Rejection at Rockefeller Center

Hiatus

2007-06-11T07:36:00.000-04:00

There are lots of reasons to keep blogging, but lately I haven't felt the same way about it. I've tried to keep up regularly with my posts, to no avail. This is just the last priority on a list of things that keeps getting bigger. So this will be my last post for a while, until something truly blogworthy happens to me.

Also, I'll be in Wisconsin for a week, which guarantees no internet service. My parents are still in the stone age of dial-up, complete with modem noises. Pough is coming to Wisconsin to visit, which is even more fun, and I'm in love with him so every moment spent by his side is a blast.

I guess blogging was easier when I was miserable. Now that I'm happy, I don't want to rub it in. Or I'm just too busy enjoying myself.

Continual Craziness

2007-06-01T09:01:00.000-04:00

This week for publishing people is insane, because the biggest book industry event/fair is this weekend: Book Expo America. Last night there were tons of book parties to kick off the weekend, and I went to the Warner party (technically the Grand Central Publishing party, since the publishing division of Time Warner was sold last year to some French company---but we all still call it Warner) and saw Stephen Colbert and Amy Sedaris lingering around....and met some terrific young agents, which is really important to me and my career since we'll "grow up" together and become super powerful together in about ten years.

SO. I hung out with my friend, the Karaoke King, and folks from his agency. It was a blast, and I ended up talking with a comic I knew from the Sherrod days (Remember that? It was around Memorial Day last year that I stopped seeing him, ironically) and she is going out with a book and loves me, so she introduced me to her powerful-and-cool agent who my old boss tried to buy a book from last year! It's a terrific feeling when a comic tells you that you're funny, by the way.

All in all, a fun night with free drinks practically the entire night (not too bad!). Especially since I spent the entire day working, not even breaking for lunch until 2pm (unheard of! I think this is the first time I debated whether or not I even needed lunch, I had so much work to do.) I am going to a brunch with one of my favorite authors today, which should be fun, and then heading off to the salt mines again before I come back uptown to go running (which may be ill advised since it's supposed to be a hundred degrees today. Just 90 really, but still!).

Tonight, I'm pumped because I not only get to go out with Pough, but also my gals Mishy & Kelly. We're going to see the Rock Bottom Remainders, a band comprised of bestselling authors, including Stephen King, Dave Barry and Amy Tan (how big of a dork am I?). Tomorrow, Mishy & I head to the actual Book Fair, and then I have to jump on Metro North, traveling to Poughkeepsie for a graduation party for Pough's sister. And lastly, there's the Mets game Sunday that we somehow have to get to Shea for.

I'm tired just thinking about it. But next weekend is fairly restful (I'm just having a birthday party--for myself--on the 8th in Central Park) to save up energy for the big bad trip to Wisconsin, which is freakishly close (two weeks from today!).

Ah, yes. Need to breathe. I'll be back with some crazy rants next week, where I try to finish everything on my plate before a much-needed vaca.

I'm no music expert, but...

2007-05-28T18:57:00.000-04:00

I suspect that Shania Twain's Come On Over (despite the album's breakout status) should NEVER beat Stevie Wonder's Songs in the Key of Life.

I love lists like this. When I got my first Ipod, I had a playlist with the songs from the Rolling Stone 500 top songs that I owned. Some publisher is doing the Pitchfork book, which will probably end up being the hidden bible for the entirety of Williamsburg poseurs. (For those of you not familiar with NYC, Williamsburg is an uber-hip area of Brooklyn that's just run-down enough to house the entire hipster population of the city.)

As disappointed and surprised with the "Definitive 200" list that I magically found, I am pleased to see that the Dixie Chicks' first album, Wide Open Spaces, appears pretty high (#33). But then, again, I can't trust a list that rates 50 Cent higher than Notorious B.I.G. (not to mention rating Kid Rock higher than George Harrison).

I must note that usually the list is cooler than me; but I am so much cooler than the Definitive 200. I'm really hoping that this list is based on sales alone, even if it says it's not.

You Didn't Miss Me, You Know It. Don't Lie

2007-05-24T22:16:00.000-04:00

I've had a crazy week. Absolutely busy and insane. That doesn't justify me being MIA for half of May, but I have a life now so I don't blog as much. Go ahead and sue me (or don't because I have no funds for you to take, unless you want $50K in debt.)

Lately, I've just been working and seeing Pough. Between those two activities, working out, cleaning my house and keeping myself sane by watching the insanity that is VHI attempting to cast the second season of I Love New York I haven't had a moment to take time and write something of my own.

I was at work the longest I've ever been this week (6:30 pm or 7 every night instead of my usual 5:45) and I've gone out every night afterwards, mostly in work-related capacities. I can't wait to ride the rollercoaster at Coney Island with Pough and scream my heart out without looking crazy. I haven't seen my friends in weeks, it feels like.

But I promise to try to be better, starting this weekend. I'm going to post about something cool, rather than how tired I am.

#11

2007-05-13T23:11:00.000-04:00

I love anthologies like this one:

Even though publishers hate anthologies, partially because they cost a ton to the "editors"in permissions, and involve a lot of work on their part (here: Jaime Clarke) which inevitably leads to headaches during the process of publishing them, (and also because it's hit and miss whether anthologies sell) as a reader I can't get enough of them.

And as someone whose personality and confidence was boosted by the brillance of John Hughes (I even quoted a line from the Breakfast Club as part of a speech I gave for debate class my senior year of high school), I had to have this. And I know you will too. So support the editor of such a brilliant, brillant book!

2007-05-10T22:21:00.000-04:00

I've been incommunicado, because I've been drop-dead busy for the past two weeks! Albeit in a good way, but when I've been writing tipsheets all day the last thing I want to do is blog when I get home! My good friend Alison came to visit last weekend, which was just as fun and tiring as I expected....

Some previous posts have challenged me to really do the 207 facts, since they doubt I can get the rest of them. This might be cheating, but:

#6: I can eat an entire small to medium jar of spanish olives, but strangely I haven't gone bonkers over the Whole Foods olive bar. Fancy olives still intimidate me.

#7: The awesome pillowtop bed I bought and fell in love with is now lopsided from me constantly sleeping on one side. Pough hates this and insists on sleeping on the lower side, which isn't helping things, since he's easily got 25 to 50 pounds on me.

#8: Regardless of how old I get, I still love Jonathan Taylor Thomas , Kids Incorporated, and Newsies. Don't worry, guys, I'm carrying the banner from Harlem to Delancey. For those of you that aren't in tune with the Disney, check it out on You Tube.

#9: I have a hard time letting go/breaking up with friends. Even if I know I'm better off without them, or have another valid reason to stop being friends with them. I think it comes from not having many friends as a kid. It probably also has something to do with that I hate confrontation.

#10: Often with Pough, I'm surprised at the complete lack of drama. It's simple, and if we get mad, we cool off. Pretty amazing if you ask me.

So only 197 to go! Hopefully I have more interesting facts next time. 'Til then, I'll be wearing my new jelly shoes (with peep toe).

Generation X or Y?

2007-04-30T21:38:00.000-04:00

Today while reading a marketing survey for work that revealed American trends, I wanted to see if I was classified as part of Generation X or Generation Y. Born in 1981, I discovered via this wikipedia entry that I was part of the late-wave Generation X or part of the early Generation Y.

I definitely find myself more in line with the thoughts of Generation X; I easily relate to people older than me, including some people that are easily ten years older than me (Mishy is a great example). But I'm dating a barely Generation Y-er (sitting on his bed and typing on his computer) and most of my direct colleagues at work are Generation Y, since they were born during or after 1982.

I also find it immensely amusing that people born during 1978-1981 are in question; we're definitely in the middle of Generation X and Generation Y. We're not on Facebook, we do Myspace but we remember a time with land line phones (rotary, even) and before the Internet. I think we will be the most interesting result of the young people of "my generation"---both of them, from people who identify with "Singles" to those who would rather watch "Napoleon Dynamite".

Now I'll get back to listening to the Mets rally on the radio and watching Pough clean his room.

207 Facts in 2007: Five

2007-04-27T08:09:00.000-04:00

My apologies for not posting---I've been too busy attending Mets games and being in love with Pough!!!

#5:
One of my friends disagreed with me awhile back when I said, "I love being alone. I need to be alone..."--she said, "C'mon Meg, you can't live without attention!!"

And yesterday it occured to me that she was right. When I was sick, I was home alone for a week. At first, it was great. Then after a while, I found myself counting down the hours until my roommate came home, or Pough came over.

Like everyone else, I need my alone time. But I also feed on people. That's probably why, even when I lived alone, I had a cat. Someone to talk to, something to need me.

Have a great weekend, y'all! I'm working (reading) on Saturday night, so I'll probably have a more substantial post when my eyes start to blur.

An Interview with My Favorite Glamorous Redneck

2007-04-17T20:25:00.000-04:00

Glam Redneck offered to interview anyone who asked, and I love to answer questions, so here we go. She's obviously been doing her reading on me, since these questions are both intuitive and interesting! I hope my answers do them justice. If anyone would like me to interview them please post a comment and I will dutifully oblige (and I'd be happy to be intervewed again as well).

Five Questions for Meg:
1. What was the hardest adjustment you dealt with when you moved to NYC?

I moved to NYC on Labor Day weekend in 2004, and I have to admit that most of my "adjustments" and life lessons learned since then are not directly because of (or even related to) my move to New York. I had my heart broken (while I was writing this blog), lost and gained a few friends, and learned to move on from my former Midwestern life while still holding on to what I loved about that life (and some of the people as well).

But I do remember seeing my first cockroach in an apartment, as well as in a restaurant (ew) and I distinctly recall not knowing what certain items were on restaurant menus (sometimes I still don't know!). But truly, the hardest adjustment was not having any built-in friends and a lack of social networking (unlike college, where you meet people everywhere) that I had to overcome and build a whole new group of friends. Now I have some of the greatest friends I've ever had, but for the first six months I was really lonely--and quite bored.

2. If you were going to show someone who had never been to NYC a day in the life (not just the tourist attractions), where would you take him or her?

I actually try to avoid tourist attractions with my friends who come to visit me. I usually ask them to make a list of three or four things they absolutely have to see and spend the rest of the time doing "normal" things. Most of my friends arrive on a weekday afternoon, so I'll bring them into work and show them my desk and offer them books off of our free shelf (and ship them to their home!). Then I take them to happy hour or to dinner at fabulously affordable places that my friends & go to; or somewhere that I've heard great things about. I tend to pick places that have cool decor or unique food; Vnyl in Hell's Kitchen, Room Service in Chelsea, or Grimaldi's in Brooklyn Heights are faves. Then, in typical Meg fashion we go out drinking with whoever of my friends I can round up. Usually we go out to a neighborhood bar and then to a hot spot to pick up men. I also offer to take them to a show/concert while they're in town--on me.

My friend Alison is coming to visit in a few weeks, and the plan for Friday night is a dinner at Vnyl or Carmine's, then we're going to see COMPANY, a Broadway show, and then we'll head to Pough's neighborhood in BK to go out on Smith Street (a bar street) and to my fave bar there, Lido, where I know Molly the bartender and sing karaoke. When we wake up Saturday with hangovers, we'll go to Everything Bagel on Henry & Union for sustenance, just like Pough & I do every weekend we spend at his place.

3. What do you miss most about where you grew up?

I'm going to sound like Willa Cather, but I miss the land itself. Everywhere I've lived I have a special connection to the physical geography of the place but at "home" (Merrill, Wisconsin) every inch of that land has a memory to me. When Pough and I go camping this summer, we'll be at a campsite where my friends celebrated my 18th bday and where Alison & I got drunk in the middle of the day the summer after I graduated from college.

My absolute favorite thing to do at home now is go for a long run/walk/workout with my fam's dog, Coji. He doesn't need a leash so we walk down the gravel roads together, and he runs in and out of the woods...I only come home twice a year, but when I get home he will whine until I take him. Dad takes him for walks, but he doesn't go as fast or as far as I do.

4. Do you think that growing up in the Midwest helps you or hinders you in your day to day life now that you’re out of here?

I definitely think it helps. Not to insult my friends that grew up in the city or the 'burbs, but I think I have a different perspective than a lot of people do. I grew up among blue collar people and snotty small town judgment from those who were "white collar." I never really fit in either group, and so I think I developed a good sense of self through that isolation. I also believe that being a country girl helps me to be focused on what really matters: friends, family, and faith.

Plus, I can handle any NYC bug, and I have a better sense of direction than everyone I know!

5. Any famous people sightings? If so, what was your favorite one? If not, who would you LOVE to run into and why?

Although I didn't really see her (I was too focused on avoiding the subway grates with heels on and wondering why a photographer was crouched down next to a newspaper stand to notice), Sarah Jessica Parker once checked me out in the West Village near her apartment. It was so obvious that she was checking me out that my exboyfriend saw it and then told me about a block later. Apparently I met with her approval.

On my way to a bar I realized I was behind Jeffery Dean Morgan (Denny Duchette from Grey's Anatomy) I've also met Anthony Rapp (Mark from Rent) quite a few times, mostly relating to his book, WITHOUT YOU ---which is an amazing read. I really like him and his work, so I was really pumped every single time I met him.

I would adore to run into any country musician on the street. Although I'd love to run smack into Mary J Blige or Beyonce, I have a sneaking suspicion that its a lot more likely to run into country artists, who aren't really going to get recognized outside the touristy areas since no one here likes or knows country music. One of the members from my favorite country bands: Nickel Creek, Sugarland, The Wreckers, Rascal Flatts---or hottie extraordinare Brad Paisley would be awesome. I would totally buy Sugarland numerous drinks to keep them in my company.

I hope I did all your questions justice! I've been spending a lot of time online this week, and check out my MySpace page. It reaped the benefits!

Obviously Picture Happy

2007-04-16T22:42:00.000-04:00

After I fixed my links and spent some time in the posts from 2005 (so funny!) I decided to post this picture of my current life.

See? My boyfriend, Pough, is on the far left. I'm next in that snazzy purple top. Then, it's our friend Ted, for which there is no realistic substitute. Then it's my girl, Michelle, and Pough's buddy Andrew.

Seriously, though, every time I watch HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER I notice that not only does Pough resemble Jason Segel (Marshall) but they share the same mannerisms. This week, I also noticed that I share some personality traits in common with Alison Hannigan's character, Lily. The way Pough & I relate to each other is even strikingly similar.... but I comfort myself by knowing that there is no Ted out there, so clearly this is television.

Watchin' the CMT Music Awards

2007-04-16T22:17:00.000-04:00

I'm seriously in love with country music today. I've been listening to it on my Ipod ALL day and I am watching the CMT awards (on DVR so I can forward through Hank Williams Jr, of course!).

I also visited The Glamorous Redneck today and I'm waiting for her to quiz me. But until then, please give my new favorite band, Sugarland, a listen. For some reason, they were advertising this album during the awards. I don't know if people aren't buying it, but country fans are notoriously stupid sometimes (after all, they snubbed the Dixie Chicks, whose album (Taking the Long Way) is one of the best I've ever heard.

But seriously, "Want To" and "These Are the Days" are my anthems. Pough, in deference to my devotion, has agreed to go to a Sugarland concert (with Kenny Chesney) in the summer, provided I don't make him listen to country during the drive.

He forgets that I get to control the Ipod/radio during half of a 34-hour round trip drive to Wisconsin. . . . passing through some serious country country.

Healthy Again!!

2007-04-15T20:23:00.000-04:00

I've been sick for over a week! 10 days to be exact and my health has finally returned. I missed an entire WEEK of work (I've never done that before) and I'm finally ready to go back tomorrow.

I'm so happy to be healthy I'm actually looking forward to washing dishes and cleaning the bathroom!!!

You'll hear more from me after I've actually been out and about in the world.

207 Facts in 2007: #4

2007-04-09T07:50:00.000-04:00

Before I get into my fact of the day, I have to apologize for the lack of posts. I was sick all weekend and very busy last week---which I know is no excuse, but I nearly forgot I had a blog at all until I had a full cup of coffee and nothing to do this morning (except go to work, but I'm not really ready to do that until said coffee cup is empty).

#4: I used to want to be a famous singer/performer.

Yes, like every other 13 year old girl I wanted to be a famous singer, preferably a country performer. I thought I was the next Faith Hill, or Martina McBride. But instead, I perform Sugarland songs at karaoke with my friends on a regular basis, and act out RENT with my gay friend TS to the delight of the Bridge & Tunnel Crowd.

I did, though, write down in a list of goals that I wanted to sing on stage for people, and I had my opportunity my sophomore year in college when I played the role of Margot Frank in The Diary of Anne Frank. We sang a song about Hannukah and I had to start it. So I guess that counts for something, right?

Needless to say a lot of my other dreams came true (New York, high-profile and cool job, a boy who loves me) so I can't be too picky with God or whoever that I'm not Carrie Underwood.

The Hottest Girl in the Room, Clearly

2007-04-01T11:12:00.000-04:00

Most Saturdays, Pough leaves me to go to his mom's house and be a good son. Sometimes, I stay in and veg out. About half the time, I go out. Last night, I attended a friend's birthday party at a Murray Hill bar which proved my theory that I get hit on like crazy when Pough is not around.

Seriously. I know it must sound like I'm full of myself (which I sort of am) but this fact does not help. Last night, I got hit on my no less than 3 men. I could have actually gotten hit on by more (guys looking at me for signs of interest) but my hands were full enough with those 3. My single and cute friends next to me? No real action that I could tell.

This morning, while checking out my hungover complexion, I debated why I seem to attract entire groups of men while my friends seem to go unnoticed. I don't think I'm all that more attractive than them (in some cases I definitely am, and in others I'm not)---or even more attractive than I was when I was single. Perhaps men know I'm attached in some phermone-related sense and are attracted to that physically. Maybe I still give off a slut vibe (altogether possible) or I'm unknowingly flirting with these guys in some nonverbal sense.

I also think that I'm more open to talking than most of my friends, and have better game. I gave one of my guys (a really cute one) to a friend last night, she clammed up and he walked away. Talk, girl, talk! Anything flirty will do, really!

In addition to my seemingly stellar game, I do admit to shaking my booty a bit and sauntering back and forth to the bathroom. Despite that Pough and I have a solid, loving relationship and I'm assured he thinks I'm awesome, I still want to see my price tag out in the single world...which seems to be rising.

When I do talk to guys, I'm really confident--sinceI don't care if they walk away. (Some I do, the ones I would actually pursue if I was single, but I really can't care too much.) Flirting now is a complete game to me, because I get to decide when to cut their game off by saying I have a boyfriend, usually to their surprise. And my game has definitely improved, as well--I know what to talk about (baseball, music, other sports and girls) and I don't tell them jack shit about me other than the basic information that they need to know to buy me drinks (asst editor, from the Midwest, likes the Cure).

But I bet when I'm single, none of my boyfriend-having, flirting expertise will come in handy. I bet I'll still be the (moderately insecure) girl at the bar, waiting for a cute guy with a good job and a full Ipod to talk to me, or call me again after we hook up. When I'm flirting with someone who somehow seems better than Pough, I remind myself that Pough is the man in my life, the one who will always call me back, the one who I share dinner and drinks with, the one who my friends love as much as I do.

And that's more than a million business cards from randoms in my back pocket (today's is Mr. Seth M). But all the male attention does work magic for my self esteem (which in turn brings more men to my side at the bar).

The Victory & The Defeat

2007-03-26T07:45:00.000-04:00

So, if you don't already know, Winona State lost on Saturday, ending an amazing winning streak that lasted over 2 seasons (14 months), the longest in NCAA Division II history. WSU literally lost at the buzzer, which was devastating and depressing.

As my friends & I were walking back to the bar where all the WSU'ers congregated before the game, we were all sullen (Even the drunk undergrad students behind us following us like we were Pied Pipers) and then someone yelled, "We'll do it next year!" and everyone cheered and was relatively merry.

