel like turning my lights on.
Blogging. In the dark. At 10:30 on a Saturday night.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The Apartment Hunting Chronicles:Episode 1
Alternately titled: I can get a date but not an apartment
Let me preface this post by saying that I started typing this on my iphone while in bed next to Mary in her beautiful apartment on the upper east and I am literally seething with jealousy because it's so cute and big but cozy and delightful in the morning light. Also everyone is asleep but I wake up super early when I am hungover (which I am by the way because last night was epic..but that's a post I'm not writing until the pictures appear on facebook).
For those of you who know me**, you are probably aware of my love for Craigslist. My love for the list started when I lived in DC and had nothing to do for hours on end. Jenn and I would parouse the personals and the casual encounters and send each other cock shots and requests for orgies and spankings and guys dressed entirely in latex. It's not only a great time passer, but it also provdes valuable life lessons. Namely that everyone who lives in DC is a closeted kinky sex freak by night (sorry Tia, and the two friends I have from Georgetown and uhhh, my entire family) and no one who lives there should be trusted, let alone allowed to make our laws and collect taxes (probably to buy buttplugs and whips).
I still look at the list fairly often, but have moved on from the personals to the missed connections and the "free shit" sections. Missed connections because obviously people become enamoured with me daily and I am hoping one day the sexy stranger I made eyes with at the gyro stand will post about how he can't live without me and must find me or he will never be happy again. Pretty much as close you'll get to a fairy tale in 2009.
The free shit section is rather self explanatory: I like free shit. I also like to see what other people are giving away and why they felt the need to post about it instead of just taking it to the dump or giving it to some unsuspecting person as a gift. There have been some things I've actually considered taking, but ultimately it usually comes down to being not even remotely worth my time. Also, once I wanted something bad enough that I decided to reply, but couldn't figure out how. I mean "hi I want your free shit" should suffice right? But I mean, millions of people could be reading it and lots could want it so how do you differentiate yourself from the crowd? Do you describe why you want it, how you would lovingly care for it and would never dream of giving it away on cl? Like many things confusing and overwhelming- I quickly abandoned it and put on Spongebob instead.
In addition to being fun, craigslist is also quite functional. I went on dozens of craiglist job interviews and only one was sketchy, which is pretty good odds (all I am saying is that if your office is in your penthouse, you should probably put that in the ad so people dont think they are putting on a suit to get ax murdered at some crazy guys apartment in Brooklyn). Craigslist is SO MUCH faster than monster and career builder because theres no middle man. Its right from your email to theirs. In fact, I found my current job on craigslist. I applied on a Friday, interviewed on a Tuesday and was offered the job on a Wednesday. Craigslist changed my life in under a week.
And thats why I love craigslist- its quick and dirty, just like the city. Everything you want is just right there waiting for you. Want to get laid? No need to put on the hooker shoes and the push up bra, just place an ad, open a bag of cheetos and let Craig do the rest.
But dont put the hooker shoes away just yet- you will need them for apartment hunting in the 7th circle of hell (NY craigslist).
Obviously, I am looking for an apartment. Because the commute sucks and I am a grown up and should be living out of my parents house. And really- part of being a grown up is living alone I think. But I dont want to live alone. I've had nothing but good roommate experiences (okay, it was only one experience but it lasted 4 years and was wonderful) and I am not jaded enough to shudder at the thought of sharing an apartment with someone. In fact- its quite the contrary. I would rather live with someone, if not for the comraderie and friendship, than certainly for defense against robbers and rapists and crazy landlords and leaky faucets. So I am relegated to the rooms/shared section of CL. Which means having to deal with people, New Yorkers at that, instead of landlords.
Which wouldn't be so bad if all people were girls.
Heres a senario that routinely happens. There is an ad reading like this:
"Title: This is the Perfect Apartment for You
Hi. I have the perfect apartment for you. It is near your work and every single subway line and bus route. Also, its been rent controlled since 1942 so rent is only $100, including utilities. It is in a doorman building, and has an elevator and is huge and you would have your own bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and sauna. Also, we have a pool and the walls are made of rainbows and the bed is cotton candy. Near hot bars and cheap shopping and great restaraunts. Laundry room in the apartment.
I am a rich shoemaker who brings home lots of samples for my roommate to keep forever. I have a lot of money and I like to share it. I like to cook and would gladly prepare you all of your meals and even pack your lunch for you because I care. I nurse kittens and give them way to loving homes when they become ugly cats. I love reality TV and TIVO The Hills and am a Gormet cupcake maker. I have a girlfriend who I love, but she lives in siberia so she wont be in the apartment much. Obviously, there wont be any sexual tension because my heart belongs to Siberia girl. But if you ever need a comforting spoon or want to cuddle while watching Cold Case Files thats totally okay."
