I don't think I've ever heard my mom burp. Or seen her spit. Or even heard her release a pent up fart.
Yesterday on our way to buy some colon cleanser i glanced in the back seat and saw that once again my little niece Kailyn was eating her boogers. Amazing how an act like that cna really make a kid NOT cute anymore.
"Stop eating your boogers Kailyn! That's so gross!" I exclaimed.
"Hush your mouth with that word, Bran!" was my mom's interjection.
"Why don't you like the word boogers? That's what they are." I said.
"I know what they are. You don't need to say it though."
It was at this point that the coke I'd been drinking made a burping appearance. And a rather loud one at that.
"Dammit Brandy!! That is SO RUDE!! You need to stop being so NASTY!!"
Cackling laughter from Kailyn in the backseat who I'm sure was still munching away on her nose goodies.
"I said 'excuse me'."
It was at this point that I tried to think if I'd ever heard any bodily function come from my mom.
"You know Mom, I don't think I've ever heard you burp."
"Just hush Brandy. Just hush."
"I mean, I burp all the time. And I fart too."
"Shut up!!"
"I'm just saying."
My mom is such a girl. She even has pink fluffy houseshoes and pajama pants with baby pigs on them. And she doesn't burp.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Friday, December 30, 2005
She bought it
Today my mom bought colon cleanser for my dad. And not just one type. THREE TYPES OF COLON CLEANSER.
I don't need to say more.
I don't need to say more.
Free Samples
One thing that I definitely miss about the South is the abundance of free samples at Sam's Club. It's like going out to eat for free. I just had salsa and chips, beef taquitos with cheese sauce, some meatballs and ham rolls.
Life is good.
Also I must note here that Sam's Club sells EVERYTHING. My mom and I came out of there today with grapes, deoderant, baking potatoes, long johns and Levi's superlow bootcut jeans. All for under $60.
Absolutely amazing.
Life is good.
Also I must note here that Sam's Club sells EVERYTHING. My mom and I came out of there today with grapes, deoderant, baking potatoes, long johns and Levi's superlow bootcut jeans. All for under $60.
Absolutely amazing.
Why?
Another gem from Myspace.
www.deathclock.com
Why would you want to do this? I understand that it's mostly bullshit but once you see the date you won't forget it and the closer it gets.....
So I know I put up the link but do me a favor and just laugh at it from afar. It's too creepy to actually put in a date and/or buy a death clock t-shirt.
www.deathclock.com
Why would you want to do this? I understand that it's mostly bullshit but once you see the date you won't forget it and the closer it gets.....
So I know I put up the link but do me a favor and just laugh at it from afar. It's too creepy to actually put in a date and/or buy a death clock t-shirt.
Young Dreams
When I was eight years old my biggest goal was to see what happened when Nick at Nite went off. I would wait until my mom fell asleep to switch on the TV. And then I would watch and wait. This was back when Nick at Nite showed actual old shows and not Full House and The Cosby Show. I always made it to The Donna Reed Show and then Make Room for Daddy. But sleep always caught me in the end and I'd inevitably wake up to the sounds of Nick Jr. in the morning.
One night I succeeded.
It was around 4am. The Three Stooges ended and suddenly I knew. This was it. I was about to find out what happened when Nick at Nite went off.
This is the moment that I also learned what true disappointment is.
True disappointment is being eight years old and staying up until four in the morning only to end up watching silent color bars on the TV screen.
One night I succeeded.
It was around 4am. The Three Stooges ended and suddenly I knew. This was it. I was about to find out what happened when Nick at Nite went off.
This is the moment that I also learned what true disappointment is.
True disappointment is being eight years old and staying up until four in the morning only to end up watching silent color bars on the TV screen.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
How I Love Leo D
I've recently rediscovered my love for Leonardo DiCaprio. It was always there, but has been lying dormant for a few years. It's back now though.
Because I think everyone should be exposed to his wonderfulness and because I like to make lists, here are some of his more noteable performances. Watch and love people. Watch and love. I've also included a little anecdote about each film because anecdotes are always awesome. As are alliterated sentence fragments.
Titanic: I really fell in love with him in this movie. I still can't believe he dies. I still choke up whenever I think about him and Rose on freezing in the ocean. God, I love him so much. My junior prom date and I choreographed a dance to My Heart Will Go On. Still one of my favorite songs. Rock on Celine. Rock on.
What's Eating Gilbert Grape: I know he's retarded in this movie. Literally retarded. But he delivers a fine performance. And even though he's special ed in this one, he shares screen time with Johnny Depp. And that makes for a very happy Brandy.
Total Eclipse: He's a gay poet in this movie but it didn't lessen my devotion to him. They didn't have it at the Blockbuster by my house. It was at the Blockbuster by my best friend Chris's house so he got it for me. I only wanted to see it because there's a part toward the middle where we get full frontal Leo. I had to pause it and play it in slow motion after my parents went to bed. So worth it.
The Basketball Diaries: I realize that he sucks a guy's dick for drugs but....I'm over it. I still want him.
Romeo + Juliet: Only one of the best movies of the 90s. The poster is above my bed. I watched this movie so many times the tape wore out. I petitioned each year for this to be shown in English class regardless of whether or not we were studying Shakespeare.
The Boy's Life: All militant and gorgeous. I wanted to kill Bob DeNiro for hurting my love.
Those are my favorites. These are the movies that made me fall in love. Have no doubt--I will run into Mr. DiCaprio at some point in the near future. And hopefully by then I will have a camera phone so I can take a picture.
Because I think everyone should be exposed to his wonderfulness and because I like to make lists, here are some of his more noteable performances. Watch and love people. Watch and love. I've also included a little anecdote about each film because anecdotes are always awesome. As are alliterated sentence fragments.
Titanic: I really fell in love with him in this movie. I still can't believe he dies. I still choke up whenever I think about him and Rose on freezing in the ocean. God, I love him so much. My junior prom date and I choreographed a dance to My Heart Will Go On. Still one of my favorite songs. Rock on Celine. Rock on.
What's Eating Gilbert Grape: I know he's retarded in this movie. Literally retarded. But he delivers a fine performance. And even though he's special ed in this one, he shares screen time with Johnny Depp. And that makes for a very happy Brandy.
Total Eclipse: He's a gay poet in this movie but it didn't lessen my devotion to him. They didn't have it at the Blockbuster by my house. It was at the Blockbuster by my best friend Chris's house so he got it for me. I only wanted to see it because there's a part toward the middle where we get full frontal Leo. I had to pause it and play it in slow motion after my parents went to bed. So worth it.
The Basketball Diaries: I realize that he sucks a guy's dick for drugs but....I'm over it. I still want him.
Romeo + Juliet: Only one of the best movies of the 90s. The poster is above my bed. I watched this movie so many times the tape wore out. I petitioned each year for this to be shown in English class regardless of whether or not we were studying Shakespeare.
The Boy's Life: All militant and gorgeous. I wanted to kill Bob DeNiro for hurting my love.
Those are my favorites. These are the movies that made me fall in love. Have no doubt--I will run into Mr. DiCaprio at some point in the near future. And hopefully by then I will have a camera phone so I can take a picture.
Movies that are great
I've decided to start compiling a list a movies I think are great. I'm not saying you need to go out and watch all of these, but you'll probably be a happier person if you do. Great movies make people happy. That's all I'm saying. Feel free to IMDB away.
Can't Hardly Wait
Ten Things I Hate About You
Parenthood
Fast Times At Ridgemont High
The Silence of the Lambs
She's All That
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
Footloose
Imitation of Life
Old School
Wedding Crashers
Titanic (W/ LEO)
Friday
Stepmom
My Girl
10:30pm is late for Georgia so this list will be continued at some point in the future.
Can't Hardly Wait
Ten Things I Hate About You
Parenthood
Fast Times At Ridgemont High
The Silence of the Lambs
She's All That
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
Footloose
Imitation of Life
Old School
Wedding Crashers
Titanic (W/ LEO)
Friday
Stepmom
My Girl
10:30pm is late for Georgia so this list will be continued at some point in the future.
Kids and Smells
So my niece Kailyn just walks into the kitchen and says, "Ooooh....I smell macaroni and cheese!! I want some!!"
I never knew macaroni and cheese had a distinct smell. But when she said this I took a whiff and found that it did indeed smell like mac and cheese. Not just any mac and cheese but Kraft Cheese and Macaroni. And sure enough there was that blue box poking its head out of the top of the trash.
The girl has the senses of a bat. Amazing.
I never knew macaroni and cheese had a distinct smell. But when she said this I took a whiff and found that it did indeed smell like mac and cheese. Not just any mac and cheese but Kraft Cheese and Macaroni. And sure enough there was that blue box poking its head out of the top of the trash.
The girl has the senses of a bat. Amazing.
Those Crazy Kids Today
You just can't do anything with teens today. I mean, what the HELL what this kid thinking?
Rich people are so retarded with their money sometimes. And why, WHY would you take $900 and waste it on a plane ticket to Iraq? He could have gone to Vegas.
Rich people are so retarded with their money sometimes. And why, WHY would you take $900 and waste it on a plane ticket to Iraq? He could have gone to Vegas.
4-year-olds
My niece Kailyn is 4. Because I talk to her like she's my age, I often forget that 4 is NOT 24. I usually remember her age when she says things like, "Oooh! My hands STANK!! Smell 'em, Bran!! They smell like SHRIMPS!!" The entire time that she's saying this she keeps taking whiffs of her hands.
And then she proceeds to rub these shrimpy-smelling hands all over my $200 jeans.
And then she proceeds to rub these shrimpy-smelling hands all over my $200 jeans.
Stand-up Contest
2006 will be the year that Brandy tries stand-up.
Because my brother is a Hater, he has been Hating on my comedy routine. So today we decided to have a little contest. A little Stand-up Contest. With my four-year-old niece as the judge.
We told our best jokes and vied for the prize as Kailyn watched, methodically peeling and eating shrimp the entire time. She didn't crack a smile for my brother. When I started up, she informed me that she was tired of listening and would rather me help her peel and eat shrimp instead. Apparently she was tired of being the judge.
So we're back at to the drawing board. But between you, me and the shrimp bits that are covering Kailyn's face as I type and she talks with her mouth full, I am WAY funnier than my brother.
Because my brother is a Hater, he has been Hating on my comedy routine. So today we decided to have a little contest. A little Stand-up Contest. With my four-year-old niece as the judge.
We told our best jokes and vied for the prize as Kailyn watched, methodically peeling and eating shrimp the entire time. She didn't crack a smile for my brother. When I started up, she informed me that she was tired of listening and would rather me help her peel and eat shrimp instead. Apparently she was tired of being the judge.
So we're back at to the drawing board. But between you, me and the shrimp bits that are covering Kailyn's face as I type and she talks with her mouth full, I am WAY funnier than my brother.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
My Mom
My mom blew into my room this morning at 8:45am.
"Time to get up Bran!!" she shouts.
I spend the next 15 minutes trying in vain to cling to sleep but she's got People's Court on surround sound. So I get up. And what do I find when I step into my parents' room?
She's still in the bed!! Just being a Relaxed Rita and reading her newest piece of African-American girl lit.
"Why'd you wake me up?" I ask. "You're obviously not up."
"No one needs to be asleep past 9. Up and at 'em, you know." She's still reading the whole time as she explains this to me.
At what age does it become normal to want to rise and shine on a day off any time before 11? Because I never want to be that age.
"Time to get up Bran!!" she shouts.
I spend the next 15 minutes trying in vain to cling to sleep but she's got People's Court on surround sound. So I get up. And what do I find when I step into my parents' room?
She's still in the bed!! Just being a Relaxed Rita and reading her newest piece of African-American girl lit.
