Top 5 Reasons I Could Get Fired Today

5. I've consumed my salaries worth in coffee, saltines and English Breakfast tea just this morning.

4. I announced that I was going on vacation starting Friday. Not asked. Didn't think to ask. Announced.

3. I spent a good part of my morning holding up my split ends to the light and chopping them off.
2. Realizing my stockings were ripped, I decided my legs are pretty enough where maybe it'll go unnoticed if I remove them without replacing them.

And the number one reason that I could get fired today.....

1. www.dealbreaker.com..... just scroll down or click here.

Why I Can't Marry an Investment Banker

There are about 10 IBs about 5 feet away from me and one of them is explaining the "Tom Cruise is gay and Katie Holmes is contracted to play his wife" theory. They are all acting SHOCKED. Just shocked!

FOR REAL!?

"Where did you hear THAT?!"
"Oh this stuff is underground, it's not even IN US Weekly."
"What? NO!"
"Maybe that would make sense."
"Well I guess 'Pieces of April' doesn't pay the bills."


This just isn't acceptable. A year ago- MAYBE. Not 2006 though. No way.

Home Alone

My roomates left me alone this last weekend. One flew across the country and one across the world and they left and trusted me all by my lonesome to man the fort. This kind of freaked me out at the beginning, SO, I tried to lobby people to sleep over (NOT in a slutty way!). But people "wanted to sleep in their own bed" people were "away for the holiday weekend" people thought I "should be mature enough to sleep in an apartment by yourself Helen!" Well FINE!

So I thought....what do I miss about living alone? I didn't know.... but it became pretty apparent, pretty fast.

It started Thursday night. Coming home at 1 am I made a burrito, and sat on my bed with the door open, watching "The Gilmore Girls." All this after I had removed my clothing and not replaced it.

Friday night I got home after sushi dinner and a mini margarita fest that turned into a sangria margarita on my white sweatshirt. I returned home and removed and bleached my sweatshirt. I took the rest of my clothing off as well, as not to let my white sweatshirt feel like it was being left out of anything. I grabbed a Tofutti Cutie and resigned myself to my bed, with the door open, watching the season finale of "How I Met Your Mother."

Saturday I decided to cook. Meal? Chipoltle Macaroni & Cheese. Clothing? Optional. Option Chosen? Limited. Success rate? Super succesful! I ate the Mac & Cheese on my bed, watching the finale of "Will & Grace," with the door open, no additional clothing.

Sunday was beautiful and a little more classy as far as my wardrobe. However, it also involved me being possibly publicly on display. I split my time between my roof and my apartment, all the while in a bikini with no cover up. (Is that OK? to be prancing around my apartment building in a bikini? On Sunday I decided YES. Maybe NO in the future.)

I got out of the shower that evening and decided, upon exiting the bathroom, that it was high time I did some cleaning. I did just that. In my post shower wardbrobe.

Do you get the pattern? Mundane, but pleasant semi-nudity.

HERE'S WHERE IT GETS TRICKY:

Sunday evening one of my friends sat on my bed. (Not in a slutty way! Geez!) IT BROKE! My bed broke! We tried to fix it, but apparently not well because hours later someone ELSE sat on my bed and it TOTALLY broke. Books are now holding up my bed and it's CLEARLY broken. Ikea is totally the enemy.

Now, after this broken bed incident my roomates are going to come home and their suspicions will be that I spent the weekend exactly as I did: Scantily clad and in our aparment.......

EXCEPT in a total slutty way.

Date and Place

I was in the elevator coming back from an audition this morning when I heard this disturbing news: A piece of metal flew from a construction site on top of a nearby building and CRASHED into one of the town cars waiting on our building's block. Luckily, not even the driver was in the town car.

This is incredibly disturbing to me, because, like I've said before, I had a near death experience involving construction flying from a building.....

on 57th street (Oh weird, I work on 57th street)....

on May 24, 2000 (Oh weird, TODAY'S MAY 24).

WTF!?!

Moral of the story: Stay the hell away from W.57th on May 24th EVERY YEAR.

Why I Shouldn't Marry an Investment Banker

Last night I went to ANOTHER Investment Banker party (tis' the season, I guess). This one had the TOTAL opposite theme. This was a work sponsored event to celebrate working in an Investment Bank.

This happened several times over the course of the evening:

IBs to to me: Oh you live up there? That block has some GREAT bars.
Me: Uh.. not really......

Later that night...

I am in my room, it is 11 PM.....

Outside voice from bars: MAKE SURE, I do NOTHING but Jager bombs ALL NIGHT!!!

