Sorry I haven't written in a while. Apparently I have fans. Fans who complain when I don't write blogs. Granted they all went to college with me but they are still fans. And lately I've disappointed them by not writing much.
Truthfully I haven't written because I have nothing to say. I'm always tired and cranky and, truthfully, quite weepy and sensitive lately. I've been taking a lot of things very personally that really don't warrant that much attention.
Example -- a good friend of mine was here this weekend (which made me soooooooo happy) but she brought this total tool with her -- latent homo who hides this fact by screaming the word "titties" at the top of his lungs in public (long story and just as charming as it sounds) and pretending to have a girlfriend. He proceeded to get drunk and insult me (another long story that is not at all charming) and I let it get to me and it's been pissing me off ever since. I mean I didn't cry or anything but I allowed him to engage me in the stupid, nonsensical rant of insults by insulting him back. Which means I let him get to me. Which means I took it personally. When it wasn't personal at all. He's a miserable, ugly wanna-be fag -- wouldn't you be miserable if that were you? Anyway women like me should not let total tools get to her. I mean I'm not very smart but I'm smarter than some tool. Don't you agree, three fans? But I guess I'm a little mushy and icky lately -- it must be an after-effect of moving 3,000 miles away from the only home I've ever known.
I've also been letting my boss get to me. Which is even stupider. Because everyone knows you should never let work get personal. It doesn't make any sense.
I've also been taking it personally that a guy that I went on an excrutiatingly bad date with hasn't called me. Is that wacked or what?
Anyway, if I think of anything interesting to say I will totally tell you guys. And if one of these days I encounter a total tool and instead of arguing with him just punch him in the face and walk away, I will be sure to include that.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Things I learned this weekend
Uttering the phrase, "I feel a cold coming on so I think I'll have orange juice with my vodka" causes your friends to recommend you seek a twelve-step program.
Fruit juice with vodka does not make the vodka less likely to give you a hangover.
Claiming to be a straight man and then being spotted by your colleagues at a gay bar means you're gay... or at least that's what they're going to tell everyone you know.
When someone sends a picture of his penis via text message to someone else, that someone else will show his co-workers and those co-workers will meet said someone and call him "the penis" no matter how much that someone else tells them to stop.
Don't argue with Michael about any of the following -- the color of pre-cum, where Hart & Huntington is located and what makes people from Redwood, CA so damn conservative. Just pinch his cheeks and he will giggle and go back to being in a good mood.
Knowing Hot Chocolate will get you into Krave for free.
Hot Chocolate cannot get you into Girl Bar even though it's attached to Krave.
Some women will be offended if you compliment them on their "hot fuck-me boots" and then will go on to pretend they have never heard that term before.
There is nothing more depressing than waking up on Sunday afternoon and being immediately faced with the paper bracelet from the night before still attached to your wrist and the ink stamp from the night before that still on the back of your hand.
Fruit juice with vodka does not make the vodka less likely to give you a hangover.
Claiming to be a straight man and then being spotted by your colleagues at a gay bar means you're gay... or at least that's what they're going to tell everyone you know.
When someone sends a picture of his penis via text message to someone else, that someone else will show his co-workers and those co-workers will meet said someone and call him "the penis" no matter how much that someone else tells them to stop.
Don't argue with Michael about any of the following -- the color of pre-cum, where Hart & Huntington is located and what makes people from Redwood, CA so damn conservative. Just pinch his cheeks and he will giggle and go back to being in a good mood.
Knowing Hot Chocolate will get you into Krave for free.
Hot Chocolate cannot get you into Girl Bar even though it's attached to Krave.
Some women will be offended if you compliment them on their "hot fuck-me boots" and then will go on to pretend they have never heard that term before.
There is nothing more depressing than waking up on Sunday afternoon and being immediately faced with the paper bracelet from the night before still attached to your wrist and the ink stamp from the night before that still on the back of your hand.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
I found my people
Piercings and tattoos and guitars -- oh MY!
I found my people. Last night I decided to ask people at work if they wanted to check out First Friday. Before I moved here I heard that downtown was where the arts scene was, where there was live music and punk bars and people drinking coffee NOT produced by Starbucks. After I moved in to my apartment and checked out my neighborhood (lovely, clean, quite the picture suburbia and -- most importantly -- 2 miles from work) and my co-workers (lovely, polite, hailing from suburbia and friendly and welcoming) I thought that such a place as "downtown" could not really exist. But it does.
There are vintage shops, art galleries, large rooms with threadbare couches and half-dressed chicks singing along plaintively while a scruffy guy in a hipster t-shit plays the acoustic guitar. One look around and I realized I was home.
And Fremont Street, which for historic reasons is very interesting and is also home to Vegas Vick, the large neon cowboy, is more than just a pedestrian district with non-glam casinos. Beauty Bar is down there -- one of my favorite bars in NewYork and the official hang-out for more of my people HERE. I was so happy to see them I had five screwdrivers and paid a $5 cover.
I'm so happy.
By the way, if you are ever in the mood to learn more about Fremont Street -- or any other part of Vegas -- ask my friend Michael to walk with you. He knows EVERYTHING.
I found my people. Last night I decided to ask people at work if they wanted to check out First Friday. Before I moved here I heard that downtown was where the arts scene was, where there was live music and punk bars and people drinking coffee NOT produced by Starbucks. After I moved in to my apartment and checked out my neighborhood (lovely, clean, quite the picture suburbia and -- most importantly -- 2 miles from work) and my co-workers (lovely, polite, hailing from suburbia and friendly and welcoming) I thought that such a place as "downtown" could not really exist. But it does.
There are vintage shops, art galleries, large rooms with threadbare couches and half-dressed chicks singing along plaintively while a scruffy guy in a hipster t-shit plays the acoustic guitar. One look around and I realized I was home.
And Fremont Street, which for historic reasons is very interesting and is also home to Vegas Vick, the large neon cowboy, is more than just a pedestrian district with non-glam casinos. Beauty Bar is down there -- one of my favorite bars in NewYork and the official hang-out for more of my people HERE. I was so happy to see them I had five screwdrivers and paid a $5 cover.
I'm so happy.
By the way, if you are ever in the mood to learn more about Fremont Street -- or any other part of Vegas -- ask my friend Michael to walk with you. He knows EVERYTHING.
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