Monday, February 27, 2006

Happy Anniversary!

Any of you out there who actually read this? Probably not, but I wanted to celebrate my blog's one year anniversary by reminiscing about some things (including the good, the bad, and the just plain ol' ugly) that have happened since March 1, 2005 a la Helen Fielding.

March 2005

Spent my spring break interning here in Manhattan. Was a little annoyed I couldn't just party all week, I did score some cool stuff at the beauty giveaway (that means stuff to make me pretty for free, always a plus!)

Met a cute doctor. Spoke to him once on the phone to no avail. Kind like a reaaly hot dork. He worked 60 hours a week. I always wondered what happened to him.

Was home by midnight on St. Patrick's day. Was pissed (both drunk and angry).

April 2005

My sister's wedding shower. It was lovely. I wished it was me getting married. Now I just kind of wish I could go to a wedding as a guest...just once.

Did some crazy blitz reporting for a school assignment. Hung around chenthusiatic artistic drama children for a whole weekend. Led me to be dilligent in remembering my birth control.

Partied at Mercury Bar on a rediculously warm day for April. Ended up reconnecting with an old flame by accident.

May 2005

Finished semester 2 of grad school and my internship. Spent the month of May doing pretty much nothing. Like really, nothing. It was fantastic.

Fleet Week: the only relatively decent sailor I saw was Canadian. And he was making out with an ugly girl. And I had just enough beers to tell him so.

June 2005

Spent the entire much in preparation for the London trip. Arrived at Heathrow with 2 huge suitcases and a duffle. I don't know how to use a luggage cart and the airport wasn't air conditioned. Needless to say, when I arrived at my destination (which would not have happened without the help of some really nice British strangers) I did not look my best for the cute guy with dreds who showed me to my room.

July 2005

Probably the most eventful month of my year. Lived through the terrorist attcks on London, although both were quite nearby. Leanred to drink Strongbow like a champ again. Made out with a younger man. Made out with an older man. Made out with an ugly man. Learned to sleep without air conditioning. Partied with old friends and partied with new. Learned to let go, even if it was just a ittle, of my my past. Learned when to quit even if you don't want to. Learned that it is ALWAYS necessary to pee afterwards.

August 2005

Came home to run on interviews for internships. Was offered a job but then it was rescinded while I waited to hear back from somewhere else. Had to apply for more internships. Finally landed one that gave me the opportunity to write!

My sister got married. Awesome party and beautiful celebration. The next day, (which reached 103 degrees with like 100 percent humidity) was officially asked to be maid of honor in my best friend's wedding. Partied away the rest of the month preparing for the final semester of grad school.

Lerned that there is no equivalent to TopShop in the US of A.

September 2005

Met Mr. Brightside a week after I started school. Really liked him at first. Played normal dating rituals out by week 2.

Started at the internship and slowly realized it was going to be an easy semester.

October 2005

Had a dreadful birthday party. Got a phone call that took me by surprise and made my year. Cut Mr. Brightside loose by refusing to return his calls. Felt sad about it but declared it his fault for being lazy in several arenas.

Attended best Halloween party ever in an overtly slutty costume. Relished every minute of every guy staring at my boobs (which looks great in gold).

November 2005

Very Uneventful. EXCEPT for the fact that I met the cutest guy I could hold a conversation with since the doctor. I totally thought something was there but I wasn't sure if he was just being nice because he's a nice guy. Found out he lived in Manhattan. Then had to leave conversation for uncontrollable circumstances. Haven't seen him since....would LOVE to see him again.

December 2005

Finished Grad school! After 1. 5 years of hard and really annoying work, I finished my last semester with a 3.8 and tons of published articles. Finally felt like I was really going somewhere. Contacted editor I was previosuly put in touch with who then forwarded my resume to a colleague who then gave me the scariest interview of my life and then hired me, just a few days after I finished classes.

Celebrated the Holidays with my family and had a terrible New Years Eve but was loving life because I was officially employed.