So I, thinking I finally found the perfect Manhattan apartment reply with my little "about me blurb" and get a response that looks something like this:
"Hey Heather,
Nice to hear from you. Unfortunately, in the 2 hours since you replied to that ad I actually burned the place down and had to move. It was a freak accident involving a cupcake and a kitty. Sorry about that.
But you sound like a really cool girl I'd like to get to know. My name is Stupid Manhead and I am 30 and work in finance and go to the gym and like long walks on the beach. Want to get dinner sometime next week?
Good luck on your apartment searching,
Stupid ManHead"
Seriously, out of every ten apartments I reply to, at least one comes back like this. One guy simply responded to my email (which was titled "Interested in Your Apartment") with one line; "Interested in this?" and a picture of his penis next to a stapler was attached. And the stapler was bigger. No, I am not interested.
Anyway, after playing this game for a few weeks, I am starting to become more jaded about finding a room in someone elses apartment. But I dont know anyone ready to move with me yet, so really if I found a perfect apartment I woudl still have to use craiglist to find the roommate anyway, so whats the point? At least this way, when i get there, there will already be a couch. Which is pretty much my only standard at this point, because they are getting pretty low.
Which is why, I fear, this next part of the post is completely 100% true. Please note that unlike the above ad which was a complete obvious fabrication, this one is basically how the ad read (i couldnt find it again to copy and paste).
Title: Interesting Arrangement for Room in Apartment in Chelsea- $850/month
I have a two bedroom apartment and I need to rent out one of the bedrooms. The room is decent sized for Manhattan and could easily fit a bed, dresser and desk. I am asking $850/month, not including utilities. There is a laundry room in the building and wireless internet and digitial cable hooked up for the whole building.
I am a nice, normal guy who works a lot of hours in finance and doesnt get to date much. In exchange for the room, I ask that you be okay walking around the apartment naked several times a week. No sex, or touching or inapropriate conduct, just you walking around naked and letting me watch. I know this situation isnt for everyone, but for the right girl it could be a great arrangement."
Now, you, a normal person is obviously thinking "no thanks, Ted Bundy" but here is my actual thought process upon reading this ad:
"ohhh 850 a month in chelsea, what could this be? What sort of interesting arrangment?.....laundry room, sweet....NAKED? the nerve. I should close this immediately....wellll, I mean, no sex or touching, thats not too bad right? I mean, the apartment is in freaking Chelsea for less than a grand a month. I could probably walk to work....Maybe he really is nice and normal...I mean, I really enjoy being naked. Seriously- the only thing better than yoga pants is no pants....I'd probably have to lose some weight first, maybe start hitting the gym more...I wonder how often? Like, everyday? strip when you come in the front door?....would i do things naked? like clean and make dinner, that could lead to injury...okay stop this is creepy. why are you thinking about this?...on the other hand, it would give me a chance to show off my boobs more. really, its about time they start pulling their weight around here anyway....i wonder what he looks like. will he be naked too?....then we'd be like a nudist colony, which is totally legit, lots of people live in nudist colonies and no one calls them prostitutes....did I just compare myself to a prostitute?....but i mean, okay, eventually we would become friends and nearly all of my best friends have seen me naked multiple times and none of them have ever offered me an 850/month apartment in Chelsea...some best friends they are..oh, utilities not included? fuck that"
And I am only on week three of the big search. It might be time to look into some no-fee brokers.
**I realize I refer to the collective "you" a lot and then no one comments which really just makes me look like a crazy person talking to myself (which really is the definition of a blog, but shhh). BUT, rest assured internet world, that since my shameless self promotion campaign (putting the link in my away message and also mentioning it in conversation. things like "oh thats a really cool story....lets talk about ME now, did you know I am blogging?!"*** orrrr the ever popular "this is SO going in the blog"...even though it never really does) that several people have told me they are reading it and it reaffirmed their faith in my net worth as their friend (or so I assume). Some have even told me they sent certain posts to their friends which is really just the coolest thing ever. So, in summation, I am not a crazy person and you all are the best friends (and the best friends of friends) that a girl who talks to herself can have.
***Also, I am now that asshole who TALKS about their blog in like conversations. Ithink i mentioned it twice today while Colleen, Mary and I were nomming on some greasy food at Big Daddy's. Sorry ladies. Thanks for still being friends with me.
