Recumbent 3 a.m. conversation a few days ago:
She [sincerely and without warning]: I’m attracted to everything about you. Even the Darth Vader sword hanging on your wall.
Me [thinking]: Oh my god, that’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in a very long time.
Me [out loud]: Correction: it’s a lightsaber.
So there’s a potential suitor. One who is nice, pretty cute, makes good money, has a good sense of humor, and most importantly…doesnt mind MY humor/attitude/crassness. Well, the last time I saw him pretty much nailed his coffin aka my vagina, shut.
*He had a huge booger in his nose.*
I felt as though we didnt know each other well enough to pull the “dude, you’ve got a huge booger danglin”. I opted not to say anything and now I am completely turned off to the idea of another date. What the FUCK is wrong with me? Boogers are not the end of the world. We all get them. I walked around all day yesterday with a piece of Bok Choy stuck in my teeth and nobody told me.
I need to start taking chances and trying different things because the way I’ve been doing it for the past 15 years sure hasnt worked for me. I cant help it though. I am perpetually attracted to the tattooed musicians who crap all over me. I think I will give snotnose another chance.
I tripped WHILE DRUNK, fell on concrete and have bruises and scrapes all over.
My cat is so lazy he doesnt even cover his poo anymore. He takes the stinkiest shits. I think he hates me and this is his way of voicing his opinion of me.
So on this gorgeous day when everything was feeling like perfection, I manage to become so enraged I want to move. I had a work appointment in Park Slope which is lovely to stroll around in on a day like today. Then I get on the train.
After a very long ride on the Q train I tranfer to the 7 to head back to the office. I have said it a million times and I will say it again. The 7 train is filled with every miscreant in NY. There was some junkie sitting across from me who is itching, picking his nose AND eating it, and staring at me. He got up, came over to “holla” at me. He was wearing so much cologne I could smell him from 15 feet away. The subway doors open, Offspring’s “Bad Habit” comes on my iPod (BS, if you are reading I know that will make you giggle), and I swear to god if I had a gun I would have shot someone. I stormed off to the exit, tripped UP the stairs for the millionth time, and am fuming.
Being a woman in NY can be quite scary. So far today I have been hit on by 2 ex-con/junkie looking dudes, some guy called me a bitch because I wouldnt give him a cigarette, and the dude I work with stares at me through the window all day. Honestly, I would rather get NO attention at all.
So I went on a sort of date because this dude who likes me said “hey, I am in your neighborhood, wanna get a drink” so I went. I ordered a Grey Goose Martini because if you intend on staying for only one drink and want the ultimate buzz off that one drink, well, that is the one to have. That or a Manhattan. i am trying to watch my girlish figure so vodka seemed like the better option. He made the mistake of getting into a conversation with me about music. Namely, punk rock. For those of you who dont know me (which is all of you but Frangry), I am a punk rock junky. He tried to challenge my knowledge. He claimed punk rock was founded in Southern CA. If I had an erection, I got whiskey dick at that exact moment. I am supposed to have dinner with him tomorrow. I dont know what to do. I think I am going to have to call it a diarrhea day. (my frequent excuse for not doing things. ”I cant come to work today, I’ve got massive diarrhea.” I am sorry I cant come to dinner with you, I’ve got the runs”. etc)
WTF is that noise? Anyone else live near the East Village and been hearing those explosion sort of noises at night? It happened last night and now it’s happening again. Both nights at around 8:30pm. The mystery is killing me.
UPDATE: I Love Pay Kiernan says it’s in celebration of the Brooklyn Bridge’s 125th anniversary.
I think it’s kinda romantic that we can hear the same fireworks in our different neighborhoods. You’re all I could think of on my date. Perhaps that’s a sign he’s not the one…or that you are. Hmm, I’ve got a bit to think about