But what Reid and I did succeed in was drinking everyone else under the table. Friday night we went out so hard that Pough couldn't get out of bed the next day when Reid & I got up at 5am and left for Massachusetts. There were shots involved, though, which helps to excuse Pough's demise.

By 11am on Saturday, we were drinking again, this time with Reid's friends Heather & Lee. We had five beers each before the game and then took a hiatus during the game (they didn't sell beer). Then we went back to the bar for six more before going back to the hotel to change to go out in Springfield for the night.

When we went back to the hotel, Lee went down and stayed there instead of going out. Then we went to the Salty Dog Saloon where Heather, Reid and I danced, Reid got spanked with a giant paddle on top of the bar (apparently that's how they roll in Springfield) and I rode a mechanical bull. The next morning, Heather was so sick she couldn't eat breakfast.

But through all this, Reid and I fought hangovers, dehydration and the occasional shot to survive the weekend. Although we made it, I can't lift my right arm over my shoulder (apparently because of the bull) and I lost my voice screaming at various drinking establishments. But with three returning starters next season, Winona will probably be heading to Springfield again next March.

And Reid, Heather, Lee and I will dutifully don our purple shirts in order to massively binge drink and drive three hundred miles to cheer on our alma mater---when we could have been cheering from the couch. But that's not nearly as fun.

Pictures soon!

No Sleep 'Til Springfield

2007-03-23T07:41:00.000-04:00

The brilliant plan:
1. Party all night on Friday
2. Get up at 5am (ouch) and drive four hours to Springfield, Mass.
3. Start a tailgate party at 10:30 am
4. Proceed to drink through NCAA Division II game
5. Celebrate
6. Pass out at random hotel
7. Drive four hours to New York City
8. Collapse on couch.

And all of this, because I want to see my undergrad win the Division II Men's Basketball Championships. Even though they a) won last year; and b) it will be broadcast on CBS.

If you picture this sort of irrational and money-wasting decision making spread over the course of five years in a town with less entertainment, you are imagining Meg: The Undergrad Years.

My college friends are so much fun: they're people who I've drank with through any occasion and/or holiday, who remember someone who once climbed inside her own refrigerator "just to see if I could do it" and who find nothing wrong with paying $425 to fly across the country to watch a team that we know no one on and could watch on our own TVs.

So watch Winona State kick ass while you're hungover--the championship game will be on at 1pm on CBS. And if you're lucky, you may catch a view of a drunk, tired me cheering on my alma mater.

Winona on my mind

2007-03-16T07:54:00.000-04:00

Pough and I recently noticed that we have recurring themes. We have been hearing or noticing random things multiple times within a short span of time. For example, we heard "500 Miles" by the Proclaimers three times in one day (on different radio stations) while driving to Lake George.

"Look," he said Wednesday as we walked through Chelsea, "Unicorn DVD. That's the third "unicorn" reference we've had in the past hour."

"Weird," I agreed. But as I thought about themes lately in my life. Winona, the town in MN where I went to college, has been popping up ALOT. First of all, Pough & I are planning a stopover there during our cross country adventure to my hometown in Wisconsin to visit my friend Alison and spend time in that beloved city where I spent five years of my life; Alison herself is coming to visit in April or May, which I'm super excited about.

And I've been in touch with two girls from my alma mater, Winona State University, who want to go into publishing and are coming out to NYC for a weekend in April to check things out and meet with me and a couple of my friends in publishing. Those two girls were referred to me by a former English professor of mine, who called me this week at work to congratulate me on all my successes and to give me her home phone number so we can catch up while I'm in Winona with Pough.

Also, as I mentioned before, my favorite country station is KQ98 which I've listened to online pretty much all week----and, to top everything else, the Winona State Warriors men's basketball team, currently the defending NCAA Division II national champions, are heading to Springfield, MA for another championship game. As promised last year, I'm going this year with my friend Kiddo and a couple of his friends if WSU goes all the way.

I initially questioned it: do I miss my life in Winona that much? Do I want to move back? And then I thought, no, I don't. But it's a part of who I am, a part that I celebrate. And I can't help but be amused at all the Winona references this week--and that I'm a role model for two girls that are pretty much exactly like me, only a few years younger.

Hopefully next weekend I'll be riding on a bus to Massachusetts to meet one of my good friends from college and to join a ton of people that are wearing the very same Winona State sweatshirt that lasted me through three years of college, multiple camping trips and gave me comfort when I first moved here that I had the strength to succeed in this big, bad city. It's always heartwarming when things come full circle.

207 Facts in 2007: Part Deux & Tres

2007-03-12T20:15:00.000-04:00

#2:
My two favorite genres of music: country and hip-hop.

Although I'm fully aware that these two musical genres couldn't be farther apart, both culturally and musically, they are my two ultimate favorites. I miss CMT for lots of reasons (no country stations here to keep up on new music and industry goings ons) but especially for Crossroads. For those not familiar, Crossroads pairs pop artists with country artists, and both artists sing each other's hits. John Mayer's renditions of Brad Paisley songs are my favorites, although the Sheryl Crow/Wilie Nelson pairing was pretty awesome too.

If I was the producer of that show, I'd invite Ludacris to redo some Montgomery Gentry songs; Martina McBride or Sara Evans would kick ass on the female vocal for Ludacris' hit right now, "Runaway Love," which Mary J. Blige sings (and who I also adore). Although I would kill to see Sean Combs/Puff Daddy/P. Diddy in the same room as George Strait.

Imaginary Crossroads pairings aside, I think what draws me to hip hop and country is the same. Despite their differences, hip-hop and country were both spawned out of an uniquely American experience and subculture that I identify with. Growing up in the Midwest with bluegrass musicians as my grandparents, country is in my blood. But since moving to NYC, I've seen a side of Black and Hispanic America that most (white) people don't get to see, thanks to living in Washington Heights and working on black books.

I strongly believe that if anyone digs the beats of Mary J or the steel guitar of Sawyer Brown that they, too, are part of that community. Sometimes I wish people would be more open minded to both of these genres, since they have so much insight to offer past the gang-banging and hillbilly stereotypes. If you feel like giving country a try, listen to KQ98's stream. KQ98 played in my college town and is the best country station I've ever heard. (And my friend Alison works there!)

#3:
As of today, I have 5,577 songs in Itunes and on my Ipod. It's getting to the point where I can't make a new playlist without giving my self a headache and making my ass hurt from sitting on this desk chair too long. But somehow, I still feel out of touch with new music.

My Boyfriend is Broken!

2007-03-08T20:19:00.000-05:00

My brilliant boyfriend Pough had back pain--not horrible, but uncomfortable. So he went to a chiropractor on the Upper West Side. He found out that one of his legs was shorter than the other because his hips were misaligned.

While we both found this hilarious, I was suspect. If your arms are different lengths, why shouldn't your legs be? But a month later (last Sunday night) he had incredible pain in his legs and back. So he calls out of work due to a lack of sleep and the pain, goes to the chiropractor, who fixes him again, and he's a happy camper.

My response: "Did he take Xrays? Give you an explanation?"
Pough: "He just said I did something to really throw it out of joint. I can't think of anything I did, though...."
Me:"You need to go to a real doctor, right now. Let me ask Sick Roomie where she went since you guys both have Oxford."
Pough: "okay, I'll schedule an appointment for Monday."
Me: "NO. You call as soon as I give you the info."
Pough: (reluctantly): "fine"

The very next day, the pain is back and its worse---and a real doctor (a GP and a orthopedic) give him Xrays and a diagnosis: a herniated disc in his back. So last night, I went to hang out with him as we usually do. He was bitchy about the pain while trying to be masculine.

And I was a bad girlfriend:

As soon as I got to his apartment I said, "What am I? Oh yeah, I'm right. Unequivocally right. Ha!" ( Although the truly kick ass moment was when both of his roomies looked up from watching UFC and nodded.)
We got Chinese food last night. Not only did I allow him to pay, but I made him go down the stairs to get it and get me a bowl to eat it with.
While he was tossing, turning and getting frustrated because he couldn't find a spot to stay in for two minutes to sleep, much less cuddle with me, I fell asleep during the conversation and then again in the morning to a similar conversation.
I lamented about not being able to go out on our planned weekend of awesomeness (a viewing of COMPANY Friday, a relaxing do-nothing Saturday, a Sunday afternoon spent drinking and bowling and Monday off).

But karma got me back. I had an unexpectedly bad day at work today and then a hopeful epiphany on the train ride home, all of which I wanted to relay to him before I heard about his day of pain. But Pough, alas, was too busy cavorting around Brooklyn with his roomies in a borrowed car to hear about my pains. When I told him I got a new boss, he said, "what? ha ha ha (to his roommates).... What?"

Pough's pain apparently disappears when he hangs with the boys in a car, but I bet it will be back in time to take care of him all weekend (which comes with the stipulation that he recovers in my apartment, not his.) Still, I get a sick feeling of joy (accompanied with a twinge of ironic revenge) that I can withhold sex with good reason. See? I'm a horrible girlfriend with no sense of compassion--or remorse.

Especially since I think its hilarious that Pough has the same medical condition as his grandmother.

Inspired by Genius and the Ghetto Revival

2007-03-05T21:49:00.000-05:00

So I'm blatantly copying. Jess can sue me if he wants, but here begins:

207 Facts in 2007:

#1: I love movies that have anything to do with free speech and disenfranchised and/or disenchanted youth. Songs are preferable, but not mandatory. An example is my living room wall. I spent over $200 to transform our red accent wall into a personal shrine: The Breakfast Club, Footloose and Rent. And even I'm a little bashful to say that Footloose is the biggest. Kevin Bacon is nearly as big as me.

When Pough watched FOOTLOOSE with me for the very first time (at the age of 25! Can you believe it?) I got teary eyed at the school board meeting like I always do, and he said, "I told you that I thought you'd cry" and I replied, "It's about free speech, damnit!"

Thus, it should not be all that uncommon that the newest add to movies I love is FREEDOM WRITERS. I have to admit that I purposely pirated it so I could sob in the privacy of my own bedroom rather than give myself a sinus infection by holding it back in the theatre.

I'm not sure why, but if you involve free speech in a movie, TV show or a book I'm a big fan. If you include gangbangers or life in the urban ghetto, I'm also there. The combination is simply catnip for the Megster. Probably also the reason I love when hip-hop artists remake 80s songs: combine the cheese and the streets and I'm down, bitch!

Newly Improved & With Discussion of Fergie

2007-03-04T23:57:00.000-05:00

Just yesterday, I had decided to just let the blog sit for a while, post-free. But tonight I spent a little time reading the utterly fab blogs of my friends, including this one about Avril Lavigne, and I was struck by inspiration. After all, I make random commentary to my friends ALL THE TIME. So this site just needs retooling. And here is the brand new ROCK CENTER MEG, complete with bitter culture-related complaints.

Culture Complaint #1: Fergie, contrary to common belief, you are not cool, and nor are you black.

I don't know if anyone else remembers Kids Incorporated, but ahem, I do. I love the show so much to this day that I have the theme song on my Ipod, and can recite it from memory. It launched the careers of Jennifer Love Hewitt and that guy that played Marisa's abusive Chino-based boyfriend on the OC.

It also featured (For several years) a blond with poufy hair and skirts named Stacy Ferguson, who doesn't look familiar now but soon will:

Quite a striking similarity, wouldn't you say? Now, don't get me wrong. The chick's got a killer body (she certainly did away with the knobby knees) and an even better voice. And she did save the Black Eyed Peas from college station hell. But every time I hear "Fergalicious" in a bar, I want to start singing the damn Kids Incorporated theme song and remind her that a lot of spray-tan and a beat box on your song about yourself does not a hip-hop artist make. Perhaps she should have stuck with singing the hook for the Peas.

Unlike Amanda Bynes & Hilary Duff, former Disney-ers who are proud to be Caucasian, Fergie not only decided to keep a blatantly copied nickname (which rightfully belongs to one of the coolest ladies in Britain) but also to sing about it.

Certainly, I believe that Non POC (people of color) folks CAN cross over into the POC (people of color) areas of hip-hop and R&B, and vice versa. I'd be a hypocrtical reader/editor/fan of all things Mary J. Blige and Beyonce if I said that we as a society should be multiculti and cross racial and socioeconomic boundaries, etc. But I am a strong believer in respecting subcultures.

We white folks should take heed and respect traditionally black music by following the path that Justin Timberlake and Lily Allen have forged for us---and stay far, far away from the Fergie/Vanilla Ice method of becoming a celebrity.

Yet again, I'm just a chick from Wisconsin. What do I know? I listen to hip-hop covers of "She's Like the Wind" for god's sake. If that's not crossing some boundaries, I don't know what is.

The Third Post of February

2007-02-22T07:52:00.000-05:00

Once in a while, I'll think of a subject--from current events to what I'm dealing with in my life--and thin, that would be a great thing to blog about.

But I've only blogged TWICE since in the past 21 days. That's weird for me... back in the day when I had more time, I was blogging every day or at least every other. Now I'm lucky if it's once a week.

I've debated just walking away from Rejection at Rockefeller, but I like giving my opinion on cultural things and venting about my own life. But at the same time, I think I've got more important expression to do than what I've been writing on this blog.

When I nearly broke up with Pough and started comtemplating what was really going on with my lack of interest in our relationship, I went the old-fashioned way: I confronted my feelings with a pen and a journal, not a keyboard and DSL.

At work, I recently bought my first book (YAY) and edited my first manuscript (double YAY). I got my first editorial nod on the second author's manuscript---he said that my "talent and skill" helped and bettered his writing. How amazing! So as important as my own writing is (at least to me), I'm starting to think that perhaps my talents (and time) are better utilized in an editorial capacity.

Yesterday, I went to a Young Publishing Group luncheon with the co-founder of Gawker. She talked extensively about blogs and so-called "blog books". As she named off some respective and successful blogs, I thought: my blog sucks. It's been the victim of my schedule and lack of a computer when my ideas strike. So I'm debating retooling as well.

What do you think, dear readers? I'm at a crossroads.

In Memoriam

2007-02-13T07:51:00.000-05:00

On Friday, I received a copy of my local paper. I showed it off, laughing with my coworkers when we realized that apparently, there's a higher fine for underage drinking than shooting a gun across a highway. And we can rent a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom house with a hot tub there for what we pay for a closet in NY. God bless Wisconsin.

I showed my friends a picture of my friend Pete and his band, who were playing a local bar two weekends ago, and told them how I had a huge crush on him, and how that led to me finding him about a year ago and that we're finally friends.

But in contrast, yesterday I got two emails from my friend Holly, who I grew up with. Her first email said "obituary" in the subject line and the second was a reply to the forward I sent her. So I opened up the first email--and discovered that one of my favorite teachers in school was dead--the teacher who just happened to be Pete's dad. But the second email shocked me. It said plainly, "I'll respond to this when I have time. Mr. C killed himself on Saturday."

Apparently, Mr. C (as we called him) had been diagonsed with Parkinsons a few months ago. When I talked to Poofy last night, he had already known the news about Mr. C for a few days through our friend Mindy, who apparently had friends who were working at the hospital when Mr. C's family brought him in. (This is how small town gossip works.) Apparently, Mr. C shot himself with a rifle.

As someone who attempted suicide in adolescence and lived to be grateful that 20 Advil pills will not require a stomach pump, much less a funeral, I don't know what led Mr. C to do what he did, but I imagine a life of being mentally fine but physically unable to control my body might lead a lot of people to the same decision.

Mr. C was the type of high school teacher who was close to retirement and basically taught about life in class, not about journalism or literature. He'd talk about the beauty of the world, sunsets in particular. He'd tell us about Vietnam, about raising kids, about what we didn't know yet and what most of the students didn't appreciate or even listen to. His words helped me through college, and when I see a sunset this week, I'll think of him.

Mind you, I didn't know Mr. C all that well--I only had him for one class, after all--but what Poof said last night rang true: It just proves that any given day is not an ordinary day.

The day off

2007-02-02T12:10:00.000-05:00

Usually on days off, people lie around, use it as part of a trip, and/or sleep in. Right? Well, here's how my day off so far has gone:

7:30 am: the cats are meowing. Get up grudgingly, stumble into roommate who promises to feed them. Go back to bed.

9 am: think one has slept so late, luxuriously late. Slept so much that head is foggy and body is exhausted. Look at clock and it's only 9am. Shake it off and get up anyway.

10am: Super arrives as promised to drop off boxes of books from work and fix our bathroom ceiling. Try to understand what he says in broken english and basically assume everything is fine.

11am: Super leaves while I'm listening to the Dreamgirls soundtrack. Proceed to clean everything in the house while dodging sleeping cats.

11:30 am: call former roommate to see when she's coming up to pick up the rest of her stuff, which she was supposed to get at XMAS, on Tuesday, and Wednesday. Leave her a voicemail.

11:45 am: begin to suspect that former roommate will not show.

Noon: realize that I am subsiding only on coffee. eat yogurt and smoke while blogging and checking work email.

And my plans for the rest of the day? Wait for a half hour to workout, and then workout. Eat something of substance. Go downtown to get frames for posters for the living room, and then hang them. Proceed to get more and more suspicious that former roomie won't show and then will have to have argument about stuff yet again. Former roomie will show up at worst time possible and try to emoitionally manipulate, and possibly intimidate new roomie. Then go downtown to host karaoke party. Get drunk while bitching about former roomie and sing "Jackson" with Pough's India Indian roommate. Get really wasted and wake up hungover tomorrow.

A good plan, no?

The L Word

2007-01-28T21:07:00.000-05:00

I'm a big believer in that you never know how bad---or how good---a situation or a time in your life was until you've come out on the other side. I was going to blog about a breakthrough I had with Pough, and then I got into an instant message conversation with my old roommate.

Instantly, my chest got tight and I got nervous. Then I realized how much more relaxed I am when I'm not in communication with her, and how GLAD I am that we're not living together anymore. It's so funny, because I made excuses for her the last six months we lived together, saying "Oh she's not so bad". I can't do that anymore--she's THAT bad. I've never really forgiven her for not allowing ME to move out when I wanted to, and now her behavior is to the point where I don't even want to be friends with her. So much drama, and too little time on my hands to deal with it. Part of me wants to throw her stuff on the street tonight and change the locks, but I won't. I'm a better person than that. But when it's time to renew the lease, I'm going to wash my hands of her.

What actually got me thinking about not knowing what you're going through is a conversation with my best friend Lori on Thursday. Lately, our conversations have been about her wedding and problems with her fiancee. But on Thursday, it turned to me. My relationship with Pough nearly ended last Tuesday night because I fucked up. I did something that I knew he would be pissed about, and told him, essentially just fucked up really bad.

But Pough forgave me. I had a pivotal moment Tuesday night, where I mimicked the exact same gesture I made on Todd's back the night he broke up with me. I sat there in the dark, thinking "will i ever have this man back again?" with one of my palms flat on his back, below his shoulder blades. But this time, things were different. The next morning, Pough held me tight. I don't actually remember feeling more emotional when a guy held me, or having a guy hold me that way. We didn't want to go to work because we didn't want to let go. The sheer capacity of this man to forgive amazed me. And because of a conversation with Lori, I realized that for the past couple of months, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop with Pough, essentially waiting for us to break up.

I've been too scared to imagine a relationship without end. What's even worse is that I was constantly telling myself, "this can't be love because it doesn't feel like what I felt with Todd". But what Lori told me is that the second love of your life is nothing like your first. She should know, she's marrying hers. And I'm with mine.

After discussing our feelings at a bar in the West Village, saying that we didn't think we loved each other, Pough said something perfect while waiting for the F train at the West 4th Street stop. The next thing I knew, the L word which I accidentally blurted out at New Years Eve and has been on the tip of my tongue ever since, fell out. He said it back, kissed me, and held me tight until the train arrived and the doors opened.

Now, Pough is definitely not what I expected for Meg's Great Love #2. But a guy that loves the Mets and beer, wants to meet my parents, thinks I'm the greatest thing in the world, and treats my friends with kindness deserves my love alot more than the first guy did.

