New teapot, new life

In the last three days I got an apartment, some towels, a new teapot and a Nevada learner's permit. I've accomplished so much. I realized that I have to take the bus until I get a license, which could take until November 6 to get -- that's when they scheduled my road test. Lucky for me, my new apartment is located on the bus line that takes me right to work. Even in Vegas I manage to take public transportation. So now I will still be able to read and listen to Elton John's greatest hits on my way to work -- just like I did in New York. I love turn-key situations. It's about a mile and a half so if worse comes to worse I could walk. Also within walking distance of my new apartment while I am transporation-impaired -- Chinese take-away, a drug store, a nail salon and Whole Foods. I'm sorry but this is all good news. At least I won't starve and I can get a pedicure.

I will be back in New York on October 1. Tonight I will be at New York New York Hotel and Casino having drinks with my mom while we play slots. We've won $100 so far. Don't ask us how much we spent to get that $100 because it's depressing.

It could happen

My "Goodbye New York" party was fun. From what I can recall. (Please hold while I scarf down cold eggs and two Advil -- surefire hangover cure or sidetrip to increased nausea?) I told a lot of people I love them. Several dozen times. And I did shots of what people told me were Patron and Blackhaus but which I suspect were actually pure gasoline. Yum.

Seriously -- people I didn't expect to see showed up (Hi Ana, Claire, Mark) and other people I haven't seen in a while (my JOE! and Anna and Kim). I chose Double Down as the location because it's also a bar in Las Vegas. What I didn't realize was that they also have TVs in every corner showing a mixture of masturbation porn and pornographic cartoons. I walked in to Chris and Kristen sitting with their mouths hanging open -- they almost didn't see me walk in. Good times. And a special shout-out to Andrea and her friends -- the only people brave enough to try the fabled "Ass juice".

Anyway, so I'm sitting here, hungover, surrounded by boxes, craving a bloody mary, watching a Tivo'd episode of Dancing with the Stars (I don't know about you but I'm rooting for Jerry) and realizing that this is my last hungover Saturday living in this apartment. Thanks to everyone who came out last night. Thanks for the shots and the hugs. Thanks for giving a fuck that I'm leaving. For some reason that makes the whole "dragging my candy ass across the country without knowing a soul in Vegas" thing a little less scary. Just promise that if I come back in a couple of months with my head hung in shame you will not make fun of me. 'Cuz it could happen.

Unopened mail and old friends

I'm pretty much all packed. Funniest thing I've put in a box? Unopened mail. I like mail better when I don't know what's in the envelope. Because usually it's from some company telling me I owe them money. And I don't have any money. Ever. So I keep them sealed and now I'm taking them with me to Vegas. Better yet I'm SHIPPING them to Vegas. I'm crazy but I amuse myself.

One of my favorite people from high school found me on Myspace. Hey Claire, hey! She was a riot when we were kids. She didn't drink but she never got tired so she would stay out until 5:00 am. After two beers I usually had to be carried home. You can see why I would want to be more like Claire then, cantcha? Also she knew everybody. Everybody. Everywhere. I used to say we could be stranded in Timbuktu and Claire would find someone she knew. It's a gift. Really.

I have to get my ass in gear and get ready for tonight. I plan to behave a bit debaucherously at Double Down tonight. Well, as debaucherously as I can without getting sick because I have to get up early tomorrow and make sure that all my moving boxes are sealed and I'm not leaving anything behind. If I start crying, I'm going to be soooooooooo mad. Because I hate crying. And between not knowing how to parallel park and thinking about how much I'm going to miss my friends and family, I've been crying more than my fair share this week. I hate liquid coming out my face. It's one of my pet peeves.

I packed all my clothes. Which begs the question -- was I planning on going out naked tonight? Now I have to unpack one of my suitcases to find an outfit. Way to think ahead, Louise

Let's just start calling it "O'Brien's Law"

Everything is going wrong. As is to be expected in my life. Let's call it O'Brien's Law. So far, aside from being broke from all the moving costs, I failed my road test so I have to take it again in Nevada. Which should be fun. Why oh why did I take so long to try to get a driver's license? Now I really need it and I don't have it. So the first few weeks that I live in Vegas I'll be keeping some random taxi company in business. Yippee.