January 2006

Got into my groove at work and met a lot fo really great people. Enjoyed Martin Luther King Day shopping downtown. Went to the opening of a bar and then Back to balltimore the next weekend for my college reunion (see post on this). Nothing too exciting happened, which makes sense since I worked my butt off.

February 2006

REALLY FUN MONTH! Ran into Mr. Brightside to a really frustrating outcome. He acted like a child in response to my childish blowoff but he was really pushing it. Almost lost my cool but pretended to flirt with someone to make him jealous. It worked. Victory went to me. I won the bar.

College friends came to visit. Met the 21-year-old McSteamy. He became my toy. Too bad he lied and had told me was 24. Made myself official Mrs. Robinson and all the spoils that go with it, including relentless teasing by anyone who heard the story.

Also had a fab party attended by mostly everyone who really matters to me. A few friends couldn't make it but after my early evening soiree, I headed out and ran into college friends. Made the night that much better.

March 2006

Ahh, only a few days in and not much to report, but hey, the weekend is just starting. Stay tuned for another year with me and my crazy antics and crazy friends. You never know where I'll end up or who I'll end up with (hint hint I do like to stalk famous people, Watch out T.R. Knight).

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Ice isn't like snow. Ice turns into silver when you piss all over it. Posted by Picasa

Sasha Cohen and the Story of my life

Sasha Cohen, choke artist extraordinaire. She and Bode Miller should have babies. They could name their kid Letdown and send him to the Olympics.

It’s not that Sasha was awful, she obviously pulled something through her sore groin but really, what happened to the glory days of the U.S. of A. when we would go and stomp the world’s ass at the Olympics? Gone are the days of the Yamaguchi’s (who I admit, fell in competition) and the Boitano’s. The mid-nineties brought us the semi-great Wylie’s and Kerrigan’s. The Kwan gave us hope and then a wide grinning, gape mouthed 15 year-old attention whore named Lipinski grabbed it away. The Kwan gave us more hope with her unprecedented World and National Titles, only to be ripped away by another wide-grinning, gape-mouthed teen with a Liza Minnelli/Dorothy Hamill haircut and a Russian with vascular disease.

I was a full supporter of the Kwan going into Torino '06 and I will be no matter where her ice skates take her. (VANCOUVER 2010…VIVA LA KWAN) but I decided to swing my support to Sasha, if only because she needs an ear operation and a new stylist.

I believed she would rock it out, land her jumps, and not pull another choke. I was disappointed again (your 1st 2 jumps? Really Sash?). I full on screamed YOU BLEW IT! In Billy Madison mode (side note: Why does Scott Hamilton have an orgasm every time someone goes into a jump and falls, I think he secretly loves it, or he just poops his pants. Either way, Dick Buttons must scoot over every time he does that) as she crashed her skinny ass on the ice. But hey, here’s a little 925 for trying. You were close, but no where near a cigar.

Arakawa deserved her gold. Even if she is a Yuka Sato and Midori Ito wannabe.

With Sasha’s falls on to cool hard reality I found a piece of my own (without a toe pick no less). Life is full of disappointments. It’s hard to live up to your own hype (ask Bode Miller as his new ad Bode on Losing should be filmed right about now).

Like the time I swore I could still do a heel stretch 5 years after leaving cheerleading. I almost came down with the Kwan/Cohen groin injury in the attempt. Or the time I swore to myself a guy was into me. He tried to get me to set him up with my friend. Or the time I picked up a glass of water and it turned out to be Sprite. Or the time I drank a beer that had been turned into an ashtray. Or the time I lost the thong contest….need I go on?

But here’s the rub. In the wake of the Brad/Jennifer breakup, the Mets almost 20 year slump and the sad performance of Sasha and Johnny Weir, I’ve learned we cannot accept other’s failures as our own. No matter how bad I am feeling right now, Sasha probably feels worse, and the Kwan is probably feeling even worse than here considering her skating career is over and she has to learn how to have a life now.