"Why'd you wake me up?" I ask. "You're obviously not up."
"No one needs to be asleep past 9. Up and at 'em, you know." She's still reading the whole time as she explains this to me.
At what age does it become normal to want to rise and shine on a day off any time before 11? Because I never want to be that age.
Monday, December 26, 2005
A moment of silence please
Just saw this on Yahoo news. It's kind of weird when That Guy dies. I mean, I didn't know his name until today but I definitely have seen many of the movies he's been in.Rest in peace buddy. I remember you.
What?
This just in from my Myspace messages.
Who'd like to translate this one for me?
I understand that those silent H's are troublesome but please. . .learn to love them. And maybe laying off the ellipse use would be an improvement as well.
| Ok wat up when are we gonna go out and throw a couple of ballz.........wut wait u think I mean? nahh im talking about tennis LOL.....nah but wuz good u cute......... |
Who'd like to translate this one for me?
I understand that those silent H's are troublesome but please. . .learn to love them. And maybe laying off the ellipse use would be an improvement as well.
Back in the South
Sometimes when I'm home I remember why I moved.
I wanted to see a movie today. Not just any movie, but the movie Brokeback Mountain.
There are about four huge movie theaters all within 20 minutes of my dad's house.
NONE of them are playing this patricular touching story of a homosexual love affair. In fact it's only playing in the big city: Atlanta. At an art cinema no less.
If I was in New York, I could see a gay movie anytime I wanted at the local multiplex. Here, I have to drive a goddamned hour to go to the art cinema.
I wanted to see a movie today. Not just any movie, but the movie Brokeback Mountain.
There are about four huge movie theaters all within 20 minutes of my dad's house.
NONE of them are playing this patricular touching story of a homosexual love affair. In fact it's only playing in the big city: Atlanta. At an art cinema no less.
If I was in New York, I could see a gay movie anytime I wanted at the local multiplex. Here, I have to drive a goddamned hour to go to the art cinema.
Have a Smile
Now for a little shameless family promotion. My nieces are the cutest kids ever! So from Kailyn and Amme: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!
Alliteration Antics
Sometimes I like to make up new phrases and see if I can institute them into my everyday conversation and hopefully have other people pick up on them. Usually these phrases just consist of an alliterated adjective and proper name noun. For instance, whenever my roommate is bitching about something I tell her to stop being a Sour Susan. Other ones that you guys might want to start using to impress your friends are as follows:
Complainer Connie: a variation of Sour Susan
Bulemic Betty: That friend who seems to eat everything in sight yet remains a size 2.
Anorexic Amy: That friend who swears that two spinach leaves constitute a meal and is always wanting you to work out with her.
Relaxed Rita: This isyou when you're all chilled out on the couch with a good movie and nothing to do.
Trust Fund Trudy: That friend who just always seems to have money and lots of lunch dates, but no job.
Lazy Leslie: Me, whenever I'm not at work.
I'll think of more soon. But try these out for now.
Complainer Connie: a variation of Sour Susan
Bulemic Betty: That friend who seems to eat everything in sight yet remains a size 2.
Anorexic Amy: That friend who swears that two spinach leaves constitute a meal and is always wanting you to work out with her.
Relaxed Rita: This isyou when you're all chilled out on the couch with a good movie and nothing to do.
Trust Fund Trudy: That friend who just always seems to have money and lots of lunch dates, but no job.
Lazy Leslie: Me, whenever I'm not at work.
I'll think of more soon. But try these out for now.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Some Christmas Cheer
This was a bulletin posted on everyone's favorite way to waste time: Myspace.
I'm home for the holidays in Georgia for a week. And this made me chuckle a little. Also I'd like to add one: "You know you grew up in the 80s or early 90s if YOU ATE INSIDE A PIZZA HUT." Yum.
You Know You Grew Up In The 80's or Early 90's If :
1. You've ever ended a sentence with the word "SIKE"
2. You watched the Pound Puppies.
3. You can sing the rap to the "Fresh Prince of Bel Air" ... and can do the "Carlton".
4. Girls wore biker shorts under their skirts and felt stylishly sexy.
5. You yearned to be a member of the Baby-sitters club and tried to start a club of your own.
6. You owned those lil' Strawberry Shortcake pals scented dolls.
7. You know that "WOAH " comes from Joey on Blossom
8. Two words: Hammer Pants
9. If you ever watched "Fraggle Rock"
10. You had plastic streamers on your handle bars... and "spokey-dokes" or playing cards on your spokes for that incredible sound effect
11. You can sing the entire theme song to "DuckTales " (Woo ooh!)
12. It was actually worth getting up early on a Saturday to watch cartoons.
13. You wore a ponytail on the side of your head.
14. You saw the original "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles " on the big screen...and still know the turtles names.
15. You got super-excited when it was Oregon Trail day in computer class at school.
17. You played the game "MASH " (Mansion, Apartment, Shelter, House)
18. You wore stonewashed Jordache jean jackets and were proud of it.
19. L.A. Gear....need I say more?
21. You remember reading "Tales of a fourth grade nothing " and all the Ramona books.
22. You know the profound meaning of "WAX ON, WAX OFF"
23. You wanted to be a Goonie.
24. You ever wore fluorescent clothing. (some of us... head-to-toe)
25. You can remember what Michael Jackson looked like before his nose fell off and his cheeks shifted.
26. You have ever pondered why Smurfette was the only female smurf.
27. You took lunch boxes to school... and traded Garbage Pail Kids in the
schoolyard.
28. You remember the CRAZE, then the BANNING of slap bracelets.
29. You still get the urge to say "NOT " after every sentence.
30. You remember Hypercolor t-shirts.
31. Barbie and the Rockers was your favorite band.
32. You thought She-ra (Princess of Power!) and He-Man should hook up.
33. You thought
your childhood friends would never leave because you exchanged handmade friendship bracelets.
34. You ever owned a pair of Jelly-Shoes. (and like ..24, probably in neon colors, too)
35. After you saw Pee-Wee's Big Adventure you kept saying "I know you are, but what am I?"
36. You remember "I've fallen and I can't get up"
37. You remember going to the skating rink before there were inline skates.
38. You ever got seriously injured on a Slip and Slide.
39. You have ever played with a Skip-It.
40. You had or attended a birthday party at McDonalds.
41. You've gone through this nodding your head in agreement.
42. You remember Popples.
43. "Don't worry, be happy"
44. You wore like, EIGHT pairs of socks over tights with high top Reeboks.
45. You wore socks scrunched down (and sometimes still do... getting yelled at by "younger hip" members of the family)
46. You remember boom boxes.. and walking around with one on your shoulder like you were all that.
47. You remember watching both "Gremlins " movies.
48. You know what it meant to say "Care Bear Stare!!"
49. You remember watching "Rainbow Bright" and "My Little Pony Tales"
50. You thought Doogie Howser/Samantha Micelli was hot.
51. You remember Alf, the lil furry brown alien from Melmac.
52. You remember New Kids on the Block when they were cool... and don't even flinch when people refer to them as "NKOTB".
53. You knew all the characters names and their life stories on "Saved By The Bell," The ORIGINAL class.
54. You know all the words to Bon Jovi - SHOT THROUGH THE HEART.
55. You just sang those words to yourself.
56. You remember watching Magic vs. Bird.
57. Homemade Levi shorts.. (the shorter the better)
58. You remember when mullets were cool!
59. You had a mullet!
60. You still sing "We are the World"
61. You tight rolled your jeans.
62. You owned a bannana clip
63. You remember "Where's the Beef?"
64. You used to (and probably still do) say "What you talkin' about Willis?"
65. You had big hair and you knew how to use it.
66. You're still singing shot through the heart in your head, aren't you!!!
I'm home for the holidays in Georgia for a week. And this made me chuckle a little. Also I'd like to add one: "You know you grew up in the 80s or early 90s if YOU ATE INSIDE A PIZZA HUT." Yum.
You Know You Grew Up In The 80's or Early 90's If :
1. You've ever ended a sentence with the word "SIKE"
2. You watched the Pound Puppies.
3. You can sing the rap to the "Fresh Prince of Bel Air" ... and can do the "Carlton".
4. Girls wore biker shorts under their skirts and felt stylishly sexy.
5. You yearned to be a member of the Baby-sitters club and tried to start a club of your own.
6. You owned those lil' Strawberry Shortcake pals scented dolls.
7. You know that "WOAH " comes from Joey on Blossom
8. Two words: Hammer Pants
9. If you ever watched "Fraggle Rock"
10. You had plastic streamers on your handle bars... and "spokey-dokes" or playing cards on your spokes for that incredible sound effect
11. You can sing the entire theme song to "DuckTales " (Woo ooh!)
12. It was actually worth getting up early on a Saturday to watch cartoons.
13. You wore a ponytail on the side of your head.
14. You saw the original "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles " on the big screen...and still know the turtles names.
15. You got super-excited when it was Oregon Trail day in computer class at school.
17. You played the game "MASH " (Mansion, Apartment, Shelter, House)
18. You wore stonewashed Jordache jean jackets and were proud of it.
19. L.A. Gear....need I say more?
21. You remember reading "Tales of a fourth grade nothing " and all the Ramona books.
22. You know the profound meaning of "WAX ON, WAX OFF"
23. You wanted to be a Goonie.
24. You ever wore fluorescent clothing. (some of us... head-to-toe)
25. You can remember what Michael Jackson looked like before his nose fell off and his cheeks shifted.
26. You have ever pondered why Smurfette was the only female smurf.
27. You took lunch boxes to school... and traded Garbage Pail Kids in the
schoolyard.
28. You remember the CRAZE, then the BANNING of slap bracelets.
29. You still get the urge to say "NOT " after every sentence.
30. You remember Hypercolor t-shirts.
31. Barbie and the Rockers was your favorite band.
32. You thought She-ra (Princess of Power!) and He-Man should hook up.
33. You thought
your childhood friends would never leave because you exchanged handmade friendship bracelets.
34. You ever owned a pair of Jelly-Shoes. (and like ..24, probably in neon colors, too)
35. After you saw Pee-Wee's Big Adventure you kept saying "I know you are, but what am I?"
36. You remember "I've fallen and I can't get up"
37. You remember going to the skating rink before there were inline skates.
38. You ever got seriously injured on a Slip and Slide.
39. You have ever played with a Skip-It.
40. You had or attended a birthday party at McDonalds.
41. You've gone through this nodding your head in agreement.
42. You remember Popples.
43. "Don't worry, be happy"
44. You wore like, EIGHT pairs of socks over tights with high top Reeboks.
45. You wore socks scrunched down (and sometimes still do... getting yelled at by "younger hip" members of the family)
46. You remember boom boxes.. and walking around with one on your shoulder like you were all that.
47. You remember watching both "Gremlins " movies.
48. You know what it meant to say "Care Bear Stare!!"
49. You remember watching "Rainbow Bright" and "My Little Pony Tales"
50. You thought Doogie Howser/Samantha Micelli was hot.
51. You remember Alf, the lil furry brown alien from Melmac.
52. You remember New Kids on the Block when they were cool... and don't even flinch when people refer to them as "NKOTB".
53. You knew all the characters names and their life stories on "Saved By The Bell," The ORIGINAL class.
54. You know all the words to Bon Jovi - SHOT THROUGH THE HEART.
55. You just sang those words to yourself.
56. You remember watching Magic vs. Bird.
57. Homemade Levi shorts.. (the shorter the better)
58. You remember when mullets were cool!
59. You had a mullet!
60. You still sing "We are the World"
61. You tight rolled your jeans.
62. You owned a bannana clip
63. You remember "Where's the Beef?"
64. You used to (and probably still do) say "What you talkin' about Willis?"
65. You had big hair and you knew how to use it.
66. You're still singing shot through the heart in your head, aren't you!!!
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Today's Fun Thought
As I stuff my face:
Christmas is really the only time that people eat obscene amounts of chocolate covered toffee popcorn that comes out of obnoxiously large metal tins decorated with Thomas Kincaid prints. You don't really catch anyone munching on that stuff in May or even October.