Let me preface this post by saying that I started typing this on my iphone while in bed next to Mary in her beautiful apartment on the upper east and I am literally seething with jealousy because it's so cute and big but cozy and delightful in the morning light. Also everyone is asleep but I wake up super early when I am hungover (which I am by the way because last night was epic..but that's a post I'm not writing until the pictures appear on facebook).
For those of you who know me**, you are probably aware of my love for Craigslist. My love for the list started when I lived in DC and had nothing to do for hours on end. Jenn and I would parouse the personals and the casual encounters and send each other cock shots and requests for orgies and spankings and guys dressed entirely in latex. It's not only a great time passer, but it also provdes valuable life lessons. Namely that everyone who lives in DC is a closeted kinky sex freak by night (sorry Tia, and the two friends I have from Georgetown and uhhh, my entire family) and no one who lives there should be trusted, let alone allowed to make our laws and collect taxes (probably to buy buttplugs and whips).
I still look at the list fairly often, but have moved on from the personals to the missed connections and the "free shit" sections. Missed connections because obviously people become enamoured with me daily and I am hoping one day the sexy stranger I made eyes with at the gyro stand will post about how he can't live without me and must find me or he will never be happy again. Pretty much as close you'll get to a fairy tale in 2009.
The free shit section is rather self explanatory: I like free shit. I also like to see what other people are giving away and why they felt the need to post about it instead of just taking it to the dump or giving it to some unsuspecting person as a gift. There have been some things I've actually considered taking, but ultimately it usually comes down to being not even remotely worth my time. Also, once I wanted something bad enough that I decided to reply, but couldn't figure out how. I mean "hi I want your free shit" should suffice right? But I mean, millions of people could be reading it and lots could want it so how do you differentiate yourself from the crowd? Do you describe why you want it, how you would lovingly care for it and would never dream of giving it away on cl? Like many things confusing and overwhelming- I quickly abandoned it and put on Spongebob instead.
In addition to being fun, craigslist is also quite functional. I went on dozens of craiglist job interviews and only one was sketchy, which is pretty good odds (all I am saying is that if your office is in your penthouse, you should probably put that in the ad so people dont think they are putting on a suit to get ax murdered at some crazy guys apartment in Brooklyn). Craigslist is SO MUCH faster than monster and career builder because theres no middle man. Its right from your email to theirs. In fact, I found my current job on craigslist. I applied on a Friday, interviewed on a Tuesday and was offered the job on a Wednesday. Craigslist changed my life in under a week.
And thats why I love craigslist- its quick and dirty, just like the city. Everything you want is just right there waiting for you. Want to get laid? No need to put on the hooker shoes and the push up bra, just place an ad, open a bag of cheetos and let Craig do the rest.
But dont put the hooker shoes away just yet- you will need them for apartment hunting in the 7th circle of hell (NY craigslist).
Obviously, I am looking for an apartment. Because the commute sucks and I am a grown up and should be living out of my parents house. And really- part of being a grown up is living alone I think. But I dont want to live alone. I've had nothing but good roommate experiences (okay, it was only one experience but it lasted 4 years and was wonderful) and I am not jaded enough to shudder at the thought of sharing an apartment with someone. In fact- its quite the contrary. I would rather live with someone, if not for the comraderie and friendship, than certainly for defense against robbers and rapists and crazy landlords and leaky faucets. So I am relegated to the rooms/shared section of CL. Which means having to deal with people, New Yorkers at that, instead of landlords.
Which wouldn't be so bad if all people were girls.
Heres a senario that routinely happens. There is an ad reading like this:
"Title: This is the Perfect Apartment for You
Hi. I have the perfect apartment for you. It is near your work and every single subway line and bus route. Also, its been rent controlled since 1942 so rent is only $100, including utilities. It is in a doorman building, and has an elevator and is huge and you would have your own bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and sauna. Also, we have a pool and the walls are made of rainbows and the bed is cotton candy. Near hot bars and cheap shopping and great restaraunts. Laundry room in the apartment.
I am a rich shoemaker who brings home lots of samples for my roommate to keep forever. I have a lot of money and I like to share it. I like to cook and would gladly prepare you all of your meals and even pack your lunch for you because I care. I nurse kittens and give them way to loving homes when they become ugly cats. I love reality TV and TIVO The Hills and am a Gormet cupcake maker. I have a girlfriend who I love, but she lives in siberia so she wont be in the apartment much. Obviously, there wont be any sexual tension because my heart belongs to Siberia girl. But if you ever need a comforting spoon or want to cuddle while watching Cold Case Files thats totally okay."