I didn’t fall and crush the hearts of little girls everywhere. I didn’t leave my wife for a big-lipped reformed lesbian. I haven’t sucked at a game for an entire 20 years. But sometimes, it feels like it. I think it’s more out of jealousy than anything. Because no matter how bad the failure is for them, it’s probably better than any high I will ever have. The world will never know my name. The world will never watch me on TV. The world will never care if I hurt my groin. No one will ever care if I get divorced (or married at this rate). No one will watch me try to climb back to glory praying for another Bill Buckner moment. And that’s disappointing. Just like Sasha Cohen.

Image hosting by Photobucket

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Life and Love Lessons Learned from Grey's

After an extra long weekend that included extra debauchery, I had an epiphany while emptying a floater beer can into my sink (I have no idea whose it was, or for how many days it had been on my window sill, but that's neither here nor there).

I have decided that most (I refuse to say all because I'm a journalist and I have to cover my ass somehow) heterosexual (I only say this as I have no dating and or romantic experience with gay men) men (minus just the blatant assholes or as I refer to them now as a Karev, they are summed up in that one word alone) can be categorized into three basic categories and that Grey's Anatomy has officially introduced us to them all (and has also brought some fab new descriptions into the lexicon).

I will start with the McSteamy, not because he's my least favorite or the least attractive by any means but because he is the most vague. He is an enigma and a paradox and any other word that sounds vague and magical. In fact, he's the most attractive type of man (sans professional models and most major actors since I regard them as super-people and not part of the human race). He's the guy who walks past you on the street and you just have to stare. He's the guy that asks to bum a cigarette and you hand it over without saying a word, because in all honesty, you have no idea what to say to that kind of hotness. Or you say something really witty but wonder if it sounded completely dorky because people that hot don't need wit to get by.

He's the guy you would hook up with in a second, just because he's hot, but would make you so self-conscious the whole time you were together. He's to his friends especially when he wants something, but if they stand in the way of what he wants he'll betray them in a heartbeat. Sex and women come first. He's as charming as all hell, and will say almost anything to break any resistance you might have to his charms. At times he can seem sleazy, but he can flash a smile to make up for it. Every relatively attractive girl is the right girl.

He is vain. Appearances are more important than honesty. He would sleep with your sister. He'll cheat but he'll be really sorry about it. He’s always up for a one-night stand. You can never really KNOW him.

I met a McSteamy this weekend. He told me he was getting his Master’s and I think I remember him saying he was my age. Some myspace investigation revealed that he is 21. I was McSteamed.

Famous McSteamies:

Don Juan
Mr. Big (pre-S&TC finale)
Vince Vaughn
Hugh Grant in half of his movies

Onto the McDreamy, which is quite similar to the McSteamy with varying degrees of hotness. The major difference, McDreamies actually fall in love. They have honor and try to be good, but their undeniable sex appeal and sweetness attract way too many women for them to turn away. They are the kind of man that you think you would be lucky to marry. They’re smart. They look good holding babies and walking dogs. They look good wearing just about anything. They want to be the best they can for you but inevitably they have to fall short.

He’s the man you would tell your mom you met. He’s the man you would tell your co-workers you met. He could devastate you if he pulled a McSteamy. He has soulful eyes. He needs to be with the right girl but usually never is. Being with him makes you want to be better. He gets jealous. He is the one-night stand that calls you.

He would be perfect if he didn’t seem so conflicted all of time. He is most likely to have an identity crisis. You will only really KNOW him if you are the one.

I still have a crush on my own personal McSteamy. To me he will probably always be perfect except for the fact that he chose the wrong girl.

Famous McDreamies:
Dylan McKay
Lucas Scott
Charlie Todd
Hugh Grant in the other half of his movies

And then there is my personal favorite the George, which you can call whatever you want, The Baxter, The Jim, The Ted, The Mouth (you can really name him by inserting the name of the “nice” guy on your favorite TV, my favorite of these happens to be George. Georges aren’t ugly, they are just, well, average. Not to be confused with the absolute rejects on that reality show (which would have been more appropriately titles, “Ugly Joes”).