Why I Can't Marry An Investment Banker ANYWAY

Last night I went to a party! For Real! On a Wed. night!

Ok that's not THAT shocking. BUT it wasn't just a normal party. It was a THEME party!

What's the theme you ask? Pimps and Hoes? 80's prom? Luau? Nope!

OK, maybe it wasn't so much a theme party for anyone else... and OK it wasn't really a party-- more like a celebratory few drinks... BUT to ME, it was a TOTAL THEME PARTY! That theme being the "I never want to be an Investment Banker again!" theme.

Yes. This was a "theme party" for a now former Investment Banker, celebrating the demise of his Investment Banking career. Celebration was necessary and occurred!

There was no VIP list for the event, but I must say that if there was one, I TOTALLY should have been on it. Totally WOULD have been on it! Why? Because I do not think this is a coincidence that I was invited to such a party. I choose to not think that it is a mere coincidence*** that I write this blog AND have recently met an Investment Banker that decided to switch careers.

SO, Fact Is-- I will actually never be able to marry an Investment Banker because I've CLEARLY got some sort of Golden Touch-- a Golden INFLUENCE, if you will.

(***In actuality I am sure that this WAS a coincidence, but I'm choosing not to take it as one and thus I am taking credit for the rest of this young man's career. OK? OK.)

Winning and Losing

I FOUND 20 BUCKS! On the street! Kinda cool right?

Wrong. SUPER WRONG!

No one was around... there was a 20 dollar bill in front of my feet... and it would have been just plain STUPID not to pick it up. I had reservations though. Why? BECAUSE this does not mean that I am twenty dollars plus! It means that I am about to be an estimated two hundred and sixty dollars in the neg (ative).

Finding 20 dollars is a dangerous thing for me,a person who is normally a semi-cautious spender. I have already spent this 20 approx. 4 times really, really, unecessarily with the reasoning being "well I DID just find a twenty." I also have plans to spend that 20 in various ways this weekend and this evening including, but not limited to: a new black wrap sweater, new jeans, a denim skirt, a new sundress, espadrilles and a mani/pedi. (You do not need to point out, I do realize, that most, if not all of these things listed do not come close to costing 20 dollars. This is part of the irrationality that comes with me finding 20 dollars on the street.)

After this spending stage ends I'm going to recoil with a "I have to make up for spending that 20 so many times." Which will lead me to be really cheap for about 4 days (LUNCH!?!? I don't need LUNCH!) It's a cycle that takes a while to end in my brain, and I suppose,(but am not somehow as concerned about) my wallet.

I'm thinking though, as is with Seinfeld's theory (Ew. I am referencing sitcoms now? I swear, just this once.) that I found this 20 to just to even something else out.

CASE IN POINT: This morning I accidently put my weekly Metro card in the mailbox along with my mail.

"Well. I did just find that 20."

I'm Helen and I'm a Mess (Mother's Day Brunch)

Mom: So do you like your new bangs?
Helen: Yeah!
Mom: You're glad you did that?
Helen: Yup!
Mom: Oh.
(silence)
Helen: What?
Mom: Nothing.
(silence)
Helen: What? You don't like them?
Mom: Not particularly.
Helen: Why not?
Mom: You look like a mess, I just don't like them.
Helen: HOW do I look like a mess? I don't look like a mess!
Mom: To me you do.
Helen: You've ALWAYS said I look like a mess.
Mom: Well...
Helen: That's it, this is going on my blog.

TERRIBLE Night!

I didn't really have a terrible night, I had quite a nice night UNTIL:

I got home. Tipsy and SUDDENLY not tired. And I put on my TV (which, besides American Idol, I haven't watched all week) and I found out what HAPPENED. And it's TERRIBLE.

My DVR had overloaded and has erased all the episodes of 'Related' that I have saved for the past 4 months or so. And now 'Related' may not be picked up again. And all I have to show for it are 5 episodes of 'The View,' an experimental taping of a few episodes of 'Yo Mama,' and a bunch of other BULLSHIT.

This is what happens

The other night, as I came to the end of a story, on the phone, to my dear friend Maia she said, "Helen, if I don't talk to you for more than like 3 days, you have something RIDICULOUS to tell me."

Maia is right. It's the way life has been going for years now. I mean crazy things ALWAYS did seem to happen, but in a more stagnant fashion. Not so continual.

I agreed with her and before ending the phone call told her, "I will let you study for the next few days and only call IF something else ridiculous happens." Because what ELSE could happen right?

