Thanksgiving Split

I'm so sad about Nick and Jessica. I thought maybe it was just hype. I knew in my heart though that it was over. Then last night I saw it on Gawker and knew it was true. It's a sad Thanksgiving for the Simpson tribe.

At least the girls in the Gilmore house reconciled earlier this week for this Thanksgiving.

The Girl with the Gas

Last Thursday I was sitting at my desk, bored out of my mind, just staring at the radio, listening. It was the day I didn't have internet. This jingle came up and it was sung in such a clear pure voice, but the lyrics were ridiculous. It was commercial for a gas provider and this girl sang something to the effect of "I've.... got gas!"

I sat here wondering. Did the advertisers mean it in such an ironic way? Did they laugh as they decided that a sweet sounding girl would peppily sing that she has gas. Did they laugh even more when the client bought it without realizing? Or did they realize. It does not seem to be sung ironically. It seems like they have no idea they are making the joke. Did they pitch it off the cuff as a joke and it was taken seriously? I wondered if at least the singer was in on the joke with me, or oblivious. She seemed so innocent with such a well trained voice. I thought about blogging about it, but I didn't.

Friday night I was out with Jen and some friends of hers I didn't know. We were drinking martinis when this girl mentioned that she has done some voice over work and someone said "Yeah, she's the girl who got gas."

Seriously. Mind blowing.

"Why I Should Marry an Investment Banker"

Now that I often work at investment banks I'm going to start an ongoing little thing called "Why I Should Marry an Investment Banker." This is said in a sarcastic tone as I realize the more I'm here that investment bankers are generally half-retarded,a bit callous, have no personality and say "fuck" under their breath way too much.

An investment banker today
1. Asked me if I was a slut
2. Told me I looked like Mena Suvari
3. Told the girls next to me I looked like Mena Suvari, then when they exploded with "OH YES!" and said "She's cute," he said "No she's not. Mena Suvari??"

Can it get worse?

I have had a horrendous few months. Horrendous. This makes it worse and is going to give me nightmares:

http://www.greatpointedarcher.com

If I see any of these products on someone, anyone, I am going to have an anxiety attack caused by anger.

Crazy St.James

Alright. I have met some ridiculous people and had some ridiculous experiences. Why do things happen to me? I don't really know. They just do. And just when I thought the crazy was leaving my life (don't read into the statement, I mean in the form of a cracked out Spanish woman), Janet and I stumbled on some more crazy last Saturday night at Kevin St. James bar.

2 crazies. One crazy may not have been crazy. One crazy may have been drunk and pissed that her boyfriend offered to buy me drinks. The way she reacted was kind of crazy, but alas, drunk and jealous, I get it. Why this included her physically forcing me to get out on the dance floor and teach me how to pretend my leg was an electric guitar, I don't get. Why she, being larger than me physically and able to physically manipulate me like a small child, grabbed my hands, after said guitar incident, and as I struggled to get away put both my hands on some guys ass and then squeezed my hands, as to simulate me squeezing his ass, and ran away, I guess I kind of get? She was mad about aforementioned, boyfriend offering to buy me drinks (which I didn't accept, so shouldn't she have been making HIM play the electric guitar on his leg on the dance floor?)and wanted to put me in an awkward situation.

OK, but number 2 was crazy. Well maybe she was just sad. Or maybe she just had an unrealistic concept of herself. I'm a horrible person for having just typed that. Let me explain.... this girl looked like Kristen Johnson (of 3rd Rock from the Sun fame or as Janet put it, "the girl who fell out the window on Sex and the City"(GOD that's totes my fave episode!)) except she was shorter and... well probably weighed a bit more. She was wearing a black spagetti strapped, low cut top and her boobs were falling out, just FALLING OUT, and falling all over the place too. When I first saw her she was sitting next to me on a bench, her legs spread open and she was grabbing male passerbys with her straddled legs. She was dancing provacitively with boys and girls alike (including crazy #1)and I believe I also saw her thrusting at one point.

So Janet, being a bit drunk and me, being tipsy and super aware of all engagement and wedding rings lately, notice this girl has a ROCK on her finger. Huge. Huge in a realistic huge way though, like, a pretty nice ring, although I couldn't see it so well at the time as it was moving up and down some foreign guys back and ass.

OK, so are you ready? Because I'm just going to end it after the punch line for dramatic effect!

Janet, being drunk, asks the girl if she's engaged.

"No Way!" Shorter, fatter, sluttier Kristen Johnson look alike says, "This is my 'stay away from me ring'"

You think less of me now?

I have to admit something.

