Last weekend I rejoined New York Sports Club for the 16th time. I'd been a member on and off since 10th grade and now that i moved back to New Jersey (gasp!!!) i had to once again sign my life away just because those little treadmill TVs are just about the most amazing invention since the Milano cookie.
Anyway, every time you sign up they offer you a free personal training session which always sounds super exciting right up until the day of your appointment. You think about all those great techniques you'll learn and how size 2 is just a few minutes away... when all of a sudden you remember that you just spent the past 8 hours at work and the last place you want to be is in a stinky, crowded gym full of people you avoided all through high school who will now see you sweating large stains in the pit region of your too-tight sorority tee shirt while simultaneously having your body fat measured and announced over the loud speaker.
I bitched and moaned and finally dragged myself over to the gym to meet Victor, hoping he had forgotten about the session and instead I could catch the last half hour of Tyra.
No such luck.
So we start to work out and luckily, he is most definitely not like the questionably gay trainer who asked me out during my last free personal training session(Please see "To Trim or Not To Trim")... except for the fact that Victor is EVIL.
FIRST, he tells me that my beautiful personalized Nike sneaks are crappy and i need new ones.
Fine, yesss they are 4 years old but they are PERSONALIZED!!! I spent many hours and many bong hits creating those magical sneakers! Plus, my dad had to pay a lot for the child slaves to embroider my last name into the side of those bad boys and i loooooooooooove them!
Next, we did some shoulder exercises. Victor told me i had horrible posture and it is truly terrible because i am only 23 and what's going to happen in another 10 years?! Grrrrrr.
"I don't need a free show!" Victor exclaimed, as i lay back on the giant green ball thing attempting to do sit-ups while my shorts rideth upeth. Now this... this was just rude. He is ugly!!! and kinda fat for a personal trainer, in my opinion! he should want my free upper leg/lower ass show!! If this wasn't enough for a Tuesday evening, then came the squats.
Regular squats. One-legged squats. Squats with weights much larger than my usual 5 pound limit.
Victor: "You have Elvis knees!"
Me: "What the fuck are Elvis knees!?"
Victor: "Look in the mirror"
well yes, that seems to be an awful lot of shaking, but sorry Victor, i actually have a job where i have to sit at a desk all day long and not teach boxing to fat mommies and eat subway 6 grams of fat or less subs because that's the only thing personal trainers probably eat!!! fuckers! And that is why i have Elvis knees and i like them just the way they are.
Then he dragged me into this office, pit stains and all, to pressure me into buying 5 more sessions for $400!
"Ummm I will definitely have to think about it"
IT BEING HOW MUCH I WANT TO THROW YOUR GLASSES INTO THE HUDSON AND THEN FEED YOU BABY DIARRHEA BECAUSE YOU CAN'T SEE!!!
Now my body hurts. All over. Bad. My legs. My weak shoulders. My free show area. Even my Elvis knees.
But at least it was free.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
I Love New York... Hospitals!
Guess what?
I had a crazy infection on my leg last week and went to the hospital.
Guess what again?
2 days later, i had an anxiety attack AT WORK and had to be taken away in an ambulence and now my whole office thinks i am a side show FREAK!
Guess what ONE MORE TIME?
On my 10th day of medication, my whole face turned into a giant red rash and i had assorted spots all over my body!!!!!!!!
Luckily, i'm fine now... except for that my pants don't fit because in the midst of my medical induced depression i managed to eat 18 desserts and 45 chicken fingers.
Siiiiiiigh.
Anyway, Thanksgiving was a lot of fun this year. Wednesday night I saw my entire graduating class at THE BREAKFAST CLUB! Yes, my town actually has an 80's themed dance club complete with a $15 cover and townies! Totaaallly worth it to sweat and dance with people I used to sit behind in Social Studies while sporting a hot, sexy rash on my face.
After a late night trip to the Peter Skank (Pank?) diner and an awful thanksgiving hangover, we journeyed to Emily and Elinor's place in Red Bank. 12,000 calories and several bottles of wine later, Sarah and I decided it was time to make a video of Emily's heinous 1992 wardrobe to submit to What Not To Wear.
Items worthy of mention include:
1 black and hot orange speedo bathing suit.
1 very gross 8 year old rhinstoned velour Delia's dress which she still wears to social functions.
18 assorted plaid tops.
AND!
some of the fugliest shoes to ever grace this planet. and Tevas.
As soon as the video is edited i'll be sure to post a link for your viewing pleasure!
Speaking of clothes, I decided to check out Sarah Jessica Parker's 'Bitten' line at Steve n Barry's today. Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeez, talk about a camel toe! I don't seem to recall her sporting any of those at her fancy Sunday brunches. Maybe because those pants weren't $12.99!! Fashion for any size? Yiiiiiiikes, I guess she didn't mean vag size.
Well, i'm tired and my battery is going to die now.
More life updates coming soon!
I had a crazy infection on my leg last week and went to the hospital.
Guess what again?
2 days later, i had an anxiety attack AT WORK and had to be taken away in an ambulence and now my whole office thinks i am a side show FREAK!
Guess what ONE MORE TIME?
On my 10th day of medication, my whole face turned into a giant red rash and i had assorted spots all over my body!!!!!!!!
Luckily, i'm fine now... except for that my pants don't fit because in the midst of my medical induced depression i managed to eat 18 desserts and 45 chicken fingers.
Siiiiiiigh.
Anyway, Thanksgiving was a lot of fun this year. Wednesday night I saw my entire graduating class at THE BREAKFAST CLUB! Yes, my town actually has an 80's themed dance club complete with a $15 cover and townies! Totaaallly worth it to sweat and dance with people I used to sit behind in Social Studies while sporting a hot, sexy rash on my face.
After a late night trip to the Peter Skank (Pank?) diner and an awful thanksgiving hangover, we journeyed to Emily and Elinor's place in Red Bank. 12,000 calories and several bottles of wine later, Sarah and I decided it was time to make a video of Emily's heinous 1992 wardrobe to submit to What Not To Wear.
Items worthy of mention include:
1 black and hot orange speedo bathing suit.
1 very gross 8 year old rhinstoned velour Delia's dress which she still wears to social functions.
18 assorted plaid tops.
AND!
some of the fugliest shoes to ever grace this planet. and Tevas.
As soon as the video is edited i'll be sure to post a link for your viewing pleasure!
Speaking of clothes, I decided to check out Sarah Jessica Parker's 'Bitten' line at Steve n Barry's today. Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeez, talk about a camel toe! I don't seem to recall her sporting any of those at her fancy Sunday brunches. Maybe because those pants weren't $12.99!! Fashion for any size? Yiiiiiiikes, I guess she didn't mean vag size.
Well, i'm tired and my battery is going to die now.
More life updates coming soon!
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Cheesy Tots!
Tonight's first order of business: Cheesy Tots!!
The fast food gods have finally answered my prayers with these miniature nuggets of fried fatty goodness from BK! AND... they serve them for BREAKFAST!!! Oh My!
Moving on.
My blogging has been really sparse lately. Let me explain.
It's not my fault, really. I have NO internet at work! None. No gmail chat. No facebook. I can't even check my bank account or look up the nutritional info for cheesy tots! I went from web-browing-supa-star to... person who actually does work while at work! The horror!!!
I've also been experiencing a sickness which Krystal has labeled CGS.
Classic Grandma Syndrome.
It goes a little something like this.
Wake up and go to work.
Come home from work.
Cook crappy food while watching Rachael Ray's 30 minute meals.
Check email and google image pictures of puppy dogs since you have no access at work.
Friend who is much cooler then you says "hey, wanna go to a bar later and see this super hip band you've never heard of?"
Reply "Ah, no... i gotta dry my hair and I Love New York comes on in 20 minutes."
Before it's too late, someone pleeeaase come over, drag me out of bed and force me to put on a bra because it's only 6 o clock! Thank you!
In other news, I have found me an apartment for next month in ye' old town of Hoboken, NJ. That's right, back to the Jerz! The excitement!!!
Seriously though that shit is waaay cheaper and since i'm planning my budget around a wonderful wardrobe of cardigans and more cardigans it just makes SENSE!
Please be sure to visit and take me to Target and/or the mall and to the Cheesecake Factory! (MOM!!!)
Also, i will live very close to my good friend Becky and will have more time to find the Jewish man of her dreams. Which is important. And also, i'll be close to work. Sort of! And last but not least, there is a Boston Market!! Mmmmmm all that creamed spinach!
The best part about giving up my room, however was finding the ad posted for it on Craigslist over the weekend.
Please read:
$1200 Luxury Doorman Building, master bedroom available DEC 1ST (Murray Hill)
I currently live with my boyfriend. Our roommate is moving back home, and we're looking for someone to share the space with. Master bedroom of a 1 BR converted into 2 BR apartment will be yours on December 1st. High floor of luxury building in the heart of Murray Hill with a great view of the East River and the UN. My boyfriend and I will pay 2/3 of the utility bills, you will pay 1/3. Apartment has nice-sized kitchen and bathroom with a cozy living room area. Laundry available in building and dry cleaner located conveniently outside the building. A quick walk home from the Murray Hill bars and tons of great restaurants. Please email me for more information, and tell me a little bit about yourself.
Here is my version:
$1200 - Building next to a great Luxury Building. Doormen who let just about anyone in. Eat dinner in your bed in the Master Bedroom. Available 12/1
I currently live with my boyfriend. He doesn't stop talking. Ever. Our roommate is on the verge of committing suicide because of how nasty this apartment is, so we're looking to share this space because we are too cheap to find our own place. Master bedroom is great, except the floor is peeling up because the maintenance crew used the cheapest finish in the whole wide world. High floor of the shittiest building in Murray Hill, close to a really great chicken wing place but that's about it. My boyfriend and I will pay 2/3 of the utilities and you will pay 1/3. Unfortunately, we will all share 1 bathroom and if you come home drunk you might have to pee in a Duane Reade bag in your Master Bedroom. We also don't replace toilet paper. Sorry! Apartment has a nice sized kitchen, however it is very dirty. I don't take out the garbage. Neither does my boyfriend, but he likes to leave empty pizza boxes on the counter and the floor, so feel free to take those out on your way to work. Oh, and that cozy living room. Just kidding. No living room! Instead there is a giant fish tank that I don't clean, ever!! Laundry available in the building and dry cleaner next door who charges $20 to hem a pair of jeans. A quick walk home from the Murray Hill bars, but an unbearable journey down 42nd street to the only subway in the area at Grand Central Station. Hold on to your wallet!!
Please email me for more information and tell me more about yourself. BYO toilet paper.
The fast food gods have finally answered my prayers with these miniature nuggets of fried fatty goodness from BK! AND... they serve them for BREAKFAST!!! Oh My!
Moving on.
My blogging has been really sparse lately. Let me explain.
It's not my fault, really. I have NO internet at work! None. No gmail chat. No facebook. I can't even check my bank account or look up the nutritional info for cheesy tots! I went from web-browing-supa-star to... person who actually does work while at work! The horror!!!
I've also been experiencing a sickness which Krystal has labeled CGS.
Classic Grandma Syndrome.
It goes a little something like this.
Wake up and go to work.
Come home from work.
Cook crappy food while watching Rachael Ray's 30 minute meals.
Check email and google image pictures of puppy dogs since you have no access at work.
Friend who is much cooler then you says "hey, wanna go to a bar later and see this super hip band you've never heard of?"
Reply "Ah, no... i gotta dry my hair and I Love New York comes on in 20 minutes."
Before it's too late, someone pleeeaase come over, drag me out of bed and force me to put on a bra because it's only 6 o clock! Thank you!
In other news, I have found me an apartment for next month in ye' old town of Hoboken, NJ. That's right, back to the Jerz! The excitement!!!
Seriously though that shit is waaay cheaper and since i'm planning my budget around a wonderful wardrobe of cardigans and more cardigans it just makes SENSE!
Please be sure to visit and take me to Target and/or the mall and to the Cheesecake Factory! (MOM!!!)
Also, i will live very close to my good friend Becky and will have more time to find the Jewish man of her dreams. Which is important. And also, i'll be close to work. Sort of! And last but not least, there is a Boston Market!! Mmmmmm all that creamed spinach!
The best part about giving up my room, however was finding the ad posted for it on Craigslist over the weekend.
Please read:
$1200 Luxury Doorman Building, master bedroom available DEC 1ST (Murray Hill)
I currently live with my boyfriend. Our roommate is moving back home, and we're looking for someone to share the space with. Master bedroom of a 1 BR converted into 2 BR apartment will be yours on December 1st. High floor of luxury building in the heart of Murray Hill with a great view of the East River and the UN. My boyfriend and I will pay 2/3 of the utility bills, you will pay 1/3. Apartment has nice-sized kitchen and bathroom with a cozy living room area. Laundry available in building and dry cleaner located conveniently outside the building. A quick walk home from the Murray Hill bars and tons of great restaurants. Please email me for more information, and tell me a little bit about yourself.
Here is my version:
$1200 - Building next to a great Luxury Building. Doormen who let just about anyone in. Eat dinner in your bed in the Master Bedroom. Available 12/1
I currently live with my boyfriend. He doesn't stop talking. Ever. Our roommate is on the verge of committing suicide because of how nasty this apartment is, so we're looking to share this space because we are too cheap to find our own place. Master bedroom is great, except the floor is peeling up because the maintenance crew used the cheapest finish in the whole wide world. High floor of the shittiest building in Murray Hill, close to a really great chicken wing place but that's about it. My boyfriend and I will pay 2/3 of the utilities and you will pay 1/3. Unfortunately, we will all share 1 bathroom and if you come home drunk you might have to pee in a Duane Reade bag in your Master Bedroom. We also don't replace toilet paper. Sorry! Apartment has a nice sized kitchen, however it is very dirty. I don't take out the garbage. Neither does my boyfriend, but he likes to leave empty pizza boxes on the counter and the floor, so feel free to take those out on your way to work. Oh, and that cozy living room. Just kidding. No living room! Instead there is a giant fish tank that I don't clean, ever!! Laundry available in the building and dry cleaner next door who charges $20 to hem a pair of jeans. A quick walk home from the Murray Hill bars, but an unbearable journey down 42nd street to the only subway in the area at Grand Central Station. Hold on to your wallet!!
Please email me for more information and tell me more about yourself. BYO toilet paper.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Pee in a Cup
Why are those W2 forms so difficult to understand?
Single? Check
Kids? Ahhhhhh no, that baby never would've survived my job-quitting-alcohol-binge.
Head of Household? Uhhh. Well, I live with this girl and her boyfriend in a tiny, shitty, dirty apartment. I have the master bedroom and sometimes I cook, so YES. But wait, mom pays my cell phone bill and sometimes I steal cans of tuna from her cabinet... Uhhhhhhhh...
Are you claiming things and then itemizing them? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!!!
Shit felt like I was taking a pop quiz, but much worse because my dumbassedness means the government is going to steal all of the money i don't even have!!!
Other exciting first day activities included my very first drug test!! WOOOOOOO!
After 3+ hours of orientation, it was finally time.
While my morning coffee/water combo usually calls for at least 4 trips to the toilet, I made the horrible mistake of saving it all up for THE TEST.
At 11am, I made my way over to the medical establishment located a few blocks away. I had to go baaaad, but i figured i'd get in, enjoy my pee and get out quickly and quietly.
WRONG WRONG WRONG.
First I had to wait in line.
Then I had to fill in the drug test paperwork equivalent to the W2.
Waaaaiiiiting.
Watch old people drinking water.
Watch ghetto people looking very afraid because you know they smoked last night and just drank that magic cleansing beverage.
Cross my legs. Gottttta peee.
Praying to god the receptionist calls my name next. The same mulleted woman who took my license and then proceeded to tell me for 20 minutes how her entire family lives in my town.
Other office lady turns on the TV.
At least I can watch Ellen.
Trying not to think about all of the pee inside of my body.
"WINSTON"
YESSSSSSS!!! I sprinted to the toilet area and grabbed my cup.
"Don't flush when you're done"
Just so you know, it's super hard not to flush!! It's like I was fucking born with the flushing gene! I couldn't even enjoy the experience because I was mentally repeating "don't flush, don't flush" in my head as I let out the most gigantic pee of 2007. I swear, this pee could've filled at least three of those sample cups!!!
And I didn't flush.
A proud moment in my life.
Single? Check
Kids? Ahhhhhh no, that baby never would've survived my job-quitting-alcohol-binge.
Head of Household? Uhhh. Well, I live with this girl and her boyfriend in a tiny, shitty, dirty apartment. I have the master bedroom and sometimes I cook, so YES. But wait, mom pays my cell phone bill and sometimes I steal cans of tuna from her cabinet... Uhhhhhhhh...
Are you claiming things and then itemizing them? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!!!
Shit felt like I was taking a pop quiz, but much worse because my dumbassedness means the government is going to steal all of the money i don't even have!!!
Other exciting first day activities included my very first drug test!! WOOOOOOO!
After 3+ hours of orientation, it was finally time.
While my morning coffee/water combo usually calls for at least 4 trips to the toilet, I made the horrible mistake of saving it all up for THE TEST.
At 11am, I made my way over to the medical establishment located a few blocks away. I had to go baaaad, but i figured i'd get in, enjoy my pee and get out quickly and quietly.
WRONG WRONG WRONG.