And I'm not sure if anyone actually eats the sausages that come in Christmas baskets. But I'll let everyone know right now that I ate all of the block cheddar cheese that came in my boss's Christmas fun from Harry and David. That's right--I ate the WHOLE THING.
Christmas is really the only time that people eat obscene amounts of chocolate covered toffee popcorn that comes out of obnoxiously large metal tins decorated with Thomas Kincaid prints. You don't really catch anyone munching on that stuff in May or even October.
And I'm not sure if anyone actually eats the sausages that come in Christmas baskets. But I'll let everyone know right now that I ate all of the block cheddar cheese that came in my boss's Christmas fun from Harry and David. That's right--I ate the WHOLE THING.
Annoyed
I walked to work this morning. I had on about four layers and by the time I reached my half way mark at Astor Place, I was sweating but my feet felt like blocks of ice.
That's right. The strike is STILL going on. And although I usually walk home from work, I like knowing that the option to take the train or the bus is there.
To top it all off I'll be heading to Georgia on Friday for the holidays. And I'll be staying there for TEN DAYS. This will be the longest I've ever stayed at home since before I moved off campus in college. Considering, I'm readyto claw my eyes out and get back to the comfort of New York after only a weekend at home, God only knows what ten days will do to me. I'm going to come back to the city looking like a tub of lard because my grandmother's favorite hobby is feeding me.
That's right. The strike is STILL going on. And although I usually walk home from work, I like knowing that the option to take the train or the bus is there.
To top it all off I'll be heading to Georgia on Friday for the holidays. And I'll be staying there for TEN DAYS. This will be the longest I've ever stayed at home since before I moved off campus in college. Considering, I'm readyto claw my eyes out and get back to the comfort of New York after only a weekend at home, God only knows what ten days will do to me. I'm going to come back to the city looking like a tub of lard because my grandmother's favorite hobby is feeding me.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Thanks again to the strike
Why?
Because it has effectively eliminated, at least for tonight, the presence of BNT in all of our wonderful Manhattan clubs.
For once I can stand in line and not want to throw up in my mouth because of loud tacky Long Island and Jersey Japs trying to rub elbows with whoever is in VIP. The guidos and sorositutes have to find a way to have fun in Hoboken tonight. And the city belongs to the people with New York, NY in their address.
Thanks TWU. Go for what you believe in. Thanks for keeping West Chelsea and Meatpacking BNT Free.
Because it has effectively eliminated, at least for tonight, the presence of BNT in all of our wonderful Manhattan clubs.
For once I can stand in line and not want to throw up in my mouth because of loud tacky Long Island and Jersey Japs trying to rub elbows with whoever is in VIP. The guidos and sorositutes have to find a way to have fun in Hoboken tonight. And the city belongs to the people with New York, NY in their address.
Thanks TWU. Go for what you believe in. Thanks for keeping West Chelsea and Meatpacking BNT Free.
I AM SO LAZY
I really am.
I have been sitting in the exact same position on the couch for going on two hours now. In my pajamas. It's almost 3:30 in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas.
This is what the strike has done to me. It's rendered me incapable of any kind of physical activity save typing and click the mouse key. My computer is flashing LOW BATTERY. I'm too lazy to put in the charger which is sitting less than six inches from me. The DVD went off 15 minutes ago. I'm too lazy to change the channel so that I can watch real TV. Every inch of me is completely and utterly LAZY right now. Even my breathing.
I feel like a really fat person who has practically zero mobility.
I am so good at doing nothing. I wish I had a job where I could just do nothing. I realize that this kind of job is called unemployment. I really wish that I could get paid to be unemployed and just watch cable all day. And I wish that salary started out around $50,000 with a pay increase of 9% over three years plus added health and pension plan benefits.
I have been sitting in the exact same position on the couch for going on two hours now. In my pajamas. It's almost 3:30 in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas.
This is what the strike has done to me. It's rendered me incapable of any kind of physical activity save typing and click the mouse key. My computer is flashing LOW BATTERY. I'm too lazy to put in the charger which is sitting less than six inches from me. The DVD went off 15 minutes ago. I'm too lazy to change the channel so that I can watch real TV. Every inch of me is completely and utterly LAZY right now. Even my breathing.
I feel like a really fat person who has practically zero mobility.
I am so good at doing nothing. I wish I had a job where I could just do nothing. I realize that this kind of job is called unemployment. I really wish that I could get paid to be unemployed and just watch cable all day. And I wish that salary started out around $50,000 with a pay increase of 9% over three years plus added health and pension plan benefits.
More funny from the strike
I was just on Gawker and saw that there are souvenirs being made as we speak about The Great Strike of '05. My favorite by far is this not yet approved gem: 12/20 Never Forget.
Strike sex?
That's right. The strike is on and it's time to bang! Stuck at home and want some company? Or maybe it's just you and that other someone all alone in the office together and feeling like some co-worker loving.
I'm not kidding around. Because I am still sitting on my couch and being the Queen of Doing Nothing, I've been perusing the Craigslist personals. And apparently, the strike is making a few New Yorkers a little. . . .lonely. There's this guy. Just a kiss and a cuddle is all he wants! And this guy, well, this guy just wants to get a little naughty. It makes me really wish I lived up here during the black out.
And in a completely unrelated note: If you missed this on SNL last weekend, have a look. It makes me think that maybe this show is going to be okay after all. I was feeling like shit rolled over on Saturday night. I saw this through my NyQuil blurred eyes, and you guys. . .you guys, I laughed.
I'm not kidding around. Because I am still sitting on my couch and being the Queen of Doing Nothing, I've been perusing the Craigslist personals. And apparently, the strike is making a few New Yorkers a little. . . .lonely. There's this guy. Just a kiss and a cuddle is all he wants! And this guy, well, this guy just wants to get a little naughty. It makes me really wish I lived up here during the black out.
And in a completely unrelated note: If you missed this on SNL last weekend, have a look. It makes me think that maybe this show is going to be okay after all. I was feeling like shit rolled over on Saturday night. I saw this through my NyQuil blurred eyes, and you guys. . .you guys, I laughed.
Noon
It's noon and I just wanted everyone to know that I'm still off and still sitting on my couch, the original Relaxed Rita.
The transit strike is still going on.
And everyone else ie still at work.
Except me because I'M OFF. Not only am I off, I only have to work for the next two days because I'm leaving for good old Georgia on Friday.
I am SO awesome.
The transit strike is still going on.
And everyone else ie still at work.
Except me because I'M OFF. Not only am I off, I only have to work for the next two days because I'm leaving for good old Georgia on Friday.
I am SO awesome.
Blowjob Tips at Work
For the second time this week, a friend has called me at work to discuss giving good blowjobs. And I have given sound and great advice. Now I'm posting this so that I don't have to talk about sucking dick out loud in my kind of busy office. Here, I can use real terms such as PENIS and HARD and SUCK and BLOW.
So ladies here's my advice: Guys just want you to put their penis in your mouth. It doesn't matter if you're not the most skilled. Why? Because they've already got their penises in your mouth. And that's the hardest part of the battle.
A couple of years ago I took a blowjob class at this lesbian sex toy shop in Soho. It was run by two women who struck me as avid carpet munchers who occasionally like a little penis in the mouth. They were the kind of women who are so comfortable with their sexuality, it makes me uncomfortable. They're the kind of women who I just know would want their kids to smoke pot and would embarrass a daughter by being way too into her teenage sex life. The class was made up of giggling semi college-aged girls who asked questions like "My jaw just gets so tired" and "My boyfriend always complains about teeth" and "Why do guys like me to always slobber so much?"
I sat back and watched in silence at these poor deluded girls and their unfortunate boyfriends as the lesbian teachers demonstrated with a dildo that was about three times the size of even a normal big penis. All eyes were on the teacher, drinking in every word. All the while I know the real secret. Even though I paid $35 to have these women tell me how to give a blowjob, I already knew what all these girls had clearly missed.
The secret to giving a good blowjob is just putting that dick in your mouth, slobbering it up and giving it a good suck. Trust me--the guy has convinced you that you want to put it in your mouth. You're doing your part by keeping it in there.
PS: the only upside to the blowjob class was a $5 gift certificate. What could I afford to buy? That's right, a variety pack of flavored lubes, the remnants of which still scattered about my room. It's pretty fun explaining to the guy du jour about the various tubes of banana and peach flavored lubes lying carelessly on the night stand. And the Leonardo DiCaprio poster on the wall.
So ladies here's my advice: Guys just want you to put their penis in your mouth. It doesn't matter if you're not the most skilled. Why? Because they've already got their penises in your mouth. And that's the hardest part of the battle.
A couple of years ago I took a blowjob class at this lesbian sex toy shop in Soho. It was run by two women who struck me as avid carpet munchers who occasionally like a little penis in the mouth. They were the kind of women who are so comfortable with their sexuality, it makes me uncomfortable. They're the kind of women who I just know would want their kids to smoke pot and would embarrass a daughter by being way too into her teenage sex life. The class was made up of giggling semi college-aged girls who asked questions like "My jaw just gets so tired" and "My boyfriend always complains about teeth" and "Why do guys like me to always slobber so much?"
I sat back and watched in silence at these poor deluded girls and their unfortunate boyfriends as the lesbian teachers demonstrated with a dildo that was about three times the size of even a normal big penis. All eyes were on the teacher, drinking in every word. All the while I know the real secret. Even though I paid $35 to have these women tell me how to give a blowjob, I already knew what all these girls had clearly missed.
The secret to giving a good blowjob is just putting that dick in your mouth, slobbering it up and giving it a good suck. Trust me--the guy has convinced you that you want to put it in your mouth. You're doing your part by keeping it in there.
PS: the only upside to the blowjob class was a $5 gift certificate. What could I afford to buy? That's right, a variety pack of flavored lubes, the remnants of which still scattered about my room. It's pretty fun explaining to the guy du jour about the various tubes of banana and peach flavored lubes lying carelessly on the night stand. And the Leonardo DiCaprio poster on the wall.
Strike!!
Sometimes God works in mysterious ways.
Yesterday, I was feeling under the weather at work. This was due in part to a lingering cold but mostly it was due to the fact that I stayed out til the wee hours of the morning the night before and I was really hungover. All of that aside, my boss was like "You look a little sick, Brandy. Why don't you make it an early day?"
So I left at three. Awesome.
Then comes a phone call from my boss after I leave. And what does he say? "Brandy, if there's a transit strike tomorrow, you can take the day off."
Thus began my prayer filled evening. Please God, I know that the transit workers make almost triple what I do, I know that they along with the staff at Kinkos are generally the most unhelpful people I've ever come into contact with. I know this God. But please, please let them strike so that I can spend Tuesday doing nothing and watching court shows on TV.
I went to sleep last night fully expecting to wake up and go to work this morning. And then my roommate came to my room around 8am. Strike is on!!
And now I'm sitting on my couch, it's 11:15am, and I plan on doing ABSOLUTELY nothing all day.
Yesterday, I was feeling under the weather at work. This was due in part to a lingering cold but mostly it was due to the fact that I stayed out til the wee hours of the morning the night before and I was really hungover. All of that aside, my boss was like "You look a little sick, Brandy. Why don't you make it an early day?"
So I left at three. Awesome.
Then comes a phone call from my boss after I leave. And what does he say? "Brandy, if there's a transit strike tomorrow, you can take the day off."