Georges are your friends. They are the guys you always hang out with, your boys. They are the ones you make plans to hang out with, not to date. They are the ones you try to set up your friends with (and here is where things get tricky because one girl’s George can be another’s McDreamy and in the rare case, vice versa). They are the ones you might get a fleeting crush on in between McSteamies and McDreamies. They are the ones to deserve to get the girl but a lot of times they won’t. They are the one’s you should marry.

They fall in love hard and fast. They promise not to hurt you and it’s true. They make you comfortable. Georges make you love yourself for who you are, not what you think a McDreamy wants. You would never feel fat around a George. Georges tend to get more self-conscious around you. George is smart like McDreamy, but he’s also funny and he laughs at your jokes.

Georges hesitate. They have horrific timing. They tend to have their hearts broken. They are intimidated easily, but in rare moments of grandeur, they show the inner McDreaminess, and can become the perfect man. Everyone KNOWS who a George is, no secrets here.

Famous Georges:
All of the aforementioned
Lloyd Dobler
Dawson Leary

Honestly, I’m looking for my George today. I had one at some point but like I said, Georges have horrific timing. It always makes me wonder what could have been.

In writing all of this I am well aware that there are spin-offs if you will of each type. Like I already said we have the Karev (who may turn into the reformed asshole), the Burke (who is pretty much a George shining through his inner McDreaminess) and lest we forget the Chief (who seems to at one point been a Karev, but they are variations within themselves of the three major types. Who thought you could learn this much from prime time TV, on ABC no less?

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Mr. Brightside

So if any of you actually DO read my blog regularly (and thanks if you do, much appreciated for anyone who reads), you will know that last weekend I cam down with a caseof the ex-er-well nonboyfriend. So, as much as I ignored him and openly flirted with a gay companion to make him jealous (which probably did since he has NO gaydar) apprently I am officially a succubus.

He called. Again. After seeing me and not saying hi he called. And he wasn't drunk. He wasn't at a bar, he wasn't slurring. Some how the idea that he should call me popped up in his stone cold sober mind. Honestly, not meaning to offend anyone here, but is he retarded or something? Like, I don't like you. I never really did when you think about it, I liked your best friend, and I stopped accepting your phone calls in OCTOBER. I am so temtped to tell him to forget he ever met me, but I don't want to be harsh. Thank God he moved out of my neighborhood. I wonder what might have happened if he still lived aropund the corner. (Pause as I internally shiver and feel my bones get cold.)

Oh so the best part...the message. Saying hi and that he's been out of town like in case I needed to reach him or something. (Which I'll admit, made me wonder if I had at some point called him drunk when I got home, but then a flash of the roommate telling me not to flips into my head) Is he saying he's been out of town so i think I saw his evil twin last weekend? And does anyone not take their phone with them out of town? Told you, this kid's a genious.

So he's really annoying. IF he calls again I just might answer, and yell. But I would rather ignore, just in case I ever want to go back to that bar again.

I know what you did last weekend

This weekend was so WEIRD!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friday, I get in to modd to go out, I'm exhausted, no nap, but I'm amped after watched the results of Dancing With the Stars...screw you Tia. So I drink a bottle of Chardonnay by myself. What I can say? It was good wine! I start feeling a little tipsy and sexy because I am totally wearing s shirt that didn't quite fit when I bought it and I know it's an attention grabbing shirt in a flirty not completely slutty way.

I finally get the call to leave the house and I rock out on my iPod for 7 blocks and sit down to a a table with pitchers of beer. Cheap beer. Awesome. After a lot of catch up and girl talk and beer I'm feeling phenomenal. Like probably how Vince Vaughn feels everyday. And then I spot someone I prayed I wouldn't see.