First I had to wait in line.
Then I had to fill in the drug test paperwork equivalent to the W2.
Waaaaiiiiting.
Watch old people drinking water.
Watch ghetto people looking very afraid because you know they smoked last night and just drank that magic cleansing beverage.
Cross my legs. Gottttta peee.
Praying to god the receptionist calls my name next. The same mulleted woman who took my license and then proceeded to tell me for 20 minutes how her entire family lives in my town.
Other office lady turns on the TV.
At least I can watch Ellen.
Trying not to think about all of the pee inside of my body.
"WINSTON"
YESSSSSSS!!! I sprinted to the toilet area and grabbed my cup.
"Don't flush when you're done"
Just so you know, it's super hard not to flush!! It's like I was fucking born with the flushing gene! I couldn't even enjoy the experience because I was mentally repeating "don't flush, don't flush" in my head as I let out the most gigantic pee of 2007. I swear, this pee could've filled at least three of those sample cups!!!
And I didn't flush.
A proud moment in my life.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Tequila!
Q: What do you get when you combine crab cakes, one guava mojito, french fries, meatloaf, 2 german lagers and 3 bites of pepperoni pizza?
A: FOOD POISONING!
Me: Ryan, wake up!! i have food poisoning!!!!
Ryan: snores.
Me: Food poisoning! dizzy! gonna faint! stomach contractions!
Ryan: Whaaa? Want me to rub your tummy?
Me: NOOOOOO!! ::runs back to toilet::
Well, that was my weekend.
I also have to tell you that i'm drunk... right...now.
I'm not a degenerate though, i'm just quitting! so i should definitely drink margaritas, beer and tequila shots at 12:15 on a Monday...right??? RIGHT!
My boss just came over and said something to me, and I think I replied... I'm not sure. But then, the new boy Dave who sits 1 cubicle away just emailed me this:
From: DBahr
To: JWinston
You just had no idea what Pete said to you haha
And then I got this one from Mel:
From: MRuiz
To: JWinston
I'm WAAAAAAASTED!!!!!
So that is THAT.
I wish I could say more right now.
A: FOOD POISONING!
Me: Ryan, wake up!! i have food poisoning!!!!
Ryan: snores.
Me: Food poisoning! dizzy! gonna faint! stomach contractions!
Ryan: Whaaa? Want me to rub your tummy?
Me: NOOOOOO!! ::runs back to toilet::
Well, that was my weekend.
I also have to tell you that i'm drunk... right...now.
I'm not a degenerate though, i'm just quitting! so i should definitely drink margaritas, beer and tequila shots at 12:15 on a Monday...right??? RIGHT!
My boss just came over and said something to me, and I think I replied... I'm not sure. But then, the new boy Dave who sits 1 cubicle away just emailed me this:
From: DBahr
To: JWinston
You just had no idea what Pete said to you haha
And then I got this one from Mel:
From: MRuiz
To: JWinston
I'm WAAAAAAASTED!!!!!
So that is THAT.
I wish I could say more right now.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Dirty Penis!
I am wrapped in my puffy yellow comforter eating a very greasy eggroll a la Ming's Delight.
Wait. Go Back. I have a terrential-downpour-induced-afro, which wouldn't be quite so bad if it weren't for those god damned bangs. Additionally, i'm eating anonymous fried things and maybe a cat... in my sheets... which i haven't cleaned since... since...
Anyway, not important!
Guess what?
I QUIT MY JOB!!!!!
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMP! there it is!
Now before you pull out your shitty Nokia to call and yell at me because you think i am a lazy fuck that cannot hold jobs because they are full time, and because i have to wear pointy, uncomfortable shoes on my jumbo feet or just maybe, because the long hours are really interfering with my dream of walking dogs and attending 3pm knitting classes in Bryant Park... listen here!
I am a DESIRABLE candidate! WOO, finally! Apparently, word didn't get out about the 2 hour lunch breaks and excessive blogging and drawing pictures on Microsoft Paint featuring me with spread legs and lots of hot wax on my vag. (Someone, please remind me to delete these off of my company computer!!)
I was hired... offered more money... and will receive discounts on shoes and shirts and lots of wonderful items which i will potentially spend my entire salary on! YESSSSSS!!!
Next Wednesday is my last day of media buying hell, giving me a fatty 4 day weekend with which i hope to get very drunk and also manage to lose 12 pounds so that I will be the hottest chick at the mandatory drug test on Monday.
Don't worry, i haven't smoked ye ol' ganj in like 3 weeks, and it was like... one puff. or three. and it was only because i wanted to be hungrier for the thai food, and then of course i needed it for the tummy-ache that ensued immediately after. peaaaanut sauce.
I am excited, though! Not for the working part, but for the discounts and also for the fact i will never again have to look at those fucking bitches who work in my office and give me dirty looks in the ladies room. EXCUUUUSE MEEE for pooping too loudly for your liking!! IT'S A BATHROOM!
I'm also pleased with my decision because get THIS:
Yesterday, i walked over to Just Salads, which is my favoritist salad joint in all of midtown east. Unfortunately, it's also the most expensive... So being the thrifty gal I am, I munched down half of my tuna/tomato/cuke/other stuff i can't remember salad and put the rest in the fridge for today. This way, instead of eating one $10 salad, i would be able to enjoy two $5 salads! BRILLIANT!
Cue lunch time today.
Me: walks into kitchen. shoves sweet-n-lows into my pocket. (gotta stock up!) opens fridge. rummages around. opens little drawers at the bottom. GAWKS!!!
SOME LITTLE BASTARD EMPLOYEE STOLE MY DELICIOUS HALF EATEN TUNA SALAD!!!!!!! THE HORROR!!!
FYI, my company doesn't reimburse for stolen salads, and so I dragged my ass a few blocks to Wendy's for a jr. cheeseburger deluxe and a side salad. $2.48! They're just giving that shit away, aren't they?! My oh my.
Okay, also. I need to discuss... America's Most Smartest Model?! WHAT!!! this show is amazing.
In case you haven't been watching, which i'm going to assume because your IQ is probably much higher then mine, this is a modeling competition for big fucking dumbasses!!!!!!
Anyway, the other day i'm walking on the treadmill and watching for the very first time.
The challenge was as follows:
One at a time, dumb model steps onto the runway. The Judges (INCLUDING BEN STEIN!) name a category. i.e. Capitals. Lakes, Dinosaurs, etc. Dumb model then has to do a sexy catwalk while naming as many items in the category as possible.
So everyone is stupid. One girl keeps repeating the same 2 items over and over so she can concentrate on how difficult walking in a straight line is. One guy thinks Seattle and Minneapolis are states. BUT, my favooooooorite was this.
Ben Stein: Your category is: Things that smell.
Dumb yet amazing model: "Dirty Penis."
He said it so seriously. Oh my god. I laughed/farted (laughrted?) on a treadmill in the middle of New York Sports Club. Don't you hate but kind of love when that happens?
Dirty Penis!!!!!!
Wait. Go Back. I have a terrential-downpour-induced-afro, which wouldn't be quite so bad if it weren't for those god damned bangs. Additionally, i'm eating anonymous fried things and maybe a cat... in my sheets... which i haven't cleaned since... since...
Anyway, not important!
Guess what?
I QUIT MY JOB!!!!!
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMP! there it is!
Now before you pull out your shitty Nokia to call and yell at me because you think i am a lazy fuck that cannot hold jobs because they are full time, and because i have to wear pointy, uncomfortable shoes on my jumbo feet or just maybe, because the long hours are really interfering with my dream of walking dogs and attending 3pm knitting classes in Bryant Park... listen here!
I am a DESIRABLE candidate! WOO, finally! Apparently, word didn't get out about the 2 hour lunch breaks and excessive blogging and drawing pictures on Microsoft Paint featuring me with spread legs and lots of hot wax on my vag. (Someone, please remind me to delete these off of my company computer!!)
I was hired... offered more money... and will receive discounts on shoes and shirts and lots of wonderful items which i will potentially spend my entire salary on! YESSSSSS!!!
Next Wednesday is my last day of media buying hell, giving me a fatty 4 day weekend with which i hope to get very drunk and also manage to lose 12 pounds so that I will be the hottest chick at the mandatory drug test on Monday.
Don't worry, i haven't smoked ye ol' ganj in like 3 weeks, and it was like... one puff. or three. and it was only because i wanted to be hungrier for the thai food, and then of course i needed it for the tummy-ache that ensued immediately after. peaaaanut sauce.
I am excited, though! Not for the working part, but for the discounts and also for the fact i will never again have to look at those fucking bitches who work in my office and give me dirty looks in the ladies room. EXCUUUUSE MEEE for pooping too loudly for your liking!! IT'S A BATHROOM!
I'm also pleased with my decision because get THIS:
Yesterday, i walked over to Just Salads, which is my favoritist salad joint in all of midtown east. Unfortunately, it's also the most expensive... So being the thrifty gal I am, I munched down half of my tuna/tomato/cuke/other stuff i can't remember salad and put the rest in the fridge for today. This way, instead of eating one $10 salad, i would be able to enjoy two $5 salads! BRILLIANT!
Cue lunch time today.
Me: walks into kitchen. shoves sweet-n-lows into my pocket. (gotta stock up!) opens fridge. rummages around. opens little drawers at the bottom. GAWKS!!!
SOME LITTLE BASTARD EMPLOYEE STOLE MY DELICIOUS HALF EATEN TUNA SALAD!!!!!!! THE HORROR!!!
FYI, my company doesn't reimburse for stolen salads, and so I dragged my ass a few blocks to Wendy's for a jr. cheeseburger deluxe and a side salad. $2.48! They're just giving that shit away, aren't they?! My oh my.
Okay, also. I need to discuss... America's Most Smartest Model?! WHAT!!! this show is amazing.
In case you haven't been watching, which i'm going to assume because your IQ is probably much higher then mine, this is a modeling competition for big fucking dumbasses!!!!!!
Anyway, the other day i'm walking on the treadmill and watching for the very first time.
The challenge was as follows:
One at a time, dumb model steps onto the runway. The Judges (INCLUDING BEN STEIN!) name a category. i.e. Capitals. Lakes, Dinosaurs, etc. Dumb model then has to do a sexy catwalk while naming as many items in the category as possible.
So everyone is stupid. One girl keeps repeating the same 2 items over and over so she can concentrate on how difficult walking in a straight line is. One guy thinks Seattle and Minneapolis are states. BUT, my favooooooorite was this.
Ben Stein: Your category is: Things that smell.
Dumb yet amazing model: "Dirty Penis."
He said it so seriously. Oh my god. I laughed/farted (laughrted?) on a treadmill in the middle of New York Sports Club. Don't you hate but kind of love when that happens?
Dirty Penis!!!!!!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I'm Wearing Long Johns and it's 90 Degrees.
I did it. I got BANGED!
I really don't want to talk about it, though.
Ryan: Your hair looks great!
Me: I look like the mom from Everybody Loves Raymond!!!!!
Not my finest decision, but much MUCH better then the time I crawled home from my office christmas party and had to pee sooooo bad. So bad that I couldn't wait until my roommate got out of the shower and I umm.. emptied my bladder into a bastard Duane Reade bag in the middle of my bedroom, blinds wide open. Mmmmm, memories.
It seems this week is NYC's equivalent of fleet week... for police. I live and work right near the United Nations building. I can actually see it right now! From my bed! While watching Rachael Ray make burgers! In my awesome new thermal long johns! discounted 20% at Loehmann's!
There are seriously 30 police officers on every single corner. It's scary but comforting, except for when I went to Starbucks this afternoon and discovered the entire population of the latte line was in charge of saving my life. Sweeeeeeet.
Anyway, some are butchy ladies and some are quite awkward looking, but a decent amount are actually quite sexy. Specifically the ones located in front of the overpriced Mexi restaurant on 51st and 3rd. Laaaaadies, stop complaining about your lack of an orgasm and get yourself over to the east side NOW. These cops look mighty bored/horny.
Exciting news! I bought 2 new pairs of jeans (at previously mentioned Loehmann's!) and they were totally giving that shit away. I got 2 pairs of my first ever fancy, shmancy designer jap-jeans for super cheap which basically made me feel like the Queen of England except i'm jewish and curse a lot more. Only problem- I think they were made for the most giant woman in the universe, vertically speaking. I had to get them altered for $40!!!!! I paid $40 for one pair! I wish that was a joke.
Do you think that the dry cleaner union and the jeans-i-will-never-afford-full-price-and-sometimes-give-me-camel-toe-union have come together to completely fuck over all ladies under 6'5"?!?!?!
And if you really want to know what's on my mind right now, it's the Biggest Loser.
It's only week numero three, and holy shit, no one is losing more than 2 pounds! I want 20 pound losses and i want them now! I feel like i'm watching a super unflattering spandexy version of a Weight Watchers meeting.
PLUS, last night when the blue team lost they kicked off Jerry!! he's like 63 years old and lost more weight than all you other bitches and just wants to get fit for his grandkiddies!
By the way, I decided that the cutest thing in the whole wide world is an old man eating an ice cream cone. I don't know what it is! I just don't know...
I really don't want to talk about it, though.
Ryan: Your hair looks great!
Me: I look like the mom from Everybody Loves Raymond!!!!!
Not my finest decision, but much MUCH better then the time I crawled home from my office christmas party and had to pee sooooo bad. So bad that I couldn't wait until my roommate got out of the shower and I umm.. emptied my bladder into a bastard Duane Reade bag in the middle of my bedroom, blinds wide open. Mmmmm, memories.
It seems this week is NYC's equivalent of fleet week... for police. I live and work right near the United Nations building. I can actually see it right now! From my bed! While watching Rachael Ray make burgers! In my awesome new thermal long johns! discounted 20% at Loehmann's!
There are seriously 30 police officers on every single corner. It's scary but comforting, except for when I went to Starbucks this afternoon and discovered the entire population of the latte line was in charge of saving my life. Sweeeeeeet.
Anyway, some are butchy ladies and some are quite awkward looking, but a decent amount are actually quite sexy. Specifically the ones located in front of the overpriced Mexi restaurant on 51st and 3rd. Laaaaadies, stop complaining about your lack of an orgasm and get yourself over to the east side NOW. These cops look mighty bored/horny.
Exciting news! I bought 2 new pairs of jeans (at previously mentioned Loehmann's!) and they were totally giving that shit away. I got 2 pairs of my first ever fancy, shmancy designer jap-jeans for super cheap which basically made me feel like the Queen of England except i'm jewish and curse a lot more. Only problem- I think they were made for the most giant woman in the universe, vertically speaking. I had to get them altered for $40!!!!! I paid $40 for one pair! I wish that was a joke.
Do you think that the dry cleaner union and the jeans-i-will-never-afford-full-price-and-sometimes-give-me-camel-toe-union have come together to completely fuck over all ladies under 6'5"?!?!?!
And if you really want to know what's on my mind right now, it's the Biggest Loser.
It's only week numero three, and holy shit, no one is losing more than 2 pounds! I want 20 pound losses and i want them now! I feel like i'm watching a super unflattering spandexy version of a Weight Watchers meeting.
PLUS, last night when the blue team lost they kicked off Jerry!! he's like 63 years old and lost more weight than all you other bitches and just wants to get fit for his grandkiddies!
By the way, I decided that the cutest thing in the whole wide world is an old man eating an ice cream cone. I don't know what it is! I just don't know...
Thursday, September 20, 2007
To Bang or Not to Bang(s)
Now that i'm poor and sans Marvin's Visa, i find that i get really excited by things other than cardigans and eyebrow waxings.
Such as:
1. Running down the escalator, practically domestic-style-abusing the asian man who is standing on the WRONG side(STAY TO THE RIGHT, SIR!) and just as the radiation of the 1,000 degree subway heat hits my face, the train is-a-comin' for me!
2. That random ass deli on 45th and 3rd. The grill-man seriously wants to do me, and when i ask for my mozzarella omelette, i swear there is no less than a half pound of cheese in that biatch! PLUS, plus... he is totally hooking it up when he jots down the price on the container...
visit #1 - $3.25
visit #2 - $3 and a smiley face
visit #3 - $2.75 ... big smiley face
visit #4 - $2! and a big fat heart with his phone number/peen-size posted inside.
juuuust kidding. but seriously $2!!!!
Now, let's see. My birthday was Monday and i decided to throw myself a big karaoke orgy fest to celebrate.
I needed to be looking fiiiiiine seeing as I hadn't eaten bread or any of bread's relatives in the past 2 months and therefore had to show off my newly 7 pound thinner bod. Oohhh docta Atkins, french me now!!
Anyway, i bought a dress because there was nothing at all in my closet!! (LIE!) I got it at Banana and while i thought to myself "hmmm.. this is kind of short" i didn't care because it was flattering and wonderful and had the potential to be very forgiving just in case i drank 20 beers and 20 jumbo pretzels. Yes i know i just said drink the pretzels!! if ONLY!
The day after my dress purchase, I went home to the Jerz for one of the many Jew-Holidays that totally ruins all weekends of September.
Me: "Mom! I bought a very cute dress at Banana for my party"
Mom: "Ooh! Show me online!" (Ohhh mama loves her America Online!!)
WELCOME
YOU'VE GOT MAIL
Me: "okay... let's see" ::clicks dresses:: "It's not here! Maybe because it's so new and sooo wonderful?!"