Thus began my prayer filled evening. Please God, I know that the transit workers make almost triple what I do, I know that they along with the staff at Kinkos are generally the most unhelpful people I've ever come into contact with. I know this God. But please, please let them strike so that I can spend Tuesday doing nothing and watching court shows on TV.
I went to sleep last night fully expecting to wake up and go to work this morning. And then my roommate came to my room around 8am. Strike is on!!
And now I'm sitting on my couch, it's 11:15am, and I plan on doing ABSOLUTELY nothing all day.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Signs From God
I won't profess to be a good Christian. In fact, I can often be found making fun of Jesus, and although I was forced to go to church from birth until age 18, most of what I remember of God's teachings concern games of tic-tac-toe and Hangman that my brother and I indulged in on the backs of programs.
Then events like the one from last night happen and my faith is buoyed.
Yesterday on my walk home from work, somewhere between stopping off at JCrew but before my foray into Urban Outfitters, I noticed that the display on my cell phone was black. The kicker? My phone was on. But no screen. So of course I begin a mini freak out on the corner of 6th Avenue and 15th Street, all internally of course.
I get home, plug my phone in and complain about it to my neighbors and my roommate. Screen is still black and I can see that I have a new text message, but I can't read it! I just know that it's VERY important and it's driving me insane that I can't check it. I've convinced myself that it's a text from some guy who's chosen this moment to get in touch. I decide to show my neighbor the blank screen that's ruining my life and I flip the open to discover that the screen is working!
I immediately checked my texts and sure enough. . . .it was Mr. Sex Texter with a cute but for once not sexy text! At my party on Wednesday in front of onlookers, I deleted his number from my phone. It's been a month and a half and we still haven't made out so I decided to be done with it.
But here he was texting me. And as soon as I replied the screen went blank again.
It was God telling me that I really, really need to make out with Mr. Sex Texter. And being the good Christian girl I am, I'm going to listen to my Lord.
Then events like the one from last night happen and my faith is buoyed.
Yesterday on my walk home from work, somewhere between stopping off at JCrew but before my foray into Urban Outfitters, I noticed that the display on my cell phone was black. The kicker? My phone was on. But no screen. So of course I begin a mini freak out on the corner of 6th Avenue and 15th Street, all internally of course.
I get home, plug my phone in and complain about it to my neighbors and my roommate. Screen is still black and I can see that I have a new text message, but I can't read it! I just know that it's VERY important and it's driving me insane that I can't check it. I've convinced myself that it's a text from some guy who's chosen this moment to get in touch. I decide to show my neighbor the blank screen that's ruining my life and I flip the open to discover that the screen is working!
I immediately checked my texts and sure enough. . . .it was Mr. Sex Texter with a cute but for once not sexy text! At my party on Wednesday in front of onlookers, I deleted his number from my phone. It's been a month and a half and we still haven't made out so I decided to be done with it.
But here he was texting me. And as soon as I replied the screen went blank again.
It was God telling me that I really, really need to make out with Mr. Sex Texter. And being the good Christian girl I am, I'm going to listen to my Lord.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
I Will Not Be Happy. . .
. . .if the MTA strikes tomorrow.
For those of you who don't live in the great city of New York, there's some contract that expires at midnight tonight for all the great helpful people who work at the MTA--those great subway token booth clerks who are so helpful when they don't let you into the other side because you swiped your card wrong, the conductors who see you coming and still elect to close the doors. Well they are planning on striking tonight if they don't get the 8% raise they're vying for. And if they strike, NYC will have to take to the streets tomorrow because there won't be any subway or bus service.
And to make things even better, a storm that's chock full of freezing rain will be blowing through tonight making my possible walk to work tomorrow absolutely amazing.
New York is one of the only cities in the country that you really don't ever need a car to get around. We need the subways. Because unfortunately I haven't reached that financially secure plataeu which would allow me to enjoy cabs wherever I need to go.
I'd also like to point out that the average transit worker makes about double my salary. And I'm not striking.
For those of you who don't live in the great city of New York, there's some contract that expires at midnight tonight for all the great helpful people who work at the MTA--those great subway token booth clerks who are so helpful when they don't let you into the other side because you swiped your card wrong, the conductors who see you coming and still elect to close the doors. Well they are planning on striking tonight if they don't get the 8% raise they're vying for. And if they strike, NYC will have to take to the streets tomorrow because there won't be any subway or bus service.
And to make things even better, a storm that's chock full of freezing rain will be blowing through tonight making my possible walk to work tomorrow absolutely amazing.
New York is one of the only cities in the country that you really don't ever need a car to get around. We need the subways. Because unfortunately I haven't reached that financially secure plataeu which would allow me to enjoy cabs wherever I need to go.
I'd also like to point out that the average transit worker makes about double my salary. And I'm not striking.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Party Tonight
If you live in New York and you want to party it up tonight in the true spirit of Christmas, then I'll see you at The White Rabbit at 145 East Houston Street tonight at 7:30. Myself, along with my neighbors and my roommate are having a Holiday Happy Hour and EVERYONE is invited. There's no FREE alcohol but there will be fantastic drink specials. Also I'll be wearing a Santa hat and high heels.
So come on!!
So come on!!
My Brother
My brother is 21 and one of those people who will be good looking his whole life. He eats cake batter and cookie dough raw, smokes green like it's going out of style, and never works out yet manages to maintain a physique that rivals that of an Olympic sprinter.
I was three when he was born and I remember seeing him in the hospital nursery. A little fat yellow butterball with curly hair and a scrunched up face. My grandmother and aunts there, pointing and laughing, "He's so cute."
"I don't like that one," I told them. "Let's not take that one home."
But we did. And he's been there ever since. As a child I was amazed at how retarded my little brother could be sometimes. My dad was adamant about us finishing all of our food at the dinner table. I learned early on about the chew-and-spit-into-a-paper-towel method of deceit. My brother was never that canny and always got in trouble because he'd leave the remnants of his chicken nuggets right on top of all the trash in the kitchen trash can.
My parents were very overprotective from elementary school to high school, my brother was my only companion since it was rare that I could go and hang out at a friend's house without a special reason or occasion.
When he was three, we were playing on the back of my dad's truck. My brother decided to bite down on side rail. I grabbed his legs and gave a yank. He fell back into me and his right front tooth fell to the ground. My brother was missing that tooth from age three til the permanent one grew in after he turned 10.
When he was seven, he was crawling around on the floor in the den covered with a blanket, pretending to be a monster. I was trying to watch Family Matters and was getting increasingly more annoyed that he was making noise. Suddenly he let out a yelp. I got up from the couch and gave a good knock in the head with my hand while letting him know that it was time to shut the fuck up. My mother then intervened and that's when we discovered that he was crying not because I hit him but because he had crawled over a needle I'd carelessly left on the floor after finishing up with my newest hobby: sewing.
That's right--he had my needle stuck in his knee and the next day we went to the hospital and they had to surgically remove it. The kid was stuck on crutches for a month.
Somewhere between me graduating from high school and going to college, my little brother grew up. Suddenly I couldn't cheat him in Uno anymore. Promises of favors ceased to hold sway. He grew a foot and was taller than me. My little brother was turning into a man. We didn't watch wrestling on pay per view together anymore. We stopped spending our New Years Eves with musicals on the Disney Channel. He had forgotten that we used to spend summers glued to the TV at our aunt's house with Bo and Hope from Days Of Our Lives.
Sometimes when I go home to Georgia, my brother drives his shiny-rimmed, loud speakered, pimped out '89 Chevy Caprice to pick me up at the airport. He likes to put in the fake gold and diamond studded teeth piece my mom bought him in a moment of weakness. He plays his music too loud and the way he smokes his Newport cigarettes is laughable. But he's my brother and no matter how much he's changed and I've changed, he'll always be the cute little boy who was afraid to sleep in his top bunk because it was beside the window and he thought he'd wake up and someone would be looking in. The little boy who shares my love for meals that consist of pizza and french fries. The little boy whose room I used to sleep in whenever I was scared or he was scared. And to this day he's the only person who really gets my sense of humor sometimes.
I was three when he was born and I remember seeing him in the hospital nursery. A little fat yellow butterball with curly hair and a scrunched up face. My grandmother and aunts there, pointing and laughing, "He's so cute."
"I don't like that one," I told them. "Let's not take that one home."
But we did. And he's been there ever since. As a child I was amazed at how retarded my little brother could be sometimes. My dad was adamant about us finishing all of our food at the dinner table. I learned early on about the chew-and-spit-into-a-paper-towel method of deceit. My brother was never that canny and always got in trouble because he'd leave the remnants of his chicken nuggets right on top of all the trash in the kitchen trash can.
My parents were very overprotective from elementary school to high school, my brother was my only companion since it was rare that I could go and hang out at a friend's house without a special reason or occasion.
When he was three, we were playing on the back of my dad's truck. My brother decided to bite down on side rail. I grabbed his legs and gave a yank. He fell back into me and his right front tooth fell to the ground. My brother was missing that tooth from age three til the permanent one grew in after he turned 10.
When he was seven, he was crawling around on the floor in the den covered with a blanket, pretending to be a monster. I was trying to watch Family Matters and was getting increasingly more annoyed that he was making noise. Suddenly he let out a yelp. I got up from the couch and gave a good knock in the head with my hand while letting him know that it was time to shut the fuck up. My mother then intervened and that's when we discovered that he was crying not because I hit him but because he had crawled over a needle I'd carelessly left on the floor after finishing up with my newest hobby: sewing.
That's right--he had my needle stuck in his knee and the next day we went to the hospital and they had to surgically remove it. The kid was stuck on crutches for a month.
Somewhere between me graduating from high school and going to college, my little brother grew up. Suddenly I couldn't cheat him in Uno anymore. Promises of favors ceased to hold sway. He grew a foot and was taller than me. My little brother was turning into a man. We didn't watch wrestling on pay per view together anymore. We stopped spending our New Years Eves with musicals on the Disney Channel. He had forgotten that we used to spend summers glued to the TV at our aunt's house with Bo and Hope from Days Of Our Lives.
Sometimes when I go home to Georgia, my brother drives his shiny-rimmed, loud speakered, pimped out '89 Chevy Caprice to pick me up at the airport. He likes to put in the fake gold and diamond studded teeth piece my mom bought him in a moment of weakness. He plays his music too loud and the way he smokes his Newport cigarettes is laughable. But he's my brother and no matter how much he's changed and I've changed, he'll always be the cute little boy who was afraid to sleep in his top bunk because it was beside the window and he thought he'd wake up and someone would be looking in. The little boy who shares my love for meals that consist of pizza and french fries. The little boy whose room I used to sleep in whenever I was scared or he was scared. And to this day he's the only person who really gets my sense of humor sometimes.
The Ex
The love of your life. The one you thought you could never live without. Until he broke up with you and sent you into a three month long depression from which you never fully bounced back. And even though you've been over for more than two years, the sound of his voice leaving a message on your machine still makes your heart leap. The thought of seeing him still makes you excited.
Then you get a call that changes everything. The call where he says, "Hi there, I used to love you but last weekend I got married to someone else."
This hasn't happened to me yet. But it happened to someone I'm close to. I can't lie and pretend that I don't dread my turn coming. Putting a big huge grin on my face, choking out the words, "Oh really? That's. . . .wonderful. I'm so. . . .happy for you." I'll pretend for a minute that I'm just now getting over hating him. For a moment I'll pretend that we're still friends and that his happiness means something to me.
It would be great if we could all come out of relationships with a smile and promises of good tidings, but unfortunately most of them end with harsh words and tendencies toward anorexia in the following weeks and months. And no matter how far I've come, I'm still not prepared to meet the news that he's met someone new. Even if I happen to be dating someone wonderful (which I'm not). He broke up with me. And Brandy's law says that this means he should never get to be happy.
