Friday, April 29, 2005

Celebrity Skin

Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!

One of my own to play with

Wednesday night, I was seven different types of id on display. I know this is hard to believe from a blogger, but most of the time I hold quite a bit in. I don't speak my mind half as often as I'd like, and that's probably in everyone's best interest (particularly mine; see musician uproar).

But the other night at Daddy O, I was at ease among good friends, so I was telling stories that were, as TK puts it, surprisingly frank. I think that the comfort level, not the martinis, was how we got to talking about morning sex. Oh, and the fact that I was sort of trying to seduce Bachelor #2, or maybe just mess with him a little bit.

Back when I was first dating the cokehead alcoholic, he lived on the Lower East Side, in a nicely renovated apartment with a bedroom that flooded with morning light. My bedroom on the Upper East Side looked out onto an air shaft, and never got any natural light at any time.

Unaccustomed as I was to daylight, I was awake at the crack of dawn whenever I slept over his place. Accustomed as he was to the conditions of his own apartment, and usually sleep-deprived from the activities of the night before, he was most definitely not awake.

Oh, how I tried to be good.

I would cover my head with the blankets. I would look for something to read. I would repeat sleep-inducing mantras in my head.

But when I'm awake that early and next to the boy, there's only one way I'm going back to sleep, and that's post-coitally.

I'd start with the foot. I'd wrap my foot around his ankle, while still trying to keep my body away from his. I was turned away, but the foot would reach back. Slowly I'd creep back over to his side of the bed, trying very hard to be good, and failing miserably, until finally he'd say, without opening his eyes, and having given no indication of when he'd woken up, "You're not going back to sleep anytime soon, are you?"

Then he'd jump me.

Then we'd both call in sick to work (if it was a weekday), we'd have some breakfast, watch some cartoons, fool around some more, and eventually have a nap.

This one morning, though, when he woke up, he reached under the bed and handed me a wrapped box. In it was a strap-on, complete with harness.

I was lying in bed, in his t-shirt and soccer shorts, and I strapped it on right over the shorts. But I'd put it on facing upside-down, so I had to check his to see which way it goes. Then I turned mine around so it was right-side up. Then I was prancing around the apartment with this thing over my shorts. He just watched me and laughed a bit.

Finally I got back in bed. I lay there, flicking at it,
ping
ping
ping
and giggling. And he said, "See, that's why I gave it to you. Because I knew you just wanted one of your own to play with."

I know I totally forgot about him in the last post, and then what I appended wasn't too flattering. So let me say once, for the record -- I will always love him. When I see someone who looks like him on the subway, my heart still skips a beat. But I wish it didn't. It's more than the drinking, and the (probably continuing) drug use. We have different expectations from life, and I always felt like I was holding myself back by staying with him.

But he made me laugh, he gave me some drama to keep it interesting, and believe it or not, I was happy.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

8, 8, I forgot what eight was for...

The other day, after I told Stan that I was done with all three bachelors (yes, I know I never wrapped up that story, did I mention the car accident? Give me a little more time!), he pointed out to me that I've had stories for him about eight different guys in this calendar year. Eight seemed a lot, but we counted it out and it was true. Scandal!

Well, not really, because of those eight, I only kissed four of them, and I only cared about two. The rest were flirtations, distractions, or speculations. To review:

1. the Musician. For those of you who thought my little weekly update on him was mean, let me assure you -- he is an attention whore, and he's probably more upset now that I don't write about him anymore. Exhibit A: When I stopped writing about him, he took me off his mailing list.

2,3. the London brothers. The Atlantic is really wide. Also, brothers? Such a minefield.

4. the 24-Year-Old. Yes, I dropped the ball on that one. He was sweet, cute, and attentive, and I sent him packing without giving him my number or getting his. Michelle has a friend who knows him from school, so I could try to pursue this further. Maybe after a little hiatus; for now I could use a break.

5. Bachelor #3. In the wake of the other two bachelors imploding last week, I have been tempted to resurrect this distraction. But I know I can't -- it's not right, not nice, not fair. Such a bad idea; I will be strong.