Mom "That seems very strange"
Me: "OH! Uhhhh-ohhhh"
Mom: "What? Is that it? That's a shirt, Jess!"
Me: "Whoops!"
So, I wore a shirt with no pants to my party while simultaneously singing Natalie Imbruglia's 'Torn' on stage where i'm sure the entire bar saw my sexy yet sensible beige underwear. Ugh, and don't think i usually wear the beige undies. My dress...errr...shirt was see-through, too! OY!
But like they say, it's my party and i'll be a hooker if i want to.
Don't worry, mom. Not a real hooker. No one pays me! But a girl can dream...
Here are some pictures. I wish i had a full-bod shot so i could show you my ass hangin' out ma shirt but i promise i'll try to acquire one ASAP!
1. This is me very drunk and singing. A big thanks to Hannah for completing the ultra-ho look with that smokey black eyeliner. Yum!
In the back of me is Mel, my lovely co-worker. She is so drunk... sooo drunk... that the next morning my sis Em confessed that Mel be hittin' on her. NIIIIIIICE! <--said very Borat-like.
2. This is Sarah's Russian hubby. He seems to be... blacked out. And he puked in my dirty bathroom the next morning which confirms it. Hey mom, check out your son-in-law!
3. This is Emily bustin' a few of her early 90's rap-esque dance moves. Normally, i would make fun of her but honestly she got hit on by every man/my work lady friend in the bar! first, i see her chatting up a random canadian. Then, one of Ryan's drunk friends! JEEEEZ, Em! keep it in your pants!
4. This is Ryan's BFF Brad's crotchal region. Tadaaaaa
woo! 23 years old! the excitement!
Tomorrow i have a hair cut/color at my most favoritist japanese salon where they give 10 minute head massages! mmmmm! Luckily it's yom kippur, so i'm pullin' the jew card and getting out of work at 3:30 so i can make it to my 4 o clock appointment and then starve myself with my beautiful hair! but that is not the point....
I MIGHT GET BANGS!!!! What are your thoughts?
Not the super poofy Emily circa '92 bangs. i want them to sweep! sweep my forehead, bangs!!! like Nicole Richie but not!
i'm very scared and i might not go through with it, but if i look very ugly when this is all over i hope you will all still be my friends!
okay, iron chef is on. BYE!!!!
P.S. A big shout out to my newest reader... dundundun... Ryan's mom. Hi!!! :)
But that's another story.
Such as:
1. Running down the escalator, practically domestic-style-abusing the asian man who is standing on the WRONG side(STAY TO THE RIGHT, SIR!) and just as the radiation of the 1,000 degree subway heat hits my face, the train is-a-comin' for me!
2. That random ass deli on 45th and 3rd. The grill-man seriously wants to do me, and when i ask for my mozzarella omelette, i swear there is no less than a half pound of cheese in that biatch! PLUS, plus... he is totally hooking it up when he jots down the price on the container...
visit #1 - $3.25
visit #2 - $3 and a smiley face
visit #3 - $2.75 ... big smiley face
visit #4 - $2! and a big fat heart with his phone number/peen-size posted inside.
juuuust kidding. but seriously $2!!!!
Now, let's see. My birthday was Monday and i decided to throw myself a big karaoke orgy fest to celebrate.
I needed to be looking fiiiiiine seeing as I hadn't eaten bread or any of bread's relatives in the past 2 months and therefore had to show off my newly 7 pound thinner bod. Oohhh docta Atkins, french me now!!
Anyway, i bought a dress because there was nothing at all in my closet!! (LIE!) I got it at Banana and while i thought to myself "hmmm.. this is kind of short" i didn't care because it was flattering and wonderful and had the potential to be very forgiving just in case i drank 20 beers and 20 jumbo pretzels. Yes i know i just said drink the pretzels!! if ONLY!
The day after my dress purchase, I went home to the Jerz for one of the many Jew-Holidays that totally ruins all weekends of September.
Me: "Mom! I bought a very cute dress at Banana for my party"
Mom: "Ooh! Show me online!" (Ohhh mama loves her America Online!!)
WELCOME
YOU'VE GOT MAIL
Me: "okay... let's see" ::clicks dresses:: "It's not here! Maybe because it's so new and sooo wonderful?!"
Mom "That seems very strange"
Me: "OH! Uhhhh-ohhhh"
Mom: "What? Is that it? That's a shirt, Jess!"
Me: "Whoops!"
So, I wore a shirt with no pants to my party while simultaneously singing Natalie Imbruglia's 'Torn' on stage where i'm sure the entire bar saw my sexy yet sensible beige underwear. Ugh, and don't think i usually wear the beige undies. My dress...errr...shirt was see-through, too! OY!
But like they say, it's my party and i'll be a hooker if i want to.
Don't worry, mom. Not a real hooker. No one pays me! But a girl can dream...
Here are some pictures. I wish i had a full-bod shot so i could show you my ass hangin' out ma shirt but i promise i'll try to acquire one ASAP!
1. This is me very drunk and singing. A big thanks to Hannah for completing the ultra-ho look with that smokey black eyeliner. Yum!
In the back of me is Mel, my lovely co-worker. She is so drunk... sooo drunk... that the next morning my sis Em confessed that Mel be hittin' on her. NIIIIIIICE! <--said very Borat-like.
2. This is Sarah's Russian hubby. He seems to be... blacked out. And he puked in my dirty bathroom the next morning which confirms it. Hey mom, check out your son-in-law!
3. This is Emily bustin' a few of her early 90's rap-esque dance moves. Normally, i would make fun of her but honestly she got hit on by every man/my work lady friend in the bar! first, i see her chatting up a random canadian. Then, one of Ryan's drunk friends! JEEEEZ, Em! keep it in your pants!
4. This is Ryan's BFF Brad's crotchal region. Tadaaaaa
woo! 23 years old! the excitement!
Tomorrow i have a hair cut/color at my most favoritist japanese salon where they give 10 minute head massages! mmmmm! Luckily it's yom kippur, so i'm pullin' the jew card and getting out of work at 3:30 so i can make it to my 4 o clock appointment and then starve myself with my beautiful hair! but that is not the point....
I MIGHT GET BANGS!!!! What are your thoughts?
Not the super poofy Emily circa '92 bangs. i want them to sweep! sweep my forehead, bangs!!! like Nicole Richie but not!
i'm very scared and i might not go through with it, but if i look very ugly when this is all over i hope you will all still be my friends!
okay, iron chef is on. BYE!!!!
P.S. A big shout out to my newest reader... dundundun... Ryan's mom. Hi!!! :)
But that's another story.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Strippers, Camel Toes, Etc.
Here are some things i've been thinking about.
I walk to work every morning. 11 blocks, 2 avenues. More often then not, I end up leaving my apartment when I should be arriving at work because of a major clock discrepancy between my cable box and my microwave. Nine months later, i still haven't figured out which one is correct. But thankfully, i don't give a shit because showing up late = less time until my 2 hour lunch break. yay!
I did have a point, though.
Who are all these people jogging down 2nd avenue at 9:15 on a Tuesday morning? Don't you have a job? A family to support? How do you afford all of those designer jeans and mocha soy lattes and books you actually purchased at Barnes & Noble and not Half.com? HOOOOOW?!?
And the middle aged biatches walking their doggies and lovingly poop-scooping? You're not 16. You're not of retirement age. You look like every other large lady who works in my office, so why aren't you in an office? Puh-leeeeze, you are kind of ugly and i really don't think some sexy ass rich man is supporting you in midtown Manhattan in return for your very unhot piece of ass. Grrrrrrrrr....
But in all seriousness, HOW DO YOU DO IT?
Working sucks a fat, fat, fat one. But mama needs a paycheck cause mama can hardly afford her rent and because of this her own mama gotta help. Thanks, mommy. Specifically for last weekend's Banana Republic shopping spree. And all of those ultra supportive calvin klein bras. Oh, and the box of tissues and shaving cream I swiped from the hallway closet... errr..
I could strip, i guess. Ryan likes my boobs, but personally, I think they are kind of far apart. It runs in the family. Em showed me her boobs in the 'adult pool' in Vegas last summer and they were kinda spread out. Same complaints from Sarah.
I wonder if i get it from mom or dad or maybe uncle harold?
Sorry, this is gross.
Some people have such great cleave. Natural cleave. Hillary, you've got great cleavage. I can't believe the dorky jewish man of your dreams hasn't come along yet and gotten himself a piece of that. I would. Definitely.
Speeeeeaking of strippers and boobs:
My friend Krystal is supa cool and apparently supa horny because for her 24th birthday she demanded a party and lots of appetizers and a starbucks card AND a thong-clad stripper.
A few weeks ago, she summoned me over to the west siiiide to watch Big Brother and internet search for a sexy man stripper.
Seeing as we are all poor/spend all of our money on manicures and pedicures and overpriced frozen yogurt... we umm.... we went a tad low budg on the entertainment.
For a mere $10 per person (plus the 3 singles i shoved in Rico's fab fruit of the loom undies!), this is what we got.
LEFT: Internet-Rico
RIGHT: THIS IS WHAT SHOWED UP AND HUMPED MY LEG!!!!!!!
He was balding and love handlish and his underwear looked very... worn.
Here's some more XXX photos for your viewing pleasure.
The birthday girl, getting exactly what she paid for...
Ashley getting squashed while Rico plays with his 40 year old nipples.
Enough of that. I'm getting way too exicted.
Today i decided to skip the gym because I found a more exciting way to fit in my daily cardio. I walked to Bloomingdales and although I really wanted to shoplift everything in sight, I decided to try on 4 pairs of $200+ jeans for absolutely no reason. My jeans are all cheap and crappy and have that oh-so-comforting spandex stretch but i just wanted to know... are they worth it?
I tried on 2 pairs of Sevens, 2 pairs of Citizens of Humanity and you know what?
I HAD CAMEL TOE IN EVERY SINGLE PAIR.
SO, this is what i hoped you've learned today.
If you marry rich and find yourself walking dogs instead of going to work, i hope you either have a very tiny vag or maybe just get it removed so you can fit into all of your $200 jeans.
P.S. i love you, Rico!
I walk to work every morning. 11 blocks, 2 avenues. More often then not, I end up leaving my apartment when I should be arriving at work because of a major clock discrepancy between my cable box and my microwave. Nine months later, i still haven't figured out which one is correct. But thankfully, i don't give a shit because showing up late = less time until my 2 hour lunch break. yay!
I did have a point, though.
Who are all these people jogging down 2nd avenue at 9:15 on a Tuesday morning? Don't you have a job? A family to support? How do you afford all of those designer jeans and mocha soy lattes and books you actually purchased at Barnes & Noble and not Half.com? HOOOOOW?!?
And the middle aged biatches walking their doggies and lovingly poop-scooping? You're not 16. You're not of retirement age. You look like every other large lady who works in my office, so why aren't you in an office? Puh-leeeeze, you are kind of ugly and i really don't think some sexy ass rich man is supporting you in midtown Manhattan in return for your very unhot piece of ass. Grrrrrrrrr....
But in all seriousness, HOW DO YOU DO IT?
Working sucks a fat, fat, fat one. But mama needs a paycheck cause mama can hardly afford her rent and because of this her own mama gotta help. Thanks, mommy. Specifically for last weekend's Banana Republic shopping spree. And all of those ultra supportive calvin klein bras. Oh, and the box of tissues and shaving cream I swiped from the hallway closet... errr..
I could strip, i guess. Ryan likes my boobs, but personally, I think they are kind of far apart. It runs in the family. Em showed me her boobs in the 'adult pool' in Vegas last summer and they were kinda spread out. Same complaints from Sarah.
I wonder if i get it from mom or dad or maybe uncle harold?
Sorry, this is gross.
Some people have such great cleave. Natural cleave. Hillary, you've got great cleavage. I can't believe the dorky jewish man of your dreams hasn't come along yet and gotten himself a piece of that. I would. Definitely.
Speeeeeaking of strippers and boobs:
My friend Krystal is supa cool and apparently supa horny because for her 24th birthday she demanded a party and lots of appetizers and a starbucks card AND a thong-clad stripper.
A few weeks ago, she summoned me over to the west siiiide to watch Big Brother and internet search for a sexy man stripper.
Seeing as we are all poor/spend all of our money on manicures and pedicures and overpriced frozen yogurt... we umm.... we went a tad low budg on the entertainment.
For a mere $10 per person (plus the 3 singles i shoved in Rico's fab fruit of the loom undies!), this is what we got.
LEFT: Internet-Rico
RIGHT: THIS IS WHAT SHOWED UP AND HUMPED MY LEG!!!!!!!
He was balding and love handlish and his underwear looked very... worn.
Here's some more XXX photos for your viewing pleasure.
The birthday girl, getting exactly what she paid for...
Ashley getting squashed while Rico plays with his 40 year old nipples.
Enough of that. I'm getting way too exicted.
Today i decided to skip the gym because I found a more exciting way to fit in my daily cardio. I walked to Bloomingdales and although I really wanted to shoplift everything in sight, I decided to try on 4 pairs of $200+ jeans for absolutely no reason. My jeans are all cheap and crappy and have that oh-so-comforting spandex stretch but i just wanted to know... are they worth it?
I tried on 2 pairs of Sevens, 2 pairs of Citizens of Humanity and you know what?
I HAD CAMEL TOE IN EVERY SINGLE PAIR.
SO, this is what i hoped you've learned today.
If you marry rich and find yourself walking dogs instead of going to work, i hope you either have a very tiny vag or maybe just get it removed so you can fit into all of your $200 jeans.
P.S. i love you, Rico!
Thursday, August 30, 2007
A rant about things i stick in my mouth.
On my way to the subway this morning, I got into a heated conversation about office food and beverage perks.
I actually have none, because the coffee in my office is the color of a really atrocious doodie and tastes like one, too.
But GET THIS.
A certain roommate of 37-55 Woodside gets FREE vitamin water, FREE fancy iced teas and... ugh, this makes me want to kill myself...
FREE GUACAMOLE!!!!
Am I worthless? Do my taste buds not matter?
I hate my life, except for i'm listening to Kelly Clarkson right now which is mildly inspirational because I bet that at one time or another she sat in a crappy cubicle just like mine and drank stinky coffee and had to use public bathrooms and make small talk with those jappy bitches at the 25 cent M&M machine. That's right! We don't even get free M&Ms!!!!
Today is kind of exciting, though because I will be attending my first official work Pot Luck fiesta lunch.
Now, you would think my obsession with the Food Network would mean i'm the next fucking Paula Dean. WROOOONG.
I wanted to dig deep into my recipe box for this one, but turns out i don't have one. So i thought hard about all of the items I know how to make that taste moderately yummy.
Brownies? No doubt I will digest them all before I even get to work.
Tuna Salad? That is just weeeeeeird. Plus, the mercury. Eh.
Cereal?
Microwavable chicken fingers??
Rolled up deli meats?!?!?!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
And that's when it came to me. One time, many a month ago, I made a fab guacamole for my 'hoorah my weird roommates are leaving for a week' party and it went over really well with the 8 drunken guests.
So i hit up my fruit man on the corner, but apparently... the Hass avocados are not in season right now!!!! Now, if you know anything about avocados, which i didn't until yesterday, I guess there are 2 kinds.
'Cado #1 is Hass and they are small and dark and creamy.
'Cado dos is FLORIDIAN. It's very large and breast-shaped and lighter green and FYI makes one shitty ass guacamole!!!!
Well, the tit-avocados are apparently in season according to the fruit man, so i bought a couple of those, a jar of the cheapest salsa i could find, and some lemon and garlic powder.
I got home. I peeled. I mashed. I salsad.
It looked like a dog got into my White Castle Crave Case and then puked it up into my disposable Tupperware.
Maybe it tastes good, I thought.
Nah. It tasted almost as raunchy as the office-poop-coffee so I discarded that bitch and had to buy some chips and pre-made guac this morning. Ugh. You try to save a buck and instead spend 10 more. The story of my life. If only my office had the free mother fucking guacamole, this never would've happened.
I'm done talking about this Pot Luck now because it starts in 15 minutes and I have some other exciting news.
I AM GOING TO THE RACHEL RAY SHOW!!!!!
YESSSSSSS, now i can say my life is complete!!!!
One night I was hanging out with this man who i would only hang out with because he bought me expensive sushi rolls on a regular basis. Anyway, we're watching Rachel and he has this creepy ass Rachel Ray fetish which i thought was nast because her boobs always looks so awkward in her tops and you know she is such a fluctuater and all, but he really wanted to stick it in her.
So i went online and we were like sweet, let's get on the Rachel Ray ticket waiting list.
AND FINALLY MY DAY HAS COME! Thank god I used my e-mail address!!!!!
Sarah and I will be attending September 12th... the first day of Rosh Hashanah. AMEN!!!
There is also a hilarious dress code which bans sequins, the color white, ugly track suits and promotes the wear of 'gem-tones'. Personally, I was thinking about wearing my YUM-O tee shirt, though. No rules about Rach-Ray apparal. Yeah, i actually have one. I was Rach for Halloween. Errr...maybe i'm the one with the fetish. Anywaaaaaaay.
I'm off to the Pot Luck now. Wish me luck.
I actually have none, because the coffee in my office is the color of a really atrocious doodie and tastes like one, too.
But GET THIS.