Then you get a call that changes everything. The call where he says, "Hi there, I used to love you but last weekend I got married to someone else."
This hasn't happened to me yet. But it happened to someone I'm close to. I can't lie and pretend that I don't dread my turn coming. Putting a big huge grin on my face, choking out the words, "Oh really? That's. . . .wonderful. I'm so. . . .happy for you." I'll pretend for a minute that I'm just now getting over hating him. For a moment I'll pretend that we're still friends and that his happiness means something to me.
It would be great if we could all come out of relationships with a smile and promises of good tidings, but unfortunately most of them end with harsh words and tendencies toward anorexia in the following weeks and months. And no matter how far I've come, I'm still not prepared to meet the news that he's met someone new. Even if I happen to be dating someone wonderful (which I'm not). He broke up with me. And Brandy's law says that this means he should never get to be happy.
Best quote of the day
I just got into work, checked my email, and this put a smile on my face.
My feelings are sensitive too, god damn it. I love getting emails like this in the morning.
My feelings are sensitive too, god damn it. I love getting emails like this in the morning.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Another one
That's right. Here's another fabulous message I got on Myspace today.
Hi I saw your pictures and thank you now for my sleepness
nights:) now i wont sleep 3 days at least! If you write me back i wont sleep
all month, but i'm goona be happy!
god, you must be a winner of Mis World! Believe me, you are the most
beautiful girl in the world! I could send you a full bath of champagne!!:)
You took an opportunity to meet you in my dreams! lol
maybe i could fly to you on my magic flying carpet?:)
People are SO weird.
Hi I saw your pictures and thank you now for my sleepness
nights:) now i wont sleep 3 days at least! If you write me back i wont sleep
all month, but i'm goona be happy!
god, you must be a winner of Mis World! Believe me, you are the most
beautiful girl in the world! I could send you a full bath of champagne!!:)
You took an opportunity to meet you in my dreams! lol
maybe i could fly to you on my magic flying carpet?:)
People are SO weird.
Friday, December 09, 2005
I can't belive it
I know it's a day late but can I just say "Fuck Nicole."
I just can't believe she won. I'm so glad the winners on Top Model never really become anything.
I just can't believe she won. I'm so glad the winners on Top Model never really become anything.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Brown Bagging It On Avenue B
I don't post enough pictures of crazy nights out. So here's one.
And here's the story.
This night started out at Gonzales Y Gonzales on Broadway--a going away dinner for a good friend who moved to LA. From there we drifted east, finally ending up dancing on tables at the venerable Unlce Ming's, my favorite bar ever. Along the way we met some guys from Texas who had their own leather belt line and freely passed around their bottle of cheap whiskey. I think someone in the group made out with one of the Texans in the bathroom of a nameless bar somewhere near Avenue B and 14th Street. We also met Jose. He apparently runs the block we were on and he gave us quite the hook up if you know what I mean.
My two friends in the picture are brownbagging Smirnoff Ice and Amstel Light, respectively. And from the looks on their faces these drink choices make them very happy.
And here's the story.This night started out at Gonzales Y Gonzales on Broadway--a going away dinner for a good friend who moved to LA. From there we drifted east, finally ending up dancing on tables at the venerable Unlce Ming's, my favorite bar ever. Along the way we met some guys from Texas who had their own leather belt line and freely passed around their bottle of cheap whiskey. I think someone in the group made out with one of the Texans in the bathroom of a nameless bar somewhere near Avenue B and 14th Street. We also met Jose. He apparently runs the block we were on and he gave us quite the hook up if you know what I mean.
My two friends in the picture are brownbagging Smirnoff Ice and Amstel Light, respectively. And from the looks on their faces these drink choices make them very happy.
Just a Reminder
The season finale of America's Next Top Model is tonight. Don't be ashamed to proclaim your addiction to this show. It's fabulous television. And I can't wait for tonight's ep. If Nicole wins I will scream.
I can't stand her.
I can't stand her.
Some Fun On AIM
Here's a little snippet of an AIM convo from my extremely unproductive morning at work.
I'll let you guess why I'm posting this--here's a hint: FUNNY QUOTE.
I am the I Heart NY icon. It's okay to admit that it's a really cute icon.
I'm Published
Here's my article in the latest issue of Hot Psychology. It's okay--I know that no one reads it but it makes me feel important to say that I'm writing articles for a magazine. Even if it is online. The internet is the wave of the future.
I wrote this after having a long involved conversation over instant message.
The Fear of Rejection
Not getting the job you want, not winning the contest you entered. Being denied a credit card, being the last picked for a team. Rejection is a part of life that we can’t live without and its presence shapes so many of our decisions. Think of all the times you didn’t do something because the fear of rejection loomed in the background. And never is this fear more apparent than when dealing with someone that you may or may not have a crush on. I have countless numbers of friends who didn’t talk to this person or didn’t call that person back because they were afraid of being rejected. It’s what separates the boys from the girls at a middle school dance, the men from the women at any city bar on a weekend night. The worst thing you can hear from another person is “I don’t like you.” And that is enough sometimes to keep us from going after those that we want the most.
Unlike many of my peers, I have almost conquered my own fear of rejection. I am outgoing and confident, I’ve never been the type of girl to wait for the guy to come to me. I’m The Girl Who Calls. This character trait in and of itself has led to the thickening of my skin. So whether it be a job I wanted or a man I loved, I’ve been rejected so many times that now I just go for whatever I want. When you remember that the worst answer is simply “no,” you realize that that’s not so bad, and you can give it a whirl.
As far as men go I have had three major rejections in my life. One at age 13, one at age 20 and one at age 22. As a result of these experiences, I now feel positive that I can and will approach whoever takes my fancy, from the dork at the coffee shop to Justin Timberlake and Patrick Dempsey. I’ve had the worst thrown at me so if “no” is the worst I can expect, bring it on. So yes, I still get nervous right before I decide to approach a man but I just take a deep breath and make it happen because who knows? Maybe this one will work.
Age 13: I was gangly and awkward, too tall and too skinny with glasses to boot. I was obsessed with platform sneakers and David Duchovny. But, most importantly, I was in love. His name was Chris and I had loved him since he fell on me during a fire drill in sixth grade. There were two more days left until the end of our eighth grade year and I decided that it was time to let him know of my feelings. He liked me, at least I thought he liked me. We had gone to the Sweetheart Ball together earlier in the year—I’d gotten up the nerve to ask him and he said yes. He totally liked me. Although I lost countless nights of sleep and hadn’t eaten in three days, I came to school that day prepared. I was going to do it. So I pulled him into a practice room during our sixth period band class and let loose. And out comes, “So, I like you. I mean, I like you like you.” His reply? “You know Brandy, there’s only two days left in the school year. And I . . . well I just don’t want a girlfriend.”
My heart fell into my stomach and it felt like I’d been punched in the face. This little encounter didn’t go to plan at all; this was not how my daydreams ended. Needless to say there were quite a few tears shed but that which doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger. Chris and I stayed friends and to this day he is one of my best friends. And as a side note, six years after the aforementioned event I got a phone call from him at my college dorm and it turns out the man I had loved so steadfastly in my prepubescent years was actually a homosexual.
The second rejection that shaped me occurred during my junior year of college. I was 20 years old and living in my first apartment off campus. The current love of my life was named Dan Shaughnessy. I first noticed him on move-in day to the dorms my sophomore year. He was standing near the entrance to the dorm and my dad was helping me cart in boxes. I saw him, he saw me. And time stood still (at least in my mind). He was the absolute hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on and it was the closest thing to love at first sight (but in actuality it was lust) that I’ve felt to this day. I made it my mission to befriend him and soon we were not only friends, but also hanging out quite a bit. He called me, I called him. But there was never any physical contact. No kisses or feeling up. I didn’t care though. He was so hot and so funny that I was just happy being in his general vicinity. The two years I crushed on Dan were rife with frustration. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t trying to make a move. I got the first clue at the end of my sophomore year. My roommate and I walked out of the building on our way to tutor some middle school kids and I spotted him walking in. Just as I opened my mouth to say hello, he turned around to the girl standing behind him and pretty much smothered her with a huge tongue kiss. Once again I got that kicked in the stomach feeling and I spent the next week not eating and wondering why I was so unlucky in all aspects of love. One would think that I would have been over Dan after this. But sure enough summer rolled around and he broke up with the girl he broke my heart with when I saw them kissing. Suddenly we were hanging out again and I fell back into a familiar crush. So when did my second major rejection come? At 2am on a school night my junior year.
For some odd reason, I woke up wide awake even though it was only 1:45. I laid in bed for a minute and then heard a car pulling into the driveway of my apartment. A moment later the doorbell rang and I threw on some clothes and ran downstairs. Donovan, one of my best friends from high school and also a fellow student at my college, was standing there.
“Do you want to take a ride?” he asked. “I want to talk to you.”
During the ten minute ride from my apartment to the 24-hour diner downtown, Donovan informed me that he’d just had a lengthy conversation with Dan in which my name had come up and Dan let him know in no uncertain terms that if “something was going to happen between us, it would have by now. I just don’t like her like that.”
I managed not to cry until I got home.
I haven’t seen Dan since graduating from college. But to this day he remains the hottest non-celebrity I’ve ever had a crush on.
My biggest rejection, and perhaps the one that has shaped me most, came from someone that I didn’t just like a lot. It came from someone I loved. Not a crush, not a fling, but a boyfriend. A real live boyfriend who was my first love. I was 21 when Micah and I started dating. He was so much fun and so full of life. We complemented each other well. I didn’t really know him before we started going out and we just kind of fell into dating and it turned into something more.
He broke up with me at the beginning of summer. He had just graduated and I still had a semester to go. He was moving away to Chicago at the end of the summer and we both knew that a break up was inevitable. But when it happened I was completely surprised. He had been acting strangely so I decided to be a total girl and go and “talk to him about it.” I went to his apartment that early summer day expecting to cheer him up. I left distraught and in tears. After saying “I think we ought to break up” he then informed me that I, apparently, “needed someone who could appreciate the fact that I like bright colors and pop music.” While my tastes in color and music by no means define who I am, they are indicative of my personality. I’m a bright person, I like to have fun. He cut me to the core with that comment even more so than the whole “I think we should break up” line. Here was a man who had told me repeatedly that he loved me for me. Yet now he was saying that even the most basic things about me were not was he was looking for.
So we broke up. I stopped eating and lost 30 pounds prompting my friends to watch me like a hawk at every meal. A few months later I started dating someone else. And a few months after that I moved my life to New York City. I survived. When you break up with someone you think that you'll never get through it. You will.
The three rejections I just relived through writing this helped to form my new mantra: Just do it. I know it's also Nike's slogan but it's pretty appropriate. Whatever you’re thinking about, whatever you’re yearning for, a man, a woman, a job, a promotion, a car, a house—just do it. Because if you don’t at least try you’ll never know what could have been. I wouldn’t change the outcome of what happened in my situations even if I could. (Okay—I definitely would have at least MADE OUT with Dan if given another chance.) These guys not liking me didn’t kill me. I’m still here. Yeah, it sucked and I was sad. But I made it through just like scores of other people everywhere everyday. And for every guy that says no, there’s another one who will say yes. For every job you don’t get, there’s another one that you will.
So the next time the fear of rejection rears its ugly head just think: Everything always works out in the end. If it’s not worked out, it’s not the end.
I wrote this after having a long involved conversation over instant message.