The moral of the story is that life is good right now. And I've finally come to realize JUST how good it is. So good that I don't have time to blog... but I'll try to be better.

And now, an update on the Cat in the Cage:
Jasper's accustomed to his new living. He whines when he doesn't get fed, but otherwise he's pretty quiet. He's on his new diet, so he may emerge on Tuesday a sleeker version of himself, although I doubt it. I'm guessing he'll pee outside of the catbox within 2 hours of release. And then it's back to Pennsylvania for him!

Cat in a Cage, Day One

2007-01-23T07:46:00.000-05:00

I've spent over $300 this week on my cat, Jasper, who is currently lying, uber pissed off, in a dog kennel/cage right now in our living room.

Why? Because he peed. A total of three times on my bed, four times on the couch, once on my new roomie E's bed and then, the kicker: on a comforter on my bedroom floor while Pough & I were trying to sleep.

I brought him to the vet first ($289) who didn't believe me and E when we said that he doesn't eat very much (Jasper is 20 pounds, which for a cat is obese) and then critiqued my theory that all these problems could medical. So he suggested a diet for Jas, switching him from dry to wet cat food (wet food apparently has half the calories of dry. Who knew?).

"We'll do the Xrays and the tests," said the vet, "But it's probably an emotional problem. We can prescribe him Valium..."

Umm, excuse me? Valium? FOR A CAT? I can think of many reasons this is a super bad idea, starting with the fact that I could theoretically take all the Valium (I am, after all, 6 times Jasper's weight exactly). When we walked out, E offered up this info that her mom's cat is on Xanax...

Jesus. So faced with the Valium prescription and a stern lecture on Jasper's dental health (very, very bad) I went home. Jasper was sweet the rest of the day, but promptly peed the next morning on my bed. Can you imagine? It's Monday morning, and I have to haul all three of my comforters to the laundromat (including one I just got back from the laundry last week) all because my cat is angry???

After I went to work, I emailed the lady I got Jasper from, who is part of a nonprofit pet adoption agency in Pennsylvania. She suggested the cage idea. Get a dog kennel, put his food and a small litter box in there, and leave him locked up for a week. (Target: $60).

The theory is that he'll learn that he HAS to pee in his cat box, else he sits in his own excrement all day. I'm the perfect jailer, and am determined not to change the towel on the bottom of our little Guantanamo Bay. I don't even speak to him when I put more food and water in.

If this punishment doesn't work, the lady I adopted him from said we could do a kitty exchange for one that would be more appropriate living here. I'm happy to do that, but sad to lose my big, fat, angry cat.

Pictures to come tomorrow... does anyone else find this situation completely ridiculous?

2007-01-16T07:48:00.000-05:00

Before I went to Boston on Thursday, I was concerned with the four-hour trip on the Chinatown bus with Pough (both ways!) and upsetting his friend Nick (who recently broke up with someone) with our coupley ways.

Well, I shouldn't have been concerned. The Fung Wa bus was AWESOME. Pough and I were perfect co-travelers, holding hands while listening to separate Ipods. We enjoyed each other's company all the way there by making random Fung Wa jokes and counting the miles to a rest stop in Connecticut to avoid the bus bathroom.

Boston, I suspect mostly because of our host, sucked. We went to Nick's in Cambridge (home of Harvard and more schools than you could shake a stick at) on Thursday night, and everything seemed fine. Then Friday, Pough & I hung out by ourselves all day while our host was at work, getting lost and then spending the afternoon in a local watering hole which, to our dismay, did not have "Born to Run" on its jukebox.

But Friday night? Dud, except for fantastic thai that Pough & I were too drunk to appreciate. Saturday night? Pough and I got in one set of music I really dug (old folk/bluegrass tunes) at a cool bar while watching Nick and his new girlfriend Amanda pass esoteric notes to each other. Sunday? I whispered, "let's get the hell out of here" at 10 am when Nick kindly reminded us it was getting late.

On the Fung Wa back, Pough and I discussed the trip and the weird vibe we were getting from Nick. We didn't necessarily feel unwelcome, but he wasn't rushing to show us the things that we wanted to see either, or do the things we wanted to do (go out for big breakfasts and be lushes with the locals, hearing thick accents along the way).

We barely went in to Boston, which is a problem for me. When I visit a major city, I want to see the things I know and the elements/neighborhoods/sights that make it unique. We barely went to Boston Common, and I would have loved to spend more time in its funky neighborhoods rather than walk for hours around Cambridge back and forth between Nick's apartment and the bars because he likes to walk (and I suspect is too broke for a car).

That being said, when Pough & I got back to New York we were happy even though our subway train was stopped forever because someone had a medical emergency and we ended up hailing a cab. When we sat down to watch movies on Sunday night, it was my favorite part of the weekend.

I still have my doubts about Pough (will I ever love him, or will I just break his heart?) but I'm keeping on the straight track with him, because maybe this could be it. Waking up in his arms for four straight days didn't bother me at all. This trip just makes me look forward to spending 10 days with him in June when we trek out to Wisconsin.

MLK in MA

2007-01-11T08:04:00.000-05:00

Add one more state to my repetoire: Massachusetts.

This weekend, Pough & I are headed up to Cambridge (home of Harvard) to visit his friend Nick. I'm scared as hell to not only spend 4 hours in a bus with Pough but also stay at his friend's house for three days. His friend Nick was nice enough when I met him (he's actually the most similar to me: he works in a foreign-language bookstore) but still, three days with the guy? I'm bringing a couple manuscripts in case I get sick of the boys.

Although I'm nervous, I'm really excited. I've heard so much about Boston from Mishy. I'm looking forward to walking on Boston Common, and drinking in a variety of pubs. Seeing the famed Ivy Leagues for the first time won't be too bad either.

Here goes a test run of a committed relationship with Pough, where we visit each other's friends in faraway places (gulp). At least I can get him back by taking him to Wisconsin in June. I'm starting to think that there's absolutely no reason why he won't last that long.

2007-01-07T10:37:00.000-05:00

In the past week I've been very busy. On Thursday, I walked in to my bosses' boss and asked her to give me a promotion, a raise, and editorial control over 2 books. On Friday, she did. The decision on whether or not to follow my boss to Hudson Street finally happened and I chose to stay.

But beyond that, I called my mom last night to discuss what had happened (and to be honest, why she didn't sound too thrilled about it). She prefaced this story about my dad and uncles with, "we didn't want to bother you since you were making such a big decision..." and I'm going to preface it with that my uncle David is one of my favorite relatives, my favorite uncle by far (considering I have 10 biological uncles, that's saying alot!).

On the day I left Wisconsin, my dad, uncle Dave and uncle Dan were all ice fishing. My dad and Dave both have ice shanties on Lake Alice, which is between the two towns (merrill and tomahawk) where my mom and my dad, respectively, grew up. Lake Alice is ringed with houses, both summer and year-round, so they didn't suspect too much when a dog came over without an owner in sight and started playing with them. My uncle Dave threw a stick for the dog, but stopped when the owner, a woman, came into view and started to call for the dog. She had to get really close to them and the dog in order to get the dog to come with her (actually grab its collar). My dad and his brothers laughed at a joke Dave probably made, and the woman shouted back something along the lines of "you think this is funny? I have a two year old in the car, fuck you!"

Well the guys were taken aback, but they didn't do anything wrong, so they went on with their fishing (and drinking beer). When the sun began to set, they went back to my dad's ice shanty and started playing cards. Two games in, someone pounded on the door. They thought it was my uncle Matt messing with them, so they laughed and laughed harder when they wouldn't open the door.

I was in that ice shanty a few days before, and it's small. There's a wood stove in one corner, and some wood along that wall. You can fit up to five people sitting but its only about 6 feet tall in the middle. Because the wood stove gets truly hot in that small of a space, my dad constructed a door out the back that is on hinges at the bottom (picture the way a dollhouse opens up).

Next thing my family knew, the window was broken and a guy yelled, "You've been screwing with my wife?" (or something like that). Then the husband and his friend came in and literally beat up my dad and my uncles.

The lantern was thrown to the floor and went out--the guy punched my dad, then threw Dave out the previously closed back door. Dave landed on the ice and was stunned while Dan was thrown up against the wall (and Dan is no small guy!). My dad couldn't really return the punches because the husband's friend was wearing a snowmobile helmet (which, in case you don't know, is about the size and hardness of a motorcycle helmet) and started kicking him while he was down.

When it was all said and done, they called the cops and went to their respective doctors. My dad was the worst off--he has a bruised liver, cracked ribs, and a shiner that stretched from one eye across the bridge of his nose to nearly the other one. Dave, who just had his teeth fixed, has to have over $3,000 of dental work to fix what they did to his nose and mouth. My uncle Dan had a huge bump on his head that gave him a headache for four straight days.

My dad and uncles identified the family by the dog in their yard (they weren't home when the cops brought them over there) and by looking the address up in these plat books we have out in the boondocks that show who owns what land in the county. But then my mom said, "if we can find them that easily why can't they?" and for the first time since we've lived in the country, my dad locked every deadbolt in our house. The cops still haven't arrested the guy, but given the holidays my mom understands the delay.

My brother, who is a big 21 year old guy, wanted vengeance with my uncle Dave, but the rest of the fam talked them down. Meanwhile, halfway across the country, I can't get over it.

Not only does this call into question my general view of humanity (where there's always going to be assholes) but also the mortality of my family. My dad will be 52 on Thursday, and he could have been hurt a lot worse. What if those men had been crazy enough to have guns? What if they get madder after one of them is arrested?

Not to mention the emotional impact. Back in the day, my dad and his brothers were a tough crew. Everyone knows about how the boys got beat up--my uncle Mark, who is my mom's brother, works for the city of Merrill and heard about it within 2 days. None of them slept the first night. I wonder how my dad is going to take his own immortality and this, a physical fall from grace if nothing else.

It certainly scared the shit out of me. And I live in New York.

Playing Catchup

2006-12-30T12:15:00.000-05:00

A short summary of what's happened over the past fifteen days:

1) I handed in my thesis and my final, and received a 4.0 at Pace as the grand award. Although I'll have a diploma showing my masters sometime this month, I'm actually more excited about getting my tuition reimbursement money.

2) NO MORE DRAMA is my new favorite song cuz my roommate (with some coaxing) moved out the weekend before last. I was so relieved when she was gone. When my new roomie gets her shit unpacked and we can redecorate with RENT and Bing Crosby posters, I'll be completely satisfied with the bad-vibe cleansing of the apartment.

3) I went home to Wisconsin and I: drove on a freeway turned ice rink; used the outhouse because a snowstorm knocked out the power; drank coffee with Poofy; drove my rental car about 700 miles; and enjoyed $1.75 drinks with Iseult, Ryan and his friend Brent and a truly dumb girl named Stacey.

4) I love my family, but I woke up in Wisconsin the day before I was supposed to leave thinking, "I want to go home." Even though I've lived here for over 2 years, I never felt that way before. Way to go me.

5) I saw DREAMGIRLS last night with Sharon & Jill at the Ziegfield--Ihighly reccomend both the movie and that particular theatre, since the ambiance is a perfect compliment.

Meg's Review of Dreamgirls: Unlike RENT, I didn't get the feeling of "I know these people" but instead I got chills from the geniune vocal performances, the civil rights angle in making the Dreams huge and the "can't they get sued for copyright infringement?" amazement for the musical totally knocking off Motown, and in particular, the Jackson Five.

Jamie Foxx made me forget he was Jamie Foxx and Eddie Murphy really can sing and this is the perfect part for him to make us forget about "Party all the time." But for me, the whole movie is about the ladies:

For all of her buzz, Jennifer Hudson really is terrific. But, unlike a lot of people, I LOVED Beyonce in this movie. She is a true talent: she proves she can actually act and tone down her amazing pipes. Simply put, when Deena stands up for herself, you love her. Although I loved Beyonce and Jennifer, my ultimate favorite was Anika Noni Rose---cute, spunky and a bystander to the drama, just like me (except I don't fuck Eddie Murphy). Definitely a must-see movie.

6) Work is up in the air. One of my editors is leaving and offered to take me with her. I'm not sure what to do, but I have to wait for the current editor-in-chief to tell me what opportunities I'll have in my current position. I've gone back and forth several times, almost making up my mind and then changing it right back. I drove myself nuts until I realized that I'm the luckiest mother fucker because I have TWO jobs to choose from. Duh!

So that's the summary. I have lots of stories, but this one remained at the top of my list so here's your comedic closing to a pretty long post:

My old roommate is still clearing some things out of our apartment. So she came in over the time I was gone and Pough was staying there, watching Jasper The Cat. I told him he could make himself at home.

Roommate calls me and says: "He really made himself at home. You'll freak when you see it."

I think she's being dramatic, so I shrug it off, "It's just a playstation.."

Then I get home to discover not only the playstation (on the floor!) but also: mismatched shoes strewn about the living room, half-eaten takeout in the fridge, laundry in a shopping bag in my bedroom, a partially made bed, and male toiletries on a desk in my room (including athlete's foot powder!).

I had a heart attack.

Even though I was exhausted, I ran around cleaning up and making the apartment look like a girl's again. The shoes got organized, the takeout was thrown away, the laundry was put next to my hamper, the bed was made, and I put the toiletries in his bag. Then I breathed easy and made myself comfy watching Tyra to get some estrogen back in the apartment.

Being the big mouth that I am, I told Pough about my freak out except I made it sound casual. He seemed concerned, and the next night he asked me if I wanted his set of keys back. "Nah," I said, "your apartment is closer than Sharon or Michelle, which is who I would give them to."

The commitment freak just gave a bit of her life away. But it's only fair--he cleaned up Jasper's poo for five days, after all. And got me JERSEY BOYS tickets for tomorrow.

I'm done!

2006-12-15T08:01:00.000-05:00

At exactly 8am today, I turned in my last final for my masters.

NOW I deserve the flowers Pough gave me on Wednesday.

Thank God for David Sedaris

2006-12-13T07:50:00.000-05:00

In August, I was on vacation in Wisconsin, camping in my favorite spot (Otter Lake) curled up reading David Sedaris' NAKED. And about halfway through, I stopped.

I wasn't laughing.

If you've ever read Sedaris you know he, like his sister Amy, is hilarious. And I was so out of it that I didn't laugh. Couldn't laugh. I realized that I had gone so far into a depression that it was changing my entire outlook. I made myself give up the ghost of Todd and whatever it was that was holding me down the next day.

Last night, I was reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and started laughing so hard I almost made myself choke. When I realized what had happened, I stopped reading and sent up a prayer.

"I'm back. I'm really back. Thank you. And thank God for David Sedaris."

I would truly be flattering myself if I thought this had any impact on Mr. Sedaris whatsoever, but like so many people, I love reading his words about his family and hope that someday I would be able to be a writer that's nearly half as funny about my own family (who will probably disdain me for writing their stories equally as much).

I want to thank all my friends for putting up with me. I have the best friends in the world here in the Big Apple, where I'm making even dreams I didn't know I had come true. Now they can bitch and moan to each other about how domestic and sappy I've become....

All my friends back in the Midwest know this Meg, so if you miss her call me. I miss you all too.

Snark on hold

2006-12-11T07:53:00.000-05:00

At dinner last night with Kelly:
"I think I'm actually happy..."
K: "Well, the ranting posts have definitely gone down..."

Yes, people, they have. Because despite having a million social engagements getting in the way of laundry and other Things I Have To Do Before Wisconsin (including cleaning my entire apartment, moving out my current roomie and moving in a new one), I am happy. I have a wonderful boyfriend who thinks I'm gorgeous and treats me right.

He better watch out, because I'm already so smitten. I'm the girl with the pic of herself and her boyfriend on her cell phone wallpaper and the computer wallpaper for goddsakes. But at least they're different pictures.

On a completely different note, NYC is becoming small. I ran into our old copyrights girl from work yesterday at brunch, went into Sabon to buy product from a girlfriend who is working there for Xmas cash, and have run into random people on the street.

For good measure, see how cool I am at Josh & Josh. I seem to run into these guys a lot, even though we're just three people in a very big city. I feel like I should know them even though I don't. Maybe sometime we'll actually purposefully hang out. Can one become friends out of mutual blog-appreciation? Virtually no one reads this compared to their audience, but one can only hope.

Yesterday, Kelly & I went to the same event at elmo to see this girl from my high school perform. It was pretty random seeing her--not to mention having her introduce me to someone as "Shea's sister". I got the same feeling I always get when I see someone from Merrill in New York. It's a weird queasy feeling, but a kind of nice and cuddly sentiment from somewhere deep in my heart that loves acknowledging the past.

Fodder for Losers Like Me

2006-12-07T08:00:00.000-05:00

There's been so much to blog about that I have no idea where to start. But since I have to leave for work in 10 minutes, I'll have to trim it down.

First off, I got a galley of a book called WHEN I WAS A LOSER: True Stories of (Barely) Surviving High School. Although I had to read it fast since my book club is reading it very soon, I haven't put it down since I started. It's terrific quasi-literary (which is my favorite label since true literary is pretentious as hell) essays from young-ish (30s) writers about theier high school experience and how it defined them. Highly reccomended.

I thought about writing my own essay here, but I can't in 10 (now 6) minutes. So look for that soon...

Also, I watched another episode of THE BIGGEST LOSER last night. That show always makes me cry. My own personal transformation wasn't nearly as drastic as ther participants or even that are inspired by the show's at-home component, but when they showed the high schoolers that the trainers inspired saying that this made them feel like a different person, I knew EXACTLY how they felt. It's not just being able to show off parts of your body that you used to hide, or being able to wear nearly everything. It's about confidence, and knowing that you can do anything when you put your mind to it.

I think that's why I feel connected to Pough. Even though I suspect I had to work harder to lose less weight, he used to be fat. Really fat. Triple chin in his drivers license photo fat. And, since he started dating me, he joined a gym. "I want to look as good naked as you do," he told me. I've never told him the truth: that I wouldn't have dated him if he was fat, but I think he suspects it with all my body issues. But I know why last season's finalists of BIGGEST LOSER married each other--no one understands than someone who's been there.

I've been a size six for over a year, but I didn't really feel comfortable in my own (new) skin until recently. I work out while I watch THE BIGGEST LOSER--because despite that I was never 200 lbs, I was one of them. And still am.

A Relaxed Weekend

2006-12-04T07:48:00.000-05:00

Although I went out both Friday and Saturday nights, I had a terrific weekend. Friday, I went downtown to meet Pough and another member of the Po-Town Clan (his friends, who are all from Poughkeepsie) for dinner and drinks. Then we headed uptown to my girl Kelly's bday party at the Dublin House. It was great fun...and by midnight, Pough, the friend, and I were in a cab headed back up to the Heights.

On Saturday, Pough and I layed around for a while and then he had to leave to meet the friend downtown to go to Poughkeepsie (big surprise, huh?). Then I went for a run and sat around until it was time to go to Jody's holiday party. I was uncertain I would actually go all day on Saturday but I got my ass out to Astoria anyway....and had a blast!

I was drunk when I headed back into Manhattan but in the best way: relaxed and a bit sleepy. I blasted Beyonce and RENT to keep myself awake on the A and then on Sunday I woke up sans hangover because I made myself drink two glasses of water before passing out.

Yesterday, even though I should have gone downtown to Kmart for supplies, I sat on my ass. I went running, but otherwise I didn't leave the house. 20 text messages to Pough, my usual 60 Minutes-Amazing Race veg in front of the TV, and three hours spent on the phone with Lori & Poof later my weekend finished out.

This week I've got two drinks dates, two tipsheets due, some back cover copy to write, a date with Pough and a dinner. So who knows when I'll be back....since when did buying Christmas presents become the last thing I do during the holidays?

A great big smile

2006-12-01T08:10:00.000-05:00

Although I always like people visiting, I always love when they are gone.

On Tuesday morning, I put Iseult in her car early (Harlem Cars always arrives super early) and proceeded to put on my Ipod headphones and walked to work. It was so enjoyable to ride the subway, be on my own and walking fast around Midtown...

Days like Tuesday remind me of just how much I love this city.