And after I admit it I fear people will think one of two things. Either you'll feel like you're not alone (which I don't fear, but I also don't think will happen) or you'll think that I'm crazy. You'll say to yourself, or to someone who knows me better than you do, "Is she nuts?" Maybe that person will tell you that last year for Valentine's Day I got an US Magazine subscription and then you'll think I'm definitely a star fucker and definitely nuts over what I'm about to divulge. That I thought (and continue to think) that US Magazine was a sweet, thoughtful V'day gift will make you further assured that I am a crazy person as well as a star wannabe/ star fucker.

I may be crazy (but more due to circumstances than nature, I think), I may love celeb gossip (but in, I think, a very healthy way), I may want to be an actress (and why not just go all the way and say, "Hey! I'd settle on a W List actress but I'll take one of the earlier letters"), but I am NOT a star fucker. (Not yet at least. Being single and having friends in the entertainment industry has made me think that maybe that'd be a good alternative to a true love I had and hoped for, but then I'd be a literal star fucker, and it'd be for career/ attention purposes (and also because then maybe I could get free Abercrombie clothes and Starbucks)). But none of those, I don't believe at least, are the reason for what I'm about to explain.

Here we go: When I picture things that I imagine doing in the future, and I'm thinking of what I'll say in a certain scenario, I don't picture myself doing it. I picture other people, but they stand for me. And I don't do it purposly and the people change and I can't decide who they are. I don't know how long this has been happening but i can tell you who the people have been lately (like in the last year or so): Reese Witherspoon, Jessica Simpson, Rachel Bilson and Mischca Barton. Lately I think I've been making the transformation from Bilson to Barton. The scenarios are everyday no big deal happenings as well as dramatic situations. They can be in the past too. Like when I think of an incident that happened a few weeks ago, I picture Rachel Bilson in an awkward situation. When I picture something that I know will happen in the near future, for some reason I'm picturing Mischa, but she's wearing my clothes.

Luckily I like these celebs and I think they're all pretty. I suppose I can see myself in all of them in some way, but it's not like I think I'm just like them. I wonder, when I think about this, is there some part of them, or perhaps a character they play that I need moreso in this scenario.

So get your votes in.. I'm crazy right?

Motherless East ViIlage

Saturday night I got into an altercation with an angry mother. What did I do to her child you may ask? Nope, nothing to do with that.

Sarah and I walked out of a restaurant and as I stepped out, a woman with a stroller and I ran into each other. Sarah says it was actually her that ran into me, but it doesnt' even matter because we didn't even collide. Just halted to a stop. I can assure you it's the type of thing that happens in Manhattan several hundred times a second. What followed was confusion with her 'gettin all up in my face' (now I truly know what that means) and trying to start a fight with me. I even apologized, as I didnt' realize if I somehow wasn't aware what I had done. No confusion, this mother was looking for a fight.

Then she screamed "I'll beat you with my stroller you dumb bitch. I'll scratch you with it," to which, I unfortunatly, laughed out of shock and horror and the fact that my obit woudl be hysterical. Luckily by that time I had escaped across the street and too many cars were preventing her from beating me down with a stroller.

I used to worry about what kind of mother I'd make. I'm pretty sure I'd make a better mother than this woman.

If I ever threaten beating someone up with some of my child's paraphanalia though, remind me that I was wrong.

I'm going as a Whore- a Slutty Whore!

Halloween is definitely my least favorite holiday. It brings out the worst in people (and by worst I mean cheesiest- because isn’t that the worst?). Have you ever been to the Village Halloween party? The most annoying folks at their worst. Then there’s this: you have a new friend and you like them and then October rolls around and they get all crazy talking about costume details. God.

A few years ago I heard a revelation about Halloween just being an excuse for girls to dress slutty, and I thought it was just that, a revelation. My college Italian professor said, “girls can’t just dress as a cop, it has to be a slutty cop, no girl is just an angel, she’s a slutty angel!” Yes Professor! You are right! I’ve heard that theory a lot the past few years. So, you’d think now that it’s out there, girls wouldn’t do this as much anymore. But I can tell you they do, as I saw a gaggle of slutty nurses on the 1 9 train Saturday night.

A few years ago I went to a ‘Pimps and Hos’ party—THAT’S an excuse to dress as your favorite whore- just say it like it is dude. It was great, I put on my favorite leopard print skirt, that was attached to a matching midriff by a chain, some fishnets and hoop earrings and I was ready to go. Embracing the whore theme.

Next year I’m dressing up. I’m going to be the antithesis of the slutty or sexy whatever. When I was 5 and living in Connecticut I wanted to dress up for Halloween as a ballerina. But it was freezing and my tights and tutu weren’t cutting it, so my mom dressed me up warmly and called me the “Bundled Up Ballerina.” Next year I think all girls should go as a bundled up something. Because every day we get to dress as sluts, but how often to we get to dress up as a bundled up ballerina.