The Fear of Rejection
Not getting the job you want, not winning the contest you entered. Being denied a credit card, being the last picked for a team. Rejection is a part of life that we can’t live without and its presence shapes so many of our decisions. Think of all the times you didn’t do something because the fear of rejection loomed in the background. And never is this fear more apparent than when dealing with someone that you may or may not have a crush on. I have countless numbers of friends who didn’t talk to this person or didn’t call that person back because they were afraid of being rejected. It’s what separates the boys from the girls at a middle school dance, the men from the women at any city bar on a weekend night. The worst thing you can hear from another person is “I don’t like you.” And that is enough sometimes to keep us from going after those that we want the most.
Unlike many of my peers, I have almost conquered my own fear of rejection. I am outgoing and confident, I’ve never been the type of girl to wait for the guy to come to me. I’m The Girl Who Calls. This character trait in and of itself has led to the thickening of my skin. So whether it be a job I wanted or a man I loved, I’ve been rejected so many times that now I just go for whatever I want. When you remember that the worst answer is simply “no,” you realize that that’s not so bad, and you can give it a whirl.
As far as men go I have had three major rejections in my life. One at age 13, one at age 20 and one at age 22. As a result of these experiences, I now feel positive that I can and will approach whoever takes my fancy, from the dork at the coffee shop to Justin Timberlake and Patrick Dempsey. I’ve had the worst thrown at me so if “no” is the worst I can expect, bring it on. So yes, I still get nervous right before I decide to approach a man but I just take a deep breath and make it happen because who knows? Maybe this one will work.
Age 13: I was gangly and awkward, too tall and too skinny with glasses to boot. I was obsessed with platform sneakers and David Duchovny. But, most importantly, I was in love. His name was Chris and I had loved him since he fell on me during a fire drill in sixth grade. There were two more days left until the end of our eighth grade year and I decided that it was time to let him know of my feelings. He liked me, at least I thought he liked me. We had gone to the Sweetheart Ball together earlier in the year—I’d gotten up the nerve to ask him and he said yes. He totally liked me. Although I lost countless nights of sleep and hadn’t eaten in three days, I came to school that day prepared. I was going to do it. So I pulled him into a practice room during our sixth period band class and let loose. And out comes, “So, I like you. I mean, I like you like you.” His reply? “You know Brandy, there’s only two days left in the school year. And I . . . well I just don’t want a girlfriend.”
My heart fell into my stomach and it felt like I’d been punched in the face. This little encounter didn’t go to plan at all; this was not how my daydreams ended. Needless to say there were quite a few tears shed but that which doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger. Chris and I stayed friends and to this day he is one of my best friends. And as a side note, six years after the aforementioned event I got a phone call from him at my college dorm and it turns out the man I had loved so steadfastly in my prepubescent years was actually a homosexual.
The second rejection that shaped me occurred during my junior year of college. I was 20 years old and living in my first apartment off campus. The current love of my life was named Dan Shaughnessy. I first noticed him on move-in day to the dorms my sophomore year. He was standing near the entrance to the dorm and my dad was helping me cart in boxes. I saw him, he saw me. And time stood still (at least in my mind). He was the absolute hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on and it was the closest thing to love at first sight (but in actuality it was lust) that I’ve felt to this day. I made it my mission to befriend him and soon we were not only friends, but also hanging out quite a bit. He called me, I called him. But there was never any physical contact. No kisses or feeling up. I didn’t care though. He was so hot and so funny that I was just happy being in his general vicinity. The two years I crushed on Dan were rife with frustration. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t trying to make a move. I got the first clue at the end of my sophomore year. My roommate and I walked out of the building on our way to tutor some middle school kids and I spotted him walking in. Just as I opened my mouth to say hello, he turned around to the girl standing behind him and pretty much smothered her with a huge tongue kiss. Once again I got that kicked in the stomach feeling and I spent the next week not eating and wondering why I was so unlucky in all aspects of love. One would think that I would have been over Dan after this. But sure enough summer rolled around and he broke up with the girl he broke my heart with when I saw them kissing. Suddenly we were hanging out again and I fell back into a familiar crush. So when did my second major rejection come? At 2am on a school night my junior year.
For some odd reason, I woke up wide awake even though it was only 1:45. I laid in bed for a minute and then heard a car pulling into the driveway of my apartment. A moment later the doorbell rang and I threw on some clothes and ran downstairs. Donovan, one of my best friends from high school and also a fellow student at my college, was standing there.
“Do you want to take a ride?” he asked. “I want to talk to you.”
During the ten minute ride from my apartment to the 24-hour diner downtown, Donovan informed me that he’d just had a lengthy conversation with Dan in which my name had come up and Dan let him know in no uncertain terms that if “something was going to happen between us, it would have by now. I just don’t like her like that.”
I managed not to cry until I got home.
I haven’t seen Dan since graduating from college. But to this day he remains the hottest non-celebrity I’ve ever had a crush on.
My biggest rejection, and perhaps the one that has shaped me most, came from someone that I didn’t just like a lot. It came from someone I loved. Not a crush, not a fling, but a boyfriend. A real live boyfriend who was my first love. I was 21 when Micah and I started dating. He was so much fun and so full of life. We complemented each other well. I didn’t really know him before we started going out and we just kind of fell into dating and it turned into something more.
He broke up with me at the beginning of summer. He had just graduated and I still had a semester to go. He was moving away to Chicago at the end of the summer and we both knew that a break up was inevitable. But when it happened I was completely surprised. He had been acting strangely so I decided to be a total girl and go and “talk to him about it.” I went to his apartment that early summer day expecting to cheer him up. I left distraught and in tears. After saying “I think we ought to break up” he then informed me that I, apparently, “needed someone who could appreciate the fact that I like bright colors and pop music.” While my tastes in color and music by no means define who I am, they are indicative of my personality. I’m a bright person, I like to have fun. He cut me to the core with that comment even more so than the whole “I think we should break up” line. Here was a man who had told me repeatedly that he loved me for me. Yet now he was saying that even the most basic things about me were not was he was looking for.
So we broke up. I stopped eating and lost 30 pounds prompting my friends to watch me like a hawk at every meal. A few months later I started dating someone else. And a few months after that I moved my life to New York City. I survived. When you break up with someone you think that you'll never get through it. You will.
The three rejections I just relived through writing this helped to form my new mantra: Just do it. I know it's also Nike's slogan but it's pretty appropriate. Whatever you’re thinking about, whatever you’re yearning for, a man, a woman, a job, a promotion, a car, a house—just do it. Because if you don’t at least try you’ll never know what could have been. I wouldn’t change the outcome of what happened in my situations even if I could. (Okay—I definitely would have at least MADE OUT with Dan if given another chance.) These guys not liking me didn’t kill me. I’m still here. Yeah, it sucked and I was sad. But I made it through just like scores of other people everywhere everyday. And for every guy that says no, there’s another one who will say yes. For every job you don’t get, there’s another one that you will.
So the next time the fear of rejection rears its ugly head just think: Everything always works out in the end. If it’s not worked out, it’s not the end.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
This just in. . .
They've found a new animal!! That's right, a totally new species of animal.
I guess this now we know what they felt like in ancient times. It's like when people first noticed cows. Or lambs.
More Myspace Weirdness
So here's the latest weird message I've received. Honestly--does anyone else get messages from freaks?
Hi there.
My name is Pat Stronghold, and you've probably noticed that I requested you to be my myspace friend. I'm a PI from Galena, MO, and am looking forward to making some online friends on this site. I can also help protect against online predators, if that situation comes up. However, please accept my request and message me in return, as I am very eager to get to know you.
Sincerely
Pat
Then of course I checked out his profile and my favorite line is: "I am interested in helping young girls keep predators away online, as well as meeting and chatting with people"
Jesus.
Hi there.
My name is Pat Stronghold, and you've probably noticed that I requested you to be my myspace friend. I'm a PI from Galena, MO, and am looking forward to making some online friends on this site. I can also help protect against online predators, if that situation comes up. However, please accept my request and message me in return, as I am very eager to get to know you.
Sincerely
Pat
Then of course I checked out his profile and my favorite line is: "I am interested in helping young girls keep predators away online, as well as meeting and chatting with people"
Jesus.
I know but. . .
. . . they were just so CUTE!!!
And now this?
I have no answers. None at all. But I will say this: Stephanie was MY favorite. I think I'll have to dedicate a future post to finding out what ever happened to her. And if she's upset about all the publicity Ash and MK pull in.
And now this?
I have no answers. None at all. But I will say this: Stephanie was MY favorite. I think I'll have to dedicate a future post to finding out what ever happened to her. And if she's upset about all the publicity Ash and MK pull in.
My Dream Man?
My boss just left for the day and I promised to hang out til my official off time of 7:00 instead of flying the coup at 5:30. So of course instead of getting anything done I plan on catching up on some mindless internet surfing.
And isn't it fate that I find this first thing?
I know that Craigslist is a haven for freaks and their groupies but I'm still ALWAYS REALLY GROSSED OUT. And because Craigslist is so anonymous, I could potentially run into these perverts at any bar on any given night.
Yuck.
And isn't it fate that I find this first thing?
I know that Craigslist is a haven for freaks and their groupies but I'm still ALWAYS REALLY GROSSED OUT. And because Craigslist is so anonymous, I could potentially run into these perverts at any bar on any given night.
Yuck.
Girls Gone Wild In The Morning
I'm at work and on my boss's desk are a couple of copies of Girls Gone Wild. (Don't worry, it's legit--they were a gag gift). One DVD is Girls Gone Wild: Games and the other is everyone's favorite, Girls Gone Wild: Canada. Here are a few of my favorite lines from the summaries on the back.
"Ever dream of having your own private island full of hot, young girls battling each other for your viewing pleasure?" Just the other day in fact!
"Real! Raw! Uncut!" I wouldn't have it any other way!
And my personal favorite: "Join millions of Girls Gone Wild fans who have discovered why hot girls are better naked!" Ain't it the truth!!
I'd also like to mention that my favorite picture is the one of the back of the Canada DVD with two blondes just having some fun and tonguing one another's boobs. I mean, I don't know about the rest of my peers but all my hot blonde friends and I want to do when we hang out is take off our tops and kiss each other. While being videotaped of course.
I mean, I feel like going wild right now.
"Ever dream of having your own private island full of hot, young girls battling each other for your viewing pleasure?" Just the other day in fact!
"Real! Raw! Uncut!" I wouldn't have it any other way!
And my personal favorite: "Join millions of Girls Gone Wild fans who have discovered why hot girls are better naked!" Ain't it the truth!!
I'd also like to mention that my favorite picture is the one of the back of the Canada DVD with two blondes just having some fun and tonguing one another's boobs. I mean, I don't know about the rest of my peers but all my hot blonde friends and I want to do when we hang out is take off our tops and kiss each other. While being videotaped of course.
I mean, I feel like going wild right now.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Being Tired
Here's a thought.
When you've been absolutely exhausted all day and then decide to take the 30 minute walk home in the snow, naybe you should think twice before taking shots of vodka with your neighbor not five minutes after walking into your building.
I mean, maybe you should just head to your own apartment and maybe just chill out for a minute before starting in the heavy drinking.
When you've been absolutely exhausted all day and then decide to take the 30 minute walk home in the snow, naybe you should think twice before taking shots of vodka with your neighbor not five minutes after walking into your building.
I mean, maybe you should just head to your own apartment and maybe just chill out for a minute before starting in the heavy drinking.
My Neighbors
My roommate and I are a part of a big effort to completely gentrify all of Manhattan. Our neighbors, two girls I whose names I can never remember are our comrades in this plan to wipe out any type of lower class in the city.
Our building, which is on the outer edge of what used to be a haven for drug dealers and crime, is predominately Hispanic. The halls always smell of meat cooking with an underlying aroma of cat piss. There is no elevator and let me let you know, one NEVER gets used to walking up six flights of stairs to one's home. Our apartment is of course gut renovated, meaning we pay more than most of our neighbors see in a month. Our next door neighbors, the aforementioned nameless girls, have the same deal.
