Big & Rich

I returned today from the hinterlands of Wisconsin into the city. As usual, I was sad to leave but happy to return. I was actually really looking forward to getting back into everyday NYC life once I boarded the plane to Chicago.........

Luckily I was too tired to be mad that my second flight from Chi-town to the Big Apple was delayed almost an hour, or that I was sitting next to two possible white Christians on a jihad (what other reason can you give to explain two devout religious newspaper-and-magazine carrying Catholics teaching themselves Arabic?).

I was tired because I attended my cousin Rooney's (Ryan) wedding and danced my butt off to, among other things, Big and Rich. I used to hate this country duo for being gimmicky, but then I really got into dancing to them, and now that "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" has been in my head for about 24 hours, I'm a fan. The blonde in me also just realized the pun of their band name. They are named Big & Rich.... and they ARE big.. and rich. Ha ha ha. Plus, I'm sick of Brooks & Dunn always winning the "best duo" award at the CMAs...

While I was home, I rebonded with my friend Poofy, who I adore as always, and saw him nearly as much as my parents. I also bowled a 115 game, ran into old friends from high school (3 Merrill weddings in a Wausau bowling alley complex leads to a lot of hugs from high school friends who double as distant relatives---usually by marriage thank god---I ran into five high school friends at the wedding reception venue alone, two of which are ex-girlfriends of Poof's, ironically) and smoked more cigarettes than I care to admit.

Alison gave me a talking to when we were camping and made a drunk Meg cry. I also had a few heart-to-hearts with my mom....which all led to a much needed car-on-the-side-of-the road-sobbing epiphany that helped me break the fever of my Todd obsession. Getting a little action in Wisconsin also helped..... not that I can really repeat it or make a relationship out of it (as much as I would want to), but it was a very enjoyable and moving experience (if making out can ever be moving, I did it on Friday night).

With my upcoming 150 plus emails to deal with at work tomorrow, I'm making it an early night. But hopefully we'll have pics to show on flickr soon.

Am I Crazy?

It's been nearly a year since I last saw my ex-boyfriend Todd; nearly six months since I last spoke to him (and he pissed me off). But I still think of him everyday, which does two things for me: #1, certifies to me that I really did love him or at least the idea of him and #2: makes me feel lonely or crazy.

So am I lonely? Sure, I haven't met anyone I've connected with in a while, and I haven't had a second date situation since Berger. That's a long time for me. But my life is filled with work and new friends, so I can't complain too much.

But am I crazy? Not coping, not normal? That's what I can't decide. Did I just love Todd that much, or am I just holding on to a memory because I've got nothing else to replace it?

I always sympathized with the characters in novels that had to step back for days, months, years before getting back into life. But this is the first time I've ever sporadically cried about someone for just LOSING someone (with my other two major exes, there was other things: I just didn't love them as much as they loved me, and they were staying in the Midwest). But now that I AM one of those characters, I have to wonder how long this will last.

My good date from last week never called to schedule another one; I was a little surprised, but not truly upset. Am I damaged goods now, or just not capable of starting something with a little emotion and stability?

Since I moved to NYC, I've gained a lot of experience, friends, and although this is totally cliche-personal growth. But I've lost so many things - a ton of friends, a connection to the physicalness of my family and a certain level of confidence that no matter what, everything will be alright. Don't get me wrong---I still, and always will, have faith---but it's a lot more faith-based than evidenciary right now. And I think that's affecting me and how people see me.

So as usual, I'll be contemplating my life as I board the plane to Wisconsin and when I stare into the fire at night camping. How much easier this would all be if Todd was beside me again, giving me a plan and faith in love. It's so much heavier of a burden to carry yourself. But I must keep my perspective: he wasn't ready to love me, so even if he tried his best (something I have to believe) our relationship would have failed anyway.

And, also as usual, I'll take comfort in my Ipod and my mom's breakfast bar with coffee and cigarettes and the routine of her life. Get up around 6 or 7, work until 11, watch Y & R, eat toast, go back to work. Maybe when I partake in my aunt Wendy's sweat lodge I'll have a magical vision that will show me what to do. Maybe I'll meet the love of my life.

Maybe I'll come back just as confused, but having spent a week in love with my home, my past and my friends. (And getting drunk).