So what if he hung out at the bar all the time, so what if that is where we met and hung out all the time. He wasn't my boyfrined, it wasn't a divorce, i shouldn't have to feel like I can't go there. I was the one who ended it, in the fashion of a timid high schooler yes, but I ended it, so why are his friends staring and looking and talking? Because he's as immature as I am, because I won't talk to him (which I would have if he would have done something when we were together). Because I have to take cover when heading to the ladies or going to smoke outside. Because as he gets in a cab at 2:30 and stares at me, just letting me know what he thinks about the girl with the flirty fitted shirt. I should have given him the finger to let him know what I think about his attitude. And then you have obnoxious peole syaing things like "Well he wasn't THAT cute." WTF does that mean. Is it supposeed to make me feel good that you think I dated an unnattractive guy? Well take a look in the mirror because you haven't been bringing any prizes.

DAMN! And now I'm left wondering if I made a mistake, because he didn't do anything to hurt me (and he never would) and he was a nice guy. But that was just it . He wouldn't do anything. And that was fine but then I realized that that was who he was. A guy who did nothing. But not in a cute Office Space way. In like a scary "do you have future?" way. People just make me mad. I didn't like you that much, so deal.

I didn't even want to stay at that place once he came in. But I shoudn't have too. SO we played a game of Survivor and I out played, outwitted and outlasted his ass. Seriously, don't play games with me because I hate to lose.

So after the debacle of the evening and an unfortunate closing of a placl establishment that led to darts not being played, I went home and to bed. Which was good, because nothing can get rid of a bad night like some sleep.

On Saturday I was so fed up with, people, my dirty apartment, my life, I headed home to my mom. (yea I know, I'm a big baby). Lucky for me I came home for a reallys pecial occasion. My sister got engaged to a great guy who I welcome with open arms into my family. He really is the best thing that has ever happened to her and I've never seen her this happy! I'm so excited to be involved in her big day! No date yet, they are going to enjoy for a little while and go on vacay (which I wish I could go on!).

Sunday, I came back to the dirty apartment with intentions of cleaning, but since I am not a maid, I wanted to wait for the roomies to come home. Then I fell alseep having crazy dreams about donuts, root beer floats and being sick with a 103 degree fever. Weird. Then watched commercial for 4 hours and Grey's Anatomy which is by far my favorite show on TV.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Recap City

So last weekend I went back to the good ol days of college by taking a hike back down to Baltimore for tha annual Bull And Oyster Roast.

As I fled from work on Friday to catch the 5:39 Amtrak from Penn I started getting really excited to see my friends (who I haven't seen for the better part of a year). Of course, that led to my train being delayed.

When I finally arrived I got psyched got dressed and the gals and I headed to Mother's for a night that was really fun but uneventful. The only thing that stands out my mind was me bitching out some ugly guy for yelling at me and Kar for dancing to Kelly Clarkson. Suck on this Idol hater.

Saturday was a fun-filled day of jewelry shopping and on-campus drive-bys (which is soooooooooooo depressing when you realize you haven't gone to the school for 3 years). We went to Strapazza for dinner which was phenomenal, even if I did have to limit my garlic bread intake.

We decided to skip the actual on-campus event because, well, everyone else did. Enter: Margaritas and vodka. Seriously, I have issues mixing. I had beers, a Margarita and kept switching up my vodkas. I was doomed. Which is why I'm not surprised that I have a big bruise on my left butt cheek, a cut on my knee, and still can't straighten my foot all the way. Oh, and I have a boot missing a heel. Like a full heel. And I don't have it. Boots I just got fixed. Boots that now have to be thrown out.

All of those signs point to: I probably had the best night of my life, but I will never remember it. Just my luck!

I have some suggestions for a new title for this Loyola Alum weekend, Bull and Oyster Roast just doeasn't do it justice.

"Look at How fat she Got" Roast
"He still really looks good" Roast
"I can't believe I ever hooked up with him" Roast
"I still really like him" Roast
"Let's act like we're 18 again" Roast

And my favorite:

"Don't pretend you were ever my friend" Roast

So vodka and I are legally seperated but I still wear my ring, so don't worry, there' s still a chance we could reconcile. It just won't be this weekend. I have a date with beer.

Until next year B'more. Here's staying crabby for ya.