And I'm Helen Green.....

Project: Projects

2007-05-29T09:26:00.000-04:00

Memorial Day brought Ex-IB and I back from beach to the city. In search of some new beach shorts we decided to take a walk along the east side of Manhattan down to the seaport. Being a west side girl who grew up on the water, I've walked down and enjoyed the west side many times before, and expected the same lovely vibe on the east side. And althought it does have that lovely outter skirt for some stretches, the vibe is a little less brand new, overpriced luxury apartments, a little more sweaty shirtless men, riding bicyles with boom boxes strapped to them.

While looking at the east side's apartment buildings ExIB and I had this conversation:

Ex IB: You never hear about anyone living in the projects..

Me: What do you mean, a zillion people live in the projects.

Ex-IB: No, people we know.

Me: Well ..I mean... I don't think our friends... are ... the type of people to live in the projects.....

ExIB: Yeah but those apartments are probably cheap.

Me: But they're the PROJECTS!

Ex IB: Who cares, look they have terraces that overlook the water! I'd live there! I wonder how much a 1 bedroom costs.

Me: You can't! You'd need to qualify, you couldn't make over a certain amount of money.

Ex IB: Oh... Really? I didn't know that........ Well then YOU should live there! I can't believe you haven't thought of this before!

I did not know what level of insult, if any of all I should take to this, so my reaction took pause.

Me: First of all...... I would not qualify to live in the projects.

Ex IB: Are you sure?

Me: I AM POSITIVE!

Ex IB: I don't know....

Me: I do!

Ex IB: I don't see how these people could make less than you!

Me: THESE PEOPLE WORK AT MCDONALDS!

Ex IB: Well let's say you could.. you should then...

Me: You'd reaaaaally be alright with sending me home to the projects tonight?

Ex IB: Sure! Why not!

Me: What? Do you want someone to harass me or rape me.

Ex IB: Helen, people aren't raped just because it's the projects..

Me: So, me, little 5'2 me is going to walk into the projects in my green JCrew coat and my headbands and the people who live there will just be cool with it?

Ex IB: I don't see why not.

Ex IB thinks that my current apartment's heating system is antiquated and that the apartment generally lacks conveniences and so he rarely comes to my place. He is currently looking for an apartment for himself and disgregards any that do not have a dishwasher.

He's never going to visit me in the projects.

Since I've Been Gone

2007-05-24T12:07:00.000-04:00

* A relative got married.
* A friend got a puppy.
* A friend got a big promotion with a fancy new title and paycheck.
* A friend had a baby.
* A friend's song finished out the season finale of 'Grey's Anatomy.'
* A friend bought a house in the suburbs.
* I bought a dress from Anthropologie that I suspect was mistakenly marked from $128.00 to $29.99 since all of the other same dresses were not marked down that much!

In other me related news.....

*I went through the interviewing process. I got turned down by a very close to the 'job of my dreams' job. I got a few second interviews to a few extremely far from the 'job of my dreams' jobs and turned them down. I got a not 'job of my dreams' but job that could hopefully lead to the 'job of my dreams' job and took it.

*I made myself sick with nerves when faced with the need to give my boss 2 weeks notice. My friends called me nuts and told me my bosses would be happy that I was leaving that dead end job. I subsequently walked into my favorite bosses office, gave him the news and he turned away groaning, "UGH. This isn't good." He slammed a pen on his desk and returned to the stack papers he had been looking at, now shaking his head, grinding his teeth, and everyone once in a while grunting, "Uggggghhhh!" I tiptoed out of his office without any well wishes.

* My other boss threw a going away party for me- an abnormality for an administrative assistant, nevermind one with just a year at the company. A big wig in our company somehow found out and attended, which resulted in people believing they understood the abnormality and thus sending me off with a rumor that I wasn't as innocent as I looked.

*I started the new job only to realize that I am not dealing with the classiest of content. Several embarrasing meeting ensue, the last one being yesterday, when, after stuttering a bit and turning a red, a colleague of mine felt the need to help me out by offering, "the term is 'flacid.'"

Also....

...One rainy Sunday afternoon Ex-IB were in his apt watching a movie when the sounds of explosions interrupted us.... we didn't flinch until we realized that his apartment smelled like burning. A peek out the window led us to a trip outside which led us to the news that potholes were exploding in front of his building, one blowing up a car.

....Some sort of scaffolding fell from my work building crashing into windows, breaking the windows and falling to the ground on the side of my work building, mangling a telephone poll.

....A 26 year old woman in Midtown fell through the grating on the street, surprisingly it wasn't me.

In family news...

--My mom emailed me in regards to an expiring bond I had, asking if she should again tie it up for 5 years. Before mentioning the actual issue at hand though, my mom left me a message that went like this "Hey Hel, hope you're having a good week, if you could give me a call that'd be great, I just wanted to catch up with my favorite girl and see what's been up.. oh.. also do you think you're going to be getting married in the next 5 years, no rush, just tell me by Friday."

--My mom emailed me before my cousin's wedding, "Remember when I showed you what I was going to wear? I think it's too mother-of-the bridesy, but I LOVE it so if you could tell me before I return it if you are going to get married in the next 2 years that would be great. "

I actively ignored these two messages.

--I went to my cousin's wedding. I stood in the back with my brother's girlfriend as the bouquet was being tossed and was warned by another bridesmaid that she may "push [us] out of the way" if need be. We backed up further and struck up a conversation. The conversation came to a halt when a half dozen tightly packed stems of roses were hurled directly in my face. I put my hand up directly in front of my face promptly catching them. Due to her reaction at the time I suspect that my mom has taken this as a sign, and secretly taken the money out of the bond and thrown out the receipt for the outfit.

2007-03-13T13:57:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I see homeless people hanging around delis, scrounging for food, waiting for a generous soul to grab an extra sandwich for them upon leaving the deli.

This morning upon opening the door leaving the gym, there was a homeless man feet away from me doing push ups rather rigorously on laid out newspaper.

And had I won last week's lottery- that guy would have had a brand new membership to NYSC this morning.

Midtown Mid Day Mid Seizure

2007-03-06T14:06:00.000-05:00

I am a proud creative mind behind my lunch salads.

Lunch salads, I think, are SO important because if you do not have breakfast, they must satisfy your morning and afternoon hunger. They are also important because they must be exciting for me because otherwise I will fall asleep at my desk:

In the morning: Because I will not have something to brainstorm
At lunch: Because I need flavor! And variety!
Afterwards: Because I need to be full as not to snack or eat so early upon returning home that I regret the loss of an opportunity to cook.

Lunch salads are VERY different than Dinner salads, which, I have been trying to explain to Ex-IB, but he cannot deal with arugula lightly dressed with lemon, olive oil and sea salt sitting next to, waiting to compliment, his main course. I would understand his need for 'stuff' in his salad if I was trying to pass off that dressed arugula as a lunch salad, but for dinner the heartiness comes elsewhere.

With lunch salads there needs to be a combination. A complimentary combination. There are decisions to make and a level of hunger to consider and the genius often comes off the cuff- but so do the mistakes. When I threw water chestnuts in with mandarin oranges, I blundered. Asparagus/ bacon/ egg white/ artichoke and parmesan- I had to walk away from it at my desk and take a breather: what good fortune! I did not experiment with drugs growing up, so now I experiment with lettuce/vegetable/cheese combinations.

*There's of course the beet/ goat cheese/ sometimes mushrooms or hearts of palm in a balsamic
*The really good but over done spinach/ cranberries/ walnuts/ blue cheese
*The indulgent mandarin orange/wonton/ tofu or chicken in an oriental dressing
*The corn/ tomato/ steak/ blue cheese
*The mexicanish corn/ tomato/ avocado/ cheddar/ jalepeno/ lime
*The greekish chick pea/ feta/ cucumber with lemon juice/ vinegar/ Olive Oil
*The Pre- dinner at a restaurant heart of palm/ artichoke/portobello/ lemon herb vinaigrette

This morning I was feeling greekish. The woman in line in front of me was feeling, I hope, either pregnant or high.

She started with mesculan greens. Then announced, "tuna." (Which is my worst enemy- do not come near me with that shit. But I kept my cool. Some fools like it. And if she stopped there, or added scallions or tomato I wouldn't have scoffed too much. I wouldn't have kissed her or gone near her, but I would have accepted the situation.)

"Tomatoes"

Like I said...

"Do you have pickles?"

I perked up- WTF, for real? Please say on the side at least.
"Ok, then pickles and croutons....

(It was at this point I started taking notes.)

".....cheddar....in a..."

In a? You need a dressing now?!?!?!?! There isn't enough moisture from the tuna, tomatoes and the pickle juice?!?!?!? Please don't do anything increasingly dumb....

"Raspberry vinaigrette."

And then I died because I was breathing in too much canned fish and stupidity.

The Reason I Didn't Sleep in My Own Bed Friday Night: Because I was chased off the subway platform by a man chasing a rat with chicken.

2007-03-05T14:19:00.000-05:00

I could tell you the story but that's the most important infomation. Except this question that my friend's boyfriend asked after coming home to their Brooklyn Heights apartment, where I stayed, and being given the above explanation.

He seemed unfased but curious--

"Wait, what kind of chicken?"

So for the record- it was takeout chicken.

Thank you for a little bit of a raise would you like to see a little bit of cleavage?

2007-02-15T14:51:00.000-05:00

Today was my SURPRISE End of Year Review! Surprise because they accidentally scheduled this review with another Helen Green who works here, so I only found out about it immediately before. Needless to say- I did not come to work exactly review ready. NOT needless to say that although in some ways I disregard this job, I do in fact want to keep it till I get ANOTHER job AND I do NOT like to be ill prepared.

But I showed up ill prepared because I was not dressed in 'review wear'- I was instead wearing a very cute, although low cut jumper with a floppy bow above the waist, footless tights, heels and cardigan. Ponytail in hair. Honestly, I can't take credit for the adorable look- I saw Rachel Bilson wearing it on the cover of Teen Vogue a few months ago and thought, 'I gotta recreate it!' So here I am all (cross your fingers) Rachel Bilsonish sitting in my cube, Valentine's Day Roses to my left, jeans in a dry cleaning bag hanging behind me, illegal cubicle warmer at the bottom of my chair where my feet should be except I'm sitting sort of Indian style, Grande Skim Cap in hand, flipping through a journal looking book that says 'Lucky Duck' on the cover, gabbing on the phone having a conversation that may or may not have gone like this,

"Ohmigod so you just bailed on them?! (I swivel around in my chair) ........... yeah seriously, whatever, F them..........you should totally get wasted on their dime!"

I could have been in a dorm room. OK honestly, I could have been in my high school bedroom.

The older of the other two assistants came over and loudly whispered, "did you SEE her, she's ON THE FLOOR!" and if I had paid attention or asked for an explanation she would have told me that it was the HR woman perusing our work space before reviews, but instead, I was all,

"UGH I'm on the phone with my friend, who's having a crisis!" then I swung around on my chair and was like, "my roommate says that that was even worse than 'Because I Said So!'........... No! Seriously!"
(Exaggerating about my demeanor? Perhaps I am- but only because I am not a bitch, I was polite when the older admin came over. I was like "1 minute," pointed to phone, "upset friend" and then I made a sad face and THEN I was like "that movie is supposed to be TERRIBLE!")
So when I finally got off the phone and the younger of the admin assistants came over to inform me of the blunder with the other Helen Green recieving my meeting planner, I was all, "I didn't know! I wouldn’t have dressed like this!"
"Yeah...." she seemed to agree, "You should make sure to have REALLY good posture in this meeting."
I looked down. This morning while dressing I had thought, 'Why do I always wear this jumper with a shirt underneath it? That's silly... Rachel Bilson didn't do that!' But NOW I remember why! UGH. I am not used to having cleavage! I have gained a few pounds from having a boring desk job and they seem to have gone to mostly the right places. I am not impressed with boobs. I hope they go away now that I've decided not to continue to snack at my desk for boredoms sake.
Anyway, despite the fact that I am looking for a new job, that I could do this job with my eyes closed, the fact that my bosses regularly vocalize their appreciation of me, and the fact that I do not plan to make a career as an admin assistant, I was a little nervous going to the meeting. I had made a mockery of my cubicle! I like awkward situations but I do not like awkward situations when I'm the one feeling awkward and I was afraid she'd be screaming at me, "You look like your going to sorority rush!" and then maybe she'd bring up, "What's with this theme in your blog about not wanting to marry an investment banker- that is NOT team spirit! You should be proud to potential share a life with a member of this team!" Because 'Team Spirit' is BIG in these meetings!
I buttoned the top 3 buttons on my cardigan, which looked very silly with the floppy bow and walked into the room slipping into Interview-Mode Helen with every step. HR lady was VERY professional. (I bet she's never taken her dry cleaning to work!) Kept speaking about the standards we have here and how she was going to give me feedback from both my bosses AND from her liaison from the floor. (Sneaky- a liason!) This woman was thoroughly schooled in the art of Human Resource speak. Suddenly I felt like this job was the be all end all job. I apparently hold a VERY important position here- which.. I never even knew! But OMG! I am so 'vital' to the 'team' and my 'performance' is 'crucial' to 'ensure smooth goings on.'
Me!
Before giving me the feedback though, she looked from the papers to me and said, "Well, it seems we have quite a theme with your feedback, and that theme centers around your modicum of professionalism."
SHIT. I buttoned a fourth button.
She looked at the papers and read off, "Helen is the epitome of professionalism..... .. next one says: Multiple clients have commented on Helen's combination of friendliness without losing her professionalism... Helen is the most efficient and professional Administrative Assistant I have ever had." I blushed. Both because I do not take compliments very well and also because I felt like my bosses and I were having an inside joke where they lied about me because they like me.
But then, after the slew of lovely comments she said, "And now onto the areas where you could develop on." OH. Here we go. What was I gonna hear?:
"Keep your boobs to yourself Green!"
"Next year Helen should not get so drunk at the holiday party to the point where she trips and bites her lip, enflamming it."
"I wish Helen hadn’t accused me of vague sexual harassment on her blog."
"Helen has several inane phone conversations with her boyfriend a day where she just continually says, "No YOU shut up...." and then giggles."
"Helen once wore a see through black skirt to the office with a thong. But in her defense she obviously realized this and went shopping for a new skirt at lunch."
She spoke "Actually there's really not much here... oh.. "Helen is much more intelligent than the other administrative assistants and could definitely do a job more difficult."* There was awkward pause after she read that.
The HR woman looked up and took off her glasses, "Well... I'm sure you can be proactive amongst your group of admins and take a position of leadership." Silence. Awkward. I was going to suggest perhaps a monthly birthday party, but I don't think that's what the writer of the comment meant.
I think one of my bosses was insuating that I should quit in an, 'if you were my daughter,' sort of way, "Move On, kiddo!" "Get a real job, sweetheart," "Hel, you're gaining weight and losing brain cells! Come on now!"
And I have to say, me and my cleavage agree.
* I am not a braggart. This is not a feat.

