Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Just when you thought...

Wow, so I really have not been keeping up with this blog. Part of the reason is that I have been insanely busy/drinking too much/out of the country/any other excuse that I should interject. Last time I wrote, I quit my job and I have been walking on cloud-nine. Right now the new hurdle has been trying to find an apt in NYC. And the broker's fee is absolutely fucking ridiculous. The finders fee that I am paying is about $4000 (15% of a year's rent) for finding the apartment of my dreams. Now the incredibly fucked up part of it is the ad that I answered was posted in the "No-Fee" apartment section of craigslist. Which just reinforces what a fucking scam finding an apt in NYC is actually like.

Now am I going to pay this fee? You bet your fucking ass I am. Right now I am living in Greenwich Village and I am in love with my area. Since it is basically on NYU property, I come home drunk off my ass, teetering on my heels and NOTHING. It is a super safe area, I get to keep my lovely Chinese launderers (who btw I am in love with), the grocery store is 2 blocks away, and my pretentious indy movie place is still right around the corner. We HAVE A LIVING ROOM!! And 2 proper bedrooms. And I am around the block from my old apartment. YEA!!! I am an incredible creature of habit, any changes in routine spell disaster for me. I get all anxious, cant sleep, and think that I am going to die. Which is funny because I have spent the last 6 years of my life living out of 2 suitcases. Perhaps this is why I have never felt this emotionally well, until I stoppped living out of a suitcase.

But I am paying $4000 for some jerk who is in cahoots with the building management for the privelage of finding that apartment. But I am also paying $4000 to ensure my emotional well being. God I hate NYC sometimes.

Last night, I think God had a question with my integrity and he tried to test what type of person I am. I think it may have had something to do with the fact that I had my first one night stand while I was in London and might have also quasi-kissed a woman on the airplane. Rather she tried to kiss me and I just gave her a half kiss (who thought losing weight would make me that desiarable?). So I am out having a cigg and this woman asks me if she could have one. Being a smoker (God I admitted to being a smoker...fuck my life is ending), I completely believe in "Smokers Karma," the next time you need a cigg, someone will help you out. The woman basically collapses, and I help her into the bar area. Since it is a hotel bar, the hotel staff swarms around her, and I am making phone calls to her friends using her cell. Now my question is...


She couldnt even stand!! Hotel staff takes care of her...score 1 on the mitsvot scale.

Mitsvot #2, I found a credit card on the floor and returned it to the staff at the bar.

Why am I such a good person sometimes?!?! And what do I get? Paying a $4000 finders fee to real estate.

So as I said before, last night I was out at a bar, Rare View (one of my favorite date places in the city--comfy bed like patio furnitute, outdoors in the middle of midtown manhattan) and this sketchy dude talks to me. Buys me a scotch and seems all impressed that I can drink it. For some reason, I feel compelled to tell him about my weekend plans which includes a titty bar and getting incredibly fucked up. I feel it goes well with a woman drinking scotch. He shakes his head and asks me whether I am serious, and of course I am. Those of you who know me, I LOOOVVEEEE titty bars and getting fucked up with my girls. So his friend hears the tail end of the convo and gives me this look. I tell both of the guys, "Listen, I went to Mount Holyoke, I think it explains it enough."

And it fucking did! Wouldnt the trustees be so fucking happy to hear that among the Harvard Business school set, when I say the words Mount Holyoke College, they immediately think of women fucking each other, oogling breats at the titty bar and being incredibly fucked up. Maybe that is the reason why I couldnt get a real job out of college and I had to work for my hellish company.

Now boys (if there are any of you who read this), do not use as a pick up line, "I am going to marry a Jewish girl." Especially if you are not Jewish. Listen, when I am out at a bar drinking and going out to meet people, telling me that you are going to marry a member of my tribe is not exactly the type of thing I want to hear. Considering all the stereotypes about my people (being Jappy, cheap, the women are overbearing, too neurotic) why the fuck do you make it your goal to marry one of us? I mean, if you are Jewish, I understand. You want to keep and raise a nice Jewish family together, keep the tribe flouirshing. Good for you. I too want to marry a nice Jewish boy and raise a nice Jewish family. But if you aren't Jewish, why? It's because he definately must still be in love with his ex/trying to recreate his ex.

Now, I want to pose a question to my readers. It isnt exactly a big secret that I like effeminate men. Not like the metrosexual type, but the "he may enjoy sucking dick" type. I do not know why, maybe it is in retaliation to my ubermasculine father or perhaps I subconsciously go for men who I know would understand my taste for the dramatic/who would accompany me to the opera and not be over 40. I found out that this guy who I used to have a thing for has fooled around with guys. Now, I know I cant raise a double standard because I have fooled around with my fair share of women in the day. Mostly drunken kisses. Nothing much more than that, a feeling of a booby here and there. Now, I am down with curiosity...I saw the movie Kinsey. I know that only 6% of the population is either exclusively hetero or homosexual. But, to be perfectly honest, I was horrified to find out that he hooked up with guys. All I know is that he has fooled around...it could run the gamut from kissing to have hott butt sex. I do not know to what extent that he has been with other men...but I am trying to understand what I am uneasy with.

Could it be that this solidifies that I am really going to end up with a homo? That my interest in this boy confirms my fear that I will be living in Greenwich, CT, him arranging to have someone else pick up the kids up from soccer practice so that he can share something importnat with me, and instead I am completely suprised when he introduces me to his lover paolo instead of the romantic dinner that I was counting on? Or could it be that it just reconfirms that he is sooo horny that he would fuck anything and that I was just a number another notch in his belt and that everything he ever said to me was a lie? Or that he is not hot enough to make out with men because I like my homos hot.

And it just came to my attention that my friend who I grew up with is preggers, I am going to 4 weddings by the end of this year. I am moving in with one of my best friends (like when I was hyperventilating at the apt and begging and crying jumping up and down he sat there unfazed and was like, "you are kind of nuts") and he is turning 26 this year...aka "staring 30 in the face." At the age of 23, what have I accomplished? I work for an ad agency, I have an over priced apt, no prospect of a serious relationship, and I have an addiction to travelling and drinking that is depleting my $$$$.



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