So I leave on Sunday. My mom is coming with me to act as my chauffeur (it just keeps getting better, doesn't it?) and my dad is meeting us on Monday. Because what's more fun than hanging out with two formerly married people who haven't seen each since they were both at the same funeral nine years ago? I can't think of anything, can you? And the hits just keep on coming.
I'll be back on September 30 and I'm here until October 8. My first day of work is October 9 so I have next week to get everything set up in Vegas BEFORE my first day of work. I wouldn't be coming back to New York except for two things -- my cousin's 40th birthday party and my oldest friend's wedding, two events I am very excited about and wouldn't miss for the world. Also, I have Yankees playoff tickets which, I have a feeling, will make the whole world seem rosier even though the only seats we could get were in row V.

I hope to see all of you on Friday at Double Down. I sent an invite but a lot of people didn't get it. Its on Avenue A and 1st and I should be getting there around 6:30 pm. Come on down. They serve something called Ass Juice there and you can't beat that with a bat. With my luck,after glasses of that I'll fall off my bar stool or lose my credit card. It should be fun to watch me shitfaced and crying on my last big night out in New York.

I have to go wrap more stuff in bubble wrap and tape up boxes now. If I never see a cardboard box again in my life, it will be too soon.

Piling up memories

Today was my newest cousin Lola's christening. She's a cute baby. But at five months old I am pretty sure she is already sick of every member of our collected family singing "Copacabana" to her.

I was supposed to be at the Yankee game tonight but we left the party a little late and now I'm watching it on TV and getting nervous as I always tend to this late in the season. It's not life or death but it FEELS like it when you've become as obsessed as I have. If you think I'm bad, you should talk to my sister. She's a lunatic... I say with love.

I went to a great party last night in Harlem. It started early enough that I thought I would be able to make it to my friend Alev's birthday afterwards in the East Village but I didn't. I feel bad. I love Alev. But there were a few factors to why I missed the 2nd event and they are as follows:

1) Jungle juice (consisting of fermented fruit juice) and jello-shots

2) I was chasing Alison down the street telling her to put her shoes on because Eighth Avenue is nowhere to walk barefoot.

3) My sister wouldn't let me leave and kept asking random party guests to stop me from leaving. The aforementioned jungle juice made that a pretty easy task.

Every event that I miss I worry about because my days in New York are numbered and the number of parties with Alev in the East Village are therefore also numbered. The same can be said for dinners with Katie or baseball games with my sister. It's all slipping away. The new adventure is exciting but I'm trying to pile up memories. You know, in between packing and worrying that I'm going to develop a gambling problem. (Actually, that's something my Aunt Louise is worrying about on my behalf. I didn't even think of that to worry about until she mentioned it -- she's good like that.)

I will be in New York until September 24. I'm having my good-bye party at an as-yet undecided location on September 22 at around 6:30 to catch the after-work crowd. I will be in Vegas from September 24-30 and then I am back from September 30-October 8. October 9 is my first official day of work, at which point I am a Nevadan. Well, a New York-Nevadan. 'Cuz you can take the chick out of the city but not the city out of the girl. At least that's what I'm hoping.

You never see the last day coming

So one of the moving companies that are courting me for my business came by my apartment today. While in the process of checking out my breakables he asked me what I do. "PR," I said. "Oh, really?" he replied. "My best friend owns a PR company here in New York." Turns out his "best friend" owns a company I interviewed at last year. I got the job (as per the VP of the company) but his "best friend" was the one who said "Um... yeah, I don't think this is gonna work out." Those were his exact words, if I remember correctly. Small world, huh?

This is my next-to-last day at work. I have loved working here. For all of the headaches and the language barriers, it was one of the most fun experiences of my life. Sad as I am to go, I can't imagine staying here past tomorrow planning press trips to the Loire Valley or translating releases from broken French to perfect English. I'm ready for something new. I don't know if I'm ready for Sin City but I'm excited. And scared. Mostly excited.

When you work somewhere that you love your co-workers become your family. And my "family" is planning a little party for me (complete with cupcakes -- ah, they know me too well!) tomorrow and I know I will cry like a baby with diaper rash when it's all over. These people made me see another side of the world. Hell, they made me see another side of the city I've always lived in. I never even knew New York HAD a French population before I came here. I learned a language. I learned sixteen different ways to wear a scarf. I learned what kind of wine to serve with bleu cheese. I learned that people are people no matter where they come from. And good people come from everywhere.