More posts soon....

A guilty confession

2006-11-25T12:57:00.000-05:00

I hate tourists. Most New Yorkers disdain the appliqued-sweater-clad masses that invade our city from the flyover states but I truly hate them. I actually HIT one on purpose the other day who had done absolutely nothing.

I was super crabby. I spent three hours with Iseult on a Circle Line cruise that was cool but filled to the brim with tourists who had both fat children and a complete lack of knowledge about the city that wasn't in the typical tourist grid that travels between 8th and Park on the blocks between 40th and 50th street. Then we went to Top of the Rock, which was beautiful but had Empire State Bldg-like queues and general lack of organization, complete with screaming children. We did get some beautiful pictures, and I have to say that I really thought it was better than the Empire.

Still, though, no one will ever be able to drag me there again. So a super crabby Meg ensued and hit a fat and obnoxious person blocking her way on 49th & 5th. She called me a bitch and I got a feeling of satisfaction at elbowing her for no good reason other than that she was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the crowd's way. I had to apologize to Iseult rather than the lady that I had been such a bitch for at least two hours....

And then we went into a store and I was cheered by shopping and realizing that I wasn't a large at Zara but a medium.

And then we proceeded to get very drunk for Iseult's bday with a guy from Illinois that I would have hit on had I not had Pough and a bunch of Brits that didn't seem to care that Iseult and I have boyfriends. All good fun, I swear!

So now we've become popular---tea with Sharon at the Tea Lounge and then I get to see Pough, and perhaps even my favorite couple, Mikey & Mishy.

AND I have Monday off! So absolutely no complaints from this girl---especially since we'll be in Bklyn all day and nowhere near the dreaded tourist grid.

Lekker! Iseult ben in mijn huis!

2006-11-22T07:53:00.000-05:00

Yep. That's about as much Dutch as I remember. I probably conjugated the verb wrong too... but what it means is: YAY! Iseult is in my house!

My friend Iseult and I met when I lived down the hall from her boyfriend Ru in the fall of 2002, in Leiden, the Netherlands---a city of about 100,000.Iseult and I hung out often, and I loved going to visit Iseult's fam in Breda, a town in the southern part of the Netherlands, and kept in pretty good touch with her over the past four years.

So now the time has come for Iseult to be an exchange student---in Madison, Wisconsin! She's been there since August/September and is coming to Christmas at my house... but first she's making a pit stop here in the Big Apple.

It's so funny that I'm spending all of the fall American holidays with a Dutch girl. I'm nervous about seeing her because I only knew her for a few months and I know I've changed tremendously since then. I just have no idea what to expect, and for that I'm excited.

Plus, I can't wait for her to meet Darren and his roommates, my friends, and see her eyes light up when CHICAGO starts on Monday night.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

Newness

2006-11-19T02:05:00.000-05:00

Last night, Pough and I nearly broke up. But, as I tend to do, I told him the whole story. Everything about the guy back home (GBH), and how that wasn't going to happen. How I felt about GBH and how I felt about him (Pough). Then, as I do, I came to a conclusion.

"Maybe we've been too comfortable," I said, "perhaps we should remember that this is new." He agreed and we drunkenly walked back along President St in Brooklyn to his room. Then we undressed each other, something we only did once before. And then, something happened. The magic that wasn't there----was.

I'll leave something to the imagination, but today, on the train back to Manhattan Island (him going home to see Mom and me going to the apartment) we were cute. I called him "baby", we talked about his Mom (She's getting over a stroke and really wants to walk with his sister through her graduation in May) and I realized something when I got home tonight: I missed him.

Kelly & I went to BB King's tonight to see our author and I realized that I knew which jokes he would have laughed at, when he would have held my hand, and I knew.

This is my boyfriend. I ran into Ex From Work last night at a happy hour, and it was cooly distant. I found out from the grapevine that he made out with someone else. I just laughed. Everything is in focus: I've moved on.

I'm finally ready for something new---someone new, someone fabulous. Someone I like going to brunch with (Swiss cheese omelette for him, denver with cheddar for me) and someone I like talking to. I find his OCD tendancies funny, and I woke up this morning wanting to hold him a bit closer.

It's funny.... I was so ready to break up with him last week, and I'm really glad I gave him the chance both of us deserved. Because I needed this more than I thought. So as I quasi-drunkenly write this at 2am on Sunday morning, there's something I never thought I'd admit: I'm happy again.

And though I still feel the same way for GBH, and wish we could be together, and still love Todd, I like Pough. I like the way he smells in the morning, I like that I know his idiosyncracys and what he likes to drink (G&Ts, once in a while a rum and coke) and that his roommate gives me the nod. I'm settled.

And I'm happy. And whatever comes, I'm ready. It's startling.

Perhaps I've found someone as crazy as me. And perhaps not. But I'm once again willing to make a mistake.

That's fucking brilliant.

Flyover States

2006-11-15T19:54:00.000-05:00

My best friends primarily live in what is deemed by some New Yorkers as "the flyover states". Often, I find myself defending the middle part of the country to my colleagues and friends. So when I finally succumbed to watching Studio 360 on Monday night, I cheered out loud when John Goodman, playing a small town judge in Nevada on the show, said:

"Please stop thinking that everyone that lives between Fifth Avenue and the Hollywood Bowl stepped out of the cast of Hee Haw."

Yet another reason to love Aaron Sorkin (Sports Night being #1 and West Wing being #2), but take in context: that day, in a particularly dead day at work, I saw not only a video about a DNR guy in Wisconsin claiming to have seen a Bigfoot but also one of a deer accidentally entering a Target store. Terrific job reporting the hard-hitting news courtesy of CNN (just click on "more offbeat video" to see these vids.

And when I called Poof to celebrate the Sorkin line (he's in the flyover state of WI) he was skinning a deer for his new side job as a taxidermist. Yep, a taxidermist.

So as much as I love to defend my home state of Wisconsin (we're more than just cheese, cows and the Packers after all), sometimes it does need some help.

Oh So Social

2006-11-10T07:59:00.000-05:00

It's Friday morning, and I'm tuckered out. This week, I went to a Barenaked Ladies concert, a reading at a porn store, got hit on at the laundromat while doing twenty pounds of laundry, and attended a book launch party with an open bar and meat on skewers.

I'm staying in tonight. And then tomorrow I start my "Three Broadway Shows in Three Weeks" campaign with Evil Dead: The Musical. And then Monday there's a National Book Award event and then Tuesday there's Broadway show #2, Grey Gardens.....

Hopefully I didn't book myself up every weekday next week as well. And I thought dating Pough made me busy....

Meg's New York City Traditions

2006-11-05T16:38:00.000-05:00

In the past two years, I've come up with a few New York annual traditions. The first, is of course, NOT to go to Times Square on New Years Eve. The second is to spend at least one, if not more, Summer Friday at a dark, dim and air conditioned-to-be-winter bar getting drunk at 2pm in the afternoon when it's brilliantly sunny and warm outside. And I always get wasted the night before Thanksgiving and then eat mail-ordered turkey the next day (that's one tradition).

And, no matter what, I'm a cheering spectator at the New York City Marathon. If you look at the post from last year, you know that the Marathon is significant because Todd has run it the past two years. A year ago today, I abandoned Chris and hunted Todd down. Today, I didn't see him.

I thought about Todd the entire time I was there (and this year, I was alone). I wasn't sure how I'd handle seeing him, if I would cheer or just watch him go by--would he smile, or--God forbid--stop? But I didn't have to answer those questions. I saw my co-worker run by, but not him. I watched for nearly two hours on Cat Hill in the park---but I also didn't see Mr. Lance Armstrong (who I actually did kind of want to see.)

But, all in all, it was a good experience to watch the race. As it always is, it's a sheer mass of humanity (see below) and I love getting behind random people, shouting out "Good Job Katie!" to women I don't know who are running past me.

I think the marathon means more to me than it does to most people. Maybe I'm wrong, but to me it's an example of normal people doing impossible things just by thinking they can. And one day, I'm going to attempt to run it, even though four blocks makes me huff and puff now. I've never really been a runner, but I've spent my entire life proving people wrong, whether I knew it or not. And I'd like to have a goal, like moving to New York was, that I can fantasize and work toward at the very same time.

Doctors told my parents that because of low postural tone, I'd never have good balance or coordination, soI would never be able to ride a bike, snap my fingers, or have normal athletic ability. But at 25 (partially because my parents never told me about this until I was in junior high), I can not only ride a bike but I can rollerblade twenty miles, walk six or seven miles in less than two hours, and am in the best shape of my friends. Mind you, I can't snap my fingers but I think that quirk, among others, makes me unique.

So, to make a long winded, tangent-filled blog entry a bit shorter, the marathon reminds me to look back at everything I've accomplished. All I wanted to do today was go to the race, maybe see Todd, definitely yell for Clancy and walk out of the park, not stop to look for T, and get on the train home. I accomplished that today.

It took a long time, but I have separated Todd from every other guy in my heart. Although I still love Todd and think of him everyday, he's in a portion deep down that I imagine is like a locked box. On Marathon Day, I open that box and take a peek and allow myself to wonder "what if". And then I get back on the train, and go back to reality.

Clapping alongside the runners on Marathon Day represents all the gratitude and pride I feel for what I've accomplished and signifies what challenges I (or anyone) can take on and make happen in the future. All it takes to make it is faith and determination. I have faith, I have determination. And one day, that will be me running, with random people yelling "Go Meg" as I stumble by.

Besides, where else can you feel like the Pied Piper, leading a bunch of Gucci-clad women who are arguing about whether or not to follow you through the twisty, turny paths of The Ramble (taking longer, of course, to get out of Central Park than it would to watch the entire marathon on TV). This is why I love New York.

Postscript: While I was waiting for this post to upload, I went online to see what Clancy and Todd' s times were. It appears that Todd didn't run the marathon at all. I'm not really sure what to think about that. Maybe it's a sign that I will never see him again--but does it matter? Probably not. I'll leave my questions in that box.

I'd whore out my mother...

2006-11-02T20:14:00.000-05:00

For some great floral arrangements.

I got these from Pough last night on our weekly Wednesday date (it's always the night we are both free usually. I don't think it's coincidentially the dead middle of the week.)

But now, I wonder if he's doomed. The Friday-Flowers guy (Chris) was doomed, my English boy who got me flowers to console me when T dumped me is married (fine by me, but still) and T himself is in that group of those men who were brave enough to give me flowers. But this, like Chris and unlike T, was just for being me. And I think he really loved the look of shock on my face when I looked up from texting Mishy and was like, "holy shit?! are those for me?"

And I didn't even notice that there were twelve until I got home. Now that's a boy worth cleaning out the cat box for before he spends the night.

An Open Letter to my NPR neighbors

2006-10-27T08:04:00.000-04:00

I wake up at approximately 7am every morning, but I don't need your alarm, set to NPR loud enough to hear but not loud enough so I can hear news while I'm lying in bed. Now, I get up and make noise and turn the radio up pretty loud from about 7-8am while I'm getting ready.

But last weekend, when I was up waiting for my cat to be delivered on Saturday at the ungodly weekend hour of 7am, I couldn't excuse your NPR alarm going off for an hour with the murmurs of Weekend Edition seeping through your floor and my ceiling. Especially since I can't understand the news.

So between you stompers and the people in the basement apartment next door (who share an air shaft with our building) who insist on bringing their yippie yappie dogs outside at 6:30am with their small children yelping in chorus-type fashion every morning AND who installed a series of wind chimes which we can hear with closed windows and the TV on, I decided that I am not going to bang on the ceiling every morning for a week (because then I'd have to turn down my radio) or scream "People are sleeping, you motherfucking idiots! No one has WIND CHIMES in the city!" (Because the kids and the dogs, despite my best efforts, really are cute. And because the little family did a good job of cleaning up their half of the air shaft.)

So instead I'll sulk in my apartment, cursing the wind chimes and struggling to hear Morning Edition through parque floors.

I'll be back I promise

2006-10-26T20:35:00.000-04:00

I still don't know how my October got so busy. Well I do in a way---putting off my thesis for two months, dating Pough out of nowhere and seeing him at least twice a week, developing new friendships and discovering that my dance card really is full.

Today I had a major breakthrough at work--which I'm going to celebrate with a glass of wine that Poofy sent me all the way from Wisconsin. A toast to what will be... and how much better I'll feel after the New Year, when school will be over and my loan repayment has not yet kicked in.

Watch for Snow White on the A train around 8pm on Saturday....Pough is my woodsman that I will meet in Brooklyn, somewhere around Carroll Street. Sigh. Everything is coming together and yet I'm still unsettled. It may because I ate an entire pound of chicken about an hour ago.

Tequila Talking

2006-10-22T21:50:00.000-04:00

Instead of talking about the new boy and thereby condemning a potential relationship with someone who knows what I talk about when I tell him that you can tell the age of a Beatles poster by how tired George looks, I'm totally coping this meme from www.jennslyvania.com - go out and buy Jen's book, Bitter is the New Black today!!

* * *
I'M AMAZED…
that while I workout every day, I can barely lift my new cat. He's a fatty.
I DOUBT…
that Tony LaRussa wears those sunglasses for a reason. I think he's trying to be cool Corey Hart-style.
I CAN’T SEE…
why anyone ever, or still, watches Survivor
I WANT TO BEAT WITH A SOCKFULL OF QUARTERS…
Women that think wearing a varietal of colors, patterns and textures that do not match counts as being "funky" in New York. Funky is ugly no matter what, chica.
I'M ADDICTED…
to chocolate covered peanuts and raisins. They masquerade as healthy...to me. Perhaps not to my tummy and ass, though.....
I FEEL BAD…
that I don't listen to my roommate's problems anymore. There's just SO many, and they always change, and they exhaust me. No wonder she sleeps so much
I WATCH…
Grey's Anatomy despite that my leading man, T.R. Knight, is gayer than a rainbow flag at an Indigo Girls Concert. First my cousin Josh, now him. So disappointing that it's not the 17th or 18th or even early 19th Century when we ladies could have married homosexuals and then just had affairs with our servant men for thirty years while the guys go off to get off in a field somewhere hunting.
I LISTEN…
See below for another blatant copy from a cooler blog than this.
IF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARS…
I'd do lots of things, including Sean Watkins.
I WANT…
The situation in Darfur to be OVER. What can we actually do other than go to Savedarfur.com and cry while watching 60 Minutes?
I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT…
Cigarettes and coffee, just like Rufus Wainwright
I'M OBSESSED…
with RENT. I can't get over it, although my attention span finally waned when my friends & I went to see Le Boheme at City Opera last Friday and were not impressed. (Their Roger also sucked, just like the one that's on Broadway now).
I THINK CHILDREN…
are fucking annoying, unless we are talking about little Asian girls or cute African-American children. White kids always look dirtier for some reason. Maybe because dirt shows on Caucasian skin, or they look like they are about to attend a wedding if they are dressed up even remotely. I know it's horribly un-PC of me, but ethnic kids truly are cuter.
I CAN’T WAIT…
‘til KIDS INCORPORATED is released on DVD, watching Fergie rock AquaNet bangs and IS white, cornrows and weaves nearly twenty years later (now) not withstanding....
I'M PROUD…
that I'm not as slutty as I used to be.
I HAVE A DREAM…
someday I'll be married to someone important. Like a third string football player. (Please. I know my own limits. I have no problem riding on someone else's financial shirttails.)
I ALWAYS WEAR…
My blinged out rings that my mom gives me everytime I go home. Now that she's past her mom's jewelery and on to her own, I always think of one component that they always mention on the suicide warning Oprah show: if the person starts giving away important, personal possessions....
I FEAR…
That I'm not in the right job. And what George W. Bush will do when he's out of office. I have a feeling he has more evil to do.
I WISH…
for celebrity culture to go AWAY already.
I ONCE ACCIDENTALLY…
threw a log and a teacup as a child IN TWO SEPARATE INCIDENTS, resulting in my brother not having a full eyebrow on one side and being unable to grow a mustache.
I NEVER…
admit to listening to New Kids on the Block. (oh shit)
I’D KILL TO…
I was going to say save my friends and/or family, but that's a dumb answer, isn't it? I'd kill to have enough money that I'd never have to worry about money again. Seems like I should have been born 10 years earlier and begun a career at Enron.
I MISS…
being able to scream really loud to express anger. There's nowhere you can do that in the city without getting arrested, an abundant amount of attention, or beocming depressed by the fact that no one cares.
I'M LOATHE TO ADMIT…
that I don't know as much about music as I pretend to. I do know a lot, but a lot of times its fibbing, guessing, or just simply avoiding the question that makes everyone think I know so much.
I’LL NEVER FORGIVE…

I'm going to die

2006-10-16T07:54:00.000-04:00

I have, this week:

1) A manuscript-sized stack of thesis research and a draft due the first weekend of November;
2) Plans to go costume hunting with Sharon & Pough this week after work;
3) The Mets all died up in the National League Finals---Game 5 tonight and a date for Game 6 on Wednesday with Pough;
4) Six, count em, SIX tipsheets due at work on Tuesday which my bosses will likely ignore today and make me run around like a crazy person tomorrow;
5) A midterm due on Sunday;
6) Dates with my gals for the opera and a party in the Slope next weekend.

I'm tired just looking at the list. Needless to say I won't be blogging.

But I will be kissing the Pough. It's a good life, I must say. The whole working on the weekend thing is NOT cool, though.

He Likes Me, He Really Likes Me

2006-10-12T07:10:00.000-04:00

On Friday, my girl Sharon and I went out to Alphabet City and I was "on fuego" as one of my lady friends says. I met this guy from Poughkeepsie and made out with a bunch of randoms (at another bar, so Pough knows nothing). I always have a superfun time with Sharon, so I'm excited to spend a couple more weekend nights on barstools with her.

But to the main part of my story: I went on Sunday afternoon park date with Pough and then we went out again last night. We drank and ate last night, which was good, and we discussed the Mets, which we're both big fans of.

Now, I know the boy likes me thanks to the truth serum that is alcoholic cider. The fact that we're going out again on Friday is a great sign, although I think I'm going to have to cut off the three-times-a-week thing because I frankly don't have time to write my thesis AND date him that much. So, a little about Pough: has great real estate in Carroll Gardens, so if I was his gf I'd get to spend a lot of time in my fave part of Brooklyn; he has a good job that he just got promoted at and won't let me pay for anything; I would totally run the relationship but he wouldn't let me walk all over him.

Hmmm.... but yet, something tells me that this guy may not be for me but that I still gotta give him a chance. He could be like Todd in that I didn't really like him....until I did.

But until I do, I have a drinks date on Friday as well!

Let's Go Mets

2006-10-08T00:40:00.000-04:00

Every year in April, the city is tagged with "Maybe this year could be it" signs for the underdog Mets. And every year in October Mets fans listen to the Yanks fanatics gloat about their legacy for the ubiquitious money team. But this year, things are different.

This year, the Mets are going to make it. Or at least they've made it past the Yanks. My teams are going 2-1 right now: even though the Twins barely made the playoffs and were expectedly swept, they made it, which I wouldn't have predicted at all during the regular season. And now my Mets are doing the best I've seen them since I moved here.

Now if only the Packers could actually catch what my man Favre throws, I'd be a satisfied sports fan. But I'll have to settle for not worrying about him getting killed because his offensive line are idiots.

God Kicks My Ass

2006-10-04T20:55:00.000-04:00

So today when I got off of work I was feeling stressed and stifled. Every morning for the past couple days, I haven't wanted to get out of bed.

It seemed like my whole life, with exception of my friends, was questionable: did I really want to work where I do? Should I move back home and give the one-who-got-away a real chance? Why does my roommate swing on the crazy pendulum EVERY freaking day?

But then I got home, watched the Mets WIN as I worked out and then switched over to the Channel 55 rerun of Oprah. She had a few teens on that had tried to kill themselves (in pretty gruesome ways) who managed to survive. I was reminded of my very own thwarted attempt of taking an entire bottle of Advil, back in the 7th grade. I could only think of how proud twelve-year-old Meghan would have been of this 25 year old lady crying on her couch in New York City (although the clincher would have been that the Ipod was invented, I (she?) am/was a size six and had good hair most of the time.)