6. Bachelor #2.

7. Bachelor #1

Wait, that's only seven. I forgot one. If anyone remembers, please let me know. I'm worse than I thought!

Update: Stan finally remembered; the eighth was my cokehead alcoholic ex, who I got in touch with while I was delerious with bronchitis, had one dinner with, then never wanted to see again. Worth having forgotten, I'd say, and doesn't change the stats of 8/4/2.

Monday, April 25, 2005

FBI Identification Record Request

You know you've always wondered what the FBI has about you on file; why not just ask them?

BlogShares?

Can anybody tell me what this is about? Apparently my blog has been assigned a monetary value in some alternate stock exchange. Odd.

does this look like me?

Ooh, this is so much fun, a site where you can make your own avatars and icons. I've made a few, you'll have to tell me which you like best.





Yes, I should be giving you updates on the bachelors (down from three to none, and feel the better for it), and I should also tell you all the details of my traumatic car accident this weekend, but for now you'll just have to entertain yourselves with the pretty pictures.

Friday, April 22, 2005

The Pope was dope

Our former pope, John Paul George Ringo, had a marketing deal.

The Darth Side: Memoirs of a Monster

Brilliant. Almost as good as Pulp Phantom.

pompous prof gets sent up

You did hear about the prof who was really careless about his laptop with unsecured data? And then it got stolen? And then he tried to pass the buck and blame the thief for his own irresponsibility? He had this coming.

soft but strong

... and if you cry, he'll offer you a paper towel to dry your tears.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Habemus Papam

"I think this homily shows he realizes he's not going to be elected. He's too much of a polarizing figure," said the Rev. Richard P. McBrien, University of Notre Dame theologian. "If he were elected, thousands upon thousands of Catholics in Europe and the United States would roll their eyes and retreat to the margins of the church."

Monday, April 18, 2005

Airline Meals

Dinner on the fly.

Platonic ideal: the perfect man

Another chick blogger, Stephanie Klein, has been offered a book deal. While combing her site today looking for some perfect pearl of writing to justify that, I found a list of qualities her perfect man should have.

Gotta give the girl credit here, she makes some good points. Clearly, we have similar taste in male behavior, but from what I've seen elsewhere on her blog, we also have similar willingness to settle for less.

more soon.

Luxe glass tower planned for Prospect Heights

Richard Meier is planning a deluxe mid-rise, which will go up right across Grand Army Plaza from me.

Does this mean I will never be able to afford to buy something in my neighborhood? I'm still kicking myself that I didn't buy that two-bedroom with fireplace and new kitchen on Fifth a month or two ago, and now I hear that area is becoming good-grocery central, in addition to having all my favorite restaurants.

Oops, maybe it won't be so deluxe after all. But that raises new questions: Can I leave my beloved brownstones for a glass and steel tower? And how will I be able to get in on this deal? Will I miss out for not being connected, like I missed out on DUMBO seven years ago?

Friday, April 15, 2005

double, double, toil and trouble

Yes, there's more news about the bachelors, but I don't even want to get into it. Right now work is driving me nuts, and my parents are on their way down to Brooklyn to spend the weekend. We'll all be heading to the Walkathon tomorrow -- remember it's not too late to donate!

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

the Quizmaster

You're allowed to feel brilliant if you get more than three correct (unless you use Google, of course).

Triple Threat

Over the past week or two, I've been, shall we say involved with three men (my hairdresser has been amused). It's probably easiest to identify them Dating Game-style:

Bachelor #3: First hooked up with him minorly and randomly. Hooked up with him again because I felt like having a guy around. There's no real connection or draw, and there's lots of potential for trouble. As it is, I've already been sort of dismissively rude to him about it once, and I don't want to be that person. So this absolutely cannot happen again.