My Work Here is Done

2007-02-13T10:48:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday afternoon I was sitting in Ex-IBs living room doing something on his computer and upon finishing, noticed he was no longer in the same room. I walked down the hallway to find him laying in his bed watching Giada on "Everyday Italian."

Do I know WHO? Bu?

2007-02-02T13:43:00.000-05:00

I sometimes do not know how to control myself in wonderful situations. It's like I don't know what to do with my hands or my words so I just open my eyes real wide and fidget and I feel like squealing. I should say that I consider many sufficiently awkward or ridiculous situations wonderful.

A few weeks ago, in a rather impulsive move, Ex-IB and I moseyed into Nobu. We felt a little like we were getting away with something- me wearing flip flops; him a short sleeve polo. Put together- Yes. Nobu ready- No, no.

We thought at the sight of my flip flops and his jeans they would wave their hands dismissing us, so we hid behind the hostess stand and were granted a table in the nearly empty dining room. We had beat the rush and they were apparently willing to fill the dining room with non-high rollers like our selves.

The first table we had a view of was a blonde woman with a white dress, acting very casual drinking her Pellegrino and eating sashimi with her 6 year old son who was also eating the sashimi. I think of this table and I try to remember what the son was wearing but I am convinced that he was wearing a sailor suit. Perfect little boy, with his perfect little face in a sailor suit. I am sure this is not true but I am unable to release the image.

They are the people who dine at Nobu early in the early evening, late in the afternoon. This is what I imagined and this is what I received.

We did not feel or look out of place at Nobu as we suspected we might in our current attire. Although this woman was older, of a different class, and probably spoke a foreign language with ease, I felt that she could have been me ten years ago. An appreciator of fine things. (ALSO. I would like to wear a lot of white in my 30s TOO and perhaps reside in SoCal. where my hair will lighten with the sun.)

We ordered lychee mojitos and our food (Ex-IB, being fancier than myself had dined at Nobu, "I don't know a few times" before and so I trusted him with most of the ordering). After our first course the room started filling up. What sort of fancy people would be entering?

.........I don't remember them being seated because I was elbow deep and drunk on the raw tuna involved in our first course. We were served our next dish when I noticed a Lee Press on nail pointing to it just a few inches away, and then a voice that sounded like home, but more extreme. It was the voice of Staten Island, or perhaps Sheepshead Bay, "Excuse me, what is that?"

I started to answer, but flinched at the unexpected sight of the woman sitting next to me. With a frosted head of hair she had a look of controlled disgust on her face when asking her question. Ex-IB came to the rescue confidently, "Artic Char with Crisp Spinach leaves." She looked at us like we were crazy AND disgusting. Later we laughed, "Oh just artic char with some crisp spinach leaves!"

"Elite 20 something Manhattan assholes!" I could imagine them saying later. Suddenly we were the people who dined at Nobu, "Her in her little black outfit and headband. Him in his fancy logo-ed shirt," they'd scoff, "Eating their weird fish and spinach!" her date with the odd hair plugs would say. "Yeah! And who eats Spinach CRISP!" the woman would laugh in her off the shoulder, bra bearing shirt that let us know in gold letters that she was a "Wicked Diva."

Ex-IB and I made eye contact and quickly unlocked for fear of inappropriate laughter. The woman was now onto the woman in the white dress, "Ohmygawwwd! My girls are older than your kid and they would NEVA eat sushi." Sailor boy looked away. I don't think he'd ever seen anything like it!

Ex-IB said what all of you are thinking, "Helen, you're a snob." But like I hope you are, he too was shocked with amusement at the unexpected caricatures to our right.

The table to the opposite side of us was sat. Another couple. Would they notice Wicked Diva? Would they yuck it up with us assholes?

They perused the menu, the waiter came over. They were from the South. I think it was her first time at a restaurant that didn't serve eggs all day long (if that joke didn't come in clear, I mean a diner). She asked about the Omakase and upon hearing that it was the chef's menu she retorted, "OH! Nobu?"
"Hmmm?"
"That's the chef right?'
"Oh... well, yes, but that's not the chef deciding."
"Is Nobu here? My momma would just die!"
She decided against the Omakase because, "I can't have somebody else decide what I'm havin' for supper." Her husband/ boyfriend/ spouse or whatever was gruff and decided that he'd let her chose his meal and went to the bathroom.

She ordered a California roll. And a vegetable roll and then asked which soup was "hearty."

Ex-IB flinched at the word "hearty." "You are SUCH a snob," I told him.

I didn't really know how to handle my good fortune of sitting amidst such wonderful entertainment. They couldn't have been more exaggerated characters! It was the closest I've ever been to an SNL skit and I've done my fair share of comedic acting!

At this point I was just bursting inside! BURSTING! Someone too snobby and fancy would never have been able to appreciate this, but us, it was just the jarred maraschino cherry on top of the super fancy dessert we got at Nobu a few nights later, when we returned-- to people watch!

And people watch we did. Although the entertainment didn't have me exploding from the inside, Michael Jordan, Alan Thicke and a gaggle of sports celebrities with their coked up model girlfriends provided some, albeit more expected, entertainment that second night.

In years to come I will remember the other worldly tenderness of the black cod with miso and pray that I will someday have fish that great again. And the dapper young man I shared it with... I will and have had many lovely dining experiences with since.... But those dining mates that sat beside us that evening and foiled each other so beautifully..... I would just be putting myself up for disappointment in hoping to experience characters so ridiculous, in such a setting, again.

Disclaimer: If this blog entry has left you feeling a bit disgusted with me, like I'm too much of a snobby, bad, elitist, judging and looking down on people, hyper aware of class- take this disclaimer to heart. I am not really a snob, but an appreciator of fine things, however high falutent they are. So I am a snob, sort of, but I am a selective snob because I also equally appreciate the low brow wonderful things in life. I have no problem shopping at Forever 21 sometimes, but also, I appreciate a perfectly fitted fine shirt and I adore my fancy leather purse. I find things like overtly labeled designer wear obviously tasteless, but also find tasteless sweatshirts with Old Navy lettering and I can vow that it is equally unlikely to ever see me in either. I love a good diner burger but if someone orders theirs medium well I high tail it to snob mode. MEDIUM WELL or WELL DINER BURGERS ARE SIMPLY RETARDED. But equally appalling is going to a nice restaurant and ordering certain things. Like the other night, (she knows this is coming because she is one of my best friends and knows my levels of snobitude) when I was luckily seated at a table next to one of my favorite chefs at a restaurant I adore with several of my friends. We went around the table ordering items for our family style meal, "Parsnips Agrodolce," "Seppia and Pickled Ramps," "We'll have the cheese platter with the Aged Pepper Goat, the Tallegio.." and, "um.....do guys have like... spaghetti and meatballs." I took a huge sip of the Chianti and glanced back praying Molto Mario hadn't heard. Upon facing the table again, a friend leaned in, "I was looking at him when she began to order, could you imagine if he heard!" (I have equally snobby friends, hooray!)
Anyway, take the fact that one of my favorite past times takes place on many Monday nights when I eat wings and slug beer with one of my college friends after working out so we are kind of gross and unkempt. Also take into consideration that although I am wearing a cashmere sweater, the shoes I am wearing today cost $9 at Kohls.

Things You Can Tell Just by Looking at Her........ Desk

2007-01-04T09:45:00.000-05:00

I was grabbing some lunch with a friend. We were eating salad (approved by Ex-IB because according to my Republican boyfriend that's what girls should eat for lunch). I needed to run downstairs where she'd be meeting me and I was running a bit late. I left the screen on my computer up. I left my desk looking the way it looked.

When I got back my boss was acting strange around me.* He seemed disappointed in me.** And I started getting paranoid that I was going to get fired.

So I looked at my desk and I thought, "did he see something he disapproved of?" And then I started thinking... what if I didn't know who sat at this desk. I would surmise so many things. Untrue things. True things. What has my boss surmised about me!? Since this is the begining of the year and I failed to do an end of the year 'best of' list thing, I shall begin the blogging year with a list:

Things You Could Tell (assume) Just By Looking at Her Desk:

1) I am very busy and have a demanding job that requires me to scatter papers around my desk and hunch my back over them, face in hands, brow furrowed.

2) I am throwing a dinner party for super important foodie people and need to go through hundreds of pages of recipes and food magazines searching for the perfect recipes.

3) I eat oatmeal with some honey in it for breakfast.

4) I smell good (fancy Yon Ka mist lotion I got from my PR days). I feel good (Neutrogena hand cream I inherited from departing analyst).

5) I am about to attempt to flee the country (pages regarding getting a passport quickly, stapled papers of various countries regarding their exit and entry policies).

6) I am looking to flee this bank and get a new job. (Slips of papers with labels and job titles on top, majority labeled, "job at the Food Network"

7) I do needle point (black thread with threaded needle).

8) I am super lonely and I have no friends or family (no pictures of me with babies and such).

9) I am a lesbian (picture on screen of Ashlee Simpson's nipple slip.)

Four of these are true!

Ooooo game for you! Oooo mystery!

*This could be NOT TRUE. Sometimes I think no one likes me when I really get no real signs that this is the case. I am aware of this downfall of mine and yet I still fall for it every time!

**This too is most likely NOT TRUE. Sometimes I am beyond the perfect admin assistant because I am afraid that I am going to get fired when I get no signs or reasons that this is the case.

Stupid Things I've Done at Holiday Parties

2006-12-15T12:01:00.000-05:00

1987:I performed a strip tease, for my family. I sexily took my velvet maroon jumper off over my head, unbuttoned my lacey collared shirt, slunk off my wool tights. After that Christmas my Grandfather suggested to my mom I stop watching 'Young and the Restless'.

1989: Realizing my Dancing Raisins XMas nightgown was on backwards, I squirmed around in my sleeping bag to reverse it which, prompted rumors in school that I had been, "pretending to make out with Pat V."

1997: After professing my love for my band teacher and blabbering otherwise on a video camera in a champagne induced stupor, I begged, BEGGED my friends to "not release these tapes" if I ever decided to run for..... wait for it... not president..... Miss. America! They got this on tape as well, but luckily my friends have misplaced it. Hopefully forever because I don't want to risk that crown.

1998: Let a drunken hairdresser give me a haircut, not long after and without any sort of prompting, he called me and my friends sluts and told us we were all doing to die of STDs.

2001: Made friends with the girl from "My Girl" but never brought up what Mac was really like. I did however, discuss restaurants with her and I still have a signed copy of a 2003 Zagats that she gave me.

2002, afterparty: After my ex-boyfriend's drunken boss seemingly handed me her cigarette to hold while she did something (probably ate a hotdog, we were at classy midtown joint, Rudy's) I was carried out of the bar by the bouncer. Me (because I had had too many dirty martinis, because I am generally oblivious sometimes and because I was deep in conversation with my now roommate) had no idea what the problem was and why a man had come behind me and lifted me up by the elbows and removed me from the bar, until after much whining on my part, I assure you, he told: "You're not even going to be allowed to have a CIGARRETTE at a bar in NY soon, never mind a joint." Thanks ex-boyfriend's ex-boss!

2003: After too much Makers Mark told a friend that he needed to "genuinely apologize" to me about something he had done 6 months prior (a drunken request of mine that I consider valid.) However, in response to my decision that his apology was not genuine enough (because Makers gives good judgment) I frustratingly and unecessarily threw my cardigan at him.

2004: Called a police officer a "star fucker," not realizing he was in earshot. For the record he WAS a star fucker so he did not call me out on it.

2005: I kissed someone who once threw a shoe at me in college.

2006: I woke up with lip swollen and without my new brown button down sweater.

(BTW, I have about 7 more Holiday Parties of 2007 to do something stupid at! Exciting!)

The 'Thank You Very Much' Girl

2006-12-14T11:11:00.000-05:00

When I was a child, my parents and grandparents labeled me the 'No Thank You' Kid.

My gramps would push the sweets: 'Want some pie Helen?"

"No thank you."

Mom would call for dinner, "Helen Anne, spagetti ?"

"No thank you"

I'd be watching TV when my grandmother would put an afternoon snack in front of me "Helen Anne want a perogi?"

"No Thank You."

My dad would hand me his cup at coffee hour, at church, "Want some of my coffee Hel?"

"No Thank You- I'd like my own."

I never denied a cup of coffee. Even when I didn't know the marvels of coffee non mass produced for the social senior citizens that filled up our church every Sunday, before Starbucks and Coffee Beanery, Valencia syrup and my milk foamer, I was still sneaking sips from my parents' cups, drinking it at my grandparents house from tiny pretty teacups the next morning after Grandma/Helen sleepovers, and drinking it iced out of a thermos for lunch when my mother was away on buisness and my dad was packing lunch. (*)

Coffee fills me up. So, perhaps that is why as a child, I didn't eat.

My mother wouldn't understand, "Food is great." She'd say leaning over my uneatten dinners. I drank up my milk. I'd stare at the thoughtfully prepared shrimp creole or spinach ravioli or lemon chicken, all favored meals, "I'm NOT hungry."

"It's so good Hel, just eat this much." She'd cut up two small bite size pieces.

"NOooooo, I'm full"

"You've only eaten broccoli and a bite of chicken."

I'd sit there crying for an hour after everyone left the table. My mom would be cleaning up from dinner. My dad standing over the TV, remote in hand. My brother in his room. I'd be sitting in my kitchen watching the TV. Watching the stock channel, face in hands. Neil Cavuto, I knew him well. I'd daydream to make the time pass faster.. I'd think.. maybe if I paid attention to my dad when he'd talk about stocks while I sat over luke warm food I could be that blonde girl sitting next to Neil Cavuto in 15 years. 'Maybe I don't need to even pay attention,' I'd think, 'they have teleprompters for sure.' I'd watch the ticker, I'd look down at my food and gag, I'd think, 'she can't keep me here forever.' I'd look out the window and count the boats that passed by. My brother would walk into the kitchen and I'd shove a piece of chicken in his mouth, behind my mom's back. Time would pass, I would have no desire to lift my fork.

"Food is so great, Helen. I can't believe a child of mine does not like food!"

She'd force me to eat the two bite size pieces, me gagging all the way, and then she'd set me free.

At lunch the kids at school had sandwiches. Full sandwiches with bologna and cheese, with tuna, with peanut butter and jelly. Then they'd have money to get a snack, or they'd bring a granola bar or they'd have a fruit roll up.

Sometimes I brought taboulli, a middle eastern salad dish, about a half a cup. Sometimes my mom would give me 1 slice of pumpernicle bread with a little tupperware filled with hummus.

But sometimes, SOMETIMES I'd open up my paper bag and there would be a half a sandwich with peanut butter and I'd get exasperated when I opened it, 'Why did she give me ALL this? What a waste this will be!' A half a sandwich was in no way getting finished by this girl. WAY too much.

And Then. I don't know when it happened. I cannot pinpoint the moment or the year or the impetus. But it hasn't been all that long.

When I was walking in from a Starbucks run this morning, the doorman stopped me. A doorman in this incredibly large building that I work in knows what to talk to me about, he said "You know you'd be proud of me."