A certain roommate of 37-55 Woodside gets FREE vitamin water, FREE fancy iced teas and... ugh, this makes me want to kill myself...
FREE GUACAMOLE!!!!
Am I worthless? Do my taste buds not matter?
I hate my life, except for i'm listening to Kelly Clarkson right now which is mildly inspirational because I bet that at one time or another she sat in a crappy cubicle just like mine and drank stinky coffee and had to use public bathrooms and make small talk with those jappy bitches at the 25 cent M&M machine. That's right! We don't even get free M&Ms!!!!
Today is kind of exciting, though because I will be attending my first official work Pot Luck fiesta lunch.
Now, you would think my obsession with the Food Network would mean i'm the next fucking Paula Dean. WROOOONG.
I wanted to dig deep into my recipe box for this one, but turns out i don't have one. So i thought hard about all of the items I know how to make that taste moderately yummy.
Brownies? No doubt I will digest them all before I even get to work.
Tuna Salad? That is just weeeeeeird. Plus, the mercury. Eh.
Cereal?
Microwavable chicken fingers??
Rolled up deli meats?!?!?!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
And that's when it came to me. One time, many a month ago, I made a fab guacamole for my 'hoorah my weird roommates are leaving for a week' party and it went over really well with the 8 drunken guests.
So i hit up my fruit man on the corner, but apparently... the Hass avocados are not in season right now!!!! Now, if you know anything about avocados, which i didn't until yesterday, I guess there are 2 kinds.
'Cado #1 is Hass and they are small and dark and creamy.
'Cado dos is FLORIDIAN. It's very large and breast-shaped and lighter green and FYI makes one shitty ass guacamole!!!!
Well, the tit-avocados are apparently in season according to the fruit man, so i bought a couple of those, a jar of the cheapest salsa i could find, and some lemon and garlic powder.
I got home. I peeled. I mashed. I salsad.
It looked like a dog got into my White Castle Crave Case and then puked it up into my disposable Tupperware.
Maybe it tastes good, I thought.
Nah. It tasted almost as raunchy as the office-poop-coffee so I discarded that bitch and had to buy some chips and pre-made guac this morning. Ugh. You try to save a buck and instead spend 10 more. The story of my life. If only my office had the free mother fucking guacamole, this never would've happened.
I'm done talking about this Pot Luck now because it starts in 15 minutes and I have some other exciting news.
I AM GOING TO THE RACHEL RAY SHOW!!!!!
YESSSSSSS, now i can say my life is complete!!!!
One night I was hanging out with this man who i would only hang out with because he bought me expensive sushi rolls on a regular basis. Anyway, we're watching Rachel and he has this creepy ass Rachel Ray fetish which i thought was nast because her boobs always looks so awkward in her tops and you know she is such a fluctuater and all, but he really wanted to stick it in her.
So i went online and we were like sweet, let's get on the Rachel Ray ticket waiting list.
AND FINALLY MY DAY HAS COME! Thank god I used my e-mail address!!!!!
Sarah and I will be attending September 12th... the first day of Rosh Hashanah. AMEN!!!
There is also a hilarious dress code which bans sequins, the color white, ugly track suits and promotes the wear of 'gem-tones'. Personally, I was thinking about wearing my YUM-O tee shirt, though. No rules about Rach-Ray apparal. Yeah, i actually have one. I was Rach for Halloween. Errr...maybe i'm the one with the fetish. Anywaaaaaaay.
I'm off to the Pot Luck now. Wish me luck.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Part 2... I hope you still care!
God, sorry. My liiiiiife.
i have no excuses this time. i've been lazy and sitting on couches and eating very questionable chinese food in massive quantities. Luckily, i attended happy hour tonight which has given me a medium sized buzz... just enough for a blog! hooooooorah...
NOW... where was i?
First of all... FIRST OF ALL
i have to tell you this
When you get off of the plane and enter the airport you must buy a $10 tourist card!!!
At first, i'm all "Ooooo tourist card. Maybe that's for discounts!"
No, no, no. that's not it. you buy the tourist card. and then 4 steps later, you hand in to a man. And then he lets you into the country.
no tour buses! no complimentary flan! Just entry... entry into a world of pork aaaaand... pork.
Our luggage actually arrived with our flight which was miraculous and off we went in a very mysterious taxi cab to the Ocean Bavaro Resort & Spa.
We arrived before check-in, and were welcomed to a buffet lunch. I wasn't all that hungry due to my airport hotdog, but mama be likin' the all-inclusive so we found ourselves face to face with a mighty skanky buffet... the same shit we'd be eating for the next 4 days.
I must say, they had some good broccoli. some good... umm.. cheese slices.
Ryan liked the weird beefy soup and the spagetti...look!
ew. gross. i'm having flashbacks.
BUT, in case you were wondering, i enjoyed a 'rhea-free week! I'd been very afraid for my intestines and butthole since the pad thai mishap a few months ago, but all was well in ye' old dominican republic. I even lost 20 pounds!!
gotchaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
After our gross meal, we probably did it. Sorry, the details are blurred. It's been like 3 weeks and I just had a few drinks but i'm guessing that's right. blah blah blah...
here comes the good stuff....
Day 2-
We lay by the pool. it's nice. it's hot. i'm tanning. i look sexy, yada .. yada.. yada...
There's this super gay activity board and Ryan is verrrry excited about his 10:30 archery.
I am very excited about my 11:00 massage in the cabana next to the pool.
So, we part ways. I'm getting massaged and it is heavenly and fucking cheap and my massage lady Maria is in love with me, i think. i'm getting rubbed, i love it and it's over at 11:30.
I mozy over to the pool area. No Ryan.
So I lay, I take a dip in the pool. I watch the old fat ladies do their water aerobics. I pick a wedgie. I drink a diet coke.
No Ryan.
Hmmmm.... think, jess. think.
Did he run off with a dominican lady?
Did he fall asleep somewhere?
Is he taking full advantage of our all-inclusive buffet?
Ahhhhh i know. He's in the internet cafe doing his fantasy baseball!!
hmmmm, no. not there either.
So i jump in the pool. float around. get out.
AND THEN HE'S RUNNING TOWARDS ME. with a tiny mush of a dominican man running behind him.
"Jess! Jess!"
right now i am thinking: Ryan won the archery competition and we will get a room upgrade and a free vacation and a million dollars!
"Jess!! MY HAND!!!!"
"I shot an arrow through my hand!"
That's right. Impossible, you thought? No, actually... possible!
Arrow through the hand. Arrrrroooooow throuuuuughhh theeeeeee haaaand.
We went to the hospital which was a nice experience and i even got to pee there which was cute because now i can say i've peed in a hospital in the dominican republic. He got some stitches and painkillers and a few "it's okay, it's okay, your hand is fine"
The rest of vacation was a mix of "ouuuuuch my hand", "mmmm that feels good" and "ewwww more pork!"
We had a mighty hellish flight home, which almost turned into no flight home. I made a poor decision and ate a Quizno's cobb salad on our connection flight and it gave me so much 'rhea i thought i might just die on American Airlines. Ryan had hand surgery last week to repair the nerve damage and has not left his couch in days. He even gets to wear a gigantic foam contraption at all times. hooooorah !?
Whatev. it was fun, though. seriously, it was.
i have no excuses this time. i've been lazy and sitting on couches and eating very questionable chinese food in massive quantities. Luckily, i attended happy hour tonight which has given me a medium sized buzz... just enough for a blog! hooooooorah...
NOW... where was i?
First of all... FIRST OF ALL
i have to tell you this
When you get off of the plane and enter the airport you must buy a $10 tourist card!!!
At first, i'm all "Ooooo tourist card. Maybe that's for discounts!"
No, no, no. that's not it. you buy the tourist card. and then 4 steps later, you hand in to a man. And then he lets you into the country.
no tour buses! no complimentary flan! Just entry... entry into a world of pork aaaaand... pork.
Our luggage actually arrived with our flight which was miraculous and off we went in a very mysterious taxi cab to the Ocean Bavaro Resort & Spa.
We arrived before check-in, and were welcomed to a buffet lunch. I wasn't all that hungry due to my airport hotdog, but mama be likin' the all-inclusive so we found ourselves face to face with a mighty skanky buffet... the same shit we'd be eating for the next 4 days.
I must say, they had some good broccoli. some good... umm.. cheese slices.
Ryan liked the weird beefy soup and the spagetti...look!
ew. gross. i'm having flashbacks.
BUT, in case you were wondering, i enjoyed a 'rhea-free week! I'd been very afraid for my intestines and butthole since the pad thai mishap a few months ago, but all was well in ye' old dominican republic. I even lost 20 pounds!!
gotchaaaaaaaaaaaaa.
After our gross meal, we probably did it. Sorry, the details are blurred. It's been like 3 weeks and I just had a few drinks but i'm guessing that's right. blah blah blah...
here comes the good stuff....
Day 2-
We lay by the pool. it's nice. it's hot. i'm tanning. i look sexy, yada .. yada.. yada...
There's this super gay activity board and Ryan is verrrry excited about his 10:30 archery.
I am very excited about my 11:00 massage in the cabana next to the pool.
So, we part ways. I'm getting massaged and it is heavenly and fucking cheap and my massage lady Maria is in love with me, i think. i'm getting rubbed, i love it and it's over at 11:30.
I mozy over to the pool area. No Ryan.
So I lay, I take a dip in the pool. I watch the old fat ladies do their water aerobics. I pick a wedgie. I drink a diet coke.
No Ryan.
Hmmmm.... think, jess. think.
Did he run off with a dominican lady?
Did he fall asleep somewhere?
Is he taking full advantage of our all-inclusive buffet?
Ahhhhh i know. He's in the internet cafe doing his fantasy baseball!!
hmmmm, no. not there either.
So i jump in the pool. float around. get out.
AND THEN HE'S RUNNING TOWARDS ME. with a tiny mush of a dominican man running behind him.
"Jess! Jess!"
right now i am thinking: Ryan won the archery competition and we will get a room upgrade and a free vacation and a million dollars!
"Jess!! MY HAND!!!!"
"I shot an arrow through my hand!"
That's right. Impossible, you thought? No, actually... possible!
Arrow through the hand. Arrrrroooooow throuuuuughhh theeeeeee haaaand.
We went to the hospital which was a nice experience and i even got to pee there which was cute because now i can say i've peed in a hospital in the dominican republic. He got some stitches and painkillers and a few "it's okay, it's okay, your hand is fine"
The rest of vacation was a mix of "ouuuuuch my hand", "mmmm that feels good" and "ewwww more pork!"
We had a mighty hellish flight home, which almost turned into no flight home. I made a poor decision and ate a Quizno's cobb salad on our connection flight and it gave me so much 'rhea i thought i might just die on American Airlines. Ryan had hand surgery last week to repair the nerve damage and has not left his couch in days. He even gets to wear a gigantic foam contraption at all times. hooooorah !?
Whatev. it was fun, though. seriously, it was.
Friday, August 10, 2007
American Airlines Can Suck My Brazilian. Part 1 of my trip to the Dominican Republic.
I know, I know. Where have I been? I suddenly remove all of my vag-hair and then that's it! I disappear without a word!
Shockingly enough, i was TOO busy this week at work to blog!! UNHEARD OF!
I accumulated 8 billion indecipherable emails while on my romantic getaway and finally, FINALLY it's friday, i'm mildly hungover and i've got 3 types of cheese under my belt. So, now i'm ready to tell you a tale.
Come with me back to last monday night. I arrive at the Jaslow residence around 9pm, sat in a pot-smoke-filled room while turning into a biatchy remote-hogging girlfriend, making all of the men in the room watch the latest episodes of top chef and confessions of a matchmaker (um, love it!!)
The alarm is set for 4:45am. That shit is whack, I say. But, our flight to the Dominican Republic departs at 7.
"Delta International!" Ryan proclaims to our driver
"Ooooooooh Delta!" I squealed. "I'm soo happy it's not Continental because of those skanky ass burgers I had on my flight to Vegas. They stunk up the plane like a White Castle!"
The check-in line is long and full of many Dominican-Republicans with huge suitcases stuffed with instant rice, toilet paper, large carnival stuffed animals, live gorillas, etc. We were the only white people! It was fun! DUNDUNDUN... until we got up to the counter.
"Confirmation Number?" asks bitch-mo-fo-ass-check-in-lady
"Ummmmmm" Ryan takes out papers from his man-bag. "Oh, these are just for travel insurance"
ME: "Why do you not have the flight info?!"
"Ok, well can i have your names?" -check-in-hooker
We give names.
"You're not on this flight!"
ME: KFSDGHSDKLGHSDKLGHSLGHSLKGHKGH !!!!!
Ryan: calls Expedia.
Ryan: looks at me weirdly
Ryan: might shit his pants
Ryan: "IT'S AMERICAN AIRLINES!!!"
It's 6am, i'm fungry, i need coffee, i have a giant suitcase that has wheels but honestly doesn't make it much easier cause those wheels are bullshit, and we need to find the AIR-TRAM and ride that shit to gate 8 or 9.
So we're hustling, man on the air-tram says gate 8, so we run run run to gate 8. AND THEN THEY TELL OUR ASSES TO GO TO GATE 9!
SO, we approach check-in at 6:07am.
AND YOU KNOW WHAT?
"It's too late. You need to check in an hour prior to departure"
FUCK YOU, SLUT.
So we wait stand-by and it's REALLY fun!!!!!
NOTTTTTTT.
it sucked a fat one, but luckily we were the last standbyers allowed on the flight. Hoorah!
Ryan is happy because now he knows he won't be denied my unbelievably hot, amazing sex.
I am happy because i'm hungry and mama be hopin' for some yummy plane-brunch type items.
No such luck. Mo-fuckers make you pay like $12 for a 3 Muskateers Bar and basically a ham & cheese hoagie was the equivalent of my utility bill!
Anyway, we arrive in San Juan safe and sound. Except for the fact that San Juan isn't our destination. So WE WAIT STAND-BY AGAIN!!!
Ryan looks all freaky and upset and his leg is doing that bounce around shit and while he's doing that i get up and buy a hot dog. Mainly because its $2 and also because it's funny to eat hot dogs in the littlest, ghettoist airport i have ever been to. Oh yeah, and there was no Au Bon Pain.
So, they're boarding our flight and the lady is like
"Jaslow? We may have 1 seat, but we might have 2. So get on this weird bus thing and they will drive you to the smallest, shittiest plane on planet earth and maybe you can go to the Dominican Republic!"
We get on the bus. We get on the plane. There are 2 seats. No one speaks English. I have to pee, but i'm afraid if i stand up the whole plane will come crashing to the ground, plus i dont even think there is a toilet facility! The flight attendant is sitting in this tiny chair in the front of the plane and laughing and saying crazy shit in Spanish and the plane is making these loud, grinding noises and they gave me some passport-control paper to fill in EXCEPT ITS ALL IN SPANISH and i didn't take Spanish in high school i took Italian!!! and Ryan is sitting 10 seats back and he definitely took Spanish in high school and I bet they are serving him Paella and shit back there cause all i'm getting is a nasty stench and that same loud noise and i might just die and so I ask the boy next to me how long he thinks it takes to get there and he doesn't answer because i think he does not speak english or he hates jews or he might throw up!!!!!
We're in the air for 30 minutes. And then we land. And then we hope and pray our luggage has arrived cause you know that shit was sitting stand-by, too.
Okay this the THE END OF PART 1 because work is basically over in 5 minutes and my ass isn't staying late for you sluts!!
STAY TUNED!
Shockingly enough, i was TOO busy this week at work to blog!! UNHEARD OF!
I accumulated 8 billion indecipherable emails while on my romantic getaway and finally, FINALLY it's friday, i'm mildly hungover and i've got 3 types of cheese under my belt. So, now i'm ready to tell you a tale.
Come with me back to last monday night. I arrive at the Jaslow residence around 9pm, sat in a pot-smoke-filled room while turning into a biatchy remote-hogging girlfriend, making all of the men in the room watch the latest episodes of top chef and confessions of a matchmaker (um, love it!!)
The alarm is set for 4:45am. That shit is whack, I say. But, our flight to the Dominican Republic departs at 7.
"Delta International!" Ryan proclaims to our driver
"Ooooooooh Delta!" I squealed. "I'm soo happy it's not Continental because of those skanky ass burgers I had on my flight to Vegas. They stunk up the plane like a White Castle!"
The check-in line is long and full of many Dominican-Republicans with huge suitcases stuffed with instant rice, toilet paper, large carnival stuffed animals, live gorillas, etc. We were the only white people! It was fun! DUNDUNDUN... until we got up to the counter.
"Confirmation Number?" asks bitch-mo-fo-ass-check-in-lady
"Ummmmmm" Ryan takes out papers from his man-bag. "Oh, these are just for travel insurance"
ME: "Why do you not have the flight info?!"
"Ok, well can i have your names?" -check-in-hooker
We give names.
"You're not on this flight!"
ME: KFSDGHSDKLGHSDKLGHSLGHSLKGHKGH !!!!!
Ryan: calls Expedia.
Ryan: looks at me weirdly
Ryan: might shit his pants
Ryan: "IT'S AMERICAN AIRLINES!!!"
It's 6am, i'm fungry, i need coffee, i have a giant suitcase that has wheels but honestly doesn't make it much easier cause those wheels are bullshit, and we need to find the AIR-TRAM and ride that shit to gate 8 or 9.