Bachelor #2: Old friend, new hook-up. The first time, it was silly fun; the second time was way intense, but we laughed it off. After all, he's like my little brother, right? Well, maybe not. We had a date of sorts -- dinner, drinks, and a long chatty walk in the park -- that was sweet and fun and inspired admiring comments from park onlookers. And he's got a dark streak that could temper the little brother thing and make it interesting. Most importantly, we're friends, we're comfortable and honest with each other, and so we don't play those games that drive me nuts, but which I'm too often guilty of myself.

For all those reasons, last Thursday morning I'd decided to give B.#2 a real shot. I invited him dancing, and was going to ask how he'd feel about trying out dating. But he turned down the dance invite. And before I even had a chance to reschedule the proposal, Bachelor #1 called.

Ah, Bachelor #1: Love of my life, or just a Herculean trial visited upon me to test my fortitude (or stupidity)? I met him a few years ago, and was convinced early on that he was the one. None of my friends saw the attraction, which added the bonus element of "I'm the only one who understands and appreciates him" -- always good for soap opera drama.

Months of flirtation led to nothing but confusion, and a feeling that I'd made a big fool of myself. Then a few weeks ago he told me what had held him back in the past, and followed that up by taking a new job and nullifying the Coworker Complication.

Since then, it's felt like a holding pattern, just waiting to get this thing started. Not very romantic, I know, especially compared to the teen love OC plot lines I've been obsessively saturated with of late. With all the obstacles addressed and still no progress for weeks, is it any wonder I considered moving on and giving B.#2 a chance?

Thursday he called and asked if we could get together. Dinner and a fainting spell later, and we were snuggled on his bed. (-- redacted salacious details that are none of your business anyway.) By the time I left, we'd had some serious talk, made plans for the weekend, and he'd even said something sweet (seriously -- all my friends went "aww"; no one said "ewww") about growing old together. I really thought that all the games were over and a sane relationship was starting. I even dared to speculate that I might have a boyfriend.

And I haven't heard from him since.

Of course! Had she known, Eurotrash would have had a good laugh, really.

So tonight I'm getting my taxes done, then I'm going out with B.#2. Anyone care to hazard a bet?

Extra bonus drama: in two weeks, I'm supposed to go to AC with both B.#1 AND #2. And we're all sharing a room. Hell, at this point I should just invite B.#3 and make it an unmitigated disaster.

Not just a walk in the park

The Parkinson's Unity Walk is this Saturday, April 16 in Central Park. I actually don't walk it; I volunteer, driving a golf cart around the park, giving rides to Parkinson's patients who can't walk much, or who get tired out. But I still raise funds too.

If you want more info on the Walk and associated Parkinson's organizations, check out their website. If you'd like to sponsor me, drop me a line and I'll send you a link to the online form.

Friday, April 08, 2005

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Papacy 101

Everything you ever wanted to know about Papal Transition, including a link to a betting sheet with odds on who will be chosen, how long it will take, and what he'll choose for his new name.

Bonus trivia: I found out that my birthday saint, St. Charles Borromeo, was one of the few cardinals to be canonized, *and* he turned down the papacy.

Quarterly Report

Last night I fell asleep on the couch, and didn't wake up until 8:00 a.m., which meant a grand total of zero hours in the bed last night.

That may sound like a massive failure in my New-Years-Resolution efforts, but in fact, it was a huge victory. Why? Because that was the first time in as long as I can remember that I slept on the couch at all, let alone all night.
!!!!
You still think it was a failure, or at least a slip-up? Well, you may have a point, but this is why I'm happy about it: I felt like utter crap this morning, like I had a killer hangover (which I did not, have been very good since Martini Sunday), or maybe as if I'd been hit by a truck. And this is good news, because it means that my body has gotten used to sleeping in a bed, and was complaining! I have reconditioned myself! I never thought it would happen.

Seems like the new quarter is a good time to take a look at how I'm doing on all my resolutions. Let's review.