"Oh yeah? What'd you do?" I had an idea of what he had done.

"I made sugar cookies with ganache! My girlfriend LOVED them."

The other day at a party I was standing next to Ex-IB, when he suddenly turned to me, and gestured to the girl he was talking to, "This girl makes a fine goat cheese salad." I lit up and started blabbering to her about 'The Barefoot Contessa.'

"That's what I do," he said the next day, "If I want to find something in common with you and someone you don't know, I think to myself, 'what can I bring up regarding food to make Helen involved in the conversation.'"

I often get simple emails from my friends that say things like this and nothing else:

"Exciting news: This morning I put a teaspoon of cinnamon in my coffee maker with the grounds...so good!"

OR

"There's going to be a Pomegranate Weekend in Brooklyn!"

My desk is covered with Gourmet my friends got me for Xmas last year, Bon Appetite comps my roomate brings home from work for me and old Cooking Lights that I gifted my mom with a few years ago.

I spend my free time reading food blogs and making potential dinner menus. I switch the TV to The Food Network at every possible moment. I've judged and dumped dates based on their restaurant choices and food orders. (ie. EX-IB's first meal with me: Dirty Kettle 1 Martini, Steak Tartar, Pan seared Lemon Sole with chorizo and a recomendation of a pear and endive salad, Guy Before Him whose phone calls I ignored afterwards: Sam Adams, Nachos and a Chicken Fajita at a non Mexican place.) I pick my doctors office in accordance to new lunch places I'd like to try. Today I had a disappointing falafel at lunch and it's put me in a rut.

I'm Helen Green and I guess I am my mother's daughter.

I'm Helen Green and I love food.

*FYI: I am 5'1

Sausage Fest Two Thousand and.....?

2006-11-20T09:23:00.000-05:00

Friday night found Ex-IB and I at a sausage factory. A SAUSAGE FACTORY. A place that produces sausages for us to EAT.

It would only be a matter of time before I brought it up....the thing that I always bring up:
My dreams of sausage making!
That is my sausage making, ravioli folding, ice cream freezing, fruit juicing, herb mincing, meat grinding, dough kneading dreams! The KitchenAid Mixer dream!

So there we were over candlelight, sausage, beer, some really good polenta-y, potatoey thing and other German confections as I discussed just those wonders. He'd heard it before.

Then HE said it and perhaps I should have just reacted with a contemplative, "huh," as if I was pondering what he was saying, but never had before. As if I am defintiely NOT one of those girls who thinks about things like weddings and babies.. nevermind nonesensical things like wedding preparation! But I TOTALLY BLEW MY COVER! My city for life, Boo to the suburbs, Hillary Clinton loving, "My Love Don't Cost a Thing,' throw my hat up in the air sort of cover. And it doesn't mean that image isn't true- it is! BUT- I AM MANY THINGS PEOPLE! So when he said:

Ex-IB: You are going to have the best time when you registering for gifts....

how could I NOT explode:

Me: OH MY GOD! I've been looking forward to that day for as long as I can remember! Sometimes I go into stores and wander around and just imagine what I would register for. And sometimes, when I'm bored at work I go on to people's registry's who I know and I mentally edit them to suit myself. The other day someone I know was telling me they registered online and I was like 'You registered online?!?!?! That is like the best day I could imagine and you ruined it by registering online? Are you retarded?!?!" And also this same person registered for the KitchenAid Mixer but they DIDN'T REGISTER FOR THE SAUSAGE MAKER! I mean wouldn't YOU be happy if you came home and you could just make sausage! I mean I know you would be! I would be! They TOTALLY would be! F them. I'm just gonna GET them the damn sausage maker.

Ex-IB: (Doesn't seem the least bit daunted. Perhaps knows me well enough to have known what energy this conversation would elicit in me due to my obsession with all things kitcheny.) Do you know where you would.....

Me: WILLIAM SONOMA AND CRATE AND BARREL!

I told him about the random gadgets and wonderful mechanisms of William Sonoma, I told him about the wonders of glass wear at Crate and Barrel (which he already KNEW about, which reinforced why I keep him around) and I told him how, although I'm in love with the KitchenAid I would never have to register for it,

Me: My mom says that if I get engaged she will just get me one. I think she meant it as an incentive.

There's something in me that says I should take my mom up on this offer. I will NOT get a KitchenAid Mixer for myself, nor will I accept one as a gift but I will also not replace my newly broken Ice Cream Maker. My mom and I were over brunch yesterday when I brought up the Ice Cream maker's recent demise:

Mom: You want a new Ice Cream Maker for Christmas?
Me: Nah... I just feel like I don't need to make ice cream all that often and I feel that one should not have that many Ice Cream Makers in one's lifetime so I feel like my next Ice Cream Maker...
Mom: Should be the Kitchen Aid Mixer
Me: Yeah... eventually...

Everyone knows about me and the KitchenAid Mixer. However, it is one thing for me to share this obsession with my mom, my friends and Ex-IB, but my obsession over the mechanism goes further. Too far perhaps. I was walking down 5th Avenue a few months ago when I heard the guy behind me yelling, "Hey you!"

I ignored him.

"Hey! Girl in the tan skirt"

Me? I glance back. Didn't recognize him. Nope.

"Maggie's friend!"

Wearing a tan skirt. Friend named Maggie.... does he mean me? I turn .

Him: Hey! It is you!"

Me: Uh..... I don't know....

Him: No, I'm pretty sure it is. I met you at Maggie's party.

Silence. I looked at him quizzically. Perhaps I had thrown back a few at Maggie's party....

He went on to prove it, "You REALLY want a Kitchen Aid Mixer!"

So we had met.

Whoever turns out to be my fiance is going to have to be sedated come registration day or IDEALLY just be really into it as well.

As a gift to him, I'm going to lay off the caffeine that day.

As a gift to you, I will leave you with this. (VIDEO)

Out Of Office Reply

2006-10-31T09:13:00.000-05:00

To Whom It May Concern:

I will be out of the office from 1:00 PM October 30 and will return, hopefully, barring any further emotional turmoil, on November 1st. I have taken some personal days to deal with an issue that has developed that has lead me to become deeply distraught.

I apologize in advance for any inconvenience this may cause you.
Sincerely,
Helen Green

My Friends: They're Just Like Me!

2006-10-26T14:12:00.000-04:00

Responses to my panicked e-mail query Re: What to Wear to a Football Game:

Email Response #1:

Don't know what one wears to a football game event. are you actually going to a real live game? or just watching on tv?

Email Response #2:

Friend: You're going to the actual game, right? Like, in the stadium?

Helen: Yes.

Friend: Wow. So strange.

Email Response #3:

HAH! Wear a cheerleading outfit. I don't know...

My friends are intelligent, talented young ladies, mostly in stable, loving relationships, but when it comes to sports, we're not the girls who listened to our mothers when they told us it would impress boys if we knew the rules or went to the games. We flew by the seat of our own genuine interests. **

And so, I am proud of my friends for these answers. Brava Girls! Brava!

Oh... and then I got this....

Email Response #4

OH! Paint your face half and half- Boys like that!

(** I'd like to make it clear that I am NOT, what you would call, a "feminist.")

When My Friend E-Mails She's "Up For Anything," She Really Means It

2006-10-24T15:23:00.000-04:00

From: Friend of Helen Green*

To: Helen Green & Friends

Re.: This Weekend

What is the deal? Dinner on Saturday? During the week? Post-bone? I'm up for anything.

-Helen's Friend*

*FYI: This is how all of my friends refer to themselves.

The Fire Fighter Wears Tweed

2006-10-18T16:36:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I was on the phone yapping away on a personal call when I see my boss, also on the phone, looking directly at me saying, "Helen's GREAT! She is organized, she's competent, she's smart, she's beautiful, a talented actress and writer, witty beyond belief, and a snazzy dresser!"

(OK. So it ended at "smart," but that's not a terrible place to end....)

I got off the phone, feeling guilty at the thought of me yapping away about God knows what while he was praising my work ethic. He kept going, "I would definitely trust Helen. There's no one else I'd trust more on this floor. Great! No problem, I'm happy to do it."

Wow-wee! Job opportunity? Raise already? What? What!? What?!

"You're the new Deputy Fire Marshall for the floor! Isn't that great! YOU!" He realized the ridiculousness of giving the smallest girl on the floor this title and gave off the biggest grin.

This week is Fire Safety Week. This morning I attended a 'Fire Safety Meeting.' Being the "deputy" seemed like I just had to stand by while the real Fire Marshall did the work. Some of the glory, none of the work. Sounds lovely.

But then I got some bad news. I am being groomed to be a hero! I don’t want to be a hero! I want to LIVE, man! The real Fire Marshall, another assistant on my floor is in charge of pulling the lever and getting out first. Me? I have to make a phone call from the stairwell and check that everyone has been evacuated. They recommend against headcounts because there could be extra people on the floor and instead recommend that we look around and see who is left on the floor. Meaning-the 'Deputy' is the last one off the floor!!

No. Just no.

I sat there as the played fire alarms, over and over again. “Got it! NOW I know when to run!”

I stopped paying attention in defiance. We were sitting in a glass room above the trading floor and I decided to play a game of Where’s Waldo, seeing if I could locate one of Ex-IBs friends who works there. That unaccomplished, I began calculating the ratio of men to women, pushing myself back on my chair and relaxing when I heard, "Then we go to Club Monaco, right?"

I sat up straight. "We're going shopping for sophisticated clothing!?! Deputy Fire Marshall I am!"

I looked at the women whose suggestion it was. She had a highlighter out and was taking notes. She was not looking for a tailored grey cardigan, she was no bullshit. The representative from the fire department, nodded, “Yes. That’s when we go to Club Monaco.”

I stopped paying attention, imagining all the guys and gals from my floor shopping for nicely made city wear as our building burnt down across the street.

Tomorrow we have a fire drill. I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do, due to my lack of attention paying, but I do know I need a new black button down and that I have a credit card.

Why Does Brother Abandon Mother on the High Holidays?

2006-10-17T10:03:00.000-04:00

Conversations with my mom....

Mom: So I guess Jimmie won't be spending the holidays with us.
Me: Huh? Why not!?
Mom: He'll probably be with Cara's family .....
Me: Really? No! Maybe for like, dessert...
Mom: Well he spent all of Rosha Shana and Yom Kippor with them!
Me: Who cares? You wanted him to spend them with you?
Mom: I'm just saying they invited him and he went to her house for the Jewish holidays!
Me: But we're not Jewish. They are.
Mom: I'm just saying Helen.

Today You Get Nothing!

2006-10-12T15:41:00.000-04:00

Sorry. But I'm busy.

And I know, I know, I've given you very little lately, but today- nothing, again.

OK.

Except.....

.... a picture of me, looking coy, in short shorts surrounded by preppy young men:

A Helen Advisory:

2006-10-06T08:46:00.000-04:00

If you ever, EVER hear me say "I'm going to take the bus to work" again, PHLEASE:

First: Accost Me
I am small and although I may get fiesty, it's an act, you can take me, just watch out for biting.

Second: Take away my Metro Card.
It's in my wallet, which is small and brown. The monthly is kept on the edge BUT watch out- there's also a hidden one with money on it in the middle for emergencies and/or out of town guests.

Third: Remind me of this morning.
If I have any memory of it at all, and I haven't blocked it out, like I sometimes do unpleasant things (like, say, puking) then we should be safe from here.

I appreciate it, dear friends and fellow New Yorkers. It'll be better for all of us.

And She's Helen Green too!

2006-10-05T11:42:00.000-04:00

"Bullied Bank Woman Wins 800,000"

Key quote:

"Daniella was shouting and saying 'You stink' and that sort of loud behaviour, and laughing in my face and blowing raspberries. There was one time when I was walking from my desk over to the stationery cupboard and she was blowing raspberries with every step I made." - Helen Green

WOW! Rough!

But, hey- it's an option that I think is at least worth considering....

******I'd like to thank my dear friend Janet for the information that made this post possible. Here I am, thinking that she's helping obese children and anorexic teens all day long but instead, she is, in fact, google imaging me.

About Dear Helen Green

2006-10-03T10:49:00.000-04:00

I had a proposal a few weeks ago. A proposal my dear friend Janet wanted to get accomplished. We wanted to meet the Company Bitch. We wanted questions to be answered, we wanted curiosities to subside, we wanted to see if she's as pretty as she says and we wanted to prove to an anonymous girl that we are friend soul mates! So I wrote CB a letter on this blog.

The following Saturday night I found myself at an East Village bar with Ex-IBanker and Co., a few Stellas in, when I took out my Trio to seem as fancy as the rest. One would have thought I received an email from [fill in celebrity of your liking here] by the way I freaked out and ran out of the bar.

I call Janet. No answer. I know she is at a BBQ in the Jerz, unable to chat. I text her, "Seriously call me ASAP." (I clearly have no respect for emergency words in texts.)

This is what had appeared in my email prompting my erratic behavior:

Hey Helen,

I'm both flattered & newly paranoid about my bar conversations. I'd love to meet you guys but I'm kind of obsessed with staying anonymous. At least until I get fired.
-CB
P.S. You do look a little like me

Well at least we got one questioned answered (She's TOTALLY hot!)

I skipped home that evening and learned one thing: To make an Ex-IB understand celebrity bloggers you can compare them to high school football recruits.

Me: Maybe I seem a little strange for being so excited that she saw my blog, and read something I wrote (oh my GOD!), BUT you'd be excited if some super good high school football recruit took a bit of an interest in you! And I think that that's totally retarded- but hey!

I pat myself on the back for good communication skills with a species previously unknown to me: The Sports Minded Boy. (And I will remember this incident when random high schoolers start emailing him.)

ANYWAY, that Monday Janet and I didn't expect a miracle and for CB to go back on her plea for anonymity, but we did suspect that she'd show up, but not let herself be known. We suspected everyone that Monday night at Coppersmiths: The girl with the silver embellished jeans

Janet:Maybe that's her
Me: Uh. NO Way!
Janet: "Why NOT!?
Me: Janet, she said she looked like me, are you calling me TACKY!?! Embellished jeans?!"

...the pudgy giggly girls hanging out with the softball team....
Janet: Maybe that's CB and S!
Me: Oh now I'm FAT, ugh, my nutritionist friend is calling me FAT!?

the dude near the window who could have TOTALLY been Re-Boyfriend, the waitress, it could have been ANYONE!

Janet was fresh off a run, I was fresh off a yoga class. Calm but anxious. The time passed. We polished off some wings, we drank a few Bud Lights. We got frustrated. ...

But we understood. And we calmed down. And we will stay loyal. And we cannot WAIT until Oprah Winfrey reveals you. Which will happen. And when a movie surrounding your blog is written by you and produced. Which I'm banking on happening...(I am an actress who looks like you... ehem.)

Definitely.

Directions for a Sunday

2006-09-25T15:29:00.000-04:00

Meet your friends for brunch (you must be at least slightly hungover). Order mimosas.
Eat good brunch food, laugh, complain, exchange, engage. Order more mimosas.
Leave restaurant. Stop by a store to purchase orange juice and champagne.
Listen to Sexy Back. Drink more mimosas.