So we're hustling, man on the air-tram says gate 8, so we run run run to gate 8. AND THEN THEY TELL OUR ASSES TO GO TO GATE 9!
SO, we approach check-in at 6:07am.
AND YOU KNOW WHAT?
"It's too late. You need to check in an hour prior to departure"
FUCK YOU, SLUT.
So we wait stand-by and it's REALLY fun!!!!!
NOTTTTTTT.
it sucked a fat one, but luckily we were the last standbyers allowed on the flight. Hoorah!
Ryan is happy because now he knows he won't be denied my unbelievably hot, amazing sex.
I am happy because i'm hungry and mama be hopin' for some yummy plane-brunch type items.
No such luck. Mo-fuckers make you pay like $12 for a 3 Muskateers Bar and basically a ham & cheese hoagie was the equivalent of my utility bill!
Anyway, we arrive in San Juan safe and sound. Except for the fact that San Juan isn't our destination. So WE WAIT STAND-BY AGAIN!!!
Ryan looks all freaky and upset and his leg is doing that bounce around shit and while he's doing that i get up and buy a hot dog. Mainly because its $2 and also because it's funny to eat hot dogs in the littlest, ghettoist airport i have ever been to. Oh yeah, and there was no Au Bon Pain.
So, they're boarding our flight and the lady is like
"Jaslow? We may have 1 seat, but we might have 2. So get on this weird bus thing and they will drive you to the smallest, shittiest plane on planet earth and maybe you can go to the Dominican Republic!"
We get on the bus. We get on the plane. There are 2 seats. No one speaks English. I have to pee, but i'm afraid if i stand up the whole plane will come crashing to the ground, plus i dont even think there is a toilet facility! The flight attendant is sitting in this tiny chair in the front of the plane and laughing and saying crazy shit in Spanish and the plane is making these loud, grinding noises and they gave me some passport-control paper to fill in EXCEPT ITS ALL IN SPANISH and i didn't take Spanish in high school i took Italian!!! and Ryan is sitting 10 seats back and he definitely took Spanish in high school and I bet they are serving him Paella and shit back there cause all i'm getting is a nasty stench and that same loud noise and i might just die and so I ask the boy next to me how long he thinks it takes to get there and he doesn't answer because i think he does not speak english or he hates jews or he might throw up!!!!!
We're in the air for 30 minutes. And then we land. And then we hope and pray our luggage has arrived cause you know that shit was sitting stand-by, too.
Okay this the THE END OF PART 1 because work is basically over in 5 minutes and my ass isn't staying late for you sluts!!
STAY TUNED!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
The Aftermath
Well, just call me Jessica Da Silva Cruz because now I am as Brazilian as they come!
ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
Right after I made my appointment yesterday, I confronted a good friend/co-worker who had also converted to Brazilianism not too long ago. I was seeking comfort, solace, a few words of wisdom before I said farewell to my lady hairs.
Mel- "Well, You'll have to get on all fours!"
Me- "Like... uhh.. on the floor?"
Mel- "No, you dumbass! On the bed!"
Me- "Ewww, Doggy Style! Is that for the ass hair region?"
Mel- "Yeah...That part doesn't hurt too much, surprisingly. But, the rest fuckin' hurts like hell!! It kind of turned me on a little, though!"
Me- "Oh."
I was officially creeped out, but there was no turning back. The Spa had my credit card number and I would be charged whether my lady hairs remained or not.
At 5:00pm I gathered my things and said farewell to my beautiful cubicle neighbor Monique.
Of course, my hair doctor wasn't ready for me.
So, I sat nervously in the waiting room skimming through US Weekly and wondering which celebs had been Brazilianized and which had not.
Lindsay-Lo? Hmm... probably.
Britney? Questionable bush.
Rihanna? There is most definitely nothing under her umbrella.
"Jessica? We're ready for you"
I followed my curly haired lady past a number of labeled doors. First there was 'Tranquility' and then 'Peace'. Finally, she led me into 'The Garden' and told me to remove my pants and undies and lay on the bed.
So I did. And then she came in. And told me to do this.
Yep, that's me. Spread eagle in front of a stranger. Yum!
"So, uhh... this is my first time. Ummmmm... Do most people leave a little somethin' somethin' or just get rid of everything?"
"Well, it depends. Some people leave a little. Do you want to?"
"Um, ok. Yeah. Leave a little. And then i'll decide, I guess"
WOW, AWKWARD.
p.s. i'm not going to tell you what I decided because uhhh, that's WAY too personal!
So she starts waxing me and i'm all
"Ouch!"
"Ahhhh!"
"OOOUUUCCCHHAAAAHH"
"Oh, that one wasn't so bad"
"You're pretty good at this" She told me. "Most people are really freaked out their first time"
"Oh, I'm a very good patient" I replied, eyes completely shut tight and holding onto the bed for dear life.
What I was really dreading was Doggy Position. How degrading! This is lady-on-lady and Doggy just didn't seem politically correct.
"We're almost done" She announced as she tweezed my remaining areas.
And running through my head is - Huh? What about the Doggy? I'm not getting Doggy?
"Ok, Now lift your legs up"
Here it is, position #2. Sooo much classier than Doggy.
Mel was right. This region was much less painful. She even waxed out some upper leg hair free of charge. Hoorah!
And then it was over and I was Brazilianized.
I pulled on my business casual slacks, paid my bill and walked home the 8 blocks to my apartment.
And then I ate my first dinner sans down-there-lady-hairs.
It was nice.
The End.
ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
Right after I made my appointment yesterday, I confronted a good friend/co-worker who had also converted to Brazilianism not too long ago. I was seeking comfort, solace, a few words of wisdom before I said farewell to my lady hairs.
Mel- "Well, You'll have to get on all fours!"
Me- "Like... uhh.. on the floor?"
Mel- "No, you dumbass! On the bed!"
Me- "Ewww, Doggy Style! Is that for the ass hair region?"
Mel- "Yeah...That part doesn't hurt too much, surprisingly. But, the rest fuckin' hurts like hell!! It kind of turned me on a little, though!"
Me- "Oh."
I was officially creeped out, but there was no turning back. The Spa had my credit card number and I would be charged whether my lady hairs remained or not.
At 5:00pm I gathered my things and said farewell to my beautiful cubicle neighbor Monique.
Of course, my hair doctor wasn't ready for me.
So, I sat nervously in the waiting room skimming through US Weekly and wondering which celebs had been Brazilianized and which had not.
Lindsay-Lo? Hmm... probably.
Britney? Questionable bush.
Rihanna? There is most definitely nothing under her umbrella.
"Jessica? We're ready for you"
I followed my curly haired lady past a number of labeled doors. First there was 'Tranquility' and then 'Peace'. Finally, she led me into 'The Garden' and told me to remove my pants and undies and lay on the bed.
So I did. And then she came in. And told me to do this.
Yep, that's me. Spread eagle in front of a stranger. Yum!
"So, uhh... this is my first time. Ummmmm... Do most people leave a little somethin' somethin' or just get rid of everything?"
"Well, it depends. Some people leave a little. Do you want to?"
"Um, ok. Yeah. Leave a little. And then i'll decide, I guess"
WOW, AWKWARD.
p.s. i'm not going to tell you what I decided because uhhh, that's WAY too personal!
So she starts waxing me and i'm all
"Ouch!"
"Ahhhh!"
"OOOUUUCCCHHAAAAHH"
"Oh, that one wasn't so bad"
"You're pretty good at this" She told me. "Most people are really freaked out their first time"
"Oh, I'm a very good patient" I replied, eyes completely shut tight and holding onto the bed for dear life.
What I was really dreading was Doggy Position. How degrading! This is lady-on-lady and Doggy just didn't seem politically correct.
"We're almost done" She announced as she tweezed my remaining areas.
And running through my head is - Huh? What about the Doggy? I'm not getting Doggy?
"Ok, Now lift your legs up"
Here it is, position #2. Sooo much classier than Doggy.
Mel was right. This region was much less painful. She even waxed out some upper leg hair free of charge. Hoorah!
And then it was over and I was Brazilianized.
I pulled on my business casual slacks, paid my bill and walked home the 8 blocks to my apartment.
And then I ate my first dinner sans down-there-lady-hairs.
It was nice.
The End.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
A Eulogy
To my dearest, dearest down-there-lady-hair,
I can't believe we'll only be together for another two hours and fifteen minutes. What is it now? 10 years? 11? God, time really flies, doesn't it?
I remember the first time I saw you. It was shower-time, and I had just pulled down my hot pink Umbro shorts. I guess I had forgot to put on underwear that day. There you were. Brownish. Curlyish. Just like on my head, but there was a lot less of you. I liked you immediately. I still do.
Remember that time I tried to Bic you off during my Freshman year of college? I never did say sorry. But i'm sorry. I blame it on the Jungle Juice and that guy from Writing 105. I forget his name, but I swear it was him.
You just couldn't stay away though, could you? No, you were back in no time. Friends Forever, isn't that what they say?
I haven't minded you hangin' around my Victoria Secret's. Please, don't think that is why i'm doing this. It's not you down-there-lady-hair. It's me. Or wait, it's not me. It's my boyfriend. He blacked out last week and revealed his undying scorn for you. Oh, and i'll get a lot more oral. So, uhhh, sorry!
I don't know about me, but I know you'll be strong. Just think about all those unpleasant gyno visits. The stirrups, the rubber gloves, the prodding!
Maybe it'll even feel nice. Hot and waxy! What's not to like?
Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for being a friend.
Maybe i'll even see you again in a few weeks. It'll be just like the old days. Just like when I pulled down my Umbros on that fateful day.
The Funeral will commence at 5:15pm at The Spafumerie II on 49th and Second.
Hor'dourves will be served immediately following.
I can't believe we'll only be together for another two hours and fifteen minutes. What is it now? 10 years? 11? God, time really flies, doesn't it?
I remember the first time I saw you. It was shower-time, and I had just pulled down my hot pink Umbro shorts. I guess I had forgot to put on underwear that day. There you were. Brownish. Curlyish. Just like on my head, but there was a lot less of you. I liked you immediately. I still do.
Remember that time I tried to Bic you off during my Freshman year of college? I never did say sorry. But i'm sorry. I blame it on the Jungle Juice and that guy from Writing 105. I forget his name, but I swear it was him.
You just couldn't stay away though, could you? No, you were back in no time. Friends Forever, isn't that what they say?
I haven't minded you hangin' around my Victoria Secret's. Please, don't think that is why i'm doing this. It's not you down-there-lady-hair. It's me. Or wait, it's not me. It's my boyfriend. He blacked out last week and revealed his undying scorn for you. Oh, and i'll get a lot more oral. So, uhhh, sorry!
I don't know about me, but I know you'll be strong. Just think about all those unpleasant gyno visits. The stirrups, the rubber gloves, the prodding!
Maybe it'll even feel nice. Hot and waxy! What's not to like?
Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for being a friend.
Maybe i'll even see you again in a few weeks. It'll be just like the old days. Just like when I pulled down my Umbros on that fateful day.
The Funeral will commence at 5:15pm at The Spafumerie II on 49th and Second.
Hor'dourves will be served immediately following.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Tada!
Finally, Murray Hill. A little recognition!
A big thank you to all of the friends and fam who called last night to make sure I didn't explode all over Lexington Avenue.
I happened be enjoying yet another lo-carb-meat-fest in my kitchen when shit went down, so all is well and i'm in one piece. hoorah!
In other news, I am off from work tomorrow! GLORY! I am having a major dose of cubicle fever and am going to D.C. this weekend to see Hillary, Mike, Janna, Ash and Hannah. Lucky for me Hill's air conditioning is on the fritz so it looks like i'll be spending my drunken sleeps cuddling in between the lezzies. Just like college! Except hopefully this time they'll keep the moaning and groaning to a minimum. Yes, YOU ashley! ahhhh flashblacks!
My boyfriend no longer wants to commit suicide because he recieved a sexy job offer which basically makes him the richest man in Woodside, Queens. I bet if he wants, he can even afford a year long supply of Panda Garden mixed vegetables! Unbelievable!!
I'm still poor, though. Great.
Okay, what else.
It's Restaurant Week here in NYC, so you know I was forwarding that shit to Daddy Winston.
In one hour I will be chowing down on Filet Mignon and sipping red wine with Marvin. Ahhh, the romance.
It's amazing how often I talk about my dad at work. It's like this.
Monique- "What are you doing for lunch today?"
Me- "Marv is takin me out for steak today, biatch!"
Mo- "Yeah, he took me out for steak last night too! and then we DID IT!"
Thanks, Mo. Very cute.
Too bad your mom flew in from Georgia last night and gave me really good... uhhh... ah, i guess that's weird.
Other exciting things in my life:
-Somebody left a Duncan Sheik CD on my desk and I secretly like it.
-I've started to BYO iced coffee to work! It's genius! I'm going to be a billionaire by 2009. You'll see!
-Last weekend I went to Jerz to visit my sister Sarah. She took me to her 'ladies only' gym and it was hilaaaaarious. Everything was hot pink and purple and supa-early 90s style. Even the employees! This is what I can remember:
Wow, that took way too much time.
Bye!
A big thank you to all of the friends and fam who called last night to make sure I didn't explode all over Lexington Avenue.
I happened be enjoying yet another lo-carb-meat-fest in my kitchen when shit went down, so all is well and i'm in one piece. hoorah!
In other news, I am off from work tomorrow! GLORY! I am having a major dose of cubicle fever and am going to D.C. this weekend to see Hillary, Mike, Janna, Ash and Hannah. Lucky for me Hill's air conditioning is on the fritz so it looks like i'll be spending my drunken sleeps cuddling in between the lezzies. Just like college! Except hopefully this time they'll keep the moaning and groaning to a minimum. Yes, YOU ashley! ahhhh flashblacks!
My boyfriend no longer wants to commit suicide because he recieved a sexy job offer which basically makes him the richest man in Woodside, Queens. I bet if he wants, he can even afford a year long supply of Panda Garden mixed vegetables! Unbelievable!!
I'm still poor, though. Great.
Okay, what else.
It's Restaurant Week here in NYC, so you know I was forwarding that shit to Daddy Winston.
In one hour I will be chowing down on Filet Mignon and sipping red wine with Marvin. Ahhh, the romance.
It's amazing how often I talk about my dad at work. It's like this.
Monique- "What are you doing for lunch today?"
Me- "Marv is takin me out for steak today, biatch!"
Mo- "Yeah, he took me out for steak last night too! and then we DID IT!"
Thanks, Mo. Very cute.
Too bad your mom flew in from Georgia last night and gave me really good... uhhh... ah, i guess that's weird.
Other exciting things in my life:
-Somebody left a Duncan Sheik CD on my desk and I secretly like it.
-I've started to BYO iced coffee to work! It's genius! I'm going to be a billionaire by 2009. You'll see!
-Last weekend I went to Jerz to visit my sister Sarah. She took me to her 'ladies only' gym and it was hilaaaaarious. Everything was hot pink and purple and supa-early 90s style. Even the employees! This is what I can remember:
Wow, that took way too much time.
Bye!
Monday, July 09, 2007
Bravo for Bravo!
Did anyone else bother to watch the Charm School Reunion show last night? I felt like I was watching a tit concert! If someone were to ask me what happened, I honestly wouldn't know how to answer. All I saw were breasts! Big ones! Even innocent little Buckwild was busting out of her v-neck dress! Sean came over to watch, and the only thing he could pay attention to was the balding, mustached man cheering on Sapphyri in the front row.
"Now THAT's my type!"
"Whaaaa Whoooo? Dude, did you see those BOOBS!?"
I really like reality television, which is strange because I really hate reality. I haven't watched the news since I was forced by my 8th grade Social Studies teacher, the same bitch who dumped my desk out onto the floor and called me discombobulated in front of the whole class! What a hooker!
I also hate politics. Passionately.
Quick, name as many Presidents as you can!
Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Abraham Lincoln!?
Sports? Forget about it. The closest I ever came to sports fan was when Hillary and I decided to become scorekeepers for the boys' lacrosse team in high school. We figured this would definitely increase the chances of losing our virginity before graduation. Mission Accomplished... well at least for one of us! Sports, WOO!!!
But Reality TV... Sweet, sweet Reality TV.
I'm really into Top Chef right now, which is seriously a blessing since Bravo runs repeats at least 20 hours each day. Sometimes I like to imagine myself as a contestant, turning every challenge into a new and improved stir fry creation using only Pam cooking spray and canned baby corn.
Gail Simmons of Food & Wine Magazine will compliment me on my robust Asian flavors and Chef Colicchio will be so impressed he'll have no other choice but to throw me onto the Kenmore Kitchen counter and have his way with me. I mean, uhhhhhhhh nevermind.
I used to love the Next Food Network Star, however this season blows my ass. All of the contestants suck equally, plus they're ugly. I'm sorry, there's enough ugly Food Network Stars for my taste already. Nigella's Feast? Don't get me started. Giada the BobbleHead? C'mon, you're telling me she actually EATS?! douubttttttt it!
And worst of all.... Healthy Apetite with Ellie Kriger. One Word. WOOF!
My only true Food Network love is the Barefoot Contessa. Sometimes I wish she were my mom! "C'mon pookiebear, let's create our own pizzas and then grill them in the backyard!" ahhhhh i love you!