I resolved there should be more of:

  • blogging -- Success. I've been posting several times a week, the stats are way up, and I even get an occasional comment.
  • writing -- eh, not so much, aside from the occasional longish blog post
  • honesty -- trying really hard. One avenue in which I'm doing really well is telling my friends that I love them, as often as possible. I may not always be too good at being honest with my feelings, but I should let the people I care about know that I do.
  • boys -- Five so far this year, with varying degrees of involvement and success. (more news on them later, if it seems appropriate or necessary.)
  • whiskey -- success. Jameson's on the rocks is my poison.
  • dancing -- going out tonight, but I think it's the first time this year. Unless you count me occasionally being the only one dancing in a club or at a show.
  • going to bed at a reasonable hour (possibly difficult re: the last three list items) -- I am regularly asleep before 2:00, which is pretty good for me. More importantly, my sleep pattern is more consistent.
  • getting to work reasonably on time -- utter and abject failure.
  • trips to the gym -- failure. But I have been doing sit-ups and push-ups every morning.
  • new job -- well, my old job has become something completely different, but it's still the same job. Enjoying it more, though it's still in New Jersey.
  • salary -- no such luck. Not yet, at least.
  • organization -- did some major filing and sorting. Still have a lot more to do.
  • eye makeup -- gave it a good shot, but have been slacking recently. I still maintain that I get treated way better when I'm wearing it.


I resolved there should be less of:

  • negativity -- working on it. The telling my friends I love them helps a lot with that.
  • self-doubt -- ditto.
  • size of my ass -- have been on a diet for a few weeks and have already dropped a pants size. The ass has been getting particularly good reviews.
  • sleeping on the couch -- total and utter success!
  • smoking -- hah. Smoking more than ever.
  • pouting -- doing okay, could use some more work.
  • belittling gossip -- I only gossip about myself these days.
  • criticism -- jury's still out, will have to get back to you next quarter.

Obviously there's still a lot of work to be done, but I think I've made pretty good progress in three months. More news next quarter.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

I have to stop.

Seriously, I have to stop. I've watched 14 episodes of The O.C. in three days. Someone accused me of being on a bender because I drank twice last week, though only once to excess (and yes, I'm still feeling guilty, like I owe someone somewhere an apology). A least my pants are falling-off-loose. And I haven't even been to the gym in months!

April Madness

My vote is for Giovanni Battista Re, or maybe DUKE.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Drumroll, please!

I'd like to introduce you all to Haneway, our new contributing field editor from far across the raging East River. Take a bow, Hane!

Urban Fishing 101

So Dad is visiting this weekend, taking an early morning stroll (really an excuse to have a cigarette) through my very boring UES nabe. A pickup truck pulls over to an empty parking space in front of a hydrant on First Ave, and the driver reaches in the back of the truck and pulls out a hand-held fishing net and scurries down a side street. My Dad, ever the fisherman, figures there's some hidden stream that he doesn't know about and scurries after him. The guy walks up to a bunch of pigeons and the pigeons, being notoriously stupid, just stand there. Swoop, swoop, swoop, he *nets them*, and after he has 4 or 5, gets back in his truck and drives off!

Pigeon pie for brekkie, anyone?

Monday, April 04, 2005

John Paul II's other legacy

I consider myself a good Catholic, and yet I shed no tears for the pontiff. I have long felt that under his reign, the Catholic church has suffered greatly. he concealed and supported a long-term policy of abuse, and sheltered the criminal priests instead of tending to his flock, the victims of the abuse. I can never forgive this. In the past quarter century, Catholics have become hated, despised, and ridiculed, all on his watch.

Bernard Law was an evil, unholy criminal, a sinner of the highest order, who broke all his vows. I rejoiced to the high heavens when he left the Archdiocese of Boston. I am not alone in thinking this.

Here's hoping that the next Pope will clean house, right some major wrongs, and tend to his people with loving kindness instead of manipulation and oppression.

OD'd on the O.C.

Dave brought over the complete first season of The O.C. on DVD last night, and we watched over dinner and martinis. I'd never seen it before, and now I'm totally addicted already. Thank God I have the coop shift tonight, so maybe I won't stay up watching until 3:00 a.m. like I did last night.