Low Rise Cropped "Spite" Jeans

I bought clothing for no other reason yesterday than to piss someone off.

If you see that someone else has taken the last pair of your size jeans that are on sale from the rack, it's upsetting, I understand that. But what happened to me was unacceptable. I'm at the Gap in the South Street Seaport (the most disgusting smelling Gap in the country, may I add) and I find a pair of twenty dollar jeans, 20 BUCKS!

I walk out of the dressing room to model them and make my decision, but this chick has already asked a liaison (my boyfriend)if I'm taking the jeans-- before I even look in the mirror. I have no idea at this point if I am, but she's staring at me and yet addressing my boyfriend.

She proceeds to stand about 20 feet away from the dressing room with another girl, staring at me, and watching me as I try on a bunch of tops with the jeans. 10 minutes. Staring me down, whispering to each other. Cringing.

The jeans didn't look cringe-worthy but they also didn't look all that good on me. I purchased them anyway. And she stood near the register watching me do it. And then I walked out of the store truly believing that I could get jumped for clothing.

SOMEONE told me today that Satan's gonna get me...

I spent the early morning with a certifiable mental case. I had to go to Community Mediation with the lady who lives below us. She has harrassed us the past year and a half like crazy, she told the police that I run a prosititution ring, that I have cameras in her apartment, and lots more ridiculousness....
Unfortunatly, due to a confidentiality agreement we signed, I can't share the details of the craziness that what went down. Here are some of the things though, that I didnt' say:

#1 Thank You! I've never been called a smart ass before!

#2 Coke? That shit seriously fucks up your dopamine levels!

#3 Coke? Are you sure you don't mean crack?

#4 I have a pretty hot bod so I don't think that my boyfriend would need to see you shower!

#5 Matt's friends chased you with a baseball bat? Are you sure? I don't know if they'd have one of those.... Maybe a copy of Checkov's Three Sisters... Or a Dramatist Source Book perhaps?

#6- So what exactly made you think I was a prostitute.. and based on your street knowledge, exactly what kind of prostitue would I be... you know... monetarily?

The mediators told us they wouldn't report threats unless it's violence toward a child, I questioned this, "but it's cool if it's towards us..." and he's like "yes. exactly. I couldn't even tell anyone about it. It's confidential"

I was a peer mediator in high school for students who were much bigger than me. I was no good at it. When I talked to the separate parties in private I'd be like "Sorry he's beating you up, but he's a total asshole and you'll definitely get him back when you're a wimpy but wealthy tax attorney and he still works at the DairyMart."

Greetings Mr. Pataki....

I don't mean to be immediatly negative, but I work with a bunch of morons. I'm not proud to say that after attending a good college (the IVY of the SUNYS sweetheart! so keep walkin'...) and having enough internships and jobs to get a decent career started, I decided to leave it all to become an actress. But that's not the bad part. The bad part is the restaurant job I've been forced to deal with.

I read in a Times article a few years ago that NY has the most intelligent restaurant staff of anywhere in the world. They clearly did not survey my place of employment. I'm sure you'll hear many more of these anecdotes, (like the time the chef and the other waitresses were impressed after I scored well on the Citizenship Test Quiz the cooks in the kitchen were studying)... but today was a keeper.

I was told by my boss that the governor would be coming in to eat today. Seems a little bit odd, since I do waitress at a dive bar, but whatever you're into. Now the Chef, (this crazy egomaniacal German dude who spends 20 hours a day at the restaurant but apparently bangs 5 Asian girls a week in his calculations) interupts me mid-shift by saying "OH MY GOD I THINK THAT'S GEORGE PATAKI" and points to somone who does not, at all, resemble George Pataki. He tells me I must have missed him. I look around the restaurant (a VERY small place) and confirm that Mr. Pataki, has yet to arrive.

Later, after I served the governor (crabcake sandwich, no bun, lots of Diet Pepsi), the chef brings up the fact that I must have lied to him b/c the Governor was in fact, dining at the restaurant. Apparently, he found the need to impress me by acting like he randomly recognized the governor of the state that we live in.... Impressive.....

During the Citizenship incident he was impressed b/c I knew how many members of Senate there were so.... I guess i shouldn't have been surprised....

I love the NY Times, but I beg to differ.

and I'm Helen Green

Welcome to my blog. I've been encouraged to share with you the happenings in my life. I didn't realize it, but thinking about it now, I've been hoping to write a blog for a long time now. I wrote a column in the local paper during high school... it was supposed to be about the teen community in our mile square town, but somehow, the word 'I' ended up in it a a lot.

Self centered? Maybe. But what am I supposed to do, not share my interesting life with you?

Here's a disclaimer though: I'm not a writer, I never said I was a writer.. I just have the content, I don't promise any eloquence in the delivery.