Leafy Helen Greens

2006-09-16T15:19:00.000-04:00

Last week before the work week started I was walking west down 14th Street thinking as I do every week....

"What will I have for lunch this week at work?"

I remembered the Lemon Sesame Trader Joe's Dressing that I had in my work fridge, "Perfection!" Young, Innocent, healthy minded Helen Green thought, "I love putting that dressing on Spinach and throwing a few pignoli nuts on it and calling it a lunch salad!"

So I stopped in Trader Joes with thoughts of a healthy non-iron deficient body in my head. I threw in the spinach and I also threw in some lime popsicles, roasted corn and red pepper soup, a $3 bottle of TJ's Chardonnay and why not? a spinach goat cheese quesadilla in case I ran out of salad.

I wanted to be healthy.

And now I'm going to die!

I should have bought a more expensive bottle of wine.

Little Girl- Big Buisness!

2006-09-14T23:43:00.000-04:00

It would be an understatement to say that I get nervous about the fact that The Man reads my e-mail.

The Man. Damn him. (Not really. I'm no hippy.)

But damn him for reading my email!!!

After a meeting about how The Man reads my email and how The Man is watching me and listening in on my phone and making sure I'm not embarrasing anyone, or ruining The Man's reputation, my paranoia has been brought to an all time high. Which made what just happened all the more frightening.

Now, in respect of The Man's requests and in appreciation of the Starbucks lattes he affords me to purchase, I have kept to a minimum the personal email I send via my work address. However, this morning I was indulging in a personal e-mail when my computer CRASHED! After a slip up in my typing/ judgement!

THE MAN!

He does not like me asking my friends if on Saturday night we should have "gone to a strip joint?*"

THEN CRASH. OFF. It was kind of like that movie "The Ring." (Which, during my viewing at 2AM in my apartment ended in my television shutting off and the Cable Box going NUTS. That wasn't The Man though, I think that was The Time Warner Cable. )

* (Calm down assholes it was for a bachelorette party, and also it was joke! Oiled up naked men disgust me. In fact naked men in general disgust me. This girl? Total prude.)

Dear Company Bitch,

2006-09-06T16:27:00.000-04:00

Dear Company Bitch,

My name is Helen and I've never written a fan letter before. Actually, that's not true. In 1994 I wrote a letter to Chelsea Clinton telling her that she was going through an awkward phase. I advised her not to listen to her critics, because they were probably just jealous because she had a huge bedroom, most likely with a canopy bed. But other than that, my past is fan letter free.

Upon reading your blog several months ago I immediately fell in love with both the storyline and your witty repartee. I have turned numerous people on to your blog.

Over bi-weekly Monday night wings and beer conversation between myself and my friend, Janet, the conversation often turns back to you, "Do you think CB works in publishing?" "Do you think she looks like me?" "Do you think Re-Boyfriend is an IBanker?" "Maybe I WORK with Re-boyfriend!" The questions go on and on, week after week.

Honestly, she's gone a little far with her obsession of you, CB. If we were all friends (God that'd be so much fun, too!!), she would be the friend who sort of imitated you and made us all uncomfortable and forced us to roll our eyes. She totally wants to BE you. But who can blame her! On one of our more recent weekly outings, Janet informed me that she had taken her old boyfriend, (her Ex-Boyfriend) and Re-Boyfriended him!!! The lengths she'll go to CB! I never thought this far though! I must say I love your blog, but I'm not doing any Re-Boyfriending, and not just for obvious reasons, but also, because, I don't wanna look like a hack!

CB, this city is small. We sit on 9th Avenue at Coppersmith's gazing out the open air entrance and sometimes we see blonde girls whom we could be friends with and one of us will say, "maybe that's CB!" Sometimes when we're a little tipsy at bars we see a boy fawning over a girlfriend- and she seems tough and sassy, and getting him back a little for his former wrong doings, while still being able to maintain a nice, loving relationship, "That could be them!" "We should ask!" We don't though. I swear.

CB, make a young pediatric nutritionist's dream come true. She won't scare you. And you guys can talk and complain about your Re-Boyfriends together. And we have oh-so-many questions to ask of you. Like how you and Re-Boyfriend met and if you think you'll get married, and where you're from and where you live and what you're doing for Halloween because I think we should go as the Double Mint twins, because I think the answer is that yes, we do look alike. Janet can come too, I guess. If you're not, like, scared with her obsession.

Sincerely,
Helen Green

"Haha! ...But like, for real man..."

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

It's Monday! So let's face some facts:

No matter how well you know someone and their mental stability and/or how much you know someone likes fresh air, if you're having a sad conversation on the phone and one person asks another "Where are you?" and the answer is "My roof," it's just going to sound suspect.

The Implications of Talking on the Phone to my 4 year old Cousin While at Work

2006-08-31T17:18:00.000-04:00

Him:..... but everyday she poops in the pool..
Me: WHAT!? WHO?
Him: And then.....she pooped in the pool AGAIN!
Me: Wait, who are you talking about?
Him: It wasn't much but she does it ALL THE TIME and we don't know what to do because she wants to go in...
Me: But who? Is this a friend of yours?
Him: I like her but she has to stop pooping in the pool!
Me: Robby, what's her name? Not your sister?
Him: We should call her "I can't stop pooping in the pool" HAH!
Me: Haha! Well that would be sort of mean, maybe she can't help it, ya know? But you should tell your mom.
Him: She KNOWS, she cleans it up, she can't stop her from pooping in the pool!
Me: Why does Mommy let her in the pool? Who is this? How old is she?

After literally a full five minute conversation about no other subject, mostly of him telling me stories about specific, detailed, 'poop in the pool' incidents (while I'm still sitting at my desk, at work, where I'm trying to not let on that I'm having a conversation about such a topic), I repeat for approximately the 20th time:

Me: But Robby, who are you talking about?
Him: The bunny.
Me: Ohhhhhhhhhh.... (my bosses phone rings)
Him: She's pooping all the time, and it's mostly in her cage but SOMETIMES it's IN THE POOL! Me: Robby?
Him: Sometimes she runs in the playroom and sometimes she poops in there.
Me: Robby, hold on a sec?
Him: OK!

(I answer the phone and about 20 seconds later come back.)

Me: Robby?
Him: Yeah?
Me: Sorry about that.
Him: Yeah Right.
Me: Haha! Yes I am!
Him: No your not.

Lay Off the Caffeine, You're Getting Over Zealous There, Mr. Starbuck

2006-08-31T11:39:00.000-04:00

Monday I went to Starbucks in Trump Tower. Everything was normal. Except for one thing. I got my Grande Skim Chai hot. Because it was cold out. I tried not to think about it and focused on the company.

Tuesday I went to Starbucks in Trump Tower. It's the last week of August and I was wearing a turtleneck and about to order a hot cappuccino. Something was clearly off. (And also, what's up? I never get cappuccinos at Starbucks. The abnormality of the other circumstance must have messed with my taste buds.) This was not good, but I tried to focus on the company anyway.

UNTIL, I reached the cashier at the kiosk. Above her head was something that I could swear was not there the day before and should not be there until, let's say the beginning of October- a PUMPKIN LATTE SIGN!

It is NOT Pumpkin Latte Season!

It is month after my birthday, smelling like college, "I want to wear my new sweater but it's way too hot, but I'll do it anyway, because I want to look like someone from a college catalog," perfect eating outside weather, 'I can't wait till see what the new fall season brings those Gilmore girls', let me wear a very light cover up, but over a sundress, 'I wish I was getting ready to go back to college still' depression, warm nights with possible air conditioning desire, wear sandals with jeans instead of shorts or skirts, pomegranate eating, ICED CHAI LATTE SEASON!

Wearing a cashmere sweater like I did today over my button down, spending Saturday walking around, perhaps Union Square farmers market with hot cider, perusing Strand, smelling books, making Squash Soup and Pork Chops with sauerkraut, deciding which fall or winter coat JCrew will provide you with for the season, enjoying the perfect temperature nights that wake you up chilly and hoping you're next to someone else to provide body warmth, nutmeg room spray smelling, knitting, seeing Christmas Movie trailers, considering and avoiding Halloween plans, William Sonoma visiting, PUMPKIN LATTE SEASON is not here yet!

I love this stuff but I can't love it till September 19th at the earliest. These are two different points of time. Two different experiences! Believe me!

So chill out and take down that damn sign.

I Reject YOU, "Ignore" button

2006-08-24T11:51:00.000-04:00

If you've ever been with me when I've gotten a call from someone who has pissed me off and/or whom I don't wish to talk to, you've seen me joyously and overexaggeratingly pound on a button on my phone and announce "REJECT!" outloud, just like the button says. This display is not just for your benefit- I do it when I'm alone and/ or half asleep too!

I've recently run into a bit of a problem. Cingular has so politely changed "REJECT" to "Ignore." WEAK! Thanks a lot for taking away my harmless passive aggressive gesture that gave me a little bit of joy!

Hell's Kitchen: Where the Catcalls are Fresh and Fruitful

2006-08-16T15:50:00.000-04:00

Sometimes during the day, since it is summer, I indulge in my lunch break. Sometimes I'll grab a whole wheat sandwich with pepper turkey and avocado and sit in the courtyard of The Plaza across from Central Park. Sometimes my friend and office neighbor, Sarah and I will grab coffee or take a walk over to Whole Foods. Sometimes I grab a slice of pizza and take it, and my ipod to the middle of Columbus Circle and people watch.

All, I consider lovely ways to spend my time out of the office. But the loveliest of all is when I head west, to the old country, Hell's Kitchen, the place where I used to lay my head and fill my mouth. Back in those days I was waitressing, getting out at 3 in the afternoon. My time was plentiful, my wallet full of singles and my coffee table piled with my mother's old Cooking Light magazines and a subscription to Gourmet my friends sent to my apartment for Christmas. Most importantly, the Frutti Vendolo (what I dubbed HK's local green grocer before realizing the term green grocer existed) was just 4 blocks away.

I would scout the freshest items by day, scour the mags while that evening's meal was baking, boiling, marinating or grilling, only to assess and enjoy it that evening with company, or not company, and the cycle would begin again at 3 the next day if I didn't have an audition or rehearsal.

Many things changed in my life when I moved uptown. Now I go to Fairway, mostly after 10pm and much less frequently, for my mangos, watermelon and arugula in the summer, butternut squash and apples in the fall and (cross your fingers) ramps and cardoons in the spring (BTW- I didn't forget it- fuck winter, I'm ordering in!).

Nothing compares though. And so last night I predicted an errand run in the old neighb. during my break that would make a Frutti V. run possible. I grabbed my recipes and typed them into my Palm (Oh wait, Fairway and Palm? Maybe I have gotten fancier!?)

I walked in- I sifted through the jalepenos, found three perfect cucumbers, squeezed some mangos and ... wait... lifted up the cilantro with a face of obvious discontent.-Wilted. IMMEDIATELY from the back room:

"Hey hey miss," a young Spanish boy called out to me, "you want my fresh cilantro?"

"Oooo yeah!!!" I snuck into the room, all immature jumps to sexual innuendoes escaping me, replaced by the excitement fresh herbs give me. He looked for the perfect bunch and handed it over, "thanks!"

He went back to his watermelon cutting duties, but not before, "How 'bout a piece of watermelon? Fresh?"

"How could I say no!?"

And so, $6.83 later I had done a weeks worth of fruit, veggie and (especially fresh) herb shopping and indulged in my favorite summer treat!

Mario Batali always says to make friends with your fish monger to ensure the freshest fish. I say flirt with the young Spanish boys at the Frutti Vendolo to ensure a pleasant and fruitful shopping experience.

Let's Appreciate: Food and Tragedy and Stuff*!

2006-08-10T16:24:00.000-04:00

Let's talk about my weekend!

*Tonight starts with a real appreciation of tragedy. (I start on Thursday, because Thursday starts the college girl's weekend, and I will always be an undergrad at heart.) So, tonight I am going to join (what I suspect will be) a bunch of Republicans to watch the World Trade Center movie in Battery Park. (I am planning on fitting in because I'm wearing a collared navy shirt dress and I am, as we speak, scouring my desk for a sweater to drape around my neck, politician wife style.)
(Interesting piece of info: I also saw the Michael Moore World Trade Center Movie, purposely, at Battery Park. So, you see, I really know how to appreciate tragedy.)

* Friday concludes (although I suspect there will be a brief standing ovation next week) "Appreciate Tribeca Week." What was that? You didn't know it was 'Appreciate Tribeca Week'? OH! It is! And it's already Thursday! Get to it! Tribeca's the best!

* At some point I'm going to appreciate cherry season by baking a cherry tart while simultaneously baking myself (my skin! not my mind!) on the roof.

* Sunday afternoon I am going to appreciate getting wasted on (bad) wine with (good) friends while eating (menza menza) Chinese Food.

And THEN. The thing I cannot get my mind off of. The thing I cannot imagine being anything but pure genius( I mean how could it not be, it has a website dedicated to it!?) : The Pretzel Croissant! And while, I cannot wait to dedicate a moment of my weekend to this, the two people who would appreciate this the most are unable to join me for this pursuit. So, the tragedy lies in being unable to find someone who will appreciate the sweet and salty together as my two vacationing friends and I would.

I don' t know if there are such people.

(Sort of a) Tragedy.

(*Stuff includes parenthesis, I obviously appreciate parenthesis.)

You don't even see this coming...

2006-08-02T11:16:00.000-04:00

Last Year at approximately this time:
-I was heartbroken
-I was sad
-There was a heatwave

I only wanted to eat:
-Watermelon
-And sometimes Ice Cream and Cold beer

This year:
-I am no longer heartbroken
-or sad
-but there is a heatwave

And once again I find myself only wanting to eat:
-Watermelon
-And sometimes Ice Cream and Cold Beer

I think we found our culprit!!!!

Poor Heartbreak! It's been getting a bad rap! I have been unabashedly, no doubt in my mind, placing my blame in the wrong place! I thought heartbreak and sadness were the reasons for my strange appetite! I had evidence! It all seemed so obvious!

THIS IS WHY I'M AGAINST THE DEATH PENALTY!!!!

A Poem

2006-08-01T13:51:00.000-04:00

when I am out of the office
and I call a temp to sit at my desk
I want that temp

to answer the friggin' phone by the second ring
to not touch my shit,
or read my personal email
to not do work,
that i will inevitably
have to redo.

i want that temp,
to do as little as possible
except to answer the friggin' phone by the second ring

that's what I was like as a temp.
which, like the tide on a full moon,
raises
the oft asked question:

Why can't everyone be more like me?

Helen Green: It's Your Birthday!

2006-07-26T09:17:00.000-04:00

And on the eve of this b'day, I got a gift that I could never have expected.

The doorman previously discussed, whom I was trying to woo, not only picked up the phone before I told him where I was going, but ANNOUNCED me--- using my name!

"Helen is here," he said in his soft baritone, cupping his hand over the phone like he does.