So, what I realized that even if my roommate is crazy, it's a temporary situation--we've clearly lived together too long, and I'll probably love her more when I move out. My job is lovely, but I AM in the pits of knowing what I'm doing but not being able to execute it yet. No one is in the position I'm in of my friends, so I'm stuck commiserating with people who haven't had their idealism pulled out from underneath them.

As far as Mr. Right but Not Right Now goes, I have to count my blessings: he really, really cares about me and will never leave me again, no matter where I live. I can call him whenever I want to vent or drink on the phone, and I love falling asleep to his voice. He truly knows me--how many people can you say that about?

Plus, I've got cigarettes, a bottle of Baileys and only one more day of work before I can go to the park when everybody else is clacking away in the halls of my never-actually-named workplace. Not really all that bad, is it?

That being said, I really do believe in God on days like this. Not that I don't every single day, but He certainly knows how to kick your ass into perspective. I wonder if he has ASSISTANTS to do this kind of handiwork....because clearly others (ahem, roommate, people in the Sudan, GWBush...) need more guidance most days than I do.

An Essay at Starbucks

2006-09-29T08:12:00.000-04:00

This week, two friends from high school came into the city. I haven't hung out with them since 1998, and I wasn't sure why. We went out to eat Monday night after they arrived, and I quickly realized why--my faction of friends were the drinkers.

True to my adored Malcolm Gladwell, we had a connector--Damien--who linked the two groups together. I had just become friends with him in the spring of 1998, and at first I was drawn to Group A (where my visiting friends fall) and only moved over to Group B when I discovered my soon-to-be-ex-boyf-turned-best-friend Poof there, and the more dangerous-yet-appealing white trash Daley clan.

That's when my drinking started, with bottles of Zima and Sour Apple Pucker, and I began to realize who I am--and who I'm not. When I was sitting with the two from Group A on Monday the other night, I realized that it's not just the drinking that separates us but an entire lifestyle.

Don't get me wrong--I don't feel superior and I still enjoy their company. I'm certainly not going to deny them when they try to be my friend on Myspace. But I'm not likely to have marathon phone conversations with them, either, like I do *still* with Poof. I'll actually be fine if I don' t see them for another eight years, actually.

It seems like all we had in common WAS high school. All my life, I've worried about fitting in. But this time, I'm happy I don't. Their world (and the world of Merrill Senior High) is foreign to me and always has been. And not like the way New York or Holland were foreign when I first moved here (and there). I simply can't understand the rules and customs of their life: what's its like to be divorced from your high school sweetheart, or run your own business. What it's like to be them.

I'm glad to feel different for nothing else than just being myself. My roommate commented on Tuesday, "What do you DO with straight-edge people, anyway?"
I admitted that I had no idea and then took contentment in that someone else mirrored the ideas that occur in my wine-and-beer swilling, big-city brain.

Maybe I'm not so foreign to myself after all.

I wrote this on Tuesday and revised it on Friday. This was one of those instances where I had to ask the Starbucks staff for a pen because I HAD to write. Maybe I am destined to be an author after all.......

Baby I'm Amazed

2006-09-20T19:35:00.000-04:00

I spent nearly 10 hours at work today. And read (for work) on the train ride home. Sometimes I wonder if being an English professor somewhere in the Midwest would give me a respite from this type of long work day. I decided quickly it would NOT be, given that I'd have to go to school for another three or four years, teach English 101 classes for five or six and then maybe get tenure when I'm 45 and be able to take a sabbatical (this is if I started now).

I've been thinking a lot about choices. My new philsophy is that choices and free will determine your life, with scraps of faith, luck and fate intervening intermittently. I choose to get up and work everyday; I chose to be obsessed with Todd for a year; I choose to let people walk all over me; I choose to feel bad about myself for reasons no one would suspect.

I'm also choosing purposely not to go back-- leave NYC, become a professor and dive into trying out a love with the one that could have been. Because I choose to let him love me. If he does, he'll come. He may even just show up at my door one day.

A girl can dream, can't she? I'm not exactly waiting for John Cusack here. He can snore so loud I once heard it OUTSIDE my apartment building, 10 feet away. He's so picky I want to kill him when he tells me what's in his fridge (New York's culinary delights, burgers excepted, will be lost on him). But he does call me to rescue me from my everyday doldrums and tells me that a particular song by Wings reminds him of me.

He reminds me of everything I am, everything I've been and everything I could be. But I've learned to live without him, too....hopefully even when he marries some lucky bitch and procreates, he'll still be my very best friend.

My twin..... if I had a penis, ate Ramen every night, had a completely amazing record collection, liked Nickelback (ugh! Except the new song, that's good) and knew there was a hunting season in effect nearly every day in America.

Chuck Klosterman Is Right

2006-09-17T09:54:00.000-04:00

Where, exactly, did this weekend go? Friday night I was bored, so I went out on an unexpected Craiglist date that lasted until Saturday morning. (Apparently, according to Steve (Lori's fiancee) I need to stop taking men home if I want them to call me. I'm going to try that, I really am.)

Then Saturday went by in a blur after a friend called. She had an argument with her boyfriend and didn't know if this was the end, or if it's just really a huge fight. So I stayed with her, figuring things out for a long time. We sat at Columbus Circle for easily two hours, just talking about our lives.

It's funny, but I never realized HOW over Todd I am until I started talking to her about how long I wasn't myself, how long I grieved for a relationship that really wasn't there. She had her own little breakthrough last night, so hopefully she won't be stuck as long as I was. But I'll be there because she was there for me.

All women want a guy that will come after them if they walk away crying or upset. We all want someone to rescue us---but there is no Robin Hood, no John Cusack standing in their parents' yard with a boombox. For me there is only a eighteen year old boy who drove a four-wheeler ten miles to see me. And nearly eight years later, I wonder why I didn't believe in that.

Now I do, but now it's too late. In SEX DRUGS AND COCOA PUFFS, Chuck Klosterman was right---our generation always wants John Cusack in romantic relationships.

Unfortunately, while we're holding SAY ANYTHING in such high esteem, we don't realize when our version of The Geek from SIXTEEN CANDLES or our personal Duckie from PRETTY IN PINK is sitting right next to us.

Poor, Poor Audrey

2006-09-09T11:32:00.000-04:00

Does anyone else find it disturbing that the Gap is using Audrey Hepburn to promote black Tshirts?

I do --- but my usually populist self says that if it gets one fourteen-year-old girl to watch FUNNY GIRL, SABRINA, or ROMAN HOLIDAY (pretty much anything but BREAKFAST AT TIFFANYS) her heirs did a good deed.

That being said, I don't think Audrey Hepburn ever wore skinny jeans.

http://www.gap.com/browse/category.do?cid=18569&mlink=5058,622653,1&clink=622653

I Like Redemption.....

2006-09-06T21:11:00.001-04:00

Thanks to the rain last week, I have been reading ALOT of books. Probably at least 3 or 4 since last Friday. My last book was THE SECRET LIFE OF BEES by Sue Monk Kidd--a good book that substantiates my claim that a large number of bestselling fiction (that's not a mystery or a thriller) is either a coming-of-age story and/or a novel that tells a tale of redemption.

I like redemption. It reminds me of how human everyone can be, and I think it reminds readers that their fuck-ups are probably not as bad as they possibly could be (at least I didn't accidentally shoot my mother like Lily in BEES, for example).

But as I listen to Gladys Knight and the Pips, debating whether or not two of my close friends are just busy or if they're mad at me (could it be paranoia, or is it real?) I am struck by the realization that redemption, and VALIDATION is really what everyone's looking for in life.

I get validated by people liking me, wanting to spend time with me. And while that's not necessarily a bad thing, it's not good either. I've spent most of my adult life examining the causes of my major hangup, but now I think its time to figure out a solution.

So, in my arsenal, two recent bestsellers: THE MEMORY KEEPER'S DAUGHTER by Kim Edwards and THE HISTORY OF LOVE by Nicole Krauss. MEMORY KEEPER even includes "redemptive" in its back cover copy.

The last piece is ME vs ME, a chick lit novel about a girl who has to choose between a comfortable life at home and a dream job in the big city. Hmmm...

Navel-gazing much, Meg?

My Lost Twin!!!

2006-09-01T23:15:00.000-04:00

Finally, a reason why I like Amanda Bynes so much:

I usually get a young Signourney Weaver, or sometimes Pink... and when my hair was cut like her, Sarah McLachlan. But I like Amanda so, so much better.... How this site EVER got the Asian lady, I have no idea.

Surprisingly though, I could be the sister of Faith Hill or Jenna Elfman.

The things you discover when you're at home on a Friday night.

At Home...

2006-09-01T20:31:00.000-04:00

Bowling: My New Family Thanksgiving, Since No One is Home for Thanksgiving Anymore: Find pictures of my super-special fam at www.flickr.com/photos/meginnyc

I've been home in New York now for almost a week. I worked my ass off making up for the time I missed on top of doing my normal work. Hence the lack of blog postings.

I fell asleep at 4pm this afternoon, an unlikely event. I don't have any plans for this weekend since the remains of Ernesto made everyone want to stay in. I'm glad that the deluges of rain are happening this weekend, because I've got a stack of reading to do for work as well.

I could talk about how Kelly and I stalked celebrities from her window on Thursday watching the VMA Red Carpet (we saw everybody good I think, from Beyonce to Christina Aguilera to Diddy and Nick Lachey) but that's not the real story of what's going on with me.

I'm having troubles cutting my ties at home. I miss my friends, and my family. I guess I'll never know what would have happened if I had stayed in the Midwest. Would I have fallen in love with My Mr. Right by now? Or would I have regretted not living out my dream to live here?

I did adore work this week and loved my life sans Jackie in my Manhattan apartment. Maybe an entire weekend of doing nothing will help clear my head.

Big & Rich

2006-08-27T23:14:00.000-04:00

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?

2006-08-18T07:09:00.000-04:00

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)

2006-08-13T12:23:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-06T09:58:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-03T23:12:00.000-04:00

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.

Living the Life You Want

2006-07-25T23:24:00.000-04:00

I think I've been writing too much self-help back cover copy.

I'm on a kick where I'm trying to go after the life I want, not the life I'm living. What does that mean? Well, it means that tomorrow I'm going to go to my bosses' boss and ask her for more work. It also means that I'm planning to budget my ass off so that I can get a new apartment when I'm ready to move out. Because I need to live alone.

I had a taste of it this weekend when my roommate was conspiciously absent during Courtney's visit. It was lovely and I want my Winona single, living alone life back. Lonely though it may be, I don't have to worry about people smoking pot in my apartment, or my roommate coming in drunk late at night. It's because of my roommate specifically AND not because of her at all. I think its a potent combination of the two, but I know what's best for me is to wait until the end of summer and then really start hunting on the move. Since moving involves both the dreaded NYC search, pissing off my roomie AND breaking a lease, I'm not too keen on doing it. But I do want a home of my own. And a cat. So, I'm going to try to save $$$ (something I'm horrible about) and plan for it. It's my next big goal.

Courtney came to visit this past weekend, and it was great having her here. I met her my last year in undergrad, and I love her to death. She was a freshman when I was a senior, and now she's freshly 21 and despite being a light drinker, bars have not lost their appeal. We did everything from the Mets, RENT and the Empire State Building to Little Italy, the Harlem Book Fair and the White Horse Tavern. She & Berger hit it off, and of course Kelly loved her as well. I was sooo exhausted that I was still tired today!

I talked to an old friend last night, and it put my life in perspective a bit. I miss my old friends, family and people who really know me so desperately that I think my present situation is suffering.

But at the same time, I know I have a better head on my shoulders than I did a year ago, or two years ago. Since I've thought alot recently about what I really, really want --and have decided on it (an associate editor position, a good boyfriend and an apartment and cat of my own WITH cable) I feel like I can finally move on, and go after it no holds barred.

Plus, I've spoken my mind lately. There have been weird consequences, but the more I concentrate on it the more I think it's just part of growing up. My friend last night said, "It sounds like you're doing the same thing. Chasing after boys with a better job." He was right, but he was also wrong. Boys (or men) are a relatively small point in my life since I haven't found one I like in a while and probably won't be ready for one until I meet someone cool, special and wonderful enough....for now, I'm happy to go out, have fun, and make lasting friendships like the ones I treasure back in the Mighty Midwest.

Be gone, toxic elements........

4 Queers Down, 1 to go

2006-07-17T22:11:00.000-04:00

Today, outside of work, I saw Jai Rodriguez (sans pretty eye makeup.)

So, between my friends & I, we're only missing one Queer Guy. The roundup:

1. Fellow blogger & Mnpls friend Kiddo (see my link on the right) eye-flirted with Thom at a gay club in Dallas when he was there on business.

2. Aryanna, my classmate at Pace, spotted Kyan last year at the former D'Agostino (sp?) grocery store on Henry St. in Brooklyn Heights.

3. Jackie, my esteemed roomie, saw Carson Kressley somehow... I don't remember the circumstances.

So now, all we have left is Ted........

On to more important things, work is going to be interesting and crazy but opportunities abound right now which is good, the roomie situation is back on an even keel, and I made new friends (see previous comments). AND, to answer Avenue Elle's question..... I DID make it all the way from 181 to the Battery AND back up to 34th Street on Sunday skating... even gracing 34th Street with my presence on blades. I got props from a homeless guy and I've decided that I look cuter on blades than I do walking AND the men are cuter along the Hudson.

So, I will be repeating that (but not that I crashed into a fence in Riverside Park trying to negotiate some crazy hill-ridden boundaries. No injuries.....)

And, thanks for the comments, y'all. Keep them coming, they help my ever-suffering self esteem (or at least inflate my ego.)

A Week of Epic Proportions

2006-07-16T09:00:00.000-04:00

This past week, both my professional and personal life has been an absolute rollercoaster.

As said in THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA, when your professional life goes well your personal life turns to shit. While Andy loses her best friend (Tracie Thoms, yay!) and boyfriend, I meanwhile had a raging fight with my roommate. The fight was really insignificant when taken as an individual event, but when you add the context of our relationship for the past six months, its really the crescendo, the point of no return.

So I won't be returning to our previous state of close friendship. I'm keeping my ears open to new apartments, but also changing my attitude towards her. I'm just going to distance myself slowly.... I can't be making any more 1am calls to Ryan, Lori and Jason in order to calm myself enough to go to sleep. And I'm pretty sure my friends are sick of my tirades.

I'm drawing on previous experiences like this where I turned to my other friends and exercise to pull me away from the toxic elements in my life and I'll be sure to do that again.

So on to the professional life. We basically had an exodus of both senior and asst-level people last week, which puts me in a really bad and a great position at the same time. The really bad part is that I'll have to train all these people and negotiate who of my pub friends to reccomend for the job. BUT the good part is that I'm the most senior assistant in the department, which means that I'll be the first one up for a promotion and the first to inherit books. It's a happy, happy day for me. I've been strategizing what I want to do in terms of asking for more work, so we shall see. Apparently 9 hours a day at work is not enough for me. But if its going to be over a hundred next week, I'll gladly SLEEP at Rock Center.

BUT there are bright sides to my personal life: Kelly and I are getting closer which I LOVE because she's fascinating to me and I adore her. Also, I met some fabulous bloggers through Dolly again and am totally psyched about finding two of those ladies because I think we could be friends outside of these little meetings.

My friend Courtney is coming on Thursday, so next weekend will be extremely busy. I'm TOTALLY psyched and can't wait to show her off at Harlem Book Fair next Saturday....alas, though, it is time to beat the heat on my quest to rollerblade from 181st street to battery park.

In Love, Again

2006-07-09T21:02:00.000-04:00

I first fell in love with Nickel Creek a few years ago when I saw their show at the Basilica Festival in St. Paul..... it was the only concert where I've RUN back and forth to the porta-potty as to not miss any of the show.

So of course I became obsessed with their backlist and side projects. The band is Chris Thile (mandolin), Sara Watkins (fiddle) and Sean Watkins (guitar). Sean & Sara are brother and sister-all of them sing.

I fell in LOVE with Sean's solo album 26 Miles and have done the same with his latest, blinders on. I absolutely adore it.

Here are lyrics from my two favorite songs:
what if you thought you saw a ghost
a hundred times a day
what if the thing you wanted most
was impossible to say
(from Run Away Girl)

from hello...goodbye:

She came up and said hello
my name is kate and i liked your show
and there was nothing i could say
but thanks come again
she didn't know
that we got married in my head
there were christmases and dogs
and our kids' hair was red
and as years flew by i gazed into her eyes
and said goodbye

Since this is how I react to most men I really really like (especially in casual encounters that I'll never have again) Sean once again read my mind. I'm embarrassed to admit that's how I felt about him, too (at the Fine Line Show in Minneapolis, Aug 04.)

Too bad I can't use it on him the next time Nickel Creek comes to NYC.
Check out his website http://www.seanwatkins.com - you can download the whole CD or just my favorite song.

10 Best Mich Memories

2006-07-08T01:28:00.000-04:00

I felt bad about the last post not representing my Michigan experience, so here's the top ten things that happened to me, in no particular order, June 30-July 5:

1. Listening to Jay Bo (Jason) explain on Steve's voicemail how he fell in his own pee while in a room of children
2. Completely unexpectedly losing my voice on my first morning there thanks to constant smoking and raising my voice over a heavy metal band selling SoCo Hurricanes in the Tiki Bar
3. Drunkenly laughing at Lori in the Burger King drive-thru because she was sober and Steve & I were SOOO not. I got home, ate chicken fingers and cottage cheese.
4. Not knowing what I was drinking out of when I was drunk one night at Steve's parents house.... and really not caring (I had three glasses.)
5. Saying to Lori in Lansing: "You know, Starbucks? Espresso drinks?" and TOTALLY getting checked on it in front of the cute optometrist (sp?) at Lens Crafters
6.Realizing in the middle of the night that I was cuddling with a dog (Lori & Steve's precious Skeeter)....and that it was more comfortable than a boy.... but I couldn't decide if it was smellier or not.
7. When Steve's sister (and bridesmaid) Amy's friend Nikki told me that I had hit on her ex-husband/father of her children the night before.
8. Turning down a guy to dance who immediately after clunked his head on the stage while attempting to do the Worm.
9. Going on a crazy, swinging up in the air and twirling carnival ride and not being physically able to scream (see #2) and being really, really scared.
10. Drinking bloody marys with Lori's future groom during wedding consults (My question: what kind of liquor packages do you offer?)

Additional Things I'm Very Proud of to an Extent That Most People Are Embarrassed to Admit:
eating REAL cottage cheese with delight

sitting with a baseball team on the flight to Detroit who were so Staten Island stereotypical it was ridiculous

getting on the aforementioned ride and saying to Lori, "This is Dominican music" and having the carnie give me silent props

On the West Coast. . . . of Michigan

2006-07-06T20:11:00.000-04:00

So on Friday after another short date with my cutie Boy A (he needs a new name so I think I'll call him Curls) Thursday night, I went to visit my best friend Lori.

I haven't seen Lori in 3 years so I was a little worried we wouldn't get along. And there were some uncomfortable silences and she talks even more now in baby talk (something I absoutely detest) but I love her fiancee Steve and they make a wonderful pair. Now if we could only defeat Mary Ann, Lori's mom-in-law......

Seriously, though, I had a great time. I sold about $2,000 worth of tokens for $4 frozen Southern Comfort hurricanes (super yummy but cold as hell when the wind on Lake Michigan came up) in TWO HOURS on July 3, heard Brian McKnight, Trapt, Smash Mouth and a ton of regional cover bands.... and got to hang out with two of my favorite people in the world.

I also met the maid of honor, best man, one of the bridesmaids and got in a water balloon fight with the flower girl. I also managed to accidentally hit on someone's ex husband and got shot down by a plethora of blue collar guys (not really, but I didn't get lucky either.)