Currently, one of the neighbors is fighting with her boyfriend in the hall. Since I don't have a peephole, I decided to go and have a cigarette on the roof so that I could get a better idea of what was going on. I should mention now that my neighbors are total hipsters complete with obscure music alway blaring from behind their door. When I stepped out for my cig, I walked right into the middle of her slamming the door in his face. He's Mr. East Village in his army jacket and skull cap. The flash I get of her before the door slams is Miss Delancey Debutante and i know why my roommate and I have never tried to befriend her--we don't want to catch shit for listening to Christina A while we get dressed to go out.
I'm back inside now and they are back out there. He's really trying to reason with her but apparently he's "just not understanding her need for space." He keeps saying, "But, J$#%@! But J$#%@! You're not listening!" I hear him say this at least 4 times. "You don't even know me!" she says. "I just know I love you!" he says. I feel like a Modest Mouse song should be playing in the background. Or maybe some super somber Moby. These kids are so hipster their argument is its own scene from an independent short shot on 16mm. Oh wait. . . Now they're on to something that happened at some show and another couple of "But J$#%@!"s. She does not want to hear that though. "God you're a bastard!" I hear her say. Who says bastard anymore?
And she just slammed the door again.
I hope that he leaves after this fight. Because this on time last week, I found him still in the hall when I left for work the next morning. Probably writing a haiku for her in blood in the back of this thigh.
God I HATE hipsters.
PS: I am judgemental. I just am.
Our building, which is on the outer edge of what used to be a haven for drug dealers and crime, is predominately Hispanic. The halls always smell of meat cooking with an underlying aroma of cat piss. There is no elevator and let me let you know, one NEVER gets used to walking up six flights of stairs to one's home. Our apartment is of course gut renovated, meaning we pay more than most of our neighbors see in a month. Our next door neighbors, the aforementioned nameless girls, have the same deal.
Currently, one of the neighbors is fighting with her boyfriend in the hall. Since I don't have a peephole, I decided to go and have a cigarette on the roof so that I could get a better idea of what was going on. I should mention now that my neighbors are total hipsters complete with obscure music alway blaring from behind their door. When I stepped out for my cig, I walked right into the middle of her slamming the door in his face. He's Mr. East Village in his army jacket and skull cap. The flash I get of her before the door slams is Miss Delancey Debutante and i know why my roommate and I have never tried to befriend her--we don't want to catch shit for listening to Christina A while we get dressed to go out.
I'm back inside now and they are back out there. He's really trying to reason with her but apparently he's "just not understanding her need for space." He keeps saying, "But, J$#%@! But J$#%@! You're not listening!" I hear him say this at least 4 times. "You don't even know me!" she says. "I just know I love you!" he says. I feel like a Modest Mouse song should be playing in the background. Or maybe some super somber Moby. These kids are so hipster their argument is its own scene from an independent short shot on 16mm. Oh wait. . . Now they're on to something that happened at some show and another couple of "But J$#%@!"s. She does not want to hear that though. "God you're a bastard!" I hear her say. Who says bastard anymore?
And she just slammed the door again.
I hope that he leaves after this fight. Because this on time last week, I found him still in the hall when I left for work the next morning. Probably writing a haiku for her in blood in the back of this thigh.
God I HATE hipsters.
PS: I am judgemental. I just am.
He's So Hot
My uncle gave the painting above to my grandmother before the turn of the recent century. Once in college, my friend Aubrie came to my grandmother's house with me and upon seeing said painting she says, "Wow, who's that? He's so hot."
I shook my head. "Aubrie. Girl, that's Jesus."
I guess the crosses and obvious burden of mankind in the background didn't give it away.
Best Line of the Day
I just got an email from a friend and I wanted to share.
On talking about making out with a new boy this week:
"I can't get laid this weekend because I just got my period. I'm bleeding like I'm having a miscarriage. What to do? It's too embarrassing to fuck somebody for the first time when you're all bloated and zitty and bleeding profusely."
So true, so true.
On talking about making out with a new boy this week:
"I can't get laid this weekend because I just got my period. I'm bleeding like I'm having a miscarriage. What to do? It's too embarrassing to fuck somebody for the first time when you're all bloated and zitty and bleeding profusely."
So true, so true.
High School Fun
I'm going home to Georgia on Friday to be a bridesmaid in the wedding of one of my best girlfriends from childhood. I met Brittany in sixth grade when her two biggest goals were growing her fingernails long and becoming a cheerleader. She acheived both of these goals. And now she's becoming the first of my really good friends to tie the knot.
I haven't seen most of the people I graduated with since that fateful June day in 1999. Some of them went to my college but we never really hung out. I kept in touch with my closest friends and everyone else faded into memory.
All will change this weekend.
In high school, I was what you would term Dork. I had lots of friends and I was popular in my own right. But I was also in the marching band, president of every club at school, an active member of the drama club and every class I ever took had "Honors" or "Advanced Placement" in front of the subject name. I had glasses until 11th grade and I was skinnier than skinny and tall to boot. I always thought I was cute, but my lack of a dating life in my formative years proves that I was the only one who thought I was cute.
Somewhere around 18 or 19, I bloomed. It was like I woke up and suddenly I was hot. So I'll be arriving at this wedding as a Hot Girl. The pressure is unbelievable, let me let you know. Luckily I'm living in New York and working at a television production company so even though people have no idea what my job actually entails all I have to say is "New York and TV" and I win the prize for most successful life thus far. And since I actually do go out all the time, I can already forsee the name and party dropping I'll be doing at the reception.
It will also be pretty funny to roll back down home with the game I now spit. Gone is the girl who was always slightly afraid of boys, nose permanently stuck in a book. In her place, a New York woman who knows how to get a man and if she can't keep him, she can at least fuck him for a little while before moving on to the next.
The best thing about childhood friends are the various anecdotal stories you can attach to them. For instance, I'm walking down the aisle with a man I used to have a quasi-crush on in 11th grade. He used to win the spelling bee every year in elementary school and then one of my college best friends banged him sophomore year. I remember when the groom was three heads shorter than me. One of the groomsmen used to get put out of class so much that it was widely assumed that the hall was his desk. I've known another of the groomsmen since kindergarten. From the time he was a total nerd til he magically morphed into hot somewhere around senior year of high school.
I going to see people this weekend who don't know that I drink. These are people who don't know that six out of seven nights a week I am wasted. People who don't know that the last time I got through a calculus proof since I was 17 and though I graduated number 10 in my class, I almost flunked out of college my freshman year because I discovered how much fun partying is. I graduated innocent and naive. I'm going back a seasoned slut.
Happy reunion.
I haven't seen most of the people I graduated with since that fateful June day in 1999. Some of them went to my college but we never really hung out. I kept in touch with my closest friends and everyone else faded into memory.
All will change this weekend.
In high school, I was what you would term Dork. I had lots of friends and I was popular in my own right. But I was also in the marching band, president of every club at school, an active member of the drama club and every class I ever took had "Honors" or "Advanced Placement" in front of the subject name. I had glasses until 11th grade and I was skinnier than skinny and tall to boot. I always thought I was cute, but my lack of a dating life in my formative years proves that I was the only one who thought I was cute.
Somewhere around 18 or 19, I bloomed. It was like I woke up and suddenly I was hot. So I'll be arriving at this wedding as a Hot Girl. The pressure is unbelievable, let me let you know. Luckily I'm living in New York and working at a television production company so even though people have no idea what my job actually entails all I have to say is "New York and TV" and I win the prize for most successful life thus far. And since I actually do go out all the time, I can already forsee the name and party dropping I'll be doing at the reception.
It will also be pretty funny to roll back down home with the game I now spit. Gone is the girl who was always slightly afraid of boys, nose permanently stuck in a book. In her place, a New York woman who knows how to get a man and if she can't keep him, she can at least fuck him for a little while before moving on to the next.
The best thing about childhood friends are the various anecdotal stories you can attach to them. For instance, I'm walking down the aisle with a man I used to have a quasi-crush on in 11th grade. He used to win the spelling bee every year in elementary school and then one of my college best friends banged him sophomore year. I remember when the groom was three heads shorter than me. One of the groomsmen used to get put out of class so much that it was widely assumed that the hall was his desk. I've known another of the groomsmen since kindergarten. From the time he was a total nerd til he magically morphed into hot somewhere around senior year of high school.
I going to see people this weekend who don't know that I drink. These are people who don't know that six out of seven nights a week I am wasted. People who don't know that the last time I got through a calculus proof since I was 17 and though I graduated number 10 in my class, I almost flunked out of college my freshman year because I discovered how much fun partying is. I graduated innocent and naive. I'm going back a seasoned slut.
Happy reunion.
I Want To Kill It
This dog is so ugly that if it wasn't already dead, I'd kill it. Someone let this nasty, ugly, scary mongrel live for 14 years. That's 14 years of scaring the shit of of kids and having others cross the street when they see him wagging his nasty little tail.
Imagine this for a moment. You wake up, sun streaming through the windows, you're nice and rested. Then you turn over and hear a scratchy little bark and some labored panting. That's right, the first thing you see in the morning is this little monster wheezing away because it's gross little lungs are so underdeveloped. This is the sight that greets you on a regular basis. You're in charge of keeping it alive.
NO THANKS. I only like pretty things.
Just Friends
Disclaimer: If you are a man who's dating me you will probably be written about in this blog. If you were not an asshole to me you have nothing to worry about. I only print the truth.
So I'm finally dating a hot man. A universally hot man. And all I can think about is how I want a goofy looking dork sharing my space.
Last night started with me sending a text message to said hot man requesting his presence at a little Sunday night makeout session. He called back and a couple of hours later I was breaking my "no subways on the weekend" rule and heading out to Queens. After watching a little Sunday night TV on ABC (I never miss an episode of Grey's Anatomy no matter how much I need to get laid.), we were laying around and he said after taking the ominous Deep Breath, "So I have a confession to make."
"What's that?" I ask.
And he replies, "I'm having trouble seeing you as more than a friend." He pauses here, and then quickly adds, "I mean, you're so hot. And everyone thinks you're hot and I think you're hot and you're so fun. . ."
"But it's just not there, huh?" I finish for him.
We then proceed to let one another know that it's no one's fault. We are just two hot people who should click and just don't. Needless to say this made for a kind of awkward sleepover but I woke this morning refreshed and renewed, sights set on the next conquest. And the bright side? I now have a hot friend who I can go out with and have people say. "Wow that's a hot couple. Who's that dorky guy trailing behind?" That dorky guy will be my next bed buddy of course!
So I'm finally dating a hot man. A universally hot man. And all I can think about is how I want a goofy looking dork sharing my space.
Last night started with me sending a text message to said hot man requesting his presence at a little Sunday night makeout session. He called back and a couple of hours later I was breaking my "no subways on the weekend" rule and heading out to Queens. After watching a little Sunday night TV on ABC (I never miss an episode of Grey's Anatomy no matter how much I need to get laid.), we were laying around and he said after taking the ominous Deep Breath, "So I have a confession to make."
"What's that?" I ask.
And he replies, "I'm having trouble seeing you as more than a friend." He pauses here, and then quickly adds, "I mean, you're so hot. And everyone thinks you're hot and I think you're hot and you're so fun. . ."
"But it's just not there, huh?" I finish for him.
We then proceed to let one another know that it's no one's fault. We are just two hot people who should click and just don't. Needless to say this made for a kind of awkward sleepover but I woke this morning refreshed and renewed, sights set on the next conquest. And the bright side? I now have a hot friend who I can go out with and have people say. "Wow that's a hot couple. Who's that dorky guy trailing behind?" That dorky guy will be my next bed buddy of course!