It was beautiful. It was touching. I couldn't look him in the eye I was so moved. And now we only have half a month together- it is too bad. I know I said I didn't want it but, I admit, I kind of wanted to be boys with him, and there is just not enough time for that.

Update on Mission:Y26,GF: I didn't get my nails done as promised... clearly, I cannot be trusted.

M:Y26,GF

2006-07-25T16:09:00.000-04:00

Let me tell you a little story about last Friday night....

I was at a restaurant when my dinner date ordered a bottle of wine. The waiter looked from him to me and said, "Just one glass?" GASP! He doubted my over 21 status and thought my date was a pedaphile! (Also, apparently, an alcoholic.)

Tomorrow I turn 26 years old.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS!?!?!

It means it's time for me to get FANCY!

26 is FOR REAL! So, I need to GET real. So, in preparing for tomorrow, I've been working on-
Mission: "You're 26, Get Fancy!"
For all of you who are worried that I'm going to change come 9:42 pm tomorrow into a fancy young lady and you're going to lose the Helen Green you know and love and can count on to sport a ponytail to a nice affair, here's a little spoiler alert: M: Y26,GF is not going well and has been adapted! I was doing everything in my power to become a little fancier. So, when nothing was working, I decided to start small. Mission " You're 26, Get Fancy" turned into:

Mission: "You're 26 and you need a bag NOT from Abercrombie and Fitch or American Eagle for an upcoming wedding so let's start there, Get Fancy!"

How did I begin to accomplish this you ask? Here were my rules:

1. No shopping at stores like A&F or AE or The Gap.
2. Peruse 5th Ave during lunch where all the fancy stores are and try to fit in with the fanciest of them all to get a feel for it.
3. Minimum. Fancy things aren't cheap so maybe a minimum would force the fanciness.
4. While shopping if I feel uncomfortable amongst the fancy people, I will throw out an article of clothing I am wearing once home.

Here are why those rules sucked:

1. I love those stores.
2. Those people are European and overwhelming and 5th Ave still contains stores like Anthropologie and Lacoste which are not fancy, but in some ways appear to be fancy, thus wooing me, creating danger.
3. Fancy things aren't usually cheap BUT casual things can be expensive which led me to several times almost buying non fancy items that just cost more. This pleases me but does not accomplish the task at hand.
4. That was good but it was like imposing self hatred, which isn't cool.

Tonight I am getting my nails done, which I realize is not that fancy but it's progress. I'm also going to a fancy restaurant for my birthday, I think the fanciest restaurant I've ever been to. But, I've always been sort of fancy when it comes to food, so this is, in a way, maintaining, though upgrading for celebrating. Which is fantastic but unrelated to the mission.

Very minimal Progress on M:Y26,GF.

Sonic BOOM

2006-07-18T14:54:00.000-04:00

I had this conversation with a man I sort of know the other day, a man my friends and I refer to as... well let's say his name Joshua.... if his name was Joshua we'd refer to him as "Sonic Joshua." His name is not Joshua, but I assume he is savy so I will not put his real name here. (Story to come with friend's approval and when I have nothing to write about one day.)

Helen: Hey! I haven't seen you in awhile!
Sonic Joshua: I know! You got a haircut!
Helen: Yesterday- I did! So where have you been?
Sonic Joshua: Oh around, I've been around,just a little less, I guess we've just been missing each other!
Helen: Yeah me too- around but a little less.
Sonic Joshua: Well good seeing you!
Helen: Yeah you too!
Sonice Joshua: And good luck with that.
Helen: Thank you!
Sonic Joshua starts to turn away....

Helen: Wait, good luck with what? ......My haircut?
Sonic Joshua: Yeah!
Helen: Oh. (tips head, contemplates)OK! Thanks!

And so it was decided by me that from now on when we see people we haven't seen in awhile and they just got a new haircut, they shall be wished 'Good Luck.'

A. Roaches

2006-07-18T08:44:00.000-04:00

That's my answer. In the preverbial NY apt question of mice or roaches-- I choose roaches. Hands Down. Sure, they're terribly gross, but mice..... mice are like... grosser. Totes grosser.

Last night as I was going through my closet on a search for a proper outfit to wear today, I saw a mouse in my room. I of course FLIPPED out and jumped on my bed. It was a small mouse but it was a mouse. I HATE mice! I know, I know everyone hates mice, but I 'nightmares for days' hate mice.

I sat there, on my newly made bed. Newly made as in the day before, when I had THOROUGHLY CLEANED my room, closet and bathroom. How clean? Clean 'my friends were away in Jersey/ in London/ at wedding/ with temporarily long distance husband/ in Williamsburg at a party (and come on, that's the same thing as being away because it's not like I'm going to go out in WILLIAMSBURG!)'this weekend clean, so I had nothing to do, clean.

I called the roomate, who I believed was across the hall- a mere 6 or 7 feet from where I sat. "We have a mouse!" She was not in fact home. It came out again. I squeled then I began calling anyone who could handle such a high pitched noise after midnight.

It came out again. Called the roomate "Ok, so it's not a mouse, it's a roach BUT IT'S SO BIG IT COULD BE A MOUSE!"
When the roomate came home at 1AMish I was nursing a popsicle and a vodka soda, perched on a kitchen chair (the fight was arduous and had gone into different rooms of the apt.), Raid in one hand, newly dead humongous (c'mon it TOTALLY looked like a mouse) roach belly up on the floor.

It smelled like 2004 in the kitchen.*

Last night, we breathed a huge, Raid scented sigh of relief because we are both on the roach side of the aforementioned question. However Roomie 3 is not and she is away and knows little of the incident. So, maybe we keep this between you and me?

*I had a lot of roaches in my apt that year.

Haircuts....

2006-07-17T13:43:00.000-04:00

are SO boring.

Why doesn't anyone ever talk about this!?

Champagne Coffee

2006-07-14T11:05:00.000-04:00

There are certain things I believe in. I believe in treating yourself every once in awhile, I believe that sometimes you have to make things happen, I believe in sandals in the winter, I believe that there is more than one person for each person, I believe that Starbucks is a good corporation and should be treated as such, I believe in making events out of milestones, I believe in gay marriage and I believe in the practice of the homage.

The homage is a savoring- the clinking of the metaphorical champagne glasses, an appreciation for things once loved, once savored, possibly still loved and memories still savored. An homage could be a farewell, it can be an appreciation from a far, but most importantly it is with thought and respect and done ceremoniously. There is no whining or crying during homages, they are respectful events and should not allow you to indulge in self-pity. Despite ill feelings, or a hurt heart, an homage is to 'Cheers' the good times.

I believe whole heartedly in the homage- it does not make things better but it respects the reasons for the sentiment. Because after all, hurt feelings and a feeling of absence only come from those who have the power to cause them, have the power to break your heart and make you cry, from ones once held so dear.

February 17th I try to be generous to people, grab some Japanese snack mix and pop open a Bud Light. It is the day my grandfather died.

When my uncle died several months ago we let the good wine flow and my cousins donned pink shirts, as their father was known for.

On the first birthday of his that I spent without the X, I grabbed a slice of his favorite pizza and was generous with brown liquor on the rocks.

After the death of an ex-college roommate's ex-college roommate we ordered a pitcher of beer as we would in Binghamton in the years spent with her.

After the death of my roommate's friend (a recent friend of mine) we partook in something decidingly approved by him. I don't remember what, but I remember the sentiment. I remembered the feeling of the homage.

On birthdays of my young cousins, spent states away, I will often indulge in a childish treat after an entertaining discussion with them via phone. Sometimes, in fact, they will partake in the homage as I will ask them what I should do to celebrate their birthdays.

This morning, on my way to work I crossed the street and then turned around to notice a Dunkin' Donuts. I walked back the way that I came and ordered my coffee with milk, no sugar. Clink, clink.

FYI

2006-07-12T16:32:00.000-04:00

Pretzels dipped in hot chocolate does not a chocolate covered pretzel make.

Also does not a good idea as it sounds make.

I Know I'm Gonna Like It Here!

2006-07-12T10:44:00.000-04:00

It's been sort of a dream for me to be recognized by doormen. A few months ago it became a dream come true! I'd walk by the security guards in my office building and they would all greet me, "Hello Miss Green!" "Good Morning Miss. Green!" "Have a lovely day Miss. Green!" I felt like Annie in the movie when she first shows up at the Warbucks household ("No need to pick up any toys! That's OK, I haven't got any anyway!! ). Out of the hundreds upon hundreds of people in this building I felt somehow chosen. Being recognized by a doorman makes you feel like you belong some place. (Does this sound like I need to be on a couch? I need acceptance people!!)

Months later though, things changed. I have always received preferential treatment from these security guards, I'm not complaining. But now days they see me as their homegirl and don't take my Ralph Lauren pumps, Vera Wang glasses and any other attempts at non-plebian like fashion, seriously! I didn't want homegirl acceptance, I wanted "Hello Miss. Green" acceptance!!!! And what I was suddenly getting was home girl acceptance.

They started to greet me: "Sup Hel?"

I stopped in my tracks the first time, "Shit. They know- that I am one of the people. A plebian."

When I forget my pass (which I do a decent amount) they let me straight through- I used to just pout my lips and tip my head, remove an ipod plug from my ear and whine, "You're gonna kill me," like a popular high school sophomore would apologize to her chubby male teacher for leaving her "totally perfectly completed Spanish homework in my foyer!" in front of her class, extracting any ounce of insecurity that still remains from the teacher's unpopular high school years and once again finding himself bowing down to the popular girl.

"Helen," they say in a reprimanding voice, "Ok.." With a wink!

Except LAST time, a middle aged woman saw it happen and screamed "YOU NEVER DO THAT FOR ME, NEXT TIME THIS HAPPENS I AM BRINGING THIS INCIDENT UP!" Woh. That's when I realized- I am really treated differently! Why? BECAUSE they believe that I am one of the people!

You may be doubting that that's the reason. I'll say it, I too thought I got the preferential treatment because of my large smile, small frame and ability to pout and extract high school insecurity from them, but then, I remembered a conversation that occurred during the transit strike:

Security Guard #1: How'd you get in?
Me: walked.
SG 1: From home? Rough. I would have given you a ride.
Me: Huh? It's cold, but it's really not that bad
SG 1: What time did you have to leave to walk
Me: 45 minutes ago
SG 2: from ROCKAWAY??
Me: Huh? I live on the Upper West Side.
SG: But your license said.... (my license... which they saw maybe twice in November)...
Me: Oh no, I haven't changed that from when I grew up...
SG 2: Ohhhh we were gonna say!

I've realized that I never dispelled their idea that I come from Rockaway, (near where they come from) and on occasion when something about Rockaway or the area of Brooklyn near it comes up, I just go along with it as I spent a large majority of a few years in that area and am able to converse about it. The Belt, Reese Park, Breezy, Kings Plaza-- bring it on, I know all the terms and conditions. I can hang with the blue collared people. And even if I am not exactly one of them, I am actress adept in improv and that comes in handy. If this is the reason for acceptance I must hold on!

They've given me that daily ounce of acceptance that I needed for awhile, but it's really waning. It doesn't do for me what it used to, especially since it's just homegirl acceptance.

There is a doorman in a building that I have been going to lately and I have high hopes. I only have less than a month more of frequenting this particular building, which is not even enough time for homegirl acceptance BUT just enough time to feel like Annie for a few days-- and just in time for my birthday! This is the ideal situation!

I thought I saw a glimmer of recognition in his eye last night, but then nothing. And I had to TELL him where I was going. What do I expect? These things don't happen over night.

Wedding Vows

2006-06-28T09:10:00.000-04:00

1. "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" will not even be a consideration. Nor will any other songs from any "Party Mix of the 80s" CDs.

2. No Poofy Dresses. No Sparkles.

3. No Introductions. The future Mr. Helen Green and I will both know everyone present at the wedding, there will be no need for introductions.

4. No strobe lights or "party buses." No bringing back memories from the worst prom you ever went to.

5. We will NOT take dance lessons. The first dance will be an emotional onslaught of love NOT a bunch of robotic maneuverings.

6. No paraphanelia (leis, moracas, fireman hats). In fact my wedding will in no way resemble any Sweet 16 you ever went to either. (Unless you know an incredibly classy 16 year old). **No other kinds of paraphanelia either people!

7. Everyone. And I mean EVERYONE will shed tears due to the overwhelming emotion brought on by the day. You doubt me? Yeah? I'm gonna make you cry from sheer emotion and happiness. I am good at that! Don't believe me? I'll give you numbers for references.

8. This will not be a normal day. You will realize while at my wedding that this is the first day of the rest of your life as well. (I am not selfish!)

9. NO GIRLS BATHROOMS. I know it sounds rash. But, although everyone WILL shed some tears, there will be no girls bathrooms because-GIRLS CRY IN BATHROOMS AT WEDDINGS!! And not the kind of crying that I'm encouraging. There's a secret club in the bathrooms at weddings and you get in only if you cry. (I know this because I can totally crash this club. I have a sympathetic smile. I am an actress.)

10. No humping or grinding. If any of this occurs this person will be kicked out no matter how close they are to the groom or myself. Even if it IS the groom or myself- kicked out. Have I not driven home the fact yet that this will be the classiest semi-casual looking but not casual in spirit wedding that you'll ever attend in your life?! Have I not driven home the fact that this will be the first day of the rest of your life? Do you really want to be humping in front of your relatives or my relatives on that day?!?

11. Drugs. Certain members of my family will recieve sedatives as a "thank you for coming gift" before the wedding even starts. In fact before wedding week even starts.

12. No silly games. HOWEVER there will be a throwing of the bouquet and garter! Because for single people the first day of the rest of your life needs to exude hope!

13. My mom will NOT be cutting my meat for me as soon as it arrives:

Actually maybe she will.

To each his own, but these are my vows. Deal. Look forward to it. (Hope it happens.)

Because, I promise-- the first day of the rest of your life.

Father's Day

2006-06-21T10:01:00.000-04:00

Sunday, of course, was Father's Day. So, I figured, what better opportunity to annoy the hell out of my mom, thus entertaining my dad! After all I let her get away with murder on Mother's Day!

(Entertainment: A WAY better gift than the tie I got him with monkeys on it.)

Now my mom is THE BEST! (On Sunday alone she randomly brought me the makings for Strawberry Shortcake and then she told me I needed more jewelry and that she would like to provide it!) BUT if you want to get a rise out of someone, my mom is the woman to go to! She is THE BEST at that too! In fact, I bet I'm accomplishing that same task as we speak! So, I decided the way I would do it at brunch was to discuss my cousin's upcoming wedding that we are all attending.

(Note:I am actually looking forward to the wedding because it's gonna be super-different from the weddings I normally attend, and also, the family that is holding it is very entertaining and fun loving.)