There's lots of great ancedotes, but I can't think of them right now, of course. What I've been thinking about lately is my friendship with Lori and the silences we had in the car rides back and forth across the state of Michigan and if its a good thing or a bad thing. I guess she is still my best friend even though Michelle or Jackie & I are closer---- but she's my best friend from Winona and that's all that matters. Just because my best friend from high school and I aren't as close anymore that doesn't mean they're not still some of my best friends, right? I'm going to look at it that way so I don't get depressed about it and don't give up on it too soon. We're living such different lives anyway...... (even though I found out Lori does part time work for Pearson, another publishing company!!!)

The other thing I'm ruminating about is if I should date guys at all. It's not necessarily going bad for me now, but its definitely not going great. So maybe I should just take care of myself right now and see what transpires in the meantime. It doesn't mean I'm going to stop talking to the boys I've met, I just won't go out searching for new ones.

We'll see how long that lasts. Bets, anyone?

Seriously though, I'm really debating if I even want a guy to touch me, or flirt with me, or what have you. Certainly no sex has been going on, and that's totally been MY choice. I just haven't been getting the same jones/high/pleasure out of it. Lately its just been annoying. I don't know if that's because its the wrong guys or the wrong time. Either way, I just don't feel right.

But, I've also got my date lined up for Lori & Steve's wedding next summer, if we're both still single and interested. I bargained for him to be Steve's personal assistant (I'm Lori's so Steve's gotta have one, and I bargained for him to be at the head table since we're the only single people that are in the wedding). His name is Jason and he's an average guy but he's really funny and I know he'll dance with me. He was super drunk when I met him (he fell into the sand into his own pee after drinking for 12 straight hours... we met him in hour 10) but I think he's a good guy and so does Steve.... so we shall see.

The only action I got in Michigan is one kiss and some hand holding from this kid Matt who I was leading on because he was mean to Lori three years ago (it's a very long story). I'm not kidding. He pissed me off anyway, so he wasn't getting any. It was satisfying to tell him no and see a surprised look. What did he expect when my drink was delayed because he was asking out the bartender?

More later when I'm not so swamped catching up on workouts, work, and life in general....

How to Get The Guy

2006-06-26T23:05:00.000-04:00

Has anyone seen this show on ABC? Its fab... I reccomend all girls watch it for handy advice and some great dates.

Speaking of great dates, I had one on Saturday night with Boy A....he met me at my friend T.S.'s birthday party at Brother Jimmys on the east side. Not a place either of us would frequent, but it was a lovely time and we got knockered, so much so that we hijacked two of T.S.'s friends from CT and went down to the Lower East Side.

I showed the girls the merits of hitting on guys in the bathroom lines, and then proceeded to kiss Boy A at Welcome to the Johnsons. The girls were totally, totally hammered so we put them in a cab to head back to Astoria while we jumped in one to go back to his favorite bar in Williamsburg, right across from his apartment.

So of course we headed over to the apartment. Goregous apartment and lovely art (which I really appreciated in the morning --- the light in there was amazing) and a truly interesting guy that I think I'll see again. We spent the morning discussing old TV shows and napping on and off. He was a cuddler which made me happy. (It's not often a girl gets to cuddle twice in one weekend)

The funniest part of the date, if you want to call it that, was when he asked me if I wanted to go get coffee and a bagel. Of course I did, since I love hanging out in Brooklyn, especially Williamsburg (Smith St in Cobble Hill is my absolute favorite). But he remembered that his parents were going to be in the neighborhood (his dad is in real estate). So he called to check that they weren't at the cafe across the street, and of course they were. We composed a stealth plan, but the elevator opened and there I am meeting the parents (and their friends, who are considering being investors). It was an embarrassing situation had by all but I think Boy A and I bonded when we got outside and instantly pulled out cigarettes and laughed all the way to the bagel shop.

We sat outside for a while, eating bagels and drinking juice and coffee and it was truly lovely. I had a great time talking to him and chatting up the friends that stopped by. I left the Burg at 2 or 2:30 which was crazy late considering I had been out since 9pm the night before, pretty much with him the entire time.

We emailed today, but I'm not sure if I'll get to see him before I go to Michigan. I'd like to, but I'm so busy this week that I'm not sure if I can. (I have a tendency to see all my good friends before I fly anywhere so that if the plane crashes, they would have seen me recently. Morbid, I know, but it's a habit. I guess I sometimes treat it like I might decide to stay whereever I'm going.)

Boy B was sweet too, text messaging and calling to give his appreciation. He has a blog as well, so of course i read it. (And you were right on, if you are reading).

It's interesting to me that I have two guys available to me that I'm not sure if I like. Enough to warrant a second date with both of them, sure.... but since someone asked me if I was really ready to date, I've been skeptical of my own capabilities in that department.

So who knows. But at least I know I've got good legs (thanks, Boy A. The way you described me was very complimentary, and according to me, dead on) and these fantastic, interesting potentials.

Michigan is coming up in 3 days and I couldn't be more grateful. I'm going to get tanked on Thursday so I can sleep (I'll be too excited otherwise). I'm a little nervous about seeing my best friend Lori (I haven't seen her in 3 years) but I think it will be fun, restful and a ego booster (I'm hotter in Michigan, after all...).

(I will try to update before then, but if I don't get the chance, assume I am a) leaving my friends with a good memory to contemplate at my funeral or b) doing laundry.)

A Kind Word

2006-06-24T18:57:00.000-04:00

I think I actually did a mitzvoh last night---a sort of pity/interested in a weird sort of way take-home with a 31 year old North Dakotan. I know I should back up.

I went out to Dolly's half birthday party last night in the Village and met two guys: Guy A, who I incorrectly assumed was gay and correctly assumed was Dolly's coworker; and Guy B who I knew I had met before (at the blogger event a few months ago). I started flirting with Guy B but he totally missed the signs. I talked with Guy A pretty extensively, but since I thought was gay I didn't give it much thought.

So Guy A asked for my number and then said, you didn't think I was gay did you? So now I'm going out with him tonight, despite that I kissed Guy B in the cab on the way to the second bar (the karaoke bar!) AND proceeded to take him home after I sang a couple songs.

And now its been rainy the whole day, and I'm tired but I really do want to go out tonight. Maybe not on the east side, but still. It's TS's birthday, so I should go... but I wondered this morning about Guy B. It wasn't a pity take-home, but it wasn't because I was crazy about him either. It dawned on me while watching MATCHPOINT and SHOPGIRL today---it was a kind gesture. The guy hadn't gotten any in 2 years. Not that I gave him any, but there was nakedness involved. And it didn't hurt that he reminded me of guys at home that get overlooked by girls. So I took him home. (Plus, I didn't want to go dancing with Guy B.)

So tonight, I'm going to a gay friend's birthday party that will probably be filled with fag-hag type girls with a guy who attended yoga today, said "it was a bad day for jew hair" on the voicemail he left, and asked me if I liked "jungle house, not to be confused with..." (at that point I tuned out and nodded attentively).

This, among other experiences, has taught me that if I want a plethora of guy attention, all I need to do is say I'm not sure if I should date. Out loud.

Nothin' About Love Makes Sense

2006-06-22T21:49:00.000-04:00

I've had two epiphanies over the last week:

#1: I don't like when my female friends have boyfriends. Somehow I'm irritated by it. I don't know if its because I don't have one, if I have less time with them because of it (which is usually the case) or if its because one of "the clan" is being converted, but when it gets serious, I get pissy. Particularly if I personally thought she was going to be single for a while.

#2: I am apparently, not the girl that takes advantages of opportunities to have sex anymore. I used to be; now I think (gasp) that I feel sex without feeling is a bit shallow and frankly, not worth the hassle. Unless the guy is Adam Brody, of course.

What brought me to these conclusions was that my roommate called me out on not liking her boyfriend. Which is true. I don't particularly care for him, but that's because he gives me that ishy, I-don't-trust-you gut feeling. Which may be because HE'S not comfortable around me, but still. Let's just say that I'll never relax around the kid, nor will I be too happy about him being in my apartment without me or roomie being here. I am glad she's happy, but there's so much Drama (and I capitalize that for a reason) that it sometimes stresses me out. And, with the boss I have now, I don't need any more unnecessary kvetching in my day.

The other conclusion has to do with last weekend. I met an amazingly hot Irishman (see the pic below; he's on the right). He was nice to me, flirty, and with the exception of ditching out on my bar party for a couple hours----to help a friend, supposedly---he was fine. I could have had sex with him, very easily. Did I? No.... I blamed my period. Which I didn't have.

To confuse the situation even more, Berger came to my "close friends" dinner on Friday with roomie, Mishy & Mikey and made an ass out of himself. I was already mad at him for not showing up at my bar party Saturday (my friends should know I LIVE for gatherings celebrating how many friends Ihave) and then to make matters worse, he got up after we had ordered and went outside to have a cigarette (how rude! Who can't wait 20 minutes???) and I was truly embarassed and pissed when we left the restaurant for the subway because he and roomie were talking about something and completely ignoring me. On my birthday. But since they can both get caught up and not realize it,I just accepted it and called them assholes in my head.

By the time we got on the subway, we were fine. Berger suggested drinks on him at our local watering hole, so he and I went and had a nice time talking. Apparently he had ditched out on me because he had a really long drinking talk starting at 3pm with his major ex. I only accepted his apology because he said it twice. We had a couple drinks and a nice talk and when the outside seating at the bar closed we sat on some stairs near my apartment. We kissed and he offered to come up, spend the night and "hold me" - which I knew was true, he wouldn't try anything.

But, just like Billy, I said no.

The next day when I was driving out to Cape May, I thought about it. Since I've actually gotten over Todd (and I'm over Berger as well, something roommate helpfully pointed out) I'm not in the place to settle anymore.

It was a giant light bulb. I didn't want to be a notch on the Irishman's belt just to get laid on my birthday, because that wouldn't neutralize what Todd did to me on my last birthday. And I didn't want to compromise the line I've drawn with Berger.

But then love threw me a bit of a curveball. I went for drinks with an acquaintance, Sam, who I met through my friend Jenni. There was sexual tension when we met forever and a day ago (I think it was over the winter) and I sent him a text about my bar party. He didn't make it down although he really tried (and sent me continual text messages about him trying) so we agreed to meet for drinks last night.

He wasn't quite what I remembered (He has quite the unibrow, and he's a little plumper than I thought, but a good body could have been disguised by a baggy linen shirt. But he bought me drinks and dinner and it was lovely. I think I might have screwed it up by not kissing him at the end of the night when he walked me to the train but I like this a lot. I like the promise of a slow build. When I said that he was entering date territory when we went to dinner he asked how I felt about that and I shrugged. I said, what about you? He said, "I'm neutral".

So maybe its more the chase, but Sam is such a departure from the guys I try to date (his parents are from Lebanon, he's 23 and fresh out of college - so younger than me and 10 years younger than Berger and has crooked teeth) that I'm starting to think it could be good for me.

I'll stick my toe in the water, start walking along the beach. And the next thing you know I'll be standing in my bikini letting the waves knock me on my ass like I did at Cape May.

The dolphins were a good audience, so why wouldn't Sam be? Or you, my dear readers. Sorry for the delay.

Check out photos of my bday on Flickr

2006-06-22T07:50:00.000-04:00

Since I was gone all day Monday, tired as hell Tuesday and out all night on Wednesday, I haven't had a chance to post about my birthday. So check out the pics and I'll fill you in, hopefully tonight.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/meginnyc

....And the reason I hate online dating - But also LOVE my birthday

2006-06-14T21:01:00.000-04:00

I was SOOOO happy Jackie was with me yesterday when I went out with one of the most recent batch from CL. The date was probably the worst one I've been on in a very long time. Jackie agreed, but she thought that the guy might still come to my upcoming birthday party on Saturday. But apparently he thought it was just as bad and replied to my "I'm not that into you" email with one of his own.

Speaking of my birthday we're two days out from the beginning of a four day celebration which will pretty much kick off my summer (Memorial Day really never begins the summer for me, but my bday does).

Friday: I'm going to a Mets game with 7 of the most amazing women I've ever been lucky to be friends with and their friends

Saturday: The day starts with an author's back nine (read bar crawl) with his publicist who happens to be one of those amazing women; later that night I will have more than 20 people lined up to meet me at a bar in the Village to get drunk with.

Sunday, my actual birthday: I'm spending the day with my neglected roommate and then having a dinner with my closest friends that she organized

Monday, a personal day away from work and everything NYC: I'm driving far away to the city to an undisclosed place to feel the wind on my hair and sing RENT as loud as I possibly can with only the freeway beneath an economy's cars wheels.

Tuesday I will return to work hopefully a refreshed woman with lots of presents.

It is, of course, a somber moment too: its the anniversary of my horrible bday where Todd dumped me. I'm sooo glad that I'm on the other side of that. While Sunday morning will probably be a sad and reflective time, I am more thankful than ever for my friends that listened to me moan and worried about if I was ever going to get over it even though they knew I would just like I did.

And moreover, that I moved to New York, fell in love and found out I could do more than I even imagined. I hope I keep perpetually falling down harder and surprising myself more when I'm 25 than I did when I was 24 (only three days left y'all).

I'll try to update periodically since summarizing the whole weekend CLEARLY won't do it justice.

Why I Like Online Dating

2006-06-12T08:12:00.000-04:00

I've decided that online dating is like being in the 8th grade again:

1. You spend hours on the phone talking with the prospective mate before "going out". (Not to mention IMs.)

2. You are fairly anonymous --- you don't have to tell anyone if you don't want to. My southern gal pal was talking to a guy from myspace for six months and then finally went on a date with him!

3. It's not that big of a deal if you stop dating suddenly.

This could be the reason I love Craiglist so much, combined with that I can get up to 100 emails at a clip and judge the men as I go along, picking them off one by one. No matter how many emails I get, there's always 3 or 4 that stand out.

I'm all about going back to the 8th grade method of dating: holding hands, kissing, and waiting on the sex. Because frankly, sex screws us up. I won't tell this to the CL guys though. But I guess that's just another level of screening - after all, every girl's heard the talk of the future, given it up and never heard from the dick (literally and figuratively) again.

So in the immortal words of Whitesnake:
Here I go again,
on my own goin' down the only road I've ever known.
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone.

Well, maybe not, but it was in my head.

A Hard (Yet Cushioned) Fall from Grace

2006-06-04T11:16:00.000-04:00

So Braff never called. I went out on Friday with Michelle to see THE BREAKUP (fabulous movie, I love Jennifer Aniston so very, very much) and then met up with Stolie, the Funky Brown Chick (see right) for drinks.

Then I proceeded to go out for drinks with Ray, a guy that I met via CL who was okay but I wouldn't really want to date him and then headed back up to my hood to see OpenMic Guy and his friends.

OpenMicGuy runs my favorite restaurant above 168th Street (i'll never tell!) and I thought we had a connection, and I was sure he was going to call last night and find out what's going on at the very least. (What was going on was that I was sitting around by myself, bitching that my neighbors were having a party.) But, like Braff, the call never came.

Lori, my best friend in Michigan, tried to cheer me up by telling me OpenMicGuy was on "boy time" (she called to tell me she bought her wedding dress). That worked for a while, but I'm still disappointed.

Just another point that I'm not the mankiller I seem to be at times; out of the four guys I had on my plate Friday morning (Ray, ComediMan, Braff, and OpenMicGuy), only ComediMan held up his regular routine, calling me at 3:30 and 5:30 am, presumably for a booty call. In a twist of comedic irony, I have yet to call HIM back.

Another Reason to Love Google

2006-06-02T12:55:00.000-04:00

I’ve decided to add another facet to ranking guys by their “number” (a tool my roommate and I use that is a combination of personality and looks, as well as good behavioral traits like picking up the phone to call or sending witty text messages—or by our recent pattern of dating 35 year olds---knowing how to text message at all): Googleability.

The ComediMan pissed me off last night. Mishy and I stopped by the bar above the club to say hi and had to a) wait forever and a day for him to be there and b) then got shunned. I was really mad, but not as mad as I would have been had I not been successfully flirting with the bartender, who I will call Braff because he looks a lot like Zach Braff, but cuter. And he’s younger than 30 (27, which is the perfect age for me to date according to me) which is a definite plus.

I broke the cardinal rule and gave him control---otherwise known as my number. And unlike the drunk guy from Mishy’s publishing company, I don’t think he’s going to call me three or more times, send me countless text messages and two voicemails all in an effort to get me to come back to the bar we left and play beer pong.

But I am hoping (so much!) that Braff calls, so we can hang out in the park and maybe make out a bit. I might be stretching things a little since I just met the guy, but Braff makes me want to take things slow. Mind you, he might be a lot less nice, cute and/or witty now that he’s not behind a bar. But if he is… I’m in trouble.

So back to Googleability…. ComediMan is completely Google-able, to the point where I say to my friends: You wouldn’t recognize his name, but I know you know his face. And since I was late to work because I was watching the man I sleep with, who booty calls me at 4:30am, who called twice to see if I got home okay last night, sitting with two other comedians and Matt Lauer at 8:18am on Today.

The Today appearance pretty much guarantees that I’ll sleep with him again. At least once, maybe twice. And he knows it. Like Business Week guy, I love the fact that he looks oh-so-impressive on a Google search.

It is pretty much boy central right now in my life; I posted another ad on Craigslist when I hit a particularly evil low sleeping with Berger about two weeks ago--- and managed to get one or two decent guys out of it. I may hang out with the Princeton Grad today (I’ve been trying to get a drink with him but keep getting distracted) if I’m unable to snag an afternoon shag from the ComediMan or if Braff doesn’t call me. I also have Open Mic Night guy that I gave my number to who called me the next evening…… I’m not sure about that one, but I’ll give anybody three dates, particularly when I do the initiation. (Unless you’re Dennis Leary or Janeane Garofalo, you just can’t pull off saying, “Sorry I didn’t notice during that song that your teeth are kinda weird and you have a stoner glaze, can I have my number back?”

This afternoon, I’ll be able to answer the question I’ve been asking myself all morning: Will my good looks and witty note-writing charm be enough to make Braff roll over in bed this afternoon, pick up the phone and call that girl he met at work last night?

Man, I hope so. Because it would be delightful for ComediMan to call me and not get any play. Again. (Secretly, readers, I like ComediMan, but he’s totally holding me at arms length, and will allow me to see his body but none of his real personality. It sucks. But I like the sex, and figure that if the info on who he really is comes later, great. Otherwise I can keep getting laid---hopefully without getting hurt---until the personality comes along, preferably in a lovely package.)

And I have to keep him around so that Super Cool Comedian D (a friend of ComediMAN and also a host of a show on COMEDY CENTRAL! ) comes to my birthday party.

I Will Always Love 'Em

2006-05-31T21:48:00.000-04:00

I'm a country girl. I love Garth, Clint, Alan, and more recently, Kenny Chesney and Keith Urban.

Martina McBride, Trisha Yearwood and Sara Evans are more realistic role models than Madonna or Janet could ever be. And since I got into bluegrass, I felt Alison Krauss is evidence that God exists.

So even without the hype, I would have bought the new Dixie Chicks album. I'm always surprised by their albums; I'll listen to it, like it okay and then come back to it in six months and fall in love with it. So I just went ahead and bought it on Itunes.

I'm two songs in, and its damn good. Their mix of bluegrass, rock and country influences is only surpassed by my other favorite band, Nickel Creek, which is at the very lowest a good bluegrass ensemble and at best a great mesh of alternative and fiddle. All the hype of this album will rest on "Not Ready to Make Nice" --- but as the TIME article puts it, real DC fans will listen to the song once and move on. I like the song but I'll pull it out only when I'm that angry.

To be honest, I'm feeling what the song expresses; I have a close friend who's just NOT LISTENING TO ME. Nothing I ever say is correct; my opinions are always shit. And honey, I'm not ready to make nice. There's no point to arguing (because I can never be right, get the jist of my dilemna) but there's no point of saying, yes, you are right about everything. So I hang out in my room, being frustrated but not being able to really do anything about it. I can really only take pleasure in that she's probably a) wondering why I'm doing that all the time, thinking I'm depressed or b) as clueless as I am, just attempting to defend herself.