Sunday, December 04, 2005
I know I shouldn't laugh at this but. . .
This Myspace bulletin just in. . . . .and it gave me a laugh but I think I should have probably taken it seriously. But really. . .just imagine some guy in a business suit saying these lines to his friends while they're having drinks after work one day. This guy just needs to get it off his chest, you know?
If a woman is drunk, don't rape her.
If a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.
If a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.
If a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.
If a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.
If a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.
If a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.
If a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.
If a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.
If a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.
If your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.
If your step-daughter is watching tv, don't rape her.
If you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.
If your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.
If your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.
If your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and it's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.
Tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends it's not okay to rape someone.
Don't tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape.
Don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.
Don't imply that it's in any way her fault.
Don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.
Don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions.
You can too control yourself.
If you agree, repost it. It's that important.
If a woman is drunk, don't rape her.
If a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.
If a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.
If a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.
If a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.
If a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.
If a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.
If a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.
If a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.
If a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.
If your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.
If your step-daughter is watching tv, don't rape her.
If you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.
If your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.
If your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.
If your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and it's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.
Tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends it's not okay to rape someone.
Don't tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape.
Don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.
Don't imply that it's in any way her fault.
Don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.
Don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions.
You can too control yourself.
If you agree, repost it. It's that important.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Christmas Lights
The icicle Christmas lights framing the roof on my dad's house in suburban Atlanta (AKA country back woods) have been hanging up since I was a senior in high school.
That's 7 seven years. For seven full years, Christmas lights have been up at my childhood home. My dad argues that it's easier to keep them up then to take them up and back down again. This is also the same man who loves being at home so much that we used to order take out from Waffle House. In fact I didn't even know that you could eat inside Waffle House until I was a senior in high school. During my adolesence, my mother designated Wednesday as Eat Out Night. Her idea of eating out? We drove up to the main drag by the interstate and got to choose from McDonalds, Taco Bell, Wendy's or KFC. If we were lucky, she'd let us choose treats from two places. My brother's idea of a fun time includes sipping from Miller High Life 40s while driving in circles around the parking lot of the mall twenty minutes outside my town.
It's time for me to accept the truth. I am black but I still come from a family of rednecks. I told my grandmother that I was thinking about taking a trip to Paris. She asked me how far outside of New York, France was. This same grandmother remarked on Thanksgiving after I got back from the store with a gallon of milk that "Only a Muslim would have a store open on Thanksgiving. They got no religion."
From the ages of birth to around 5 or 6, white people were a mystery to me. From what I'd gleaned from my family and television, whites didn't go to church, they were constantly disobeying their parents, and most problems that befell any member of my own race could be attributed to some white person some where around. My parents instilled the fear of racism in me early on and I remember several sleepless nights after I learned about the Klux Klux Klan. When we had a mock school election in 1988, I was in second grade and confused on who I should vote for. My dad told me that Republican stands for Racist so I immediately penciled in my vote for Dukakis. Needless to say George Bush won the election at my country elementary school as well as nationally. I thought that all white girls must be so happy because their hair was just like a Barbie's and their moms let them wear it down instead of in braids smothered in hair grease that pulled at their scalps with the weight of the multicolored barettes that hung at the ends of them. I used to get really uncomfortable in elementary school whenever history class would lead to any kind of discussion on civil rights. I always felt like all the white faces in the class were on me so I often raised my hand to let everyone know that neither my parents nor my grandparents had never been and were not currently slaves or sharecroppers.
The racial makeup of all of the public schools I attended was 50/50. But somewhere along the line, maybe in 1st or 2nd grade, it became obvious to my teachers that I was maybe on a faster track than the rest of the kids in the class. Seven-year-olds rarely spit out 20 page long stories complete with illustrations. And rarely were other second graders indulging in books of poems by Frost. So I was put on the accelrated track and as is usual the stereotypical case, my classes went from being salt and pepper with a little Asian and Mexican sprinkled here and there to being mostly salt sprinkled with one or two Jews.
My school days, and then my college days and now my work days, I'm the lone dark face. In most cases, if a white person were to show up and be surrounded by black people, he or she would be a little apprehensive. Everyday I show up and I'm the only black person in my office but thoughts of a white mutiny never really cross my mind.
My roots are back in Georgia, with my very black family in my very country town. No matter how citified I try and make myself, the expensive jeans, the iPod, the roll of the eyes at slow moving tourists along 5th Avenue. . . .I'm still Brandy from McDonough. The girl who spent her first five years not knowing that white people bathed. The girl who until college thought that a real meal out was Chili's or Applebees. The girl who's dad's house has Christmas lights hanging from the gutters and the bushes year-round.
That's 7 seven years. For seven full years, Christmas lights have been up at my childhood home. My dad argues that it's easier to keep them up then to take them up and back down again. This is also the same man who loves being at home so much that we used to order take out from Waffle House. In fact I didn't even know that you could eat inside Waffle House until I was a senior in high school. During my adolesence, my mother designated Wednesday as Eat Out Night. Her idea of eating out? We drove up to the main drag by the interstate and got to choose from McDonalds, Taco Bell, Wendy's or KFC. If we were lucky, she'd let us choose treats from two places. My brother's idea of a fun time includes sipping from Miller High Life 40s while driving in circles around the parking lot of the mall twenty minutes outside my town.
It's time for me to accept the truth. I am black but I still come from a family of rednecks. I told my grandmother that I was thinking about taking a trip to Paris. She asked me how far outside of New York, France was. This same grandmother remarked on Thanksgiving after I got back from the store with a gallon of milk that "Only a Muslim would have a store open on Thanksgiving. They got no religion."
From the ages of birth to around 5 or 6, white people were a mystery to me. From what I'd gleaned from my family and television, whites didn't go to church, they were constantly disobeying their parents, and most problems that befell any member of my own race could be attributed to some white person some where around. My parents instilled the fear of racism in me early on and I remember several sleepless nights after I learned about the Klux Klux Klan. When we had a mock school election in 1988, I was in second grade and confused on who I should vote for. My dad told me that Republican stands for Racist so I immediately penciled in my vote for Dukakis. Needless to say George Bush won the election at my country elementary school as well as nationally. I thought that all white girls must be so happy because their hair was just like a Barbie's and their moms let them wear it down instead of in braids smothered in hair grease that pulled at their scalps with the weight of the multicolored barettes that hung at the ends of them. I used to get really uncomfortable in elementary school whenever history class would lead to any kind of discussion on civil rights. I always felt like all the white faces in the class were on me so I often raised my hand to let everyone know that neither my parents nor my grandparents had never been and were not currently slaves or sharecroppers.
The racial makeup of all of the public schools I attended was 50/50. But somewhere along the line, maybe in 1st or 2nd grade, it became obvious to my teachers that I was maybe on a faster track than the rest of the kids in the class. Seven-year-olds rarely spit out 20 page long stories complete with illustrations. And rarely were other second graders indulging in books of poems by Frost. So I was put on the accelrated track and as is usual the stereotypical case, my classes went from being salt and pepper with a little Asian and Mexican sprinkled here and there to being mostly salt sprinkled with one or two Jews.
My school days, and then my college days and now my work days, I'm the lone dark face. In most cases, if a white person were to show up and be surrounded by black people, he or she would be a little apprehensive. Everyday I show up and I'm the only black person in my office but thoughts of a white mutiny never really cross my mind.
My roots are back in Georgia, with my very black family in my very country town. No matter how citified I try and make myself, the expensive jeans, the iPod, the roll of the eyes at slow moving tourists along 5th Avenue. . . .I'm still Brandy from McDonough. The girl who spent her first five years not knowing that white people bathed. The girl who until college thought that a real meal out was Chili's or Applebees. The girl who's dad's house has Christmas lights hanging from the gutters and the bushes year-round.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Bad Ideas
I haven't had a real night's sleep in three nights. I was planning on coming home last night and watching a little of America's Next Top Model and then falling into bed at 9:30. Instead I watched both America's Next Top Model and Trading Spouses, took a 30 minute power nap and then found myself in a cab heading for the dreaded West Chelsea club district. My friend is waiting for me outside Marquee and we proceeded to not only get in for free but we each got two free drink tickets which totally made up for the $10 cab ride. It also turns out that we're at a party being thrown by Dennis Rodman. I saw him. I also saw a lot of paparazzi which I thought was a total joke until the one of the owners told us that it was the real deal.
Three hours later, I'm drunk and hot and all danced out, back home in my living room with my friend and I'm doing a little of my standup routine for him complete with microphone. Unplugged microphone.
And now I'm at work. And I'm slowly dying inside.
Three hours later, I'm drunk and hot and all danced out, back home in my living room with my friend and I'm doing a little of my standup routine for him complete with microphone. Unplugged microphone.
And now I'm at work. And I'm slowly dying inside.
Funny Messages
I just got an email from one of my good friends and I just had to post a portion of it.
This friend and I haven't talked in awhile. She moved away from the city and we're usually playing phone tag. I got this from her this morning. Apparently she has a date tonight with a guy she's not into at all and she doesn't want to go on it. Mr. Date called her and left a message.
"hi i don't know if you remember me, we met on friday, i
was the second guy you made out with, although i don't
know if you were serious, you were kinda drunk-" and
so on and so forth. and i was like SOME NERVE!!
leaving that kind of message. it was ha ha funny, but
then i wondered WHO does that??
I mean, he must have been really into her if he's calling her even though she was the 2nd guy he made out with that night and he obviously saw her making out with the first guy.
He did get a date though.
This friend and I haven't talked in awhile. She moved away from the city and we're usually playing phone tag. I got this from her this morning. Apparently she has a date tonight with a guy she's not into at all and she doesn't want to go on it. Mr. Date called her and left a message.
"hi i don't know if you remember me, we met on friday, i
was the second guy you made out with, although i don't
know if you were serious, you were kinda drunk-" and
so on and so forth. and i was like SOME NERVE!!
leaving that kind of message. it was ha ha funny, but
then i wondered WHO does that??
I mean, he must have been really into her if he's calling her even though she was the 2nd guy he made out with that night and he obviously saw her making out with the first guy.
He did get a date though.
Black Gurlz and White Guyz
I can always count on weird Myspace messages.
Lately I've been getting a few more than usual from guys who don't know me. You know, the ones who like to preface emails with "Wuz up." The funny thing is that most of these new guys are white. And whenever I go to check out their profiles (and I always do) under the "groups" section the list of online organizations they belong to all have names like "Ebony Ladies for White Guys," "Sexy Black Women and the White Men Who Love Them," "black girls 4 white bois," and my personal favorite, "Black Gurlz and White Guyz Fraternity."
I don't think that I really have to write anything else. Because you should be laughing right now.
Sometimes I forward the messages to my mother. She really likes getting emails and sometimes its fun to remind her that she has resigned herself to the likely possibilty that I'll be marrying someone who's not black and therefore opening up the family line.
Lately I've been getting a few more than usual from guys who don't know me. You know, the ones who like to preface emails with "Wuz up." The funny thing is that most of these new guys are white. And whenever I go to check out their profiles (and I always do) under the "groups" section the list of online organizations they belong to all have names like "Ebony Ladies for White Guys," "Sexy Black Women and the White Men Who Love Them," "black girls 4 white bois," and my personal favorite, "Black Gurlz and White Guyz Fraternity."
I don't think that I really have to write anything else. Because you should be laughing right now.
Sometimes I forward the messages to my mother. She really likes getting emails and sometimes its fun to remind her that she has resigned herself to the likely possibilty that I'll be marrying someone who's not black and therefore opening up the family line.
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