Questions, statements and responses regarding the wedding that get a rise out of my mother:

Are you going to get drunk on white wine and start laughing for no reason?
Are people going to find out I live in Manhattan and start asking me questions based on the fact that they think that I live the life of Carrie Bradshaw?
Based on #2 are they going to ask me about going to BED and Pastis? I'm not answering those questions, Mom, I. am. not! That would be SO cheesy!
Also, simply based on #2, not on my actions, or appearance, do you think people are going to refer to me as "that slutty cousin from NY"?
During the vows can I put my acting skills to good use and start crying and making a scene and shouting, "This should have been me?"
Can I buy one of those fake $9 engagement rings and pretend I'm engaged to someone infamous? Like Joey Buttafuco?
Last time we were there they were comparing whose truck could better drive up a dirt pile- so- I guess what I'm asking is- Is this wedding going to be a ho down?
Can I get my brother drunk and dare him to do things that will embarrass us all?
When people annoyingly ask me if they've, "seen anything I've been in?" can I say that I have a movie coming out with Diane Keaton? No? An article coming out in Teen Vogue? A book deal? A Clearasil commercial? Ugh, fine.
When people find out I'm almost 26 and still single, can I suggest that maybe it's because I'm a lesbian?
I am wearing a classy black dress, but if I style it properly I can make it look Goth- Can I look Goth for the wedding Mom?
This is taking place in a small town in Connecticut, can I continually ask "Where the hell are Luke and Lorelai today?"
Can I act like I'm too good for everyone and comment that "we would never do it this way where I come from!" ?
Are they seriously going to play the entire "Paradise by the Dashboard Light?"
Can I put on a Southern accent?
Can I make out with all the cute groomsman, perpetuating #2?
Can I chain smoke?
Mom, this is gonna be open bar, right?

Die Alex. Go to Hell, Ang.

2006-06-19T17:09:00.000-04:00

My mother and her sister, both who have long names that are easily transformed into an array of nicknames, decided when they were having children that they wanted us to have names that would be concise so that they could not be shortened.

So, although my Mom and Dad liked several other names, they settled on Helen because there wasn't a nickname to go with it like some of the other options in my parent's name bank ( Alexandra...Angelina).

So my mom went with Helen and my aunt went with Diana.

Now people call us Hel and Di.

Backfired.

Anyway....

2006-06-15T16:46:00.000-04:00

After spending the greater part of my morning on a rather conservative message board, I decided to get back to my roots and hippy it up yesterday for lunch at Whole Foods.

"Your roots? Hippy? Come on Helen?"

Ok, well maybe not my original roots, as I do come from the most Republican county in New York, but my COLLEGE roots, when I lived in Binghamton's CIW, the "hippy" dorms!

"Helen? You mean the two years you spent rolling your eyes at hippies and laughing uncontrollably everytime they said 'damn the man'"

Ugh fine! I told you I can't be categorized!

"You did. You did say that!"

Wow! I'm such an enigma...

"Right. Anyway?"

Oh right.. anyway.. so I got lunch at Whole Foods with Sarah. Something light to balance out a lot of heavy eating the day before. (Bacon, egg & cheese breakfast w/ a sweet latte, tomato soup for lunch, chocolate peanut butter milkshake for snack, cheeseburger and beer for dinner) But then, as we were walking past the cheese section I felt an intense craving for some Brie.

"Should I get cheese!?"
"Why not?"
"I guess it's better to snack on at work than something sugary..."
"Yeah."
"I mean cheese isn't that great for you, but since when am I a health nut?And also a block this big will last me like a week!"
"Exactly. It's a good snack."

It is 24 hours later and that Brie is over. Totally eaten, by me. I have no willpower.

Just Breathe

2006-06-15T11:24:00.000-04:00

Oh. my. god. No. Oh My God. I can't believe this. Ohmgod. Seriously? But it was going so well! I really appreciated that you were always there.

I know at the beginning when I came to you, you weren't present.. and so eventually I stopped trying- when I came to terms with the fact that no matter how persistent I was you weren't just going to suddenly appear.

But then.. one day, not in a fit of panic, but more out of curiosity, I went to you again.. and you were there! And so I started coming more and more often. First with extreme appreciation for every moment we spent together and then in a bit of a "take for granted" way. But I totally never took you for granted! I loved that you were there! You gave me great joy and were extremely useful and stopped me from turning elsewhere every day. But it was all such a tease!

I didn't expect it when I woke up today. Last night I didn't even go to you because I figured we had today. I figured I'd give you the night to yourself. And then I got dressed this morning. Put on my favorite fitted collared shirt. The baby blue one with the little purple pears on it. And I walked in and typed www.gmail.com and .... You totally blocked me you asshole!

UGH-- GMAIL! No more GMAIL at work! OMG! How am I going to get used to this?

I NEVER sent "confidential information" via you. I never did that! Do you think I did? Cuz I didn't! I knew that was wrong. And yet they're stopping us from being together. And you're not doing anything about it! AND I'M SUCH A GOOD EMAILER! SUCH GOOD EMAILS! And that gmail chat feature that you had.. ugh.. I loved it..it led me to be able to schedule coffee sessions with Sarah down the block, and to talk if we were worried or sad or excited. I loved that about you- You loved my friends! You were good to them too! And now it was just ripped away from me.

I'm still reeling. I've had several cups of coffee, which hasn't helped the situation. WHAT AM I THINKING!? YESTERDAY AT THIS TIME I WOULD HAVE NEVER IMAGINED THIS! I was looking forward to my emails today. And I had some business to attend to. All that- ruined!

I know in my heart that I don't deserve this... and someday I'm going to be able to log into a service while at work and it will be even better....maybe... maybe I'll never find a service, but I think I will... and I'm going to realize that you, gmail... you were not what you were cracked up to be.

But They Don't Let You Ride the Camels Anymore....

2006-06-14T08:29:00.000-04:00

When I went to SanDiego with my friends last weekend, I compromised with them: NO SeaWorld, OK SanDiego Zoo. Going to the zoo was not something I was particularly excited about, but it was the CLEAR winner. I've only been to SeaWorld twice and I've been to the SanDiego Zoo numerous times, but both SeaWorld trips were a total bust! (No penguins? WTF?)
Now maybe it was the venti latte I had right before we went...

But when we got to the zoo's entrace, I was excited!

The day had it's winners and losers but I did some major thinking that day about zoos. After spending the day there, and talking to my friend Melissa at the zoo while Kendall took OVER 300 PICTURES of ANIMALS AND FLOWERS, I have come to a conclusion about zoos and the reason we (or more accurately I), have such a love/ hate thing going on.

Taking pictures in front of an elephant with your friends....

SUPER COOL!

Seeing a hippopatamus in person?

CRAZY AMAZING!

But birds that look like parakeets?

BULLSHIT!

DUCKS!?

SUPER BULLSHIT!

Exhibits like that make me bored, angry and make me want to drink tequilla straight from a bottle in a closet..... (Note: It's true- see- I'm wearing the same dress as in the zoo pictures!)

So that's my conclusion! Thank you for letting me get on my soap box.....

Or fake hippopatamus, as it were.

Remember college.....

2006-06-07T12:15:00.000-04:00

Not like this:

Welcome to BinghamtonUniversity.com!

If I could come up wtih THE most inaccurate depiction of my four years at Binghamton University, THAT'S the picture I would use- BUT that's the image I got when I accidently went to binghamtonuniversity.com instead of binghamton.edu. CLEARLY an unofficial webiste with a VERY unofficial picture of the place!

And that caption on top! Insinuating that Binghamton University welcomes you with a hammock on a beach and alludes to the possibility that there's a waiter off to the side with a frozen drink just WAITING for you! (There's NOT!) I loved Binghamton and I'm happy that that's the place I decided to go to college.... but let's be honest with ourselves and to future attendees: there are no frozen drinks! Well...sometimes at themed frat parties they attempt them but in those cases you're drinking them at this place and places like this:

and your memories end at about midnight due to the grain alchohol used.

Also- there's no SUN in Binghamton! The places exudes deadness. There are several days in the spring and fall when we saw sun, but we treated those like the first coming and there are definitely no hammocks involved.

Like I said, super happy to have gone, lots of great feelings towards the place, but there are going to be some pretty disappointed 18 year olds in the Southern Tier next fall.

Baby Boy Blue

2006-06-01T15:25:00.000-04:00

I would imagine that working as a Genius at the Apple Store is very much like a career as a pediatric cardiologist.

I just got back from the Apple Store because my ipod started flipping out recently- doing crazy things like turning off for no good reason, saying crazy things, threatening me, and just being a general asshole.

My ipod was out of warranty and I didn't expect much, but then the Apple Genius, Nate, came back with a look in his eye.

Apple Genius Nate: As you know I don' t think that your ipod is really going to last much longer....

Me: (sigh) I suspected.. but I just didn't want to believe it...

AGN: And you're out of warranty by a few months... so....

Me: (tearfully) I know, I know... I should have acted sooner, I just thought it was just normal problems, I didn't think it was fatal... I figured it would go away...

AGN: Well, yes, but... I looked in the cabinet and we happen to have a blue mini ipod that would exactly replace your blue mini ipod...

Me: Oh my God.. OH MY GOD.. I can't believe you're doing this... I can't believe there's a match!!

AGN: Well, just a minute maam'.. it's not goin to be exactly the same... we don't have an engraver.. so you've lost that... but everything should be in perfect working order as soon as you install your songs....

Me: That's FINE! I don't even care if it's BLUE. I'm just so greatful! I don't know ... I just don't know how to THANK YOU.. I don't know what to say... I feel so... so....

AGN: No problem.. have a nice day Miss. Green

And then he sent me off with a pat on my ass** and a twinkle in his eye and I felt like a girl whose child had just recieved a new heart and who was taking that child on vacation to her favorite city in America with two of her oldest and best friends to eat tacos. Oh wait! I am a girl who's doing that! Except with my baby blue IPOD!

**He didn't really pat me on my ass but if he did that would have been just FINE by me since I was so greatful. IN FACT, if I ever see AGN at a bar, I hope no one minds, but I am definitely buying him drinks and making out with him because HE DESERVES IT!!!

Top 5 Reasons I Could Get Fired Today

2006-05-31T13:53:00.000-04:00

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

2006-05-30T17:10:00.000-04:00

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

2006-05-30T09:58:00.000-04:00

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

2006-05-24T14:12:00.000-04:00

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

2006-05-24T08:53:00.001-04:00

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

2006-05-18T13:48:00.000-04:00

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

2006-05-17T09:43:00.000-04:00

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)

2006-05-14T16:56:00.001-04:00

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!

2006-05-13T10:25:00.000-04:00

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

2006-05-12T13:31:00.000-04:00

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):

2006-05-12T10:20:00.000-04:00

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

Reasoning

2006-05-11T17:38:00.000-04:00

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!

2006-05-08T10:17:00.000-04:00

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

2006-05-07T08:16:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-05-02T14:57:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-05-02T14:43:00.000-04:00

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:

2006-05-02T11:09:00.000-04:00

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?!?

2006-05-01T15:16:00.000-04:00

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.

Why I Shouldn't Marry an Investment Banker/ Comment that Always Makes Me Uncomfortable

2006-04-28T15:52:00.000-04:00

Two Investment stand in front of my desk catching up.

IB 1 asks IB2 how many children he has.

"3 with one on the way! Except number 4 was QUITE.... A .... SURPRISE."

Elbowing and chuckling ensues.

I am...

2006-04-25T23:49:00.000-04:00

I am an actress.

Today I became an officially certified yoga teacher.

OOOPS! Now I'm a cliche!

Aggravated, but Amused Suggestion

2006-04-25T23:38:00.000-04:00

Information has come out about my old boss, a boss that is NO longer mine that has still managed to piss me off today.

I walked back to my desk after finding out the information and I was pretty angry, but also rather amused at the ridiculousness that continues to unfold re: my "accidental firing."

I sat there, thinking. There was nothing to do about the situation. The powers that be had spoken and the powers that wanted it to be a different way had also spoken. So now, all I could do was make myself feel even better that the powers that wanted it to be a different way had managed to make me, without even trying. (I love those powers!)

SO.

After awhile, I discovered a solution for my amused anger towards this woman and I'm going to share it with you.

If you're ever mad at your boss or your old boss.....

LOOK THEIR CHILDREN UP ON MYSPACE.

No no! Please! It was my pleasure to suggest it.

Things that have come to fruition for me this past weekend:

2006-04-24T11:50:00.000-04:00

When at a bar, no matter which one, no matter what is happening, no matter how drunk or not drunk the crowd is, no matter who is there,

EVERYBODY drops EVERYTHING when Kelly Clarkson comes on.

Babes in Movieland

2006-04-19T12:39:00.000-04:00

I love little babies. LOVE EM. See them in the street in the strollers and I coo.

Also I love celebrity gossip. It's fun. I check gawker.com several times in a day! (In fact I'm gonna link to it in just a second!)

HOWEVER I don't understand this. Because although all babies don't look EXACLTY alike.... they kind of do. This is a level of celebrity stalkerdom that I cannot relate to.

Chelsea Styles

2006-04-19T09:39:00.000-04:00

I'd never been a fan of the ironic clothing option. The gas station attendant jacket with the name Gus. The bowling shirt with the name Cindy. etc etc. But the other night just northwest of Union Square I saw one I would never have thought I'd see....

The fireman jacket with the name Peter.

Ok, I lied it didn't say Peter, but there was a man, on the edge of Chelsea and he WAS wearing jeans and a firemans jacket- in a fashionable ironic way. I COULD TELL.

I flinched when I saw it. I don' think we're ready for that yet. Especially in Chelsea!

And mostly it's also not worth it because it's NOT fashionable!

Re-hired!

2006-04-18T13:43:00.000-04:00

I am back at my old job today temporarily. This is the job that I was "fired" from. I haven't really clarified this on this blog but I was told over a weekend, in a phone call from my temp agency that I wouldn' be needed any more at my job. A job that, the past Friday, my boss had told me I was "going above and beyond the call of duty for. Great job Helen. You are so nice and I appreciate your hard work." I had been surprised that she said this, not because I hadn't been doing a good job, but because she sort of had a reputation around the office of not noticing people's efforts for her.

Then I was told not to return. And then she told me when I spoke to her on Monday that it had been a "complete mistake. Totally lack of communication. HUGE shock" to her. All of which I believe. But I'm still not rehired to that position and there's a confused looking girl sitting at my desk. My old boss sort of admitted that this was because she would look like an asshole if I reappeared at my desk.

I am on the other side of the floor now. I hope she looks like an asshole anyway.

Now, today, on my first day back, I am more unsurprised than ever that I was "accidently fired," as the people in these parts refer to it. This morning proved to me that if there was any company that would fire you by accident, it would be this one.

At about 10:30 this morning, the temp coordinator showed up at my desk professing to have been "looking all over for me." I checked my cell phone which had been on vibrate, as it is when I'm working, and the temp agency had left me not one but two messages asking "Where are you? She's looking all over for you, we assume you're on the caught on the subway. Where are you though?"

At my desk. At the desk I was supposed to be at at 9AM, but to which I showed up to at 8:45. The desk which I hadn't moved from since then.

If you were looking for someone in an office wouldn't the first place you looked be their desk? The first place to call- wouldn't it be the phone on the desk?