Lots of news today, I guess. . . a friend mentioned that the blog has been boring lately, and its because I don't feel like anyone's reading anymore. So if you are, mention something or at least post a comment. I'm not savvy enough to get a counter.

Good Day, Sunshine

2006-05-31T08:02:00.000-04:00

Berger's out of my life.... for two weeks anyway. While he's in Amsterdam, I'll be very busy making sure that my new man, the ComediMan, is behaving himself.

I'm ashamed to admit that after Saturday night in Hudson with Wifey, Michael and Michael's friends (Drunk Bill, Token Lenny, Angry John, Joey and Khaki Killer), I was feeling pretty confident. We went to hang out with Joey before the bar and sat on their porch drinking Coors. In that time, Token Lenny hit on me (5 minutes), Khaki Killer was looking sideways at me but never in the eye, Angry John seemed indifferent (but was not that way at the bar, unexpectedly paying for my cover and later suggesting naughty things in the bathroom which I did not do) and Drunk Bill thought I was cool because I said he could be "stealth like the janitor in the Breakfast Club"---he's a janitor at the high school.

So in other words, I rocked. So, why on Monday morning, when ComediMan called me at 7am-FOR A BOOTY CALL- did I go?

ComediMan has a weird schedule, of course, starting his stand up in the Village at around 8pm, ending at about 1am and calling me at 4am. Of course, I call him back during the day but never answer straightaway when he calls in the middle of the night. Because our schedules conflict (and the boy lives on fucking York on the East Side) I only see him on the weekend. And that's only for sex. Unless I go to the standup club and talk to him in between shows..... and I'm starting to get a bit tired of our "routine" (its happened twice).

So, you ask, why did I go? I was getting up anyway to go tanning (I got burned), he is really good in bed (deliciously so) and I do like him. And because he was insistent on not letting "his princess" sleep - and said that he couldn't stop thinking about me. He could just be thinking of my pussy, but I'm in denial.

And if giving him the pussy is going to get him addicted to the meggers, that's great. If not, at least I got laid and can watch Vh1 and say, "I slept with that guy" and shrug.

Always a good Christmas morning icebreaker..... too bad my parents got rid of the satellite TV.

Don't Talk to her on a straight Vinyl night

2006-05-29T00:32:00.000-04:00

A line from one of my favorite country songs:

She's friendly, and fun-lovin' most of the time.

But don't ask her on a straight tequila night.

She'll start thinkin' about him, then she's ready to fight.

Blames her broken heart on every man in sight,

On a straight tequila night.

Tonight, for me, is a James Taylor night. Convenient, really, since I just went upstate and bought a JT record. Tonight, the Eagles are too depressing, John Mayer's simply too new, and Billy will just remind me of everything I used to be.

I had a great time this weekend outside the city. I wondered, like I've been wondering for a while, if what I really want is a country life. But then, I always think that I love NYC. I love cities and especially this one. It infuses my soul. I've got lots of time to sit on a porch swing when I won't be able to walk from Spring Street to Bklyn in one fell swoop.

Don't tell anybody, but I've been hating my life recently. I'm not sure what exactly it is, but I think I'm just expecting too much. And its a slight thorn in my side that I don't have anyone to share it with. All the guys I've gone out with have largely been jokes, and with the exception of Jason and Chris, nobody since Todd has gotten to my heart. But that's okay - I'm willing to wait for the kind of looks I saw exchanged between both my friend Michelle and her husband and Michelle' s in-laws at the breakfast table this morning.

And I'm getting a bit farther in my career too, so no worries. I just tend to forget the good things, I guess.

Speaking of good things, I'll have funny stories from Upstate in Hudson tomorrow.

I am a blog nobody.... but I really don't care.

2006-05-17T22:23:00.000-04:00

Here's my soapbox, for anyone that's still listening. Mind you I wrote this yesterday, before the final three showdown on Idol (and Elliott totally still deserved to go):
I haven’t blogged lately and there’s a good reason why. I’ve been living my life—cooking four pounds of beef for ten of my friends, dining at Mesa Grill (Bobby Flay’s restaurant), riding the train between 59th and 181st Streets in Manhattan more times than I can count—but I felt the need to get political for a second.

One of my friends was over when I was listening to NPR and President Bush delivered his speech about immigration last night. She said she wasn’t going to listen because she never liked anything he had to say. I’m not sure where I was taught this, but I’m of the mind that everyone deserves a right to their opinion, and the only way we learn as people is to listen to others and understand their point of view. We may not agree with everything they have to say, but we have to respect their freedom to say it.

So I listened to Bush. He had some valid points. There were definitely some things I disagreed with, of course, but even though I don’t like the guy and think he’s bad for the country, I don’t see him as a bad person. Call me a bad liberal, if you will, but I’ve been finding myself identifying and agreeing with some Republicans some of the time. To me, this either signifies that everyone really DOES become Republican as they age, or that I’m really just politically moderate.

I don’t think Pres. G.W. is a bad person, or an evil person, or bound and determined to destroy America by invading one country at a time. I think he’s doing what he thinks is right. And that’s all we can ever ask for. What I do hold in disgrace, though, is that the American public isn’t thinking very intelligently.

From American Idol (seriously, why didn’t we vote for Paris), to craziness over the Bird Flu Epidemic, combined that we're in some massive group denial when it comes to real issues with AIDS, education, and most recently, immigration, the American public isn’t doing a very good job representing itself.

I’m not innocent in all of this; I often flip past the articles in Time and Newsweek that discuss international politics to the Anna Quindlen essays in the back, or the latest commentary on bloggers. I certainly don’t volunteer, or contribute to society in any greater way than by working in publishing and helping to publish books I think are important.

But when I vote, I do so in an informed way. I learn about what’s important to me (education, health care, general foreign policy and a candidate’s voting history in political elections and things like vocal range, personal history and marketability for Idol) and make my decision. I try every day not to close my ears to what I don’t want to hear, except when its celebrity gossip. Maybe that makes me the exception.

I don’t mind, except there will never be another Kelly Clarkson unless we get the Taylor Branches of the world voted out sooner rather than later. (Postnote: Taylor totally was awesome on Tuesday's show, but you get my point. I couldn't think of anyone else truly atrocious, unlike last year's Scott debacle, or Ruben WINNING the goddamn thing back in the day). By the same token, we should also know, as a country, what our president says (other than his gross grammatical errors that exemplify how our education system isn’t truly effective) so that we can know whether or not we agree to disagree.

And if you think I'm just a white middle class girl from the Midwest being privledged and pompous, well- fuck you. Cuz you're probably right.

What Do You Exude?

2006-05-06T13:22:00.000-04:00

My roommate and I were talking about the vibes we give off. She said, "You ooze sex. You speak sex, you walk sex." And I said, "Really? Even when I'm not trying?"

She said, "Yes. I'd hate to see you when you're actually TRYING."

I was on FIRE last night. My friend MA and I went out for the first time one on one and had a blast. We went to Fiddlesticks in the village, got hit on by 3 DOCTORS and then proceeded to follow these crazy Maryland girls to the Olive Tree Cafe, a restaurant/bar above the Comedy Cellar on MacDougal Street.

MA left shortly thereafter, but I was flirting with this white comedian. Before he went downstairs to do his shtick, he somehow brought up Wanda Sykes, who was sitting at a table adjacent to the bar. I was blissfully unawares of this, of course. She was rocking a short blonde afro, and since I was drunk, I insisted on being introduced. We chatted for a bit and I'm pretty sure she thought I was a tourist, but who the hell cares because its WANDA. I ADORE her and will watch any movie she's in regardless of how bad it is. I was sooooo happy. And then the comedian guy brought up Dave Atell and how Dave & I should drink together. Yeah, I could go for that.

When THAT comedian went down for his shtick, I began talking to another comedian, this one being a cute black guy.... who everyone would recognize from commercials, etc. We chatted for awhile and then he took my phone, put his number in it and told me to leave his message giving him my number. I left a sexy message while he was standing right in front of me.

After he left, I was looking for my white guy and they said he had gone around the corner to the Pussycat. He wasn't there but I started talking to some gals at the bar and he came to find me. We proceeded to make out on the vintage furniture in the room next door and then I left to go home because at this point, I had been drinking for HOURS and was fully loaded. I got home via the A train and the black guy had called, leaving me messages to come to his apartment on the East Side.

By this time, it was 3:30 and I declined, saying I'd call him today (will I? Who knows?) and then I went home to find my roomie and her friend who's visiting still partying. I declined on that as well and went to bed.

When I woke up this morning fully hungover, I was happy - because I had FUCKING MET WANDA SYKES! And got lots of numbers. Not bad for a girl who had two hideous previous days, including one where the honeymoon period officially ended (amicably) with Berger, leaving me to make out with comedians.

Thank God for Small Miracles....

2006-04-30T21:40:00.000-04:00

This was a truly weird weekend. I spent Friday night defending my honor (and my fidelity to Berger.... but in a good way that made me actually realize that I'm with him, for better or for worse.... even if he does dump me tomorrow. I'm in this.) And then Saturday I spent watching white guys rap in Washington Square Park while reading novels about women in prison for work, and then I spent the night away in Bklyn with our favorite married couple, M&M, who took me in after I got apartment-exiled.

Then today I came home expecting a bunch of hungover people from my roomie's party (hence the apt exile) and instead I got my friend back. (It's a long story, but my roommate and I have not been communicating well now for awhile, and of course we were feeling the EXACT same way about each other! Terrific irony in this apartment, I say.)

I had a lot of work to do this weekend and I was so riled up that this afternoon when all the work was done that I finally sat down with a blankie and Jennifer Weiner's IN HER SHOES. I cried alot (blame it on the BC); and I can't imagine the waterworks when Grey's Anatomy comes on in a few minutes.

My cousin Jesse also had a baby shower today back in Wisconsin. I always looked up to Jesse; she was popular, pretty and had much better hair than I did all throughout high school. When I was 22, visiting her and her husband in England (they were there for his military service) she told me that she was always jealous of me because I was such an individual! Anyway, I made the call my mom reccomended to congratulate her. All my female relatives on my mom's side were there; I did the strained conversation with my cousin Katie, an archeologist who speaks Urdu as well as talked with Jesse, my mom and my second mom (Aunt Wendy). Jesse had a crazy Midwestern accent, and Katie said that "your mom has been telling us about all the lovely things you're doing in New York..." and so I thought about all the lovely things I HAVE done in NYC... especially my walks around the city that I've been starting to do on the weekends for hours at a time.

Our landlord apparently dropped off the renewal for our lease yesterday as well. So I thought about the past 525,600 minutes. I've changed SO much in the past year. I saw earlier today in my journal that I wrote in November that I changed so much I didn't know myself anymore. But that's not true. I do. I just needed to remember.

I had the perfect moment of revelation earlier and didn't realize it until the hormones from the BC, the reconciliation with my roomie and subsequent journaling, and the perfect chick lit novel kicked in. Yesterday while shopping at Maxx, the fitting room guy got me a size 4 skirt. And I pulled on (barely) size 4 jeans- and I felt like I had accomplished what I set out to do in January 2005.

But what's really cool about the "new" body is that today I walked the entire Central Park loop, starting at 59th and going uptown on the east side and downtown on the west. I got to the part where it flattens out at 80th St and started to run. I always run faster than the people that actually jog the whole way 'round but this time I could feel the muscles in my legs WANTING to sprint, wanting to test themselves. I let myself gain power for a second and then pulled it back, controlling my muscles.

And to a girl that never really had any athletic ability that felt GOOD.

I apologize for the ramble, but this is what you get with a girl on the second day of mad estrogen hormones to keep from getting knocked up.

Weekend Withdrawl

2006-04-25T08:10:00.000-04:00

Berger and I have now progressed to the part of the relationship we used to call in my comm studies undergrad interpersonal comm class as "the honeymoon stage". We've spent almost the entire two weekends together.

Last weekend, case in point. Friday I went to kill some time after work with Danielle, walking down to meet Jackie at V Bar, and then went over to network with Polly and other bloggers...which was just as cool as I expected it to be, and when Berger called to meet me, I had him meet me there. Since we were rocking the blog names, he remained Berger for those two beers, and then we headed out to Park Slope for the Bklyn Underground Film Festival.

Let me tell you, there is only one better thing than sitting on your boyfriend's lap, watching film shorts.... and that is finding him after you lose him during the open bar hour. Classic. And then we went home via a Hell's Kitchen Diner and dancing on the train (Including singing, per usual!)

Saturday I was to go out with Michelle, Autumne and the Karaoke girls to a karaoke bar in Chelsea. Berger was out in L.I. at his grandma's 85th birthday party (I know, how sweet!) and called me on his way back and wandered up to the restaurant where were dining. He even sang at the karaoke bar and stayed with the girls on girls night until 2am when we finally left to catch a cab home.

Sunday morning we woke up with my roomie and her lover, ordered omelettes from the diner and then headed out to the Yankees game (His uncle gave him free tickets at the aforementioned bday party). I was determined to go despite that it was pouring when we woke up. The Yanks did play and I enjoyed telling him that the difference between the national and american leagues. Then we went back downtown into Manhattan and I had to leave him on our way back at my stop.

He ended up calling that night (he had to have dinner with his mom and sister, again, how sweet it is that he's so into family) and then we walked each other home from work yesterday.

Alas, I'm kidnapping him on Thursday so that we can spend some time together before he heads upstate for the weekend. It will be nice to have a break, but I'm going to miss him like crazy.

This, of course, being the precursor to all things unhealthy, including fights, misinterpreted actions and of course, less sex.

Hence, the honeymoon period.

2006-04-22T14:55:00.000-04:00

Berger and I are having a budding romance, but we still hit rough spots. I guess that's natural, but am I supposed to be thrown off balance when we hit a rocky patch?

We had a wonderful night together; he met me at a LES bar where I was meeting with Dolly and other bloggers (see the new links section to the right, read some of those blogs please) and had a couple drinks and then we headed out to the Brooklyn Underground Film Festival.

We sat apart which sucked (we had to) but came back together for the last two shorts which were pretty good overall. We also saw Cathy & Ben, who used to work in our departments at work last year and I saw my friend Essie randomly... overall very fun. We made it home via a subway and a cab, and went to brunch this morning.....

I left him happy, satiated and feeling wonderful this morning. So much so that before getting on the subway, I said to him, "This is going really well, isn't it?" And I was sure I hadn't freaked him out until he called me at 2pm citing that I had said something remotely derogatory in jest this morning. I know he's right to call me on these things, but should his radar still be tuned so sensitively?

So now I'm in a minor freakout mode, although I know that in the grand scheme of things this will likely blow over. But I really, really like him. I've opened my heart to him and I'm afraid he'll go away. And I can't let my big mouth affect this relationship. Unless its to say good things.

I left a voicemail full of good things - hopefully he'll listen to it and accept that I really enjoy being with him, because of his flaws and because I suspect he may make me a better person.

And isn't that what love is supposed to do?

Another Turkey in Jersey

2006-04-20T21:12:00.000-04:00

I went, per usual, for a run/walk across the GW Bridge... and walked over to Palisades Park which is right outside of Fort Lee, NJ...I was almost back to the end of the park that leads to the street when I see two rabbits. Cute... but keep running. I stopped, however - IN MY TRACKS, openmouthed- when I saw a turkey.

I turned my head and looked back. Yep there's the Empire State in the distance past the towers of the G Dub... and here's a turkey. I know from my background that male turkeys (like roosters) will attack if they feel threatened, so I slowly backed off and circled around him. But jesus.... I never expected that.

Using Wisconsin skills to determine if the rain is going to pass overhead on my way to brunch with Berger is one thing (this determined whether we would sit outside at Bleu or not) but remembering the defense mechanisms of turkeys is not.

In other news; I'm hanging out with other bloggers tomorrow night; Dolly from "The Truth about Cocks and Dolls" invited me out; Berger & I have yet another date on Friday (I'm tired tonight because I spent my very first weekday sleepover with him and my first sleepover in Inwood last night, all in one fell swoop) and then on Saturday I'm going to karaoke with Dolly and a Random Assistant, and perhaps Autumne & Mishy will join us. Sunday Kelly & I are brunching and I am going to be a very tired and very broke girl by the time Grey's Anatomy airs.

But all in all, it makes me happy too! More good news: I have won over Jeremy, Berger's friend, and apparently the guy who has the office across from him thinks that he would go for me if he wasn't married (and Mormon). So apparently I've become a hot commodity for Berger's social circle. (Although a combination of me loving "Mr. Plow" from the Simpsons and getting Jeremy a date factored into his major liking of me).

Berger made me a mixed CD; he also started referring to me as his girlfriend. It freaks me out a bit, but I'm all about it just as much: bring on relationship memorabilia, and weekday sleepovers.

On my short walk of shame home (bless those 24 blocks and the A train), I thought about Todd a lot which is the first time in a while. I found pics of him on the digital camera and I finally thought, "Why was I ever attracted to him, really?". Maybe I'm closer to being over him; or maybe its that Berger says he'll punch Todd if Berger meets him drunk. Because that makes me feel better.

Some Fun Pictures

2006-04-18T22:18:00.000-04:00

Top: my uncle Mark (whose now easily 55) my grandmother and my mom.

Bottom left: mom and grandma

Bottom middle & right: me circa 1985 and 1987.

Wasn't I cute?

And don't me and my mom look totally alike?

I'm going to apologize in advance for not blogging as much. #1: I can't do it at work, which is the only time I have free time around a computer and #2: its nice outside - I'm out there getting to look Hispanic and #3: I'm happy and don't write nearly as much then.

At Jeremy's listening to guitar lessons

2006-04-15T23:17:00.000-04:00

If I had a laptop, I'd be dangerous.

I'm two G&Ts in at Berger's friend Jeremy's apartment, incidentally only six blocks from my apartment. I love Jeremy and he seems to like me just fine which is good. I always think a guy's friends are important to know and like because they are a reflection of the guy themselves.

And Berger is coming out good in this respect. One of the guys over here offered to make me my very own personalized bag, and Jeremy seems really cool (and a great pairup possibly for Kelly.... I love hooking friends up).

Jeremy is teaching bag guy how to play "Tangerine", I'm listening to berger sing next to me while playing a Simpsons Playstation game and we're all waiting for Pearl Jam to be on Saturday Night Live.

This seems scarily like a Saturday night in Wisconsin... but with much cooler people. And that makes all the difference.

That, and I'm about two minutes away from drinking MGD out of a can, smoking a cigarette and being next to the Berger for the third night in a row (The third night with Berger, not MGD... although smoking would probably qualify).

And the Twins won 6 to 5 against the Yanks. Such a great day.

Gayest Weekend Ever, a Carousel Ride & a bout of self loathing followed up by Wilson Phillips-based energy

2006-04-12T21:33:00.000-04:00

A long title, I know. Essentially, I had the GAYEST weekend ever (we only went to a straight bar in Hopkins once while I was in the Twin Cities and that was with one straight ex, me, Reid's friend Mandy and two gay guys from Bklyn.

Although I'm pissed that I didn't get to see Justin, Suzy, Josh or Alison (some of which was my fault and some was theirs - Alison or Josh didn't even call me, bastards!) it was a good weekend. I drank coffee on the porch at Uncommon Grounds, went to the 90s and hit on a girl with a really hot Idina Menzel looking girlfriend, and on Sunday I went with Reid to the Bolt for Showtunes and got hit on my more men than he did (in large part to a push up bra and having a piece of anatomy no one else in that bar had). I also sang RENT and Whitney Houston at the top of my lungs and drank tap beers for $8 at the Bolt, which is one of the most weird experiences I've had EVER. (Sitting with all gay men singing Oklahoma while swilling Bud Lite...)