I am eagerly awaiting the return of Project Runway, and life is seriously wonderful again now that Extreme Makeover is back in action.
Wife Swap? Um, BRILLIANT!
Oh shit. I'm at work and it's Monday and I was a half hour late due to elevator traffic plus had to buy an iced coffee and now it's 11:30am and this is all i've accomplished.
In the words of my dear friend Heidi Klum, Auf Wiedersehen!
"Now THAT's my type!"
"Whaaaa Whoooo? Dude, did you see those BOOBS!?"
I really like reality television, which is strange because I really hate reality. I haven't watched the news since I was forced by my 8th grade Social Studies teacher, the same bitch who dumped my desk out onto the floor and called me discombobulated in front of the whole class! What a hooker!
I also hate politics. Passionately.
Quick, name as many Presidents as you can!
Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Abraham Lincoln!?
Sports? Forget about it. The closest I ever came to sports fan was when Hillary and I decided to become scorekeepers for the boys' lacrosse team in high school. We figured this would definitely increase the chances of losing our virginity before graduation. Mission Accomplished... well at least for one of us! Sports, WOO!!!
But Reality TV... Sweet, sweet Reality TV.
I'm really into Top Chef right now, which is seriously a blessing since Bravo runs repeats at least 20 hours each day. Sometimes I like to imagine myself as a contestant, turning every challenge into a new and improved stir fry creation using only Pam cooking spray and canned baby corn.
Gail Simmons of Food & Wine Magazine will compliment me on my robust Asian flavors and Chef Colicchio will be so impressed he'll have no other choice but to throw me onto the Kenmore Kitchen counter and have his way with me. I mean, uhhhhhhhh nevermind.
I used to love the Next Food Network Star, however this season blows my ass. All of the contestants suck equally, plus they're ugly. I'm sorry, there's enough ugly Food Network Stars for my taste already. Nigella's Feast? Don't get me started. Giada the BobbleHead? C'mon, you're telling me she actually EATS?! douubttttttt it!
And worst of all.... Healthy Apetite with Ellie Kriger. One Word. WOOF!
My only true Food Network love is the Barefoot Contessa. Sometimes I wish she were my mom! "C'mon pookiebear, let's create our own pizzas and then grill them in the backyard!" ahhhhh i love you!
I am eagerly awaiting the return of Project Runway, and life is seriously wonderful again now that Extreme Makeover is back in action.
Wife Swap? Um, BRILLIANT!
Oh shit. I'm at work and it's Monday and I was a half hour late due to elevator traffic plus had to buy an iced coffee and now it's 11:30am and this is all i've accomplished.
In the words of my dear friend Heidi Klum, Auf Wiedersehen!
Monday, July 02, 2007
Banana Hairs... Revealed!
What a strange week it has been! Monday I went to work and it was gay. Tuesday, I also went to work but thankfully it was less gay due to a 2 o' clock early dismissal. This translated into 3 large and in charge frozen margaritas and a trip to Urban Outfitters to return a dress I had already worn and may or may not have had sex in. Whoops. Beware of the plaid halter dress, size large.
I thought I was doing myself a favor. I said to myself, 'Girrrrllll, you need that $50 for pedicures and iced cappucinos and general life! Return the dress. Return the DRESS!'
So, I returned it. But unfortunately, I was drunk. And so I frolicked over to Banana Republic, just for a peak. I was sure I wouldn't like anything. Positive! Just wasting some time. Just taking a looooooksyyyy....OOOOHHHHHHH there's a SALE!
And so i bought a shirt/dress contraption and a bottle of water from the upscale hot dog vendor on Lexington Ave, totaling the amount of my return. fuckshit.
Fourth of July was a giant blur of beer pong and swedish meatballs, yesterday I almost committed boredom-induced suicide in my cubicle and today has consisted of nothing more than a free, questionably whole wheat bagel, 2 visits to ye' ol' bathroom compliments of the tub of Pinkberry frozen yogurt I chugged last night and an unsuccessful 2 hour search for the hottest and sexiest bikini in all of internet land!
So basically, I have nothing to say right now. Except for something which is amazing and that I would like to share with all of you!
Alright. I love bananas. I'll say it, I love them! They are cheap and heavenly, taste good in cereal or in smoothie-form or even straight up. But i hate the peeling process, mainly because of those stringy ass banana hairs. They are GROSS! Picking them off is just plain unappealing, and GASP!! Actually swallowing a hair? Let's just say, that's a giant no-no.
BUT, did you know banana hairs actually have a scientific name?
Phloem Bundles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(pronounced flom). They are part of the system that carries nutrition to all parts of the banana. - quote Chiquita.com
So have a lovely weekend, enjoy the weather and beware of the Phloem Bundles!
That is all. Goodbye!
check out those phloems!
P.S.
From: Winnymom@aol.com
You had sex in a dress and then returned it? Gross!! Did it still have the tags on it?
Mom
I thought I was doing myself a favor. I said to myself, 'Girrrrllll, you need that $50 for pedicures and iced cappucinos and general life! Return the dress. Return the DRESS!'
So, I returned it. But unfortunately, I was drunk. And so I frolicked over to Banana Republic, just for a peak. I was sure I wouldn't like anything. Positive! Just wasting some time. Just taking a looooooksyyyy....OOOOHHHHHHH there's a SALE!
And so i bought a shirt/dress contraption and a bottle of water from the upscale hot dog vendor on Lexington Ave, totaling the amount of my return. fuckshit.
Fourth of July was a giant blur of beer pong and swedish meatballs, yesterday I almost committed boredom-induced suicide in my cubicle and today has consisted of nothing more than a free, questionably whole wheat bagel, 2 visits to ye' ol' bathroom compliments of the tub of Pinkberry frozen yogurt I chugged last night and an unsuccessful 2 hour search for the hottest and sexiest bikini in all of internet land!
So basically, I have nothing to say right now. Except for something which is amazing and that I would like to share with all of you!
Alright. I love bananas. I'll say it, I love them! They are cheap and heavenly, taste good in cereal or in smoothie-form or even straight up. But i hate the peeling process, mainly because of those stringy ass banana hairs. They are GROSS! Picking them off is just plain unappealing, and GASP!! Actually swallowing a hair? Let's just say, that's a giant no-no.
BUT, did you know banana hairs actually have a scientific name?
Phloem Bundles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(pronounced flom). They are part of the system that carries nutrition to all parts of the banana. - quote Chiquita.com
So have a lovely weekend, enjoy the weather and beware of the Phloem Bundles!
That is all. Goodbye!
check out those phloems!
P.S.
From: Winnymom@aol.com
You had sex in a dress and then returned it? Gross!! Did it still have the tags on it?
Mom
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Expecting?
God, it's really fucking hot outside. So hot, i'm contemplating retiring my hair straightener. Sooo hot, wearing underwear has become a chore. Sooo fucking hot, i've started sweating underneath my boobs, and it aiiiiin't pretty.
What is one to do when waiting for the subway in the most humid, rancid, 105 degree underground heat?
I bought a dress. It cost me $22 at Forever 21 and it is the most perfect summer dress for activities including but not limited to working, churning butter, calling out sick and easy access sexual activity.
Problem: It's mighty boobalicious (2nd mention of BOOBS!) and in return forces every nasty, nasty man in Times Square and Woodside, Queens to look me up and down and throw out a "HEEEEY MAAAAMI!" or if i'm lucky, a "HEEEEY SEXY MAMI!".
It's a love/hate relationship.
On one hand, my bod must be looking mighty sexy. I'm not as grotesquely obese as I imagine! hoorah and hooray!
On the other, i feel like these stinky mexican/homeless/hallucinating admirers are touching their penises and thinking of me:The boob-sweating Jewish girl extraordinaire!
This was what happened on Saturday afternoon. I pranced all over town in my dress, being cat called and hating it but secretly loving it. No need to feel guilty about those 17 brownies I ate last night! The 39th street homeless man with half-dead dog and negative 18 teeth thinks i look great. Might as well supersize that #3! Mmmmmm
As the afternoon turned into evening, I decided to head home and prepare for my evening festivities. I stopped into my local grocer to pick up some berries and milk and such, and headed to the cash register, still feelin' hot and sexy and basically like Murray Hill's Next Top Model.
"Hey, how are you today?" asks 19 year old braided-haired register man.
"I'm really good, thanks!" - meeeee
Register Man- stares at my stomach region
Me- feeling weiiiiird. feeling reallllllly weird.
Reg-Man "Aw... so you're expecting, huh?"
Me- "Umm...no? Yeah, no i'm not pregnant."
Reg-Man "Ahhhhhhhhh shit, im so sorry"
Me- "Uhhhh, yeah it's okay. I just drink a lot of beer, I guess.
Reg-Man "Daaaaaaaaaaamn girl. How much beer do you drink?"
I paid for my fucking fat free food items and ran home and cried in my bed for seven minutes.
Then I called 3 friends, all who proceeded to tell me that they have been mistaken for preggers before, and to calm the fuck down and that it was probably just my super-in-style-pregnantesque-dress.
Anyone want to buy a dress? 10 dolla!
What is one to do when waiting for the subway in the most humid, rancid, 105 degree underground heat?
I bought a dress. It cost me $22 at Forever 21 and it is the most perfect summer dress for activities including but not limited to working, churning butter, calling out sick and easy access sexual activity.
Problem: It's mighty boobalicious (2nd mention of BOOBS!) and in return forces every nasty, nasty man in Times Square and Woodside, Queens to look me up and down and throw out a "HEEEEY MAAAAMI!" or if i'm lucky, a "HEEEEY SEXY MAMI!".
It's a love/hate relationship.
On one hand, my bod must be looking mighty sexy. I'm not as grotesquely obese as I imagine! hoorah and hooray!
On the other, i feel like these stinky mexican/homeless/hallucinating admirers are touching their penises and thinking of me:The boob-sweating Jewish girl extraordinaire!
This was what happened on Saturday afternoon. I pranced all over town in my dress, being cat called and hating it but secretly loving it. No need to feel guilty about those 17 brownies I ate last night! The 39th street homeless man with half-dead dog and negative 18 teeth thinks i look great. Might as well supersize that #3! Mmmmmm
As the afternoon turned into evening, I decided to head home and prepare for my evening festivities. I stopped into my local grocer to pick up some berries and milk and such, and headed to the cash register, still feelin' hot and sexy and basically like Murray Hill's Next Top Model.
"Hey, how are you today?" asks 19 year old braided-haired register man.
"I'm really good, thanks!" - meeeee
Register Man- stares at my stomach region
Me- feeling weiiiiird. feeling reallllllly weird.
Reg-Man "Aw... so you're expecting, huh?"
Me- "Umm...no? Yeah, no i'm not pregnant."
Reg-Man "Ahhhhhhhhh shit, im so sorry"
Me- "Uhhhh, yeah it's okay. I just drink a lot of beer, I guess.
Reg-Man "Daaaaaaaaaaamn girl. How much beer do you drink?"
I paid for my fucking fat free food items and ran home and cried in my bed for seven minutes.
Then I called 3 friends, all who proceeded to tell me that they have been mistaken for preggers before, and to calm the fuck down and that it was probably just my super-in-style-pregnantesque-dress.
Anyone want to buy a dress? 10 dolla!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Five Years From Now...
At home last weekend I noticed an envelope sitting on my kitchen table. It was addressed to me care of Old Bridge High School West, and upon closer inspection I realized I had sent this letter to myself.
As I slid my finger underneath the flap, I instantly knew what my envelope contained. This wasn't going to be pretty.
Senior year Ms. Mennona, who I recently found out was caught doing the nasty mc. nasterson with a female student, asked us to write letters to ourselves outlining what we hoped to accomplish in five years time. Sighhhhhhhh.
Dear Jess,
There's about 3 months till I leave for college, and i'm kind of nervous. I'm ready to leave my parents, but not my friends. Right now, I am 5'4" with highlighted hair and in really good shape. I don't think too much will change with my looks in 5 years.
(Dear Jess,
College is much fucking better then highschool. Don't worry about leaving your friends, as you will only keep in touch with about 4 of them. Your hair is now a shade of purple, with some heinous dark brown roots coming in. You've also drank enough beer to fill up a mack truck, and in return have went up about 3 pant sizes. On a positive note- your boobs are much bigger.)
Some goals that I have for the next five years are to do really well in college, try new things (maybe karate or fencing), make a lot of new friends and become somewhat career oriented. I really hope I get a great paying job my first year out of college. My dream is to own a hotel or restaurant.
(Hahahaha... seriously? In college, you achieved the title of Winstoned, due to the excessive amounts of marijuana you smoked pre-class, post-class, pre-dinner, uhh... all the time. You definitely tried some new activites, including but not limited to gravity bongs, 10-foot bongs, frequent alcohol-induced black outs and promiscuous sex. You did well in college, mainly due to the fact you majored in Retail Management, and are now an entry level media slave, earning a mere 30 grand in the most expensive city in the country. Congrats, you dumbass biatch.)
Something that I do hope to change in 5 years are some of my qualities. These include me being a little to: impatient, emotional, jealous, self-conscious, picky and critical. Hopefully i'll be working on a little self improvement.
(No such luck, friend. You are a beast when it comes to criticizing others, specifically for their uneven/bushy/rainbow/drawn-on eyebrows.)
What I like about myself? My ability to make others laugh and to be 'just one of the guys'. I hope that in 5 years from now, I am still trying to find the humor in every situation I face. I also hope that i'll still love the thrill of meeting new people and going out to have a good time.
(God, you are one cheesy ass 17 year old. Finally, an accurate prediction. Why, i LOVE going out to have a good time. Especially, when the good time includes 7 Heinekens, 5 gin and tonics, falafel sandwiches and sexual activity. Hoorah!)
What's important to me most: My parents, even though they're irritating and ask the same question 20 times in a row. I love my sisters - in 5 years, Sarah might even be married! And Emily, well she might still be with Elinor. I'm sure they will both me really successful.
(Ohhhh Ellen. She still loves to repeat herself, after all these years. And damn, i'm good. Sarah is married, Emily's still a lesbian. Successful? Errr... not so sure. But at least they now own dogs, cats and talking birds. Didn't see that coming...)
What's going on in my life right now: Senior prom is this Friday and then off to Wildwood this weekend. I'm really excited but I don't want it to be over. Graduation is so soon, and i've been so busy trying to get things done. I should be employed by Wawa by Wednesday and I need to fill out a lot of papers for Syracuse. It's kind of stressful because i'm really used to doing nothing.
(Now there's the Jess I know and love. Bitchhh, you didn't even work at Wawa though, what the hell are you talking about? You're still used to doing nothing. Look, you're blogging at work! You cringe when given any form of work assignment, and take 2 hour lunch breaks every single day! Good job!!)
Well, I guess that's all that can be said for the moment. I'm ready to face whatever the future throws at me. Cya in 5 years!
Love, Jess
(Weed, Beer, Weed, Beer, Weed, Beer, Graduation, Work, Beer Beer Beer. Oh and you're poor.)
Love, Jess
As I slid my finger underneath the flap, I instantly knew what my envelope contained. This wasn't going to be pretty.
Senior year Ms. Mennona, who I recently found out was caught doing the nasty mc. nasterson with a female student, asked us to write letters to ourselves outlining what we hoped to accomplish in five years time. Sighhhhhhhh.
Dear Jess,
There's about 3 months till I leave for college, and i'm kind of nervous. I'm ready to leave my parents, but not my friends. Right now, I am 5'4" with highlighted hair and in really good shape. I don't think too much will change with my looks in 5 years.
(Dear Jess,
College is much fucking better then highschool. Don't worry about leaving your friends, as you will only keep in touch with about 4 of them. Your hair is now a shade of purple, with some heinous dark brown roots coming in. You've also drank enough beer to fill up a mack truck, and in return have went up about 3 pant sizes. On a positive note- your boobs are much bigger.)
Some goals that I have for the next five years are to do really well in college, try new things (maybe karate or fencing), make a lot of new friends and become somewhat career oriented. I really hope I get a great paying job my first year out of college. My dream is to own a hotel or restaurant.
(Hahahaha... seriously? In college, you achieved the title of Winstoned, due to the excessive amounts of marijuana you smoked pre-class, post-class, pre-dinner, uhh... all the time. You definitely tried some new activites, including but not limited to gravity bongs, 10-foot bongs, frequent alcohol-induced black outs and promiscuous sex. You did well in college, mainly due to the fact you majored in Retail Management, and are now an entry level media slave, earning a mere 30 grand in the most expensive city in the country. Congrats, you dumbass biatch.)
Something that I do hope to change in 5 years are some of my qualities. These include me being a little to: impatient, emotional, jealous, self-conscious, picky and critical. Hopefully i'll be working on a little self improvement.
(No such luck, friend. You are a beast when it comes to criticizing others, specifically for their uneven/bushy/rainbow/drawn-on eyebrows.)
What I like about myself? My ability to make others laugh and to be 'just one of the guys'. I hope that in 5 years from now, I am still trying to find the humor in every situation I face. I also hope that i'll still love the thrill of meeting new people and going out to have a good time.
(God, you are one cheesy ass 17 year old. Finally, an accurate prediction. Why, i LOVE going out to have a good time. Especially, when the good time includes 7 Heinekens, 5 gin and tonics, falafel sandwiches and sexual activity. Hoorah!)