This was at about 9:30 pm- when I was getting on the subway to go home, eat, watch the David Blaine special with my roomates and prepare for the next day. Sedate right? Besides David Blaine royally pissing me off it doesn't seem like much could happen in my night. It was a night that I was asking for the least amount drama.

Little did I know that I would warrant a phone call to Maia a mere 5 hours later.

This is how it happens these days.

Things I Should STOP saying at Work (at an Investment Bank):

"THAT'S IT! NO MORE INVESTMENT BANKERS."

Reasoning

Thought I just had:

"Wow my day went by FAST today! "

Reasoning:
I believe it's the ratio of caffeine to drama.

SLEEP IT OFF, GREEN!

Sunday morning, waking up too early, at 8:30 am, hungover and yet unable to fall back asleep I decided to run out and grab a few things.

I ran outside, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to JUST wear a tank top. And pants. Of course. But on top, a tank top, at 8:30 in the morning in early May. Needless to say I was FREEZING and being hungover and freezing makes you feel almost flulike. Which I must have looked.

I walked over to Broadway and as I was in the middle island section, the homeless man who maintains residency there addressed me, "You should maybe put on a sweatshirt."

"I know, I really should have."

There was something fatherly about his delivery and yet I couldn't quite shed this strange, ridiculous feeling of guilt that I felt that I had caused him to tell me to put a sweatshirt on.

"CAUSE YOU CAN, cause you have LOTS of sweatshirts I'm sure, that are clean and smell like freshness, as well as COATS, in an array of colors and weights." I added to his statement.

"I am so SELFISH," I thought, "How insensitive of me to do this when I COULD be warm, in my broken, but comfortable bed, or at least properly clothed. But NO I leave and inflict this upon myself when some people have NO CHOICE in the matter....than to be hungover.... and out in the cold...exposed to the elements.... in a cute navy tank top and Abercrombie sweats..... listening to their ipod...I am the WORST!"

OK, maybe I wasn't hungover, maybe I was still a tad drunk.

Wait... One Second

I realized that sometimes I am misleading regarding time. Someone asked me how old I was and I said that I had JUST turned a certain age, "When?" they asked. "July." I answered.

I will use terms like "the other day" and I will mean 6 weeks ago. I will say 5 minutes and I will mean an hour. I use the number 18 a lot. "like 18 minutes ago," or "that was like 18 years ago." I dont' know the reasons why.

The other night I told my friend, "I will be RIGHT over." But THIS is what I actually meant by "RIGHT over":

"I will be right over, I first, am going to stop at Starbucks and grab a latte, at which point I will realize that I am across the street from Penn Station and Penn Station houses my bank. I will stop in Penn Station and not only get cash out, but deposit my check which I am carrying. I will realize in Penn Station that I am not near the right train and I will exit. On the corner of 7th and 34th I will think to myself that, 'it is VERY cold' and I should 'NOT have stayed in flip flops.'

I will decide that it will be best if I cut through H & M to warm up my feet for a few minutes. While "cutting through" I will see a cute skirt and consider buying it. However it is a defective skirt and has a little hole in the back. This is the only one they have in my size and it is not ever reduced for having a hole, it is just noted on the tag. This will frustrate me. I have no other option than to storm out of H & M and ponder their audacity. Upon leaving H&M I will continue to make my way to the subway only to notice that Old Navy is still open. I will think to myself, "I NEVER shop there, I should take a gander." And I will. I will walk through OLD NAVY and maybe, (I'm just saying maybe), try on a bikini. I will not buy anything at Old Navy because:
#1 I realize the purchases I want to make there are dumb AND
#2 I have decided that Old Navy promotes obesity by having sizes like XXS that are actually not even small enough to be a normal size small.

I will make my way into the subway. Upon exiting the subway at my destination I will head east towards the location I am making it "right over" to. BUT on the way, I will realize that Trader Joe's is about to close and that that is the BEST time to shop at TJ's and that I should NOT miss such an opportunity as I am not normally in this neighborhood when TJs is about to close. I will try to enter TJ's only to be met by the security guard, who has decided that the night ends right before me. I will stomp my metaphorical foot in frustration and walk off, knowing that I could not have actually 'shopped' at TJ's because we are going out and that would be awkward to carry a grocery store bag into a bar BUT also knowing that TJs has THE best samples and I have missed out, possibly, on a bite of their marvelous spinach dip.

I will continue to be "right over," and I will stop myself and not go to Dunkin Donuts for another coffee. I consider stopping in Associated to see how people who live in the East Village slum it as far as grocery shopping goes. BUT I'm not RUDE, I'm two blocks away from the apartment and I'm not to do anything CRAZY like scouting grocery stores while you're all drinking and gathering.