Being, well, ME... I also managed to a) end the week long courtship with Jason, although the friendship is still going strong and b) see my exboyfriend Troy, who I haven't seen in at least 2 years. I saw him both Friday & Sunday night. What happened is too complicated for the blog, but let's just say that he's grown up and I've changed. Despite that there were moments of brilliance and he still wants to marry me, I think we're going to be friends rather than lovers.

Which means my romantic karma evened out for the weekend. When I got back from Minneapolis on Monday, since it was such a nice day (despite me being completely exhausted), Jackie & I wandered around Central Park for hours. We went to the Zoo and saw seals for free, rode the Carousel for $1.50 (they DO let adults on it, and it amuses all the other adults watching their kids) and ate pretzels.

I didn't want to come back - I admit that - but being back on Monday reminded me of why I need to be here. It's my life. And when I fucked up majorly for my new boss at work, she didn't hassle me about it. So between that and a good dose of praise on a letter I wrote for her today, I'm happy. Plus, creating a "14 again" playlist with Boyz II Men, New Kids on the Block, Newsies, and Paula Abdul provided me with the confidence boost and identity definition I so desperately needed.

I stood up for myself when I needed to today and it felt good. I also got a workout in before Jeopardy at 7 which is SOOO rare and indulged in DEAL OR NO DEAL. What can I say? I'm cheesy.

I also read something that inspired me today. It said (and I'm paraphrasing here):
Life is hard. But compared to what?

That's MY rumination for the day.

Pop Recycling

2006-04-04T22:17:00.000-04:00

I'm listening to Z100, NYC's version of "the" pop station that you listen to when you're 14 addictively and then grow out of and generally only listen when the annoying DJs aren't on.

And I'm discovering something disturbing. New pop covers of songs that are over 20 years old aren't a recent invention. Certainly. BUT there are certain songs you just don't touch.

Heaven by Bryan Adams? (DJ Sammy) Fine.
Our Lips Are Sealed by the GoGos (Hilary and Haylie Duff) Questionable, certainly (Even though I like the harmony on the new version better.)
Like A Prayer by Madonna? Whoever covered this song is an idiot. It sounds like a bad karaoke dance remix. And who thinks they can remake Madonna?

That combined with the fact that Shakira has been #1 on their top 9 at 9 countdown for FIFTY straight days and that somehow Ashley Angel from O-Town and "Making the Band" fame resuscitated his career (as Ashley PARKER Angel) SIX YEARS LATER is just disgusting.

But, as the purveyor of all things fluffy, I keep listening. I gotta keep up with the kids, after all.

Wait, a second ---- Nickelback still has a career? I'm going back to NPR. At least they KNOW they're not cool (but YOU are, Satirius Johnson.)

A Second Chance

2006-04-02T12:35:00.000-04:00

The Berger is no longer the Berger. We had a discussion Thursday under the influence of alcohol that revealed both of us would be jealous if we dated other people.

Then Friday when I took him out for his "Tax Refund Dinner", I dressed up (did my hair curly for him, wore something cute) and we had a couple drinks here. He's one of the few guys that watches my face while i sing along with my favorite songs, to his credit. And we talked and then we decided to date again.

For both of us, its a huge leap off of the giant cliff, since we both had heartbreaks within the last year, and for both of us, each other is worth it.

I texted him last night while I was out with Kelly. All I said was "Hey you. I just wanted to let you know I'm thinking of you." and he texted back "Thought of you all day".

And I wa back. Taking a chance, putting myself out there. So let's see if he's Aidan (sans cheating) or Steve (sans baby) rather than the hapless Berger.

MNPLS: 4 days and counting! YAY!

Ode to Imette

2006-03-28T07:53:00.000-05:00

I admit it. What happened to Imette St. Guillen scared me a bit. Not enough to make me stop going out alone, or compromise my life in any way, but it was certainly more than enough to give me pause.

It hit home when I read Anna Quindlen's editorial in NEWSWEEK this week. You can read it here: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11785818/site/newsweek/.

This article, more than anything, talks about how we are a faceless society. Now, we can wound each other without having to see what we're doing to someone else. This is certainly true for the blog; its easier to make commentary on my friends from behind a computer screen than to their faces. While I pride myself on being honest and only saying things I would tell my friends, sometimes that does slip and I'll say something that, when I think about it later, was pretty careless.

What Quindlen approaches in this essay, among other things, is why women actually go out. She says they are looking for "someone who will see them across a field of restaurant tables, really see them. In a society that has too often become isolating and inhuman, they're looking for that one face in the crowd. Maybe everyone is."

Isn't that why we came to the city anyway? At least us transplants do. More opportunity doesn't just mean more jobs, better money and culture. It also means more people that may be like us when we've felt isolated and alone at home in smaller places. Crimes like St. Guillen's happen in rural areas too (IN COLD BLOOD, anyone?) but the cities are often held up as dangerous because it happens here too and everyone knows about it in the whole country rather than just the county.

What I wanted to say on behalf of Imette and especially her friends, I'm sorry you had to be the ones who had to pay. I know that most of us twentysomethings leave our friends at the bar or let them leave with someone thinking that they will be hungover and at least have a good story to tell the next day. All I thought about with Imette was what her friends must have left on her voicemail. I'm sorry for them especially.

On a selfish note to end this otherwise concientious blog, I hope that my friends and I will never have to feel that dread when your friend can't be found.

Amusement for Hours

2006-03-26T21:10:00.000-05:00

With winning advertisements like "Got Herpes? Me too (47 - North Jersey) who can compete with Craigslist for sheer amusement?

Most of the people are crazy, but it's pretty much the same gamble as meeting someone at a bar. After all, I met Chris on CL and didn't die. Danielle met her boyfriend there too and he's awesome.

Since I seem to be striking out in finding dates otherwise, I think I'll stick to meandering the personals online and being happy I'm not 47 in North Jersey with herpes. Because really, what does that guy have going for him? (I know, he's got a GREAT personality.)

I'm actually sticking to my self-imposed hiatus... which isn't really a hiatus as much as a "I'm going to try to slow things down with boys" effort. I met two great guys on Thursday and Saturday and didn't really follow up with either of them because frankly, I didn't like them THAT much. There's no point in getting hurt about someone that you're not crazy about, right?

That and dating friends of friends is like dating people where you work: don't shit where you eat. Oh... that really works for me, now doesn't it?

"I'm a Coat?" - American Idol commentary

2006-03-21T23:17:00.000-05:00

It must be that I'm getting older, but this show is getting old to me (finally). But this year the contestants are more interesting than the last two years (Fantasia? Overrated version of Macy Gray, who was a one hit wonder to begin with, at least in the pop arena) and Carrie Underwood (who I like but had absolutely no competition).

Then my roomie springs the Clay Aiken sexuality question. As a devout Clay fan (I bought the first album,saw the Idol concert that year in St. Paul AND booed Ruben), I said I didn't want to guess.

Me: If he's gay then he's definitely still in closet. But if he's straight... then he's still in the closet too.
Roomie: Maybe he's asexual (halfway to the kitchen, she says) -- maybe he's a hermaphrodite.
Me: (gaping silence)
Roomie (in kitchen, nearly shouting): What? That's legitmate! (Walks back in) After all, Jamie Lee Curtis rocks it...

Between that and Kellie Pickler STILL not getting why Simon Cowell called her a "minx" (She apparently heard minx, as in the subject header today), it was a great Idol.

My roommate and I decided on 2 things, which is rare for us in any circumstance: #1. We'd definitely make out with Katharine McFee;
#2. Elliott Yamin's ears make him HOT.

# 7 - What You Don't Know About Me

2006-03-20T23:24:00.000-05:00

I really dig country music. Inspired by the upcoming trip to Minneapolis, between reading a book from one of my new editor's new authors and waiting for the Nightline featuring the cast of Grey's Anatomy talking about race on American TV, I have downloaded a bunch of old country songs from Travis Tritt (I'm Gonna Be Somebody, Someday ring a bell, anyone?), Doug Stone (Sure is Monday!) and other assorted artists.

I'm about two steps away from donning my Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt and yelling "Hell Yeah!" and singing Redneck Woman.

But I'm going to the Twin Cities, not Wisconsin. So I better calm down while recognizing that I'm the same girl who crashed a tractor and dated white trash.

6 Weird Things You May Know About Me

2006-03-19T18:29:00.000-05:00

I said I'd wait a few days to write this but then I sat down wanting to be addicted to my computer for 2 hours until EXTREME MAKEOVER... and halfway through a can of mixed nuts (so much for that bikini) I thought a few days? Fuck that, I'm going to answer Kiddo's thingy. But seriously, read the next post. It's cool. Lots of reading material for you readers this week. Must be the sex I'm not having.

The rules are, once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 6 weird things/habits about yourself. In the end you need to list 6 other people to tag and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment saying "You've been tagged" in their comments and tell them to read your blog...Here are six fucked up things about me. . . six is just the beginning. But alas, I have only 89 minutes until EXTREME MAKEOVER HOME EDITION.

1. I fart. Alot. And I'm not ashamed of it; in fact its become a running joke among Berger and a few of my friends. My roommate hates it - can't you control it, she asked once, and I said, Sometimes you just don't know how to pre-empt. After a feta burger at Burger Heaven on Friday, I was glad both of my bosses were gone --- and said to Danielle who could clearly smell it but was being polite and not saying anything about the rancid air, "you're lucky I didn't eat hummus." Another facet of me I attribute to my daddy.

2. I have a fascination with people of color, and really religious people. I think its because I have no culture per se and really fend for myself in the religion department. Maybe its the community, or the fact that I really still want braids, ---none of that I-just-got-back-from-the-Bahamas shit and to be able to sit on a chair and be paraded around at my wedding.

3. I used to pretend olive juice (for green olives in the jar) was wine and I still drink it to this day. Never waste or water it down either.

4. I look in people's eyes on the street, a cardinal sin in NYC. But I'm a fascinated people watcher and I love seeing people who obviously do or do not care about eye contact. And once in a while I'll see a face that haunts me (like the girl on the subway on the day I was listening to Kelly Clarkson after breaking up with Todd on the eve of the summit. I will never forget her face.)

5. I talk to myself in the shower. Particularly about what "we" want to wear, what "we" want to do, about what "we" feel about something.

6. While I really envy people that can follow the trends and the designers, Page Six, art gallery openings, etc I know I shouldn't even bother with it because I wouldn't fit in anyway. Hence the unabashed love of all things poppy and commercial, from RENT to Starship. If its been cool in the past six months, I disdain it until its past trendy.

You probably all know this stuff but it was fun anyway. Especially since I think someone will debate whether or not I debate them when doing #5. I'm going back to SOMETHING BLUE by Emily Giffin --- read SOMETHING BORROWED first but these two books are good! --- but feel free to take this for your blog. I'm going against the grain and not tagging.

JFK to MSP

2006-03-19T17:25:00.000-05:00

Sanity is overrated.

So my new mission to be back to normal is working, especially after a few long talks with friends. I threw myself into work, but instead of taking out my angst in cover/jacket memos I decided to just forget everything I think about otherwise.

And its working. I was really pumped to discover that I have sixteen unexpected days of vacation coming to me in 2006,

So I decided I was going somewhere SOON. As in the first weekend I didn't already have plans or that my bosses scheduled a Monday morning "team breakfast". Initially I planned a hasty escape to Fire Island but that fell apart when Berger decided he'd rather go to Spain with the dinero. (For the record, housesitting in Hoboken is a vacation to no one. Temporary escape, sure, but I want to go somewhere that is not accessible through the MTA transit system.)

So after some consideration and a hasty conversation with a Minneapolis native (friend of a friend) on St. Pat's, I decided that plowing back into the Big Apple equivalent in the Midwest would be the best solution to the remainder my blues.

So here I come, kiddo (I promise I'll return your tag in my next blog), and the rest of the Twin Cities prepare for this transplanted New Yorker. I'll be listening to country music and saying MinnEEESoohhTA soon enough.

(I'm also seeing my really good friends, a former fuck buddy and my favorite freshman ex --- all people who know where Winona State is and don't give a fuck about endpapers.)

We'll Be Back Momentarily

2006-03-12T23:54:00.000-05:00

One should never settle. For love, or for a shitty bloody mary when all you want is a mimosa.

I have a problem. It's called insecurity. It's like the plague, making me work out, making me say loud things at inappropriate times for no reason. Once in a while, I'll get comfortable and be brilliant, but most of the time it's the insecure stuff that people remember.

For the last year, I've been terribly insecure. My moments of true brilliance are fewer and farther between. My work has suffered, my friendships have suffered and the only thing that's benefitted, really, is my body. It's a size six. According to my brain and as a result of some horrible social conditioning brought on equally by contemporary society and my mother,this should be the solution to my unhappiness.

As should burying my anger, or my sorrows in work. But all that does is make me shitty at my job. So, I ask myself every once in awhile, what's the use? I should just quit. I should give up and give in and settle for being miserable, settle for not having the answer or the flat tummy that will never, ever appear. Let myself be fat. But I'm not happy then either and my grocery bills are higher.

My point is, that I think all of us yearn for those moments of brilliance. I was talking to Jackie today about how Chris lights up when he's discussing binary code on computers or how happy Michelle is to see first pass pages. I used to be like that -- genuinely excited and passionate.

But something in me got really fucking insecure when Todd dumped me. And its not entirely his fault; I'm finally GETTING that he's an idiot. I've lived a life too long where the only time I'm super happy is when the guy I want has called me back, paid attention to me, given me validation.

We all have our issues; I hope you, my dear readers, will begrudge me mine. I'm not saying that they are more or less important than some truly tragic things my friends have suffered, especially at the hands of other people at very innocent and influential times. But, as the wisdom in ST ELMO'S FIRE states, it's my time at the edge. Some pretty ripe self-induced drama is going on. And, as the drama queen I've always yearned to be comes out, I'm paying less and less attention to what really's happening to me.

I'm suppressing anger - at Todd and at various other people. I'm passive aggressive. That's what I do. But I've also been really selfish. Also part of my personality - I'm self involved. Always have been. Selfish pretty much comes as part of the bargain. But its been in mass quantities as of late, and I never accounted for how it affects everyone around me. And I'd like to apologize for that, here, publicly.

I'm sorry if I've been bitchy about my weight. Sometimes it just seems like all the hard work I'm doing doesn't do a damn thing but make me look like everyone else in New York. It's stupid but it matters TO ME that I like the vessel my soul is running around in. I know its wrong but I do get validation from getting hit on. It makes me feel good not bad, even though I bitch and moan about it. That's just part of who I am.

I fear sometimes that I'll never get over Todd but today I realized even more that I'm in love with the idea of him, not him the person. I couldn't remember one non-sexual conversation with him that made me feel one eighth of what I feel when I talk to "my Berger". It sucks that I didn't fall in love with him instead of Todd because I'm sure he would have treated me better. (For the record, I think Chris would be damn good to fall in love with too.)

But that's the thing about love. You can't decide. I'm going to wonder how Todd is doing every day for a long time. But moreover, I'm going to wonder who I can watch the Food Channel with on Sunday afternoons. Because that's what I miss. Always having a date on Saturday nights, always knowing that someone out there loves you and finds you attractive no matter if you weigh 165 or 115, if you fart so much the whole bar smells, or that you save green olive juice to drink it like wine later, swirling it in your glass.

That's the real me. I know I've been shortsighted for those of you who know her, but those of you that don't - and know me in real life - take a look. She'll be back after the commercial break, crying in her really pink room with Rob Lowe.

(Thanks, KJ, for the mimosa.)

Mystery & Suspense

2006-03-04T12:05:00.000-05:00

For those of you that don't know, I got a new boss at work - she handles a lot of suspense books, which isn't exactly my gamut but I started reading one and shockingly, I love it.

I love not knowing what actually happened to people, I guess. It must have influenced my dreams because last night I had a dream about an old friend Jen from college - who in my dream, died of alcohol poisoning. Now I know this isn't true because a) my mom was the bartender and b) her ex looked totally different in the dream, but still it haunts me. Maybe its because she stopped being a friend midway through college and I still wish we were as close as we used to be. Or maybe because the overwhelming feeling I got in the dream was that she is delicate and needs looking after.

So maybe I'll look her up - to look after her.

On another note, I also had a dream that Pag was gay and that was his reason for dumping me. Which also isn't even close to the truth, but I read back over my blogs from February 2005 and realized that I was just trying to hold on to something with him that didn't exist.

And reminded myself not to do that again. Must be the birth control hormones acting up. But if they make me more realistic about love, give them to me. Especially since this way, I probably won't be cheering my period as much, since I have other evidence that I'm not knocked up.

If you can't tell, I'm feeling goofy. Hopefully that holds true until tonight, when TS, Kay and I are hitting up a karaoke bar in Chelsea.

C'mon Get Happy

2006-03-02T21:25:00.000-05:00

I was really in the pits this week. Couldn't sleep, unhappy all around. And then I woke up one day and everything changed. Must be the new birth control.

Or talking to Kiddo and realizing that when people ask me when am I coming home next, they aren't asking me to come home for good. They are after all, my friends, and they just want to see me. Duh. And not everybody is happy in their job 24/7, also duh.

So, this weekend while B is away, I am going to do stuff for myself. Have a Friday night in with Chinese food and books. Watch the sunrise early on Saturday while I run. Go out Saturday night with new friends and watch bad karaoke. Listen to country music. Get drunk at brunch on Sunday. Etc.

And chill, and enjoy the fact that I'm living a dream, 24 in New York City.

I Know How He Feels

2006-02-26T23:03:00.000-05:00

I watched Grey's Anatomy tonight and knew exactly how George felt; and as usual, I got more therapy than any psychologist could give me in an hour.

As I get older, I realize more and more that love, mutual and "true" love, is harder to come by than I previously thought. In my life so far, the deck has been stacked in my favor (I've broken more hearts than had them) but what I realize is that there are slow burns.

The obvious burn is Todd, but that's easier. Another one is realizing that I had guys who loved me for me (Kevin and Troy come to mind) that I never appreciated while I had them, even if they WEREN'T right for me. The fact that they stood by me afterwards is remarkable. Maybe someday I'll have that strength again with T.

But the slow burn is my friend Poof. I realized in college that I loved him as more than a friend and wanted to take it to the next level. We never had any sexual chemistry but one night we kissed, in his car, driving around (we do that alot in Wisconsin, where I'm from) and it was there, all of it. I don't know how to explain it, but I remember that juxtaposed by him asking me to take him back in high school in a blackberry patch. He never forgave me for my rash decision to be friends then, and about two years ago he stopped talking to me. Just withdrew completely. I haven't heard from him since and he was a complete asshole last time I was home. He came over and then just ranted and raved and made me so angry... but I didn't stand up for myself as I should have. I could track him down, but I'm trying not to. All I want to know is WHY but I think I know the answer. I am going a different path and he can't give me the time of day to save himself from feeling something uncomfortable.

Tonight on the show a woman left her fiancee in the hospital because he was having a surgery that could kill him (he, of course, didn't die). I would stand at the bedside of most of my close friends anyday, everyday. For a couple, I would step in front of a train for them.

But what I can never understand is why Poof just withdrew. The last recognizable sign of caring is when he gasped and looked up when I said Todd dumped me on my bday. On the show one of the characters said that the fiancee didn't deserve the woman if she couldn't love him the way he loves her. I think that's right; but does Poof not deserve me, or vice versa?

I am, of course, being melodramatic. I was thinking of him, and wanting to reach out to something. I think it was because even though he would joke about my faults, he was never cruel. As much as I love some of my friends, they don't know how to tell me things without being cruel (or at least seem cruel to me). It's fucking hurtful but I know (or hope) they're not doing it on purpose.

I went out with B on Friday and it was great fun. He stayed over of course but I sensed a lukewarm reception, so we shall see what happens there. I bugged him last night because I was drunk and upset that my party didn't go off the way I wanted it to, and I might have cost myself a good friend just like I did with the last couple guys I've met. What is wrong with me? After this, the hiatus is on for real.

I know what you're thinking (Yeah, right). And you're probably right-my track record sucks.

But, as George says, karma's a bitch.