So I, thinking I finally found the perfect Manhattan apartment reply with my little "about me blurb" and get a response that looks something like this:
"Hey Heather,
Nice to hear from you. Unfortunately, in the 2 hours since you replied to that ad I actually burned the place down and had to move. It was a freak accident involving a cupcake and a kitty. Sorry about that.
But you sound like a really cool girl I'd like to get to know. My name is Stupid Manhead and I am 30 and work in finance and go to the gym and like long walks on the beach. Want to get dinner sometime next week?
Good luck on your apartment searching,
Stupid ManHead"
Seriously, out of every ten apartments I reply to, at least one comes back like this. One guy simply responded to my email (which was titled "Interested in Your Apartment") with one line; "Interested in this?" and a picture of his penis next to a stapler was attached. And the stapler was bigger. No, I am not interested.
Anyway, after playing this game for a few weeks, I am starting to become more jaded about finding a room in someone elses apartment. But I dont know anyone ready to move with me yet, so really if I found a perfect apartment I woudl still have to use craiglist to find the roommate anyway, so whats the point? At least this way, when i get there, there will already be a couch. Which is pretty much my only standard at this point, because they are getting pretty low.
Which is why, I fear, this next part of the post is completely 100% true. Please note that unlike the above ad which was a complete obvious fabrication, this one is basically how the ad read (i couldnt find it again to copy and paste).
Title: Interesting Arrangement for Room in Apartment in Chelsea- $850/month
I have a two bedroom apartment and I need to rent out one of the bedrooms. The room is decent sized for Manhattan and could easily fit a bed, dresser and desk. I am asking $850/month, not including utilities. There is a laundry room in the building and wireless internet and digitial cable hooked up for the whole building.
I am a nice, normal guy who works a lot of hours in finance and doesnt get to date much. In exchange for the room, I ask that you be okay walking around the apartment naked several times a week. No sex, or touching or inapropriate conduct, just you walking around naked and letting me watch. I know this situation isnt for everyone, but for the right girl it could be a great arrangement."
Now, you, a normal person is obviously thinking "no thanks, Ted Bundy" but here is my actual thought process upon reading this ad:
"ohhh 850 a month in chelsea, what could this be? What sort of interesting arrangment?.....laundry room, sweet....NAKED? the nerve. I should close this immediately....wellll, I mean, no sex or touching, thats not too bad right? I mean, the apartment is in freaking Chelsea for less than a grand a month. I could probably walk to work....Maybe he really is nice and normal...I mean, I really enjoy being naked. Seriously- the only thing better than yoga pants is no pants....I'd probably have to lose some weight first, maybe start hitting the gym more...I wonder how often? Like, everyday? strip when you come in the front door?....would i do things naked? like clean and make dinner, that could lead to injury...okay stop this is creepy. why are you thinking about this?...on the other hand, it would give me a chance to show off my boobs more. really, its about time they start pulling their weight around here anyway....i wonder what he looks like. will he be naked too?....then we'd be like a nudist colony, which is totally legit, lots of people live in nudist colonies and no one calls them prostitutes....did I just compare myself to a prostitute?....but i mean, okay, eventually we would become friends and nearly all of my best friends have seen me naked multiple times and none of them have ever offered me an 850/month apartment in Chelsea...some best friends they are..oh, utilities not included? fuck that"
And I am only on week three of the big search. It might be time to look into some no-fee brokers.
**I realize I refer to the collective "you" a lot and then no one comments which really just makes me look like a crazy person talking to myself (which really is the definition of a blog, but shhh). BUT, rest assured internet world, that since my shameless self promotion campaign (putting the link in my away message and also mentioning it in conversation. things like "oh thats a really cool story....lets talk about ME now, did you know I am blogging?!"*** orrrr the ever popular "this is SO going in the blog"...even though it never really does) that several people have told me they are reading it and it reaffirmed their faith in my net worth as their friend (or so I assume). Some have even told me they sent certain posts to their friends which is really just the coolest thing ever. So, in summation, I am not a crazy person and you all are the best friends (and the best friends of friends) that a girl who talks to herself can have.
***Also, I am now that asshole who TALKS about their blog in like conversations. Ithink i mentioned it twice today while Colleen, Mary and I were nomming on some greasy food at Big Daddy's. Sorry ladies. Thanks for still being friends with me.
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