I could have been fired again!

Days of our Lives

2006-04-17T15:57:00.000-04:00

The other day one of my friends asked me and another friend if we could remember the best and worst day of our lives. It was difficult to pin down just one day for both.

But then we all figured out our worst days but our best day was difficult. I've had some great days! I figured that my best day was probably not a day I could even remember because it was taken in stride in between all the other great days.

But I think I remember one of the best days. It was today. But years ago.

It's scary though to think that your best days could become reason for your worst day/s. Mine did. That's kind of the deal though. That's what makes it your worst day. That's what makes it your best day. Wonderful and high stakes.

Today, Monday April 17th, 2006 is not one of my best days. It's not one of my worst days. It's a day I'm taking in stride.

On this holiday I am thankful for.....

2006-04-16T19:12:00.000-04:00

Wrong holiday Green!

But I am thankful for Myspace and Friendster. They have prevented me from going out on a date with someone who lists their sexuality as "bisexual."

I have no problems with bisexuals but I am not going to DATE one. I'VE GOT ENOUGH PROBLEMS MAN!

Coming to Terms

2006-04-16T16:20:00.000-04:00

I think people who know me would say I'm semi tough compared to the way I look. Maybe if I looked different you'd expect me to be this way, but I think people just expect me to be meek, so when I'm not it perhaps comes off as tough.

There are these things about yourself that you cling to. You both love it and hate it about yourself. This is one of mine. I've been told it since I was little.

Over the past few months though I think my tough, or whatever it should be called has gradually but severely decreased. I feel weak a lot.

This morning I started crying on the 1 train.

I was on my way to LI to celebrate Easter. Something I thought of calling in sick to. Considered wearing my pastel green pants and otherwise coifed Easter outfit and taking it to the church across the street from my apartment. Surround myself by people I'm supposed to be but am not. I had considered after church going to Zabars and treating myself to some Jewish food. Utterly not Easterly. Then maybe going to the Russian Baths with some friends who are in town. But I did not. And when I got outside I was glad that that was not the choice I had made. I saw these girls, coiffed, leaning into their boyfriends/ fiances/ husbands, one hand on his stomach, underneath his suit jacket, once hand on their Starbucks. Waiting for church to begin across the street. I was glad I was not going to be there. I was happy to see them smiling. I was. But glad I would not witness any more of it. Because last year I was them. A version of them. My own version of them. And I loved that. I thought the intention was to grown into different versions of that. And now I am not.

But it was a beautiful day and it made me happy that someone was in that world that I so crave to be back in. I was happy it was so beautiful out and I was happy to be wearing pants that fit me so nicely.

When I got to the subway station I consciencely thought "I'm glad I didn't call in sick to Easter." I walked down the steps and looked at the woman in the booth, pointed to my bags that could not fit through the turnstile and she said "Swipe, then go through the doors." I did, just in time to step on the train. And then I must have accidently pressed something or maybe she hadn't pressed the button yet because alarms starting going off. But the train was there and I was one foot on it and I wasn't going to go back- I did make a face, like "Oops, what the hell happened?". But I had my Metrocard in hand and I had swiped it, so whatever.

And then my bag was thrust forward which tipped my body over and into a pole. I looked behind me at what had happened and I saw this thuggish looking man and he said "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! She's frontin', look at this bitch frontin."

I sat down and sort fo breathlessly held up my Metrocard. I couldn't speak though, it seemed like the back of my throat was closed. "Unlimited, I woudln't have....." but I dont' think it even came out. He had pushed me into a pole.

For those who don't know me I am small girl. I'm not even 5'2 and I'm not sure if I weigh more than a hundred pounds. I am just getting smaller. In several ways.

I looked around. Everyone looked straight ahead. I was kind of scared. I was alone and had no defense. My pepper spray was in my bag and although I wouldn't use it unless I had to, I wanted it. He started again. "She knows what she did. Don't make faces when you walk in. You know what you did. Don't act all like you don't"

I know what he thought I did. I know I did not want to cry. I was trying so hard not to. Trying not to give this guy any sort of satisfaction. A few months ago I don't think my throat would have done that. But now I feel weak. Defenseless. Like I cannot win any battles no matter what.

The gay couple next to me did not do anything. They did not look at me sympathetically. Did they not believe me? The thirty something man in the orange shirt across from me did not make eye contact with me. Even after the scary guy got off. Then this other thugish guy looked at me "Are you OK?" I thought he had been a cohort. Someone who thought I was "frontin'." "I'm OK. It's just....." my words stayed trapped in my throat, "weird."

And I started to cry. Right there on the 1 train. Silently. Clearly trying not to.

I'm still glad that I did not call in sick to Easter I think. But now I know. Something I don't know if I wanted to know. I've lost some of what I've clung to.

When I talked to my dad a few minutes later he said "That's what happens when you travel alone Helen."

A few months ago, on Christmas Eve I had a similar incident with my friend Jen at this station. (What's with the holidays and the 79th Street station?) Last time I kind of defended myself. Kind of. A few years ago some woman yelled at me on a train. I retorted something semi-witty, defending myself, but safely. That time I was not alone. My downstairs neighbor once threw a cigarette at me. I was freaked out but I defended myself safely again. One time a man grabbed my ass in front of the Port Authority. I followed him and defended myself. I got him arrested.

I was alone some of these times. But I was not alone. This time I was alone. Completely alone.

Easter is my favorite holiday. I was told by someone once, not long ago that I would never have to spend another holiday alone. But look at this. I didn't call in sick on Easter. As weak as I feel, I showed up. But some people have called in sick on me

Why I Shouldn't Marry an Investment Banker

2006-04-14T17:34:00.000-04:00

Last night my roomate and I decided to torture some Investment Banker types at a bar. Talk to them in a taunting kinda way regarding their jobs, probable lack of personality, frat boy mentality etc etc.

Well, apparently they LOVE this. Because as soon as I ADMITTED, in my drunken state to one of the guys that "We think it's funny that you're investment bankers."

He came really close to me and said "Why? Because you want to date rich guys?"

"I didn't say I wanted to date one I said I think it's funny. It WOULD be funny if I did date one. But IB are typically kind of douchey." I ALMOST admitted to this blog.

A few minutes later he asked me for my number.

IBs like chicks who call them douchey.

The Rules

2006-04-14T11:45:00.000-04:00

Do you ever feel like there was a seminar to teach people the rules about life and you weren't given an invitation?

I feel that way a lot lately.

Or that I went to a seminar, but not the right one for this world. I've felt that way before in my life but I got over it and realized that whatever I missed in the seminar I could learn as I go. BUT IF EVERYONE IS NOT GOING BY THE SAME RULES THAT I WAS TAUGHT IT'S KIND OF UNFAIR MAN!

Because my rules were much stricter. But believe me, they lead to better things. In my seminar I was taught that when you say something mean it. And follow it BECAUSE you meant. And it works out REALLY well that way! Hoorah! Because if everyone is doing it, they you can trust people! And yourself!Hoorah! Hoorah! And that when things get tangeled and you're given the opportunity to do so, you untangle them! You deal with them. You dont' run away! And that if you're unhappy and you know how to make yourself happy (in a healthy way), you do it. You don't linger in hell. You deserve it- to enjoy the world. Especially in the spring time! And when you fuck up, you admit it and don't do it again. You don't just accept it and suffer. And you allow yourself to be afraid of consequences because there will and should be some- so that you don't screw up again. And when you love someone say it, right then, out loud. Actually I learned that last one from "My Best Friends Wedding," but maybe they played that as an informational at my seminar.

Now I feel like my seminar really mislead me because NO ONE IS GOING BY THESE RULES! They are breaking them left and right with no consequences. However, I'm still a fan of what they taught me and I hope someday everyone gets an e-mail updating us all that we're switching over to the rules "from the seminar Helen Green attended."

I got a bad haircut the other day and I have to live with it now. When we make mistakes that we aren't fixing we should have to have a bad haircut to show for it. I'm suggesting that as an addendum.

I'm an acting Actress! An actress who can act!

2006-04-11T13:58:00.000-04:00

An agent just left me a message on my v-mail as follows:

"Hey Helen, I have an audition for you for a TV Movie. It's not a huge part, but it's a nice scene. You're supposed to be between 17 and 19 years old in the scene. They ARE looking for someone who is good with lines. So.... I think it'd be great for you."

As opposed to his other actor clients who aren't good with lines?

Smells like Helen's Spirit

2006-04-10T13:35:00.000-04:00

I don't sweat a lot.

It's true. It's not like a girl saying she doesn't defocate or something. (Ew. Gross. I can't believe I just wrote that. I'm not one of those girls who talks about poop to confirm she's funny and "just one of the guys." Ew. Annoying. Gross. I am so not.)

I just DON'T sweat a lot! For realsies. I'm sure I could give you a list of people who could confirm it- or at least atest to rarely seeing me sweat.

But sometimes I sweat. And sometimes when I take really hard core yoga classes I sweat. And when I sweat it smells like......

A freshly diapered newborn baby!!!!!

I can't think of any other way to describe it. Maybe like freshly baked, buttered muffins. But NO, more like a freshly diapered newborn baby.

This isn't a lie to make me seem angelic, it's true. It's happened several times.

After I left yoga the other night smelling like a baby, I really hoped to run into someone so that they could smell me and think "she smells FABULOUS after yoga, she must be other-worldly!" But I didn't. Unlucky you.

Katie is a leavin'!

2006-04-05T09:33:00.000-04:00

Sadness. I really like the current Today show dynamic and I, for some reason have always had ill feelings towards CBS. (WTF? What teenage girl has ill feelings towards a network? For some reason I did.

15 yr old Helen: Oh that show's good?
15 yr old Friend: Yeah I really like it- you'd like it
Helen: Cool I'll watch, when and where?
Friend: Channel 2 (NY CBS)
Helen: Oh, don't bother going any further, I don't do CBS)

In high school when I got a column in the local Long Island paper they printed an article and interview about me before it started. My best friend's mother, Judy, thought it was hysterical/ disturbing that when they asked me what I wanted to be when I was older I said "a talking head." She tried to explain to me that that really gave out negative connotations about me being basically just pretty and able to string words together and she knew I wanted more than that. (It didn't help that there was me, 17 years old in a little white tank top, all tan and blonde from the summer with a big teethy smile right next to the quote.) I didn't get what was so negative about being called pretty and able to string words together by my friend's mom, that sounded nice enough.... so...maybe the assumption was appropriate...But NOW I do- NOW I'M SMART ENOUGH, I GET IT NOW JUDY! (I'd still love to BE a talking head, but I'd come up with something way more intelligent sounding to describe it.)

This morning as I was reading an article about Katie's possible replacements, it made me think of this because it referred to Ann Curry as a 'news reader." Ouch. I can't decide whether I'd rather be a 'news reader' or a 'talking head' but at this point I think I'd take either. Got any news reader positions out there people?

Congratulate Me!

2006-04-05T09:17:00.000-04:00

I have been trying for almost a week to succesfully do something and I almost got it last night!!!! Wooo hooo!

Ya know what it was? Self tanning! My last two attempts ended in terrible failure. Here's a tip for all you paler ladies out there looking for some self tanning tips:

1. Well first it's WAY easier to do it if you have a boyfriend, way easier because what would a boy rather do than look at you naked and not be allowed to do more than lather self tanning lotion over you.
2. If you don't have a boyfriend and you're sad about it- DON'T CRY AFTER SELF TANNING!

Don't. Don't cry period. About ANYTHING. Because then you're face gets all streaky and you look like a fool and you'll never have a boyfriend again!

Last Wed. I was all ready, I self tanned, I had no plans of crying and then I got a cry worthy phone call. SELF TANNING: RUINED!

Last Thursday, I had a plan to fix Wednesday's debacle and I had no plans of crying (although I was rather sad) and then about 5 hours after self tanning I decided it was alright if I started crying as the self tanning was probably set, so I scoured the internet for things that would upset me. NOPE- NOT good.

But now I'm about 15 hours from when I self tanned and no tears have ruined my new complexion. I was careful to have happy thoughts last night, not be a masocist and scour the internet for things that would upset me and this morning on the train I skipped it when "It's too late baby," popped up on my shuffled Ipod.

However, I still have not mastered tanning myself without a loving touch's help and now, my palms and the underside of my fingers look like they spent last week topless in Mexico.

Excuse me while I take my laptop, a glass of whitewine, a tissue box and your Sarah McLaughlin CD and sink into my fluffy white bed to cry

2006-04-04T12:15:00.000-04:00

http://www.gawker.com/news/new-york-times/new-times-site-offers-wedding-videos-164991.php

Thing that is dangerous:

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

INSTANT MESSENGER!

It's the most dangerous thing EVER!

Because sometimes you're drunk and sometimes you're ditsy (or at least I am) and you IM the wrong person the wrong thing.

I am not drunk today at work. I swear. I haven't had an alcoholic beverage in ohhhh 13 hours. BUT I am ALWAYS a bit ditsy.(Right Mom and Dad? My parents never cease to remind me of this. NEVER.) The fact is: I don't understand the bizarre inter office IM system.

So now, after an IMing mistake on my part, my friend and temporary office mate is rumored to have a boyfriend who doesn't care about her. This is not true. She doesn't even have a boyfriend- the IM was totally taken out of context. But now the man my IM was delivered to has invited her to lunch to meet his son tomorrow. We are red faced.

I'm suddenly really grateful that we didn't have IM at my last job. I would have made such a mistake and I would have been fired WAY earlier than I was. And it would have NOT been a mistake firing and I would NOT have been rehired due to a communication error. Communication would have been MY error.

Embarrassment is the worst.

Reeg's View

2006-03-29T14:06:00.000-05:00

I used to give my boyfriend daily updates on the state of Regis Philbin's mental downfall. Regis screws up people's names constantly and often simply made no sense at all. I'd watch the chat and bookmark in my head points to prove his increasing Alzheimers driven insanity to share when my bf got home. I hung on every ridiculous word and adored when Kelly looked off, (in a non purposeful way) to the producers and gave them the "I told you yesterday- he's totally got Alzheimers" look. I'm with ya Kelly.

But it seems like Regis Philbin has got it this week! By "got it" I mean the deal. The deal at 'The View.'

On yesterdays titillating episode of "The View" Regis:

1. Alluded to the firing of Lisa Ling and Debbie Matanapolos
2. Alluded to the fact that Joy does and has always been annoyed by Star. (She didn't seem to mind this outing.)
3. Continually went back to these two topics when Barbara Walters would change the subject with the help of (Gawker donned pussy) Elisabeth Hasselbeck.
4. Suggested that maybe Star Jones would be fired to avoid awkwardness.

He got it!

But, this segment also does wonders for my theory about Regis going off the deep end. He was, of course, exposing the dirty laundry of his fellow network-mates.

Never retire Regis. Never retire.

Your a dumie

2006-03-28T15:13:00.000-05:00

Im very gudgemental when it comes to gramer and speling.

Ive gotten many a email that ive rolled my eyes too and discounted people based on there bad gramer and speling. Ive mokked people, ignored they're opinions, called them out on beeing stupid all becuz of emails sent too me that have mispellings and bad word usage.