I really shouldn't get this melancholy in the morning.

A Tirade Against Bikers (the Bicycle Kind, not the Harley Kind)

Like 50 Cent before me, I've got a beef.

Yesterday was beautiful---sunny, barely 80 degrees and essentially all around wonderful outside. I went rollerblading before D's birthday party on the west side through Riverside Park, Fort Washington Park and the "cherry walk" --the path between the two around the 100s.

I got back FRUSTRATED as hell. I had almost cussed out two men on bikes. Now let me just say that I don't have a problem with "Bikers". The people that are out every day, or at least weekly, wearing their spandex? Fine. They, like the rest of us that are out on the paths frequently, know how to handle their business.

HOWEVER, the TRUE Weekend Warriors are the tourists of the recreational paths. Yesterday, I ran into several of them. So this message is for them:

I'm on rollerblades. If you aren't aware, these have considerably smaller wheels than a typical bike does. Whereas you have two different sets of brakes, I only have one. On one foot. While you can put your legs down to stop, I can't. I only have my hands and my ass.

Bikes can plow through virtually anything, including but not limited to: sand, gravel, grass, broken glass and water. All of these things are vast hazards to the typical rollerblader. We have to stop, or at least slow down, when these hazards come up. Meanwhile, you can plow through virtually anything as long as there's not nails involved.

I'm speaking generally, of course, but here is a typical situation: The path is not even as wide as the 1 train. Coming towards me, two bikers on non-racing bikes (which are wider than racing bikes) riding next to each other on the path. I can hear that there's a biker behind me that doesn't want to slow down, and there's a hazard to my right. What do I do? Typically I either motion the biker to the right, or slow down a bit and give dirty looks to the double bikers.

Yesterday, there was a DOOZY of a hazard to my right, and a minor one in front of me. I slowed down to pass the bikers and then went briefly left to get around the hazard. A biker (previously behind me) came around gave me a dirty look. He wasn't in workout clothes, so I KNEW he was a weekend warrior. I just gave him a dirty look back and fumed for the next mile.

What I should have done (channeling 50): Skate up to him fast and a) bitchslap him (unlikely) or b) go up to him and school him about rollerblading and how he should probably workout outside more often than when its perfect weather (slightly more probable) or c) mutter asshole under my breath (what actually happened).

Okay. I'm breathing again. My rage towards bikers goes way back to the paths of my college town, but they're bad here. You think people would figure out the general rules of the Loop or paths like it, but they don't.

In other news:

I met a new boy last weekend that seems promising. He's going out of town pretty much every weekend so hopefully we can meet up again this week before I go to Wisconsin.

I met the most AWESOME girl in publishing who's exactly like me only a little shorter and black. I love her. She brought me to the best bar ever out on the Hudson Piers and I'm SOOO going back.

I discovered I embarrass easily about newcomers to NYC. I'm not sure why, but I resent their temporary stays. But I'm jealous of it too-I wish I had a career and a potential boyfriend waiting for me at home.

Has anyone else noticed that there are an abundant amount of Europeans in the city lately?

For whatever reason, I've been sleeping in lately. Could it be the weather (Finally comfy to sleep) or just that I'm lazy and tired?!?!?

In case I don't get to write again, I'm heading home on the 19th for a week. I'll try to blog on the farm (or at least before then) but it may be sporadic.............

Oh, and cheers to the author who encouraged me to write somewhere other than the blog. I may try that.

The $400 Bar Tab

Friday night I went out with the bloggers again and got so raging drunk that I ran up a $400 bar tab. Here's how:

1. Three mojitos at dinner: $18
2. Buying drinks at random Alphabet City dive & Beauty Bar: $20
3. Buying Polly & ActorSerf a round at Yogi's uptown: $15
4. Replacing lost Ipod an hour after I discovered I lost it (with accessories): $350.

I'm such a dumbass. I believe that my drunk ass didn't notice that it fell out of the bag when I switched out of the bronze Steve Maddens into flip flops. I blame the Maddens.

Instead of punishing myself by waiting to buy a new one, I immediately went out and bought a new Ipod at the closest Best Buy, and felt much improved when I had it in my hands. I only had to endure two train rides without it.

I don't know whether to be depressed or impressed by the Ipod's takeover of my life. As my roommate put it, it affects everything - from my workouts to how I listen to music.