What's important to me most: My parents, even though they're irritating and ask the same question 20 times in a row. I love my sisters - in 5 years, Sarah might even be married! And Emily, well she might still be with Elinor. I'm sure they will both me really successful.
(Ohhhh Ellen. She still loves to repeat herself, after all these years. And damn, i'm good. Sarah is married, Emily's still a lesbian. Successful? Errr... not so sure. But at least they now own dogs, cats and talking birds. Didn't see that coming...)
What's going on in my life right now: Senior prom is this Friday and then off to Wildwood this weekend. I'm really excited but I don't want it to be over. Graduation is so soon, and i've been so busy trying to get things done. I should be employed by Wawa by Wednesday and I need to fill out a lot of papers for Syracuse. It's kind of stressful because i'm really used to doing nothing.
(Now there's the Jess I know and love. Bitchhh, you didn't even work at Wawa though, what the hell are you talking about? You're still used to doing nothing. Look, you're blogging at work! You cringe when given any form of work assignment, and take 2 hour lunch breaks every single day! Good job!!)
Well, I guess that's all that can be said for the moment. I'm ready to face whatever the future throws at me. Cya in 5 years!
Love, Jess
(Weed, Beer, Weed, Beer, Weed, Beer, Graduation, Work, Beer Beer Beer. Oh and you're poor.)
Love, Jess
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
GREAT VALUE FOR THE PRICE
This hotel is great... if you like mosquitos crawling into your asshole all night long delivering you malaria while trying to fall back asleep in your twin-sized bed after 2 hours of buffet-induced food poisoning. (the paella was DELICIOUS!)
The water is soo clear and the sand is perfect. Just make sure to show up before 7am or else it gets really crowded and you'll have to lay out by the pool instead. Speaking of the pool... WOW! It was seriously wonderful, but don't let your kids drink the water!! Little Jimmy had diarrhea for last 6 days of the trip. Poor kid, he couldn't even enjoy the breakfast buffet (he LOVED the french toast!!)without sprinting back up to our room to use the bathroom, which only backed up 9 times the entire trip!
Don't believe those other reviews, either! We had hot water the whole vacation!! We just had to take our showers between the hours of 2 and 5am. Not a problem...
The maid service was perfect. Well, the first 2 days our sheets and towels went unchanged, but a nice couple we met in the lobby told us the secret! You just need to leave the maids little trinkets each day. We gave Margarite chocolate bars, a bible and a set of ear plugs, among other things. She really loved us, and even started crying when we realized our safe had been broken into and all of our passports and my wedding ring had been stolen! She was so sympathetic. If you're reading this, Hi Margarite!!
All in all, The Punta Cana Rio Bamboo All Inclusive resort was well worth our money. You won't regret it!
DOMINICAN REPUBLIC, here I come!!!!!
The water is soo clear and the sand is perfect. Just make sure to show up before 7am or else it gets really crowded and you'll have to lay out by the pool instead. Speaking of the pool... WOW! It was seriously wonderful, but don't let your kids drink the water!! Little Jimmy had diarrhea for last 6 days of the trip. Poor kid, he couldn't even enjoy the breakfast buffet (he LOVED the french toast!!)without sprinting back up to our room to use the bathroom, which only backed up 9 times the entire trip!
Don't believe those other reviews, either! We had hot water the whole vacation!! We just had to take our showers between the hours of 2 and 5am. Not a problem...
The maid service was perfect. Well, the first 2 days our sheets and towels went unchanged, but a nice couple we met in the lobby told us the secret! You just need to leave the maids little trinkets each day. We gave Margarite chocolate bars, a bible and a set of ear plugs, among other things. She really loved us, and even started crying when we realized our safe had been broken into and all of our passports and my wedding ring had been stolen! She was so sympathetic. If you're reading this, Hi Margarite!!
All in all, The Punta Cana Rio Bamboo All Inclusive resort was well worth our money. You won't regret it!
DOMINICAN REPUBLIC, here I come!!!!!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The Mango Tango
Iced coffee season has arrived, and this morning I was all set to post about my passionate desire to consume the miraculous beverage on a bi-daily basis, along with the many issues that arise when choosing between Starbucks (a tad bitter but i have a gift card!) , Dunkin' (AKA "fruity diarrhea"-Ashley Connors) and the 17 assorted street coffee vendors conveniently located between my apartment and work.
Anyway, i'm sure you want to hear all about it... and if you do, feel free to write.
Right now, i'm alllllll in a huff.
Tonight, yessss tonight... I have sliced me my very own mango! No, i can do better then that. I have taken my mango's cherry! I have danced... the MANGO TANGO.
I'd been thinking about BYO-Mango for quite a few weeks now. I'd been spending $4+ per container on the fabulous little pre-cut mango babies at the local fruitery, and when translated into alcoholic beverage money I was losing out on at least 1 or 2 solidly drunken happy hours.
And so, with debit card in hard I popped into my local Morton Williams and searched for the forbidden fruit. Red mangos! Green mangos! Yellow-reddish-greenish mangos! How does one even tell what a ripe mango looks like? Is ripe mango color common knowledge??! I grabbed a hybrid-colored one, and threw in an avocado for good measure. What can i say? I was feeling adventurous!
I let my mango sit in my makeshift fruitbowl composed of a hot pink plastic appartatus i found in my roommates cabinet, possibly saved from a childhood cookie baking sesson. My fruit sat there for two full days, since I wasn't sure about ripeness or unripeness or mango expiration dates and so on.
On the way home from Brooklyn this evening, I was feeling rather inspired. As we discussed adult ass-wipes and the American Girl Theater, my writing teacher sat on her floor cushion, munching away on what I supposed was self-cut mango. It was like a sign from the heavens!
I rushed off the 6 train and straight to my fruit, awaiting me quietly and looking exactly the same as two days prior.
Not knowing wear to start, I consulted Google for a little advice: How to cut a mango
Cross-Hatching?! They think i can fucking CROSS-HATCH a mango!!!!?
I came really close to crying when I was informed i had to use something known as a paring knife, and picked something from our knife-holding unit that looked like it could possibly cut a piece of grilled chicken. Chicken... Mango... similar..sort of... mmm mango chicken.
I attempted the diagonal slicing technique displayed in step 1, but my mango halves wouldn't budge! I dug my fingers into the mango and surpriiiise... that shit is MUSHY.
After 30 seconds of failing to rip the mango halves in half, i brought out a new knife resembling something in which you may have seen in one of those killer clown movies. I proceeded to slice the shit out of that thing, fingers dripping in mango innards and praying that my roommate didn't walk into the kitchen and catch me in the act and call the fruit police!!
Whatever. Now i'm eating mango in my bed and i am seriously in love and seriously in need of some floss.
Anyway, i'm sure you want to hear all about it... and if you do, feel free to write.
Right now, i'm alllllll in a huff.
Tonight, yessss tonight... I have sliced me my very own mango! No, i can do better then that. I have taken my mango's cherry! I have danced... the MANGO TANGO.
I'd been thinking about BYO-Mango for quite a few weeks now. I'd been spending $4+ per container on the fabulous little pre-cut mango babies at the local fruitery, and when translated into alcoholic beverage money I was losing out on at least 1 or 2 solidly drunken happy hours.
And so, with debit card in hard I popped into my local Morton Williams and searched for the forbidden fruit. Red mangos! Green mangos! Yellow-reddish-greenish mangos! How does one even tell what a ripe mango looks like? Is ripe mango color common knowledge??! I grabbed a hybrid-colored one, and threw in an avocado for good measure. What can i say? I was feeling adventurous!
I let my mango sit in my makeshift fruitbowl composed of a hot pink plastic appartatus i found in my roommates cabinet, possibly saved from a childhood cookie baking sesson. My fruit sat there for two full days, since I wasn't sure about ripeness or unripeness or mango expiration dates and so on.
On the way home from Brooklyn this evening, I was feeling rather inspired. As we discussed adult ass-wipes and the American Girl Theater, my writing teacher sat on her floor cushion, munching away on what I supposed was self-cut mango. It was like a sign from the heavens!
I rushed off the 6 train and straight to my fruit, awaiting me quietly and looking exactly the same as two days prior.
Not knowing wear to start, I consulted Google for a little advice: How to cut a mango
Cross-Hatching?! They think i can fucking CROSS-HATCH a mango!!!!?
I came really close to crying when I was informed i had to use something known as a paring knife, and picked something from our knife-holding unit that looked like it could possibly cut a piece of grilled chicken. Chicken... Mango... similar..sort of... mmm mango chicken.
I attempted the diagonal slicing technique displayed in step 1, but my mango halves wouldn't budge! I dug my fingers into the mango and surpriiiise... that shit is MUSHY.
After 30 seconds of failing to rip the mango halves in half, i brought out a new knife resembling something in which you may have seen in one of those killer clown movies. I proceeded to slice the shit out of that thing, fingers dripping in mango innards and praying that my roommate didn't walk into the kitchen and catch me in the act and call the fruit police!!
Whatever. Now i'm eating mango in my bed and i am seriously in love and seriously in need of some floss.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
I Am The Biggest Loser... in sooo many ways
Alright. So, it's one thing to drunk text the man who slept in your bed last weekend. You might even dial and leave one of those hideous voicemails leaving a detailed account of how horny/drunk/in love you are and then want to hang yourself in the morning when you discover your call log displays 17 outgoing calls, all in the span of less than 10 minutes.
Those things I compleeeeetely understand. Hill, I know you're with me...
However, last night I made a totally different type of drunk dial. This one was made after the consumption of one Sam Adams Summer Ale (YESSSSS, it's back!!!) and approximately four vodka-sodas with lime, and went out to my boyfriend who was spending the night smoking pot and eating assorted asian cuisine on his couch in Queens. It went a little something like this... I think?
Me- Gets brilliant idea and runs into bathroom area
rinnnng rinnnng
Me: Hiiiiiii!!
Ryan: Are you drunk?
Me: Yesssss!!! I have a question for you but feel free to say no if you think it's weird!! (AKA you better not say no or ELSE!)
Ryan: Uhhhhhhh??? okay...
Me: Do you want to go out to dinner with my family tomorrow??
That's right folks!!!! I drunk dialed to see if he would get dinner in New Jersey with Sarah, Boleslav and my Super-Jew parents whom he's never met before!!
If this wasn't odd enough, I proceeded to call my mother so she could change the reservation.
When nobody picked up, I did as any good daughter would do and left a long, drunken, slurred message on my parent's answering machine, which... now when i think about it... uhh, where the hell were my parents on a Friday night at 11pm??
aaaahhhh bad thoughts, bad thoughts.
Let's see. What else?
Ah yes, The Biggest Loser Competition Part 2 is in full swing, and according to which scale I decide to use, what time of day it is, and how many quarts of "low fat" frozen yogurt I've consumed prior to weigh-in, i MAY or MAY NOT have lost 1 pound.
About 3 months back, Krystal and I were tired of our lardy selves, and made a pact to be amazing weight watchers for the next 4 weeks. Whoever lost a higher percentage of weight would be treated to a fabulous dinner by the contestant who just couldn't stay away from Taco Bell. Mmmmm chalupas... and gorditas... saaalivate.
Where was I? ohh yes, so for 1 week in February I ditched my lunch break trips to Bloomingdales and forced myself to elliptical and lift heavy objects, and to my surprise I dropped about 3 pounds.
Krystal on the other hand decided to call it quits when her life was thrown into turmoil over finding a new job, taking care of her obese yet adorable cat Timmy and interviewing crazies off of Craig's List to fill the open room in her apartment.
The competition was temporarily put on hold, but as of last Monday we're back in action!
The terms have been discussed, hmm... and they're exactly the same as the first time except we've become a bit more detailed about the reward:
The winner receives 1 free dinner of.... drumroll pleeease... 'Ridonc Sushi Rolls'
Yep, you know what i'm talkin' about. Spicy tuna on top of shrimp tempura on top of yellowtail sashimi, avocados, king crab, hot sauce, cheeseburgers, your mom, banana republic, etc... and i DON'T want brown rice, thanks!
So far i've tried consuming less than 7 alcoholic beverages on a maximum of 2... errr.. 3 nights per week, as well as making sure I don't hit up Mamoun's in the west village for the most delicious $2 falafel of my liiiife.
My pants are fitting... the same.
My love handles look... cute?
Anyway, i'll keep you posted as the competition progresses.
p.s. i wrote this very hungoverly on a saturday morning, so feel free to excuse any weirdness that may have been blogged. neeeeeed coffee.
Ok, bye!
Those things I compleeeeetely understand. Hill, I know you're with me...
However, last night I made a totally different type of drunk dial. This one was made after the consumption of one Sam Adams Summer Ale (YESSSSS, it's back!!!) and approximately four vodka-sodas with lime, and went out to my boyfriend who was spending the night smoking pot and eating assorted asian cuisine on his couch in Queens. It went a little something like this... I think?
Me- Gets brilliant idea and runs into bathroom area
rinnnng rinnnng
Me: Hiiiiiii!!
Ryan: Are you drunk?
Me: Yesssss!!! I have a question for you but feel free to say no if you think it's weird!! (AKA you better not say no or ELSE!)
Ryan: Uhhhhhhh??? okay...
Me: Do you want to go out to dinner with my family tomorrow??
That's right folks!!!! I drunk dialed to see if he would get dinner in New Jersey with Sarah, Boleslav and my Super-Jew parents whom he's never met before!!
If this wasn't odd enough, I proceeded to call my mother so she could change the reservation.
When nobody picked up, I did as any good daughter would do and left a long, drunken, slurred message on my parent's answering machine, which... now when i think about it... uhh, where the hell were my parents on a Friday night at 11pm??
aaaahhhh bad thoughts, bad thoughts.
Let's see. What else?
Ah yes, The Biggest Loser Competition Part 2 is in full swing, and according to which scale I decide to use, what time of day it is, and how many quarts of "low fat" frozen yogurt I've consumed prior to weigh-in, i MAY or MAY NOT have lost 1 pound.
About 3 months back, Krystal and I were tired of our lardy selves, and made a pact to be amazing weight watchers for the next 4 weeks. Whoever lost a higher percentage of weight would be treated to a fabulous dinner by the contestant who just couldn't stay away from Taco Bell. Mmmmm chalupas... and gorditas... saaalivate.
Where was I? ohh yes, so for 1 week in February I ditched my lunch break trips to Bloomingdales and forced myself to elliptical and lift heavy objects, and to my surprise I dropped about 3 pounds.
Krystal on the other hand decided to call it quits when her life was thrown into turmoil over finding a new job, taking care of her obese yet adorable cat Timmy and interviewing crazies off of Craig's List to fill the open room in her apartment.
The competition was temporarily put on hold, but as of last Monday we're back in action!
The terms have been discussed, hmm... and they're exactly the same as the first time except we've become a bit more detailed about the reward:
The winner receives 1 free dinner of.... drumroll pleeease... 'Ridonc Sushi Rolls'
Yep, you know what i'm talkin' about. Spicy tuna on top of shrimp tempura on top of yellowtail sashimi, avocados, king crab, hot sauce, cheeseburgers, your mom, banana republic, etc... and i DON'T want brown rice, thanks!
So far i've tried consuming less than 7 alcoholic beverages on a maximum of 2... errr.. 3 nights per week, as well as making sure I don't hit up Mamoun's in the west village for the most delicious $2 falafel of my liiiife.
My pants are fitting... the same.
My love handles look... cute?
Anyway, i'll keep you posted as the competition progresses.
p.s. i wrote this very hungoverly on a saturday morning, so feel free to excuse any weirdness that may have been blogged. neeeeeed coffee.
Ok, bye!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
What Not To Wear: A How-To Guide by Emily Winston
The closest Emily ever came to fashionista-status was in Vegas last summer. We decided it was about time to throw her 1992 black platforms in the Treasure Island garbage can and forced her into varying ensembles composed mostly of Sarah's extra small self-bedazzled tank tops and matching mini skirts. We did such a good job with her show-girl makeover that she even managed to look borderline-straight and was hit on several times at each of the clubs we attended. I even decided to reward her sexy efforts with a $25 lap dance courtesy of a large, hunky black man, which she later mentioned that she quite enjoyed.
Check out the Emily sandwich happening in this photo... (not for your eyes, Elinor!!)
So that's why I was pleasantly surprised when I opened up my Gmail inbox this morning to find a message from Em entitled "Blast from the Past Fashion Show"
**Please keep in mind that her jaw is currently wired shut due to a wine-induced hot tub incident and she hasn't been able to consume solids in about a month. It's POSSIBLE that these outfits might like a smidgen better once the 10 or so pounds make their big come-back. wait.... hahahahahahaha, i doubt it.
The message reads as follows--
"For your viewing pleasure!
All of the following fashion items were purchased around 1999. I tried them on today to see if there's anything I should possibly save...the rest I can try to sell on ebay or just donate.
Cast your vote for each item!
Navy pinstripe suit
Cream button-down shirt
Navy flats
Black skirt suit
White shell
Black flats
Red mock turtleneck
Black pumps
first of all Em, this pose is hilarious. Was Elinor directing you or did you just come up with that move all on your own? I must say that the 'red mock turtleneck' really accentuates your golden California tan, though.
Oh my god. This is SO fugly. Nice choice of undershirt on this one. Are you planning on wearing this to an interview?
mmmm unemployment line, here you come.