But than sometimes, I start tyeping and becauz my fingers go faster then my thoughts I make terrible gramer and speling mistakes. And than I reread and only cach sum mistakes becuz my eyes go faster then my reading. Then I get mad at myself wen I find mistakes after the send button has bin presed. I better not be judged for this I think by the reader i think.

I guess that makes me a hypocrit. But only sometimes. And I refuse to stop. I know who to judge. And who is not to be judged. I know! Because I'm smart despite my mistakes. I'm one of the ones whom you ignore the mistakes because of my intense brain power and nowledge. Kind of like how you sometimes ignore socially awkward geniuses social awkwardnes. In this story, I'm the jeanius.

My parents recently found my blog. My mom is not happy. Now sh'es really going to be not happy when she hears that sometimes I make grammer and spelling mistakes in my emails. Not going to be happy. And my dad- my dad does NOT like people when I judge people based on how stupid they are. He does not like that.

I am simply a knightmare.

Why I Shouldn't Marry An Investment Banker

2006-03-08T11:27:00.000-05:00

My office-mate is in Ireland this week and so she has a temp. However, the temp can't really do so much without me taking time out to teach her, which is pointless. So, I'm dealing with making travel arrangements for the person she supports. I totally don't mind- Why? Because he's a really nice, friendly, family type of guy who appreciates when I help out. If you're gonna marry an IB he's the one it seems you should marry. He's always talking about things he did with his wife and never creeps me out- which is monumental around here. We were looking for restaurants where he's traveling and he said he'd email his colleague who lives in the area. This is part email I was forwarded:

" Try [Seafood Restaurant] or [Another Seafood Joint] if you want seafood. You can get a good steak at [Steak Restaurant]. The last 2 places have pretty good bars- the talent should be good."

I highlighted that just in case it wasn't creepy enough. Before I read it he said "Helen, just read about the hotel, don't worry about the talent thing."

Even when it seems like you should marry em......

And so goes the first day of the rest of my life....

2006-03-07T12:48:00.000-05:00

My phone is not working today. Cingular apologizes on it's messge. Do they not realize what this means to me? Who could be calling me? How important today could be in relation to the rest of my life? For Real.

I'll tell them.

1. I auditioned for a commercial yesterday. I did a damn fine job of biting into a cracker and then being SHOCKED at it's exploding new taste. They could need my availability!

2. I have had several agent meetings in the past few months. They could be calling me telling me that they lost my number but they recently found my headshot and thanked the Lord that they had not lost the number for their newest big talent.

3. I am single and looking for love in very specific places.

4. I have resumes out there for jobs. Good jobs, exciting jobs, creative jobs, jobs that don't involve me using terms like "timber acquisitions," like my current job does.

5. I am bored. Well not bored as in nothing to do, bored more like antsy, gotta get out of the office and stop making travel arrangements bored. My friend works down the block. Maybe she's bored too. Maybe we could get some coffee and discuss all the prospects that we are both missing out on because of Cingular.

My phone is working again. No one has called back. None of the agents or casting directors or future employers or coffee mates or love interests. I hope they didn't give up on me. I haven't given up on them. Thanks a lot Cingular.

Hello Green! (aka. I'm so vain, I totally think every song is about me)

2006-03-03T13:26:00.000-05:00

When people see people mostly they say "Hi." But when they say "Hello!" I have a split second of "Hel" where I think someone is calling my name and I do the awkward turn and smile.

I walk down the street and I hear creepy men screaming at me, "Hey Green!" So I turn and look, and smile and say "Hey" back, while wondering where I met such a dirty man. I don't imagine this. I believe that they must know me if they're calling my name.
And they are calling me, but I don't know them. However, I do wear a bright green jacket.

Helllllooo Green. I'm way less popular than I think.

more like ASS Wednesday!

2006-03-01T16:23:00.000-05:00

Ash Wednesday pisses me off.

That's right, I, a girl who is not unfaithful has said that a religious holiday pisses her off.

And I mean it. It's pissed me off since I was little and I knew waking up that it would piss me off today. It made me feel kind of bad and left out when I was a little Protestant girl, but I couldn't pin point why. Now I understand: Ash Wednesday is the biggest holiday for the pious and judgmental Catholic people who both are and aren't religious. People walk around with that shit on their head all day as they're being dicks, probably dickier than usual, (that's the judgmental) then they give us non Catholics dirty looks when we look confused at the sighting of our first pious & judgmental Catholic of the day.

"What was I looking at? I was looking at the huge black mark on your head, I was going to warn you that you look like an asshole, but apparently you're doing it on purpose." People get mad if you don't tell them they have food in their teeth- why would I not tell you you have a giant black mark on your head-- I don't' remember the dates for your silly holidays. "Also, you probably don't pray OR go to Church. But mostly, you don't even do semi- Godly things!"

Like that woman I got into an altercation on the escalator this morning--I bet she is now walking around with ashes. I was pretty nice to her, especially considering what she was doing-- She was standing on the left side of the escalator and not moving during rush hour.

Me: 'scuse me (I said POLITELY! with a little smile even,as the long line of people behind me yelled and grunted at the hold up.)
Her: What?
Me: Can I get through?
(She ignores me and turns forward)
Me: This is the side for walking, (I point at the empty space in front of her) RIGHT (I point to the long line of people) is the side for standing (STILL POLITE I SWEAR! and people behind were yelling "MOVE" and "EXCUUSE ME" over their ipod music.

Her:It's not a rule.

ME: YES it's a rule. (Politely, but emphatically, because I think, it's not a LAW, but it's kind of a rule.

Her: DON'T BOTHER ME

Jesus!

OOPS! I mean Jeez.

Now I bet that woman is walking around with shit on her forehead.

Nelson Mandela hooked it with Ashley Judd!!

2006-02-28T13:31:00.000-05:00

Every morning I walk past this billboard at the Columbus Circle station and EVERY MORNING I think, "That really seems like that means that every single person in this photo has had sex with at LEAST one other person in this photo." I think that that means that Tom Hanks and Liz Taylor did it.

Proof I've been reading Gawker too much

2006-02-28T10:25:00.000-05:00

I correspond via e-mail with a man named Adam in my office. Internally all you do is type the persons name and it's sent.

I typed in Adam Levine.

That's right. Of Maroon 5 fame. The man who hot hot Jessica Simpson possibly had an affair with at Chataeu Marmont.

Adam Levine does not do the expenses in my office. He would not care that my boss bought a blackberry case for 17.06.

My e-mail to him however has yet to bounce back. Adam Levine is hot and I am newly single. I'm a big Maroon 5 fan. Well not BIG but I have their stuff on my ipod. BECAUSE, ironically, I heard them on Newlyweds. Adam (Levine that is) also CLEARLY likes girls on the rebound. Also- anything Jessica Simpson has had is good enough for me.

I totally hope he writes back.

Statement I hope to never say:

2006-02-22T13:47:00.000-05:00

Remind me to pick up some pepper spray, I'm almost out.

Q: Why Shouldn't I Marry an Investment Banker? A.Because I'm the boss's daughter

2006-02-16T10:23:00.000-05:00

This morning in the kitchen at work I was putting together my breakfast (oatmeal, half a cup of coffee and water) when a middle aged woman walked in and we had this interaction:

She smiles at me more than the obligitory, 'I don't recognize you but we work in the same office' smile.

I smile back.

Her: Who's your dad?
Me: Excuse me?
Her: Your dad, you came to work with him? (smiles brightly)
Me: Ohhhhhh.. uh...

I search for some way to tell her but not make it awkward, not before she says:

Her: Ya know I saw the memo about "bring your daughter to work day" but I have 2 sons and I would have brought them. I thought it was in the future though, I didn't realize it was today.
Me: I'm filling in for Megan whose on maternity leave.
Her: So your dad doesn't work here?
Me: I work here.
Her: (factually) But you're too young.
Me: I'm not, I work here.
Her: You are very... you are way too young to work here.

As the conversation continues she never considers the fact that I am not in fact as young as I may look to her. She continues to insist that I shoudn't work here.

I was considering changing my age range when people ask me, as they do at auditions and meetings. I figured I can no longer legitimitly pass for someone in my mid-teens.

Consideration over.

In her defense maybe I shouldn't dress like I jumped out of an American Eagle catalog when I come to work at an investment bank.

I <3 Love

2006-02-13T12:07:00.000-05:00

So, yes, this must be addresssed. It is Valentines Day tommorow. I am single. I haven't not had a Valentine since 1999. So do I hate Valentine's Day like a lot of the single female population? HELL NO!

In fact- I hate Valentine's Day haters. I hate anti- Valentines Day parties and anti-Valentine's Day chatter. And guess what's good about being single? I can vocalize my feelings about my hatred for anti-Valentine's Day sentiment. Before it would have seemed obnoxious to hate V-Day haters. Like I didn't know their pain. Well now I know the pain and I still hate the hatred. You think Valentine's day is cheesy? Well LOOK at yourself-- Valentine's Day hatred is WAY cheesier!

I'm not so into the expensive jewelry, high expectation Valentine's day. But, Valentine's Day is a great excuse to go out with the one you love, see a movie, hold hands, kiss in public, order in Thai food, kiss in private, get Vynl's brownie sundae with pistacchio brittle, buy your fave person a gift, get a little gift from said fave person and put off projects you are working on for the day without feeling guilty.

Am I jealous of those couples who will have the excuse to hold hands and kiss in public?
Absolutely.

Will I be jealous of my friends who are in loving relationships and get to express themselves to each other on this wonderful day of love?
Yes sir.

Did I get a little misty eyed watching last weeks Valentines Day episode of the OC? Especially the Seth and Summer scenes?
Maybe I did.

Am I sad that my ended subscription to US Weekly that I recieved last V-Day will be a reminder that my subscription to a loving boyfriend has apparently ran out as well?
Well yes, but my roomate brings US Mag home from work so that's only half a bummer.

But I will not scoff at the couple kissing on the street. In fact I will give them a knowing smile, as I do every morning as I wait at my UWS train station, which seems to be home base for young couples, one of whom usually wears a seemingly brand new (and usually humongous) diamond as they give each other good bye kisses and last minute morning primping before boarding the 1 train.

However, I am not bitter. (And that is not sarcastic). I am jealous, but I am not bitter. And I do not hate Valentines day, but I hate not being with a boy I love on the day of love only a bit more than every day before and after.

You can pity me people- go for it! But don't be a hater! The only reason to hate V-Day is if you hate love, in which case take tommorow to love yourself and go see a good therapist. Me? I have to work at the yoga studio till 10, but I think I see some takeout sushi in my future. Also, the yoga studio is right over Vynl, so that brownie sundae may be in my future as well.

It's amazing this isn't written by me, no?

2006-02-13T10:42:00.000-05:00

there-are-worse-things-you-could-do-than-perform-a-play-or-two

I am SO last Friday Night

2006-02-10T12:18:00.000-05:00

Last night I was walking down 53rd Street, past the side door of Letterman around that time before the guest comes-- when there are fans and paparazzi all around. I considered crossing the street to avoid it, but that would have been out of my way and I wasn't gonna let these people get me... AGAIN.

Because last Friday night, I was attacked by either paparazzi or a paparazzi wanna be. This paparazzi, if he was one, was a bad one because I didn't realize I was a celebrity. Neither did the others on the relatively packed 1/9 train who clamored and whispered and pointed to me as this really normal looking man beelined towards me up and down the train, jumped in my face and tried to take pictures of me at all angles. (Including at one point through the window of the train.)

But in front of Letterman, no one even recognized me. And as scary as last Friday night was, I was sort of disappointed. That means I'm over. Done. My fifteen minutes are up. So I'm thinking it's not me that's actually famous. No one decided they'd make good money with a picture of the girl from the abstinence film, "I Should Have Waited."

So who did this guy think I was?....... I'm thinkin'....

Any other ideas?

Starting to Use

2006-01-30T14:36:00.000-05:00

Growing up I was heavily warned and brainwashed against vending machines. My mother really expressed such disgust for those who used vending machines that I always had the impression that vending machines were part of some elaborate money making scheme for assholes who were too stupid to realize. These were probably, I thought, the same assholes who went to the ice cream man, who's scheme was also money making but also to rot young children's teeth. That's why my cousin Brandon had cavities- his grandmother on the other side of the family once bought him a popsicle shaped as a man's face from the ice cream man.

I remember in high school after lunch, or at musical rehersal after school, being hungry, but going to the vending machine was never even an option- I wouldn't do it. I dont' know if anyone ever suggested it, but I'm sure I would have made some excuse. So if I was hungry I would call my mom and she woudl bring me more food. From home. And this was way better than spending 80 cents on a bag of pretzels to her, and thus, to me. Let me say now that my mom didn't convince me of much in my young life, but this, she got me with.

Bring your daughter to work day however, offered me a startling revelation. My dad used vending machines. Yeah- I know. You think you know someone. He didn't even hide if from me. When he accidently said "fuck" at work, he tried to sluff over if, but the vending machine- he just did it in front of me. First a cup of coffee from one and then some pretzels from the other. "If mommy only knew," I thought, "we have pretzels at home, you could have JUST BROUGHT THEM FROM HOME. There's a Dunkin Donuts down the street DAD- I'm SURE you're bosses woudl be cool with you taking a 15 min break, you didn't need to resort to the vending machines!"

But he did. And as I had a minor nervous break down in front of the machines I wondered, what would I do when my mom asked me about the day. I would be able to keep the f-word incident under wraps, but this.....I just didn't know. But I had to. It would break her heart. He was one of them. One of those dumb vending machine using assholes. This was probably why my mom had to clip coupons- my dad was squanding $1.45 a day on coffee and pretzels.

My fears of vending machines have since died down, although I must say I do feel pangs of guilt when using them.

I have been lately though.

Using them.

At work. I made a comment the other day in front of my mom at the store that some cookies that she was buying me I'd "keep at my desk, in case I got hungry and wanted a snack." She'd never know that last week I bought Famous Amos mini chocolate chip cookies for 80 cents from the vending machine. I was covering it up by showing her that I was preparing for hunger pangs in the future. She'd never suspect about the past.

Funny thing though, after I bought those cookies my change came back after I put a dollar in. Fifty cents! I guess there must have already been some change in the coin holder.

This morning I did it again.

Used.

When I walked up to it I felt guilty- especially because I wanted peanut M & M's and they were 2.00 in the machine. Which is WAY over priced. I stared to think my mom was right, but I did it anyway, settling on Oatmeal Raisin cookies. 80 cents. I put in exact change.

And 35 cents came back! WHAT!?!?

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Cuz I'm thinking my mom and I have been the fools for all these years and I don't understand why my dad didnt' let us in on it.

It's My Half Birthday

2006-01-26T14:36:00.000-05:00

And I'd like this shirt

And this cookbook

A gift certificate here

And this sweater

And this electronic device

And go to this restaurant

And go on this vacation

And this ring

And this role

And this girl's job

But I especially would like that shirt.