This is when I will be 'right over.' "

Are you there God? It's me, Marissa Cooper.

Yesterday I recieved an email informing me that things I reserved have come into the library around the corner for me. I did not look at what had come and being that my reserve list is at it's max, I had no idea what it could be. It's mostly plays, but I've reserved CDs, books for my yoga papers and audiobooks for research regarding the audiobook demo I'm looking to put together.

I got up to the counter and gave the man my card.

He came out with THREE PAPERBACK ROMANCE NOVELS!

"WOHHHHHHH! NOT MINE!"

They weren't even Danielle Steele. NOT that I would EVER read Danielle Steele! No WAY! But these weren't even them-- they were NO NAME Romance Novels.

I glanced back at the woman behind me holding philosophy texts. "HAH!" I exchanged a knowing look with her and the ten people behind her. They all looked smart and relieved that they would not have to judge me. I had made it clear that they were NOT MINE!

"Oh... wrong Green." The counter man went back and as I looked back to the line for a wide eyed "Yeah... cleeeearly not mine" look he came back, "These yours?" from about 5 feet away he held up The OC Sountrack and the "Are you there God? It's Me Margaret" Audiobook.

"Yes. Those are mine."

I can catch Fox Screwups, I can.

I may not always know EXACTLY what's going on in the news and so cannot catch EXACTLY what fox news screws up, but this time I know. I know Fox majorly screwed up!
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,193668,00.html

It's Elisabeth Hasselbeck. Jeez, she's pretty forgetable, granted, but they could at least remember their own kind.

My Sunday Consisted of:

• A beautiful day, weather-wise
• Iced Starbucks
• Acting with some very talented folk, one in particular, whom I always wanted to act with
• Shopping and trying on nice clothing
• Walking through Hells Kitchen for awhile
• The Time Warner Cable Center
• Hanging out with my fave person
• Wine with friends
• Good TV
• My fave yoga class with my fave teacher
• Being complimented a LOT
• Cooking succesfully
• Trader Joe's
• Flip Flops
  

If I were to write down what I would need for a great Sunday, all of these things would be involved without much demand, if any, for more.

Shit's misleading.

Why Investment Bankers Shouldn't / Can't Marry ME?!?

Well... I ... am ... SPEECHLESS.

An investment banker previously discussed on this blog in November approached my desk today. "Mena Suvari girl." I turned.... ahhh yes.... ......ohhhh shit! I minimized the earlier "Why I Shouldn't Marry an IB" blog that I was typing when he showed up.

"What was that?"
"Just something."
"It said Helen Green, who's Helen Green?"
"Me."
"What was that? I want to see." He was closing me in.
"Did you need me for something?" (I switcheroo the subject!)
"No. I just saw that you were here again and I remember you, except now you look a hippy."
"A hippy?"
"Or a hipster."

This conversation continued like this for awhile.

He left. Moments later he showed up again.

"So I'm gonna go."
"Alright. Nice seeing you again."
"I play raquetball with a film director ."
"Cool. Tell him you know a girl who you think looks like Mena Suvari."
"No. What would be the benefit for me? I would never date you."
"Uh... " (Awwwwwkward, I can't say "You don't have that option anyway.")
"I wouldn't ever date an actress again! NO WAY!"
"Why? Because they're usually crazy?"
"No. I have a few reasons."

Why This IB Doesn't Think He Should Marry an Actress:
1. "There's no long term potential. If she get famous, she's dumping me. She's gonna say "Ohhhh you don't GET me. Biff GETS ME, he's an actor like me." "
2. "If she doesn't get famous she's always going to be like "I have to do my acting thing, I have to get auditions." And she won't pay attention to me.
3. And then "she's always going to be depressed about not being famous."'

I had good arguments to each of these ridiculous, but very entertaining statements. This is how the conversation ended:

"No. No more actresses," he says, "You shouldn't be dating Investment Bankers anyway."
"WHAT?! WHY NOT!?" (What is this man whose name I do not know DOING to me)
"I don't know. You should only date your kind."
"WHAT?.... So are you saying I should only date other actors?"
"Yeah.. or at least people who know you're gonna either dump them or be depressed. Just put it out there. It's only fair. But a succesful Vice President at an investment bank like me does NOT NEED THAT. I should date someone NORMAL. Like someone in like... marketing."

(I'll see if my friend Sarah's interested.)

This guy should start a blog.