I wonder if Apple was aware that for our generation, the Ipod changed everything.

Newbies and Feeling Old

This might be TMI, but I always think of good blog entries in the bathroom. And like writing good copy in my head, it gets lost among the other thoughts running around. So this is bits and pieces from my toilet. I should get a laptop. I bet my blog entries would improve.

Lately, I've felt a bit OLD. A new girl started at work following the exodus of employees and she's two years younger than me, but seems a million years younger. We went to lunch and her discussions of boys were frankly sophomoric. Even my prime editorial friend, who's a year younger, seems young when the three of us are together. Why do I suddenly feel so old??

It could be the gray hair starting to appear, or that for the first time in my life, the majority of my friends are older than I am by at least 2 years. Mishy & Berger are both in their 30s and they're my core audience here. Perhaps I got mature and didn't notice it?

But, like Courtney was my little sis in Winona, I will find my new protegee to school in all things NYC including where you can dance on the bar, how to do the subway ride of shame with pride and the priceless art of mocking areas like Williamsburg and the Lower East Side while secretly loving how ridiculous the hipsters and the Westchester class reunions are. I met three young self-proclaimed dorks slash new transplants that seem awesome because a) they admit to being both dorks and new transplants just like I did when I first moved here and b) they blog and want to join our little blog community. So I'm going out with them on Saturday to see if we mesh enough for me to be their (alcoholic) tour guide.

I love my blogger girls (and boys) that I've met through friends and blogs. They're SOOO much fun and they make me feel cooler just by being around them. And, unlike most of my friends, they haven't heard my stories yet, so they're still relatively entertained. It's very, very refreshing not to know someone that well and still be discovering all their stories too.

Now, the backtrack.

I went to the Jersey shore (apparently the scummy, white trash part) on Sunday with Kelly and Shawna, and it was a blast! I didn't get burned but they did (literally - Kelly stayed home from work on Monday). It felt awesome to learn how to jump waves and be okay with wanting a wave to crash over my head (I have a deathly fear of being underwater). Plus, those are two fun girls who know how to relax, eat a massive amount of food at Perkins and blast country music (and talk about how old George Strait must be). I want to rent another car and go to the Shore again, but may have to settle for Coney because the summer is getting oh, so short.

In more serious news, the roomie and I went out last night. She told me in no certain terms that she won't let me sublet my room out to a stranger. So, excepting a rare situation, I won't be able to move out of the Heights before my lease is up in May. I told her I'm going to start looking in Feb or March to get a headstart.

But I've reconciled it as much in my head, especially since we agreed to get kitties. I miss my cat, Sam, SOOO much! He was really nice to come home to, and vent to, and have something that will always love you because you feed it.

It was good to see roomie as a friend, outside of the two bedroom apt we share that gets too small sometimes. Because of the heat, she hasn't been home in about a week (and I'm totally spoiled by having all this space to myself) but I think it will be better when she does come home. Hopefully.

Other cool moments since the last blog:

1. I got traditionally asked out at a bar. The guy actually said, "I'd like to take you out sometime, if that's okay with you..." And of course, it was. Let's see if he calls.

2. Lori, the best friend in Mich, gave me awesome advice. I told her that I had had a dream about Todd and it really shook me up (it was about how he wanted to get back together with me). All she could say was that "the L word really messes with your head, doesn't it?" It gave me some validation that she believes that I love him and was in love with him. I think sometimes my friends underestimate how hard I fell for Todd and how much it affected my daily life for, um, the past YEAR? But I think I'm ready to get out there again.... in a real way, not a replacement hunt. A very empowering feeling.

3. Thanks to a fucking town in Jersey that didn't have an open gas station at 10:30 pm on Sunday and made us late to drop off the rental car, I got to drive through Times Square on 42nd street BLASTING "Not Ready to Make Nice" by the Dixie Chicks. It was extremely therapeutic. Now if I can only get to a place to smash bottles off a cliff and scream as loud and as long as I want, I might get rid of more tension.............. (the Minnesota therapy for pent up emotion and general anger).

This weekend I'll be partying and exercising (seriously, my only plans) so if you don't hear from me, look out for a girl in an awesome wrap dress. Who will flash you if a stiff wind comes up.