Now, one would think that you would've worn this blouse underneath suit #1. Although, this outfit doesn't completely make me want to spew my turkey sandwich all over my freshly washed sheets. Next...
Well, I can tell that Ellen Degeneres book I bought to cheer you up really rubbed off. This outfit screams 'I like the ladies', but who am I to judge?
Well... I guess you can open up your very own Ebay store entitled 'Emily's House of Fugly' and make a fortune.
Or maybe you can just construct some new chew-toys for your parrot and cockatoo.
Better yet, you should throw everything in the garbage.
Check out the Emily sandwich happening in this photo... (not for your eyes, Elinor!!)
So that's why I was pleasantly surprised when I opened up my Gmail inbox this morning to find a message from Em entitled "Blast from the Past Fashion Show"
**Please keep in mind that her jaw is currently wired shut due to a wine-induced hot tub incident and she hasn't been able to consume solids in about a month. It's POSSIBLE that these outfits might like a smidgen better once the 10 or so pounds make their big come-back. wait.... hahahahahahaha, i doubt it.
The message reads as follows--
"For your viewing pleasure!
All of the following fashion items were purchased around 1999. I tried them on today to see if there's anything I should possibly save...the rest I can try to sell on ebay or just donate.
Cast your vote for each item!
Navy pinstripe suit
Cream button-down shirt
Navy flats
Black skirt suit
White shell
Black flats
Red mock turtleneck
Black pumps
first of all Em, this pose is hilarious. Was Elinor directing you or did you just come up with that move all on your own? I must say that the 'red mock turtleneck' really accentuates your golden California tan, though.
Oh my god. This is SO fugly. Nice choice of undershirt on this one. Are you planning on wearing this to an interview?
mmmm unemployment line, here you come.
Now, one would think that you would've worn this blouse underneath suit #1. Although, this outfit doesn't completely make me want to spew my turkey sandwich all over my freshly washed sheets. Next...
Well, I can tell that Ellen Degeneres book I bought to cheer you up really rubbed off. This outfit screams 'I like the ladies', but who am I to judge?
Well... I guess you can open up your very own Ebay store entitled 'Emily's House of Fugly' and make a fortune.
Or maybe you can just construct some new chew-toys for your parrot and cockatoo.
Better yet, you should throw everything in the garbage.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
A JAP's Guide to Budgeting, Dieting and Infrequent Sobriety.
I'm on a budget...and a diet... really... I am.
Monday - April 9th, 2007
My good friend Dan invited me to his comedy show at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater. Lovely, I thought! A wonderful $5 cultural event to lift my spirits after an always-so-hellish Monday afternoon spent dillydallying in my cubicle, eating a vast array of uber-fiberous vegetation, laundering, ellipticaling for 35 minutes and tending to my excessive amounts of Judaism-induced body hair via my blow dryer and a Venus razor.
On my way over to the theater, I got a call from Coleen.
"Meet us at Dino's Party House!!!"
Dino's WHAAAT?! As an unofficial member of AA, anything with the words 'Party House' makes me want to kick off my Nike high-top sneaks, funnel a beast ice and sing my finest karaoke-rendition of Paula Cole's 'Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?'
So off I went to the Party House, located about 3 blocks away from the theater.
There were a total of 6 people in the entire bar - two of which were my friends, one the bartender, two were making out passionately in the corner and the sixth... a lonesome, tan-skinned man playing a game of PhotoHunt.
As I sipped my Blue Moon, said man started hitting on Coleen. And when I say hitting on, I mean he actually told her he would like to make love to her. Yesssss, make LOVE. He then proceeded to buy us cheap vodka shots and tell Michelle and I that he would also be interested in having sex with us, but that he would only make love to Coleen.
I told him that wouldn't be necessary, and that some more shots would be just fine.
20 minutes later, we collected our coats, said farewell to our new man-friend, and made our way over to the theater. I had no intentions of drinking more beverages... that was, until I saw that magical sign.
$2 PBR.
There is a god!!!!
I sat next to Dan's parents, drank several delicious Pabsts, journeyed to a small pub called Walter's which included a drunk woman with newborn-baby, took an $8 taxi-ride home, ate microwavable dumplings and set my alarm for 8am.
Tuesday - April 10, 2007
I had really wonderful intentions on Tuesday afternoon. It was ASPCA day, and I planned on heading down to Union Square with Mel after work to look/make out with all of the puppies, raid the salad bar at Whole Foods and go home and do nice things like watch repeats of I Love New York.
Around 3pm, I got a text from my buddy Flounder -- "Happy Hour?"
Ohhhh, how I despise turning down a perfectly good happy hour.
Me: "Mel... want to grab a beer first before the puppies?"
Mel: "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS... is he bringing his guy friends?"
We coerced Monique into joining our beverage festivities, and off we went to Local to join the Flound-Man & Co.
Flounder loves a good drinking game, and with the help of the $1 Coors Light happy hour special, I was able to get drunk all the while maintaining my allocated beverage budget for the week. And the beers were LIGHT. All 5 of them. Hence, my diet budget.
As 8 o' clock approached, I said farewell to my buddies, walked a drunken Mel to Grand Central and hurried home to watch American Idol. Not to mention, I was quite fungry at this point and couldn't wait to cook up an asian stir fry feast complete with wasabi peas, pineapple tidbits and anything else that tastes spectacular while doused in teriyaki sauce and eaten in a drunken frenzy.
On the elevator ride up to my apartment, I dug through my purse in search of my keys. I took out my disposable tupperware, my coffee thermos, my wallet, sunglasses, kashi granola bars.... UH-OH.... left them in my gym bag...which is in my cubicle... which is 11 blocks and 1 avenue away, which if i go back means i'll miss all of American Idol and I don't have TIVO... and then I won't see Sanjaya and my life will be OVER! mehhhhhhhhhh!
And this is when I realized the joys of paying over a grand in rent. DOOOOOOOORMAN.
Thankfully, I was able to get into my apartment only 20 minutes late for Idol. I watched Sanjaya flambouyantly prance around the stage all the while cooking my Asian splendor, and even found the time to convince Hillary into meeting an Italian-Turkish-Jewish JDater. And then I set my alarm for 8am.
Wednesday - April 11th, 2007.
I did not drink! I did not spend money! I even managed to smoke pot in my kitchen wearing only my underwear while simultaneously eating leftover cold pork dumplings. HOORAH!
Thursday - April 12th, 2007.
Damn you, Jon Ames. Thanks for leaving Local Radio Buying without a replacement and giving me all of your god-damn-skanky-ass-assistant-bitch work to do.
Lucky for you, I accept happy hour propositions as apologies. They BETTER have some mofo good drink specials.
As I gorged on $3 Blue Moons, $2 soco-lime shots, and assorted fried calamari bits, I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I always get a little excited when I don't recognize a phone number, and hoped it could possibly be a headhunter offering me a job naming nail polish colors, or maybe even Yolanda Vega telling me I won tonight's Pick 6 and to come collect my mill.
"HELLLOOOOOOO?!" I drunkenly slurred.
"Hi Jessica. This is ldkfgjgel;trkjg"
"WHO?! Who is THIS?!" I yelped.
"Jessica. This is Dr. Faust. I was just calling to tell you I got your blood test results back"
OHHHHH DICKKKKKKKK.
"They came back negative."
Boooooom Shaka Laka, I ain't dying of any weird-stomach-pain-induced-diseases! Well, at least not this week.
Still feeling the effects of my medical buzzkill, I decided it would be best to go home, microwave turkey meatballs, call my mother and fall asleep before 10pm.
Friday - April 13th, 2007.
Ahhhhhhh Friday. FINALLY, I can enjoy my life once again!
Due to the 10+ hours of sleep I received, I was actually able to attend the gym during lunch. Yeah, I was shocked, too.
As an added bonus, I was even able to elliptical my way through 40 minutes of Save the Last Dance Part 2 (Did you know there was a PART 2?!) and then proceeded to lay on the mats and laugh at Mel who only agreed to go to the gym because she really needed to take a shower.
I was feeling particularly wonderful because it was bow-chicka-bow-wow... PAYDAY.
After work, I cheerily frolicked down third avenue and straight into French Nails, for a brown-esque manicure and a 10 minute back massage by the god-of-all-nail-salon-massueses-of-my-LIFE.
I decided to keep it a low-key night in preparation for Saturday's Sake Bombing Fiesta, and met Ashley for dinner down in the Financial District. A few innocent fish tacos turned into 2 size-of-my-head frozen margaritas, an $80 bill and a buzzed subway ride to mmmmm... Woodside, Queens.
Saturday - April 14th, 2007
I spent the next day cruising down Queens Boulevard with Ryan in his pimped-out Rav 4. I had a burning desire to go shopping at Target, and we found one located in the most inconvient sort of mall-type-thing on the side of the Boulevard from Hell.
After a lovely diner meal and some assorted discount shoe-shopping, I beached myself on his couch for as long as possible until making my way back home to prepare for the cheap sushi and many a sake bomb that would soon be taking up residence in my liver.
My evening was one giant Asian-induced blur. Hmmm... are you seeing the pattern, too?
I was about 5 sake bombs deep before the food even arrived. Same for Ashley, who desperately needed alcohol in order to shmooze her questionably homosexual yet still undeniably sexy new roommate.
I reminisced with a long lost friend who actually wanted my babies circa 10th grade and yes... even sent me the first...errr..ONLY roses I have ever recieved. To thank him, I decided I would spill three-quarters of my $12 mango mojito all over his lovely Lacoste shirt and then coerce him into purchasing my next beverage. Tadaaaa.
Sunday, April 15th
Slept till 11. Woke up. Ate leftover turkey club from Queen's diner. Fell back asleep. Woke up at 4:30pm. Facebook stalking. Canned clam chowder. Microwaved an eggroll. Blogging. VH1's Charm School Starts tonight. Set my alarm for 8am. Looking forward to Happy Hour.
Monday - April 9th, 2007
My good friend Dan invited me to his comedy show at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater. Lovely, I thought! A wonderful $5 cultural event to lift my spirits after an always-so-hellish Monday afternoon spent dillydallying in my cubicle, eating a vast array of uber-fiberous vegetation, laundering, ellipticaling for 35 minutes and tending to my excessive amounts of Judaism-induced body hair via my blow dryer and a Venus razor.
On my way over to the theater, I got a call from Coleen.
"Meet us at Dino's Party House!!!"
Dino's WHAAAT?! As an unofficial member of AA, anything with the words 'Party House' makes me want to kick off my Nike high-top sneaks, funnel a beast ice and sing my finest karaoke-rendition of Paula Cole's 'Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?'
So off I went to the Party House, located about 3 blocks away from the theater.
There were a total of 6 people in the entire bar - two of which were my friends, one the bartender, two were making out passionately in the corner and the sixth... a lonesome, tan-skinned man playing a game of PhotoHunt.
As I sipped my Blue Moon, said man started hitting on Coleen. And when I say hitting on, I mean he actually told her he would like to make love to her. Yesssss, make LOVE. He then proceeded to buy us cheap vodka shots and tell Michelle and I that he would also be interested in having sex with us, but that he would only make love to Coleen.
I told him that wouldn't be necessary, and that some more shots would be just fine.
20 minutes later, we collected our coats, said farewell to our new man-friend, and made our way over to the theater. I had no intentions of drinking more beverages... that was, until I saw that magical sign.
$2 PBR.
There is a god!!!!
I sat next to Dan's parents, drank several delicious Pabsts, journeyed to a small pub called Walter's which included a drunk woman with newborn-baby, took an $8 taxi-ride home, ate microwavable dumplings and set my alarm for 8am.
Tuesday - April 10, 2007
I had really wonderful intentions on Tuesday afternoon. It was ASPCA day, and I planned on heading down to Union Square with Mel after work to look/make out with all of the puppies, raid the salad bar at Whole Foods and go home and do nice things like watch repeats of I Love New York.
Around 3pm, I got a text from my buddy Flounder -- "Happy Hour?"
Ohhhh, how I despise turning down a perfectly good happy hour.
Me: "Mel... want to grab a beer first before the puppies?"
Mel: "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS... is he bringing his guy friends?"
We coerced Monique into joining our beverage festivities, and off we went to Local to join the Flound-Man & Co.
Flounder loves a good drinking game, and with the help of the $1 Coors Light happy hour special, I was able to get drunk all the while maintaining my allocated beverage budget for the week. And the beers were LIGHT. All 5 of them. Hence, my diet budget.
As 8 o' clock approached, I said farewell to my buddies, walked a drunken Mel to Grand Central and hurried home to watch American Idol. Not to mention, I was quite fungry at this point and couldn't wait to cook up an asian stir fry feast complete with wasabi peas, pineapple tidbits and anything else that tastes spectacular while doused in teriyaki sauce and eaten in a drunken frenzy.
On the elevator ride up to my apartment, I dug through my purse in search of my keys. I took out my disposable tupperware, my coffee thermos, my wallet, sunglasses, kashi granola bars.... UH-OH.... left them in my gym bag...which is in my cubicle... which is 11 blocks and 1 avenue away, which if i go back means i'll miss all of American Idol and I don't have TIVO... and then I won't see Sanjaya and my life will be OVER! mehhhhhhhhhh!
And this is when I realized the joys of paying over a grand in rent. DOOOOOOOORMAN.
Thankfully, I was able to get into my apartment only 20 minutes late for Idol. I watched Sanjaya flambouyantly prance around the stage all the while cooking my Asian splendor, and even found the time to convince Hillary into meeting an Italian-Turkish-Jewish JDater. And then I set my alarm for 8am.
Wednesday - April 11th, 2007.
I did not drink! I did not spend money! I even managed to smoke pot in my kitchen wearing only my underwear while simultaneously eating leftover cold pork dumplings. HOORAH!
Thursday - April 12th, 2007.
Damn you, Jon Ames. Thanks for leaving Local Radio Buying without a replacement and giving me all of your god-damn-skanky-ass-assistant-bitch work to do.
Lucky for you, I accept happy hour propositions as apologies. They BETTER have some mofo good drink specials.
As I gorged on $3 Blue Moons, $2 soco-lime shots, and assorted fried calamari bits, I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I always get a little excited when I don't recognize a phone number, and hoped it could possibly be a headhunter offering me a job naming nail polish colors, or maybe even Yolanda Vega telling me I won tonight's Pick 6 and to come collect my mill.
"HELLLOOOOOOO?!" I drunkenly slurred.
"Hi Jessica. This is ldkfgjgel;trkjg"
"WHO?! Who is THIS?!" I yelped.
"Jessica. This is Dr. Faust. I was just calling to tell you I got your blood test results back"
OHHHHH DICKKKKKKKK.
"They came back negative."
Boooooom Shaka Laka, I ain't dying of any weird-stomach-pain-induced-diseases! Well, at least not this week.
Still feeling the effects of my medical buzzkill, I decided it would be best to go home, microwave turkey meatballs, call my mother and fall asleep before 10pm.
Friday - April 13th, 2007.
Ahhhhhhh Friday. FINALLY, I can enjoy my life once again!
Due to the 10+ hours of sleep I received, I was actually able to attend the gym during lunch. Yeah, I was shocked, too.
As an added bonus, I was even able to elliptical my way through 40 minutes of Save the Last Dance Part 2 (Did you know there was a PART 2?!) and then proceeded to lay on the mats and laugh at Mel who only agreed to go to the gym because she really needed to take a shower.
I was feeling particularly wonderful because it was bow-chicka-bow-wow... PAYDAY.
After work, I cheerily frolicked down third avenue and straight into French Nails, for a brown-esque manicure and a 10 minute back massage by the god-of-all-nail-salon-massueses-of-my-LIFE.
I decided to keep it a low-key night in preparation for Saturday's Sake Bombing Fiesta, and met Ashley for dinner down in the Financial District. A few innocent fish tacos turned into 2 size-of-my-head frozen margaritas, an $80 bill and a buzzed subway ride to mmmmm... Woodside, Queens.
Saturday - April 14th, 2007
I spent the next day cruising down Queens Boulevard with Ryan in his pimped-out Rav 4. I had a burning desire to go shopping at Target, and we found one located in the most inconvient sort of mall-type-thing on the side of the Boulevard from Hell.
After a lovely diner meal and some assorted discount shoe-shopping, I beached myself on his couch for as long as possible until making my way back home to prepare for the cheap sushi and many a sake bomb that would soon be taking up residence in my liver.
My evening was one giant Asian-induced blur. Hmmm... are you seeing the pattern, too?
I was about 5 sake bombs deep before the food even arrived. Same for Ashley, who desperately needed alcohol in order to shmooze her questionably homosexual yet still undeniably sexy new roommate.
I reminisced with a long lost friend who actually wanted my babies circa 10th grade and yes... even sent me the first...errr..ONLY roses I have ever recieved. To thank him, I decided I would spill three-quarters of my $12 mango mojito all over his lovely Lacoste shirt and then coerce him into purchasing my next beverage. Tadaaaa.
Sunday, April 15th
Slept till 11. Woke up. Ate leftover turkey club from Queen's diner. Fell back asleep. Woke up at 4:30pm. Facebook stalking. Canned clam chowder. Microwaved an eggroll. Blogging. VH1's Charm School Starts tonight. Set my alarm for 8am. Looking forward to Happy Hour.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