You can never fully grasp the concept of a last day, even when it is approaching. In a lot of ways my last day here will be nothing like any other day I've ever had here. My office is practically bare. The collage of post cards and thank you notes that decorated the wall behind me is gone. My many cases of wine and liquor that used to sit in the corner have been packed up and sent home. So nothing is like it was. My "last day" probably happened sometime last week. When I leave here tomorrow and shut my computer down and turn off the lights I won't be coming back and it won't even look like MY office when I leave it.

Life is change. Change scares the shit out of me. But I'm making the change. Let's hope I don't screw it up.

Vincent Gallo is happy I'm moving to Vegas

Took a driving lesson today. No one died. Things are looking up.
S
o this girl who used to be my friend but currently hates me because she always wanted my job here at the French Tourist Office applied to replace me. My boss has already decided to move my former assistant up and then hire someone to assist her. But "bitchy girl who hates me and makes fun of the way I speak French" (that's my special name for her) doesn't know that. Awwwww.

Did I tell you guys that I saw Vincent Gallo on Bleecker Street over the weekend? I was standing outside Vittorio (where my friend had her bridal shower) and I screamed his name (like a lunatic) but he kept talking on his cell phone and hurried away. I used to LOVE him. Then I found out that he's slightly crazy and incredibly maladjusted. He used to complain that people accosted him in the street and follow him home. P.S. he lived on Elizabeth Street for years and years and years. And do you know how I know this? He wrote his name in the wet cement outside the building. Um... hello! Maybe this is why people knew where you lived, you big weirdo. He makes good movies, though. Well, Buffalo '66 was good. I never saw the blow job movie. He has pretty eyes, too.

Mowing down pedestrians... Vegas style!

Moving has taken over my life. Well, moving and getting my driver's license. As a lifelong New Yorker I've never had a driver's license before. It turns out I'm a sucky driver. People of Las Vegas beware -- I'm coming and I plan to finance 2 tons of steel with which to mow you down off of those big scary boulevards. Thank God they have valet parking in Sin City or I'd really be screwed. Parallel parking is for saps... and geniuses apparently, because I can't do it.

I'm so melancholy about leaving New York. It's such a huge part of who I am that I can't even fathom living anywhere else. But at the same time I'm so excited by the prospect of living out West. It's so different there. People have a much different attitude about life, it seems. And they all drive, which means they are all smarter and more agile than me. (See how it all comes full-circle in my mind. We're back to driving.)

Because of all of the fuss with getting a license, I've become mildly obsessed with driving. Driving and finding just the right-sized cardboard boxes for my teapot collection and DVDs of The L Word. It's hilarious. I had a mover come by today to give me an on-site estimate and he looked at the stuff I was moving and then at me and then back at the stuff and then back at me. Just looking at him you could tell he was thinking, "Get a big box and a Fed Ex lable and leave me out of this." That's not really fair to say -- I am moving a bed and a dresser and a TV, as well. But the rest of the stuff I'm leaving behind for Jessica and Patti. You had to see the mover's face when I told him I would need at least two boxes for my shoes.

Moving to Vegas

So I'm moving to Vegas. This has blindsided a lot of my friends but I have wanted to move out of a New York for a while now and this opportunity is too good to pass up. Will you miss me, dear readers? Well, probably not, because I will still be writing this stupid thing from Vegas. Now instead of tripping over my own shoes while drunk in the East Village I will be doing it on the Strip. Same diff, different state.

Anyway, that's why I've been so incommunicado. Now all of my "Sex and the City"-like banter will come exclusively from Gawker. I don't know if I will like living in Sin City but I think I will. If I don't I'll be back in NYC before you know it. I plan to be spending a lot of time in So.Cal as well -- this is the first time that I will be living in the same time zone as my father in like 15 years (he lives in Sherman Oaks).

So between now and the end of the September my life will be a blur of packing, haggling with moving companies and good-bye cocktails. I've been crying a lot -- mostly nerves, fear of the unknown -- but mostly I'm excited and I hope you're all excited for me. And I hope you will come visit me or at least have a drink with me if you ever you come out that way.

Let me sign off before I get sappy again.