Yea, yea. I know.

It's been forever since I posted. Sorry kiddos, been busy and journeyed off to Costa Rica with a friend for a week. It was interesting to say the least.

I figured my July 4th was a little more interesting and in light of Michael Jackson's demise, I will share this moment of Jonesy goodness with you.

So I went to a party at my friend LB's apartment. She lives in a SICK apartment with tons of space and a roof deck for fireworks viewing. Anywho, I decided that it would be smart to drink an entire bottle (ok, I admit, it was in a box) of sangria before 10 pm. Whoops.

So the party was fun and it got all fuzzy and stuff and my signature 4-drink slur came out, which is again, whoops.

I journeyed home and happened upon my new neighbors who moved in down the hall. They are lovely gay men who invited me and the roomies to a housewarming (which I didn't attend). They must have threatened me with a good time, because the next thing you know, I was partying down at Therapy, which is probably the most fun gay bar ever.

And besides, don't threaten me with a good time because I'll go crazy on you like that chick from Rock of Love.

And did I. Yes I did. Oh how I danced. As if angels were shooting from my jazz hands and my feet were made of jumping beans, I boogied my way around the dance floor to lord only knows what. Okay fine, I was skip jumping to "Ease on Down the Road" as if I were Diana Ross and a young, alive Michael Jackson rolled into one twenty-something wasted off sangria white chick.

Now, I left with the neighbors and came home, and they went back out (I did not). Although I did drink more wine from a box.

And that my friends, is how I celebrated the birth of our nation. God Bless the U.S.A.

Errr...

You know you've had an intersting night out when you get a text like this:

Hey, its avi the israely guy that talk to you last night. How you doing today?

And no the typos aren't mine.

"Pack your bags we leave tonight!"

There are four things I will always remember about 2003.

1. I graduated college.
2. I went toVegas for the 1st time.
3. The blackout in NYC.
4. Paradise Hotel on Fox.

For those of you who don't know about the hotel, this should give you a good idea. The theme song was even like crack. "Two tickets to paradisseeeeeeeeeee, pack your bags we leave toniiight!" (yes I know that's a real song). Anywho, it was on lke 2-3 times a week, kind of like Big Brother so the season flew by.

So anyway, at the end of the season, the announcer comes on and says something like: "STay tuned for the next season of Paradise Hotel...you never know what will happen..."

And I waited. I figured like Temptation Island (awesome!) and Joe Millionaire (slurp sounds!), Fox would jump on the chance to make another edition of this quasi-hit.

And I waited. And waited some more. I reminisced about scary man-lady Toni, Zack and Amy's relationship and how hot Beau was. I bitched about the end result. And then I gave up.

I nearly peed myself when I found out that this reality gem would finally bring us a sequel...4.5 years later and on the bootleg channel, my9.

So far, things have been pretty standard, sex, booze, annoying peopleand reality all-stars (RYAN!). Then I watched last night's epi. They hinted they were bringing in a former contestant, I figured it was one of the folks they booted this season. Then the big reveal...IT WAS ZACK! FROM SEASON ONE! THE GUY WHO GOT AN EARLY BOOT BECAUSE HE WAS A JACKASS AND THEN GOT BOOTED AGAIN FOR MAKING THREATS OF VIOLENCE!

And he looked well, um, er, haggard? I remind you that this is years in the making. The new kids are all young, jacked and tan. Zack has crows feet at the age of 28 he is obvi the oldest one there. And while he seems to have bonded with Mikey over the fact that he lost Tonya the same way he was once kicked off, he seems to be siding with the Newbies, including super-tits Stefanie. Gross.

Zack, don't let me down!!!! I want an OG to win this time! Also, next week it looks like the shizz is going down! And dear my9, please put this show on more than once a week. We have at least two-three months left, please don't drag it out and make me listen to Amanda's fake accent anymore or Myrna's PAINFUL voice.

Ugh, this show is great. Watch it. It's TV at it's absoute worst, yes worse than the Hill. But it's fantastic.

Idol Giveth and Idol Taketh Away

First Perry and his cunty girlfriend now Michael Johns. From now on I'm rooting for shitty people on reality shows since they seem to be the ones who win. I want effing recounts considereing I couldn't even get through to vote for Michael. Idol Gives Back? ERRONEOUS!

If he doesn't win I'm moving to Canada.

I'm not talking about a political candidate. I'm talking about hotty hot hotterson, Perry, on Bravo's Make Me a Supermodel.

How psyched am I to see el senor en FUEGO reunite with his slutastic (ex?) girlfriend (who probably still smell of Adnan juice)? It's like reality TV Christmas (think the finale of Joe Millionaire Season 1 mixed with the bizarre pleasure of watching Toni on Paradise Hotel Season 1 and a splash of a Flavor of Love naming ceremony).


If either member of Bronnie wins I will pack my knives and go. Srsly.

Denise Fleming is a Tampon (and other things that have made women crazy).

Okay, I've just about had it with men calling women crazy. I will be the first to admit. Yes. We bitches be crazy. But the reason why? Dudes. Men. Guys. Boys. Anything with a peen.

Would Carrie have flipped off the deep end if that guy hadn't faked being her date at the prom? No.

Would Denise Fleming have become a freaky loner if it weren't for Kenny Fisher bad-mouthing her?

Would Whitney have become a crack whre without Bobby? (Kiss My Ass!)

Would Britney have gone bonkers if it weren't for the loss of K-Fed (okay, sort of debatable since she's kind of clinical).

You get the idea.

I am going to use myself as a prime example. I am normal. Seriously, as normal as they come. I'm kind of known for it. Sure, I stress and have insecurities an whatever but I think pretty rationally and have been known for my normalcy. I'm actually pretty fun to be around most of the time (especially when there is booze-yay!).

Then something happens. Add a guy into the mix, nay, and asshole guy into the mix. All of a sudden my clothes start ripping and a giant green monster named Lou Ferigno takes over and I become The Incredible Bitch.

The Incredible Bitch's triggers include but are not limited to:
1. Insult
2. Neglect
3. Lack of orgasms
4. Blatant disregard for feelings/apathy
5. Mind fucking


Her talents include:
1. Introducing herself to every skeleton in your closet
2. Anger fucking
3. Facebook stalking

Also a factor: birth control. Mix that with a douchebag being douchey and The Incredible Bitch will CUT YOU!

Luckily, I have been able to supress this inner entity for quite some time (with some minor facebook stalking offenses) since, sadly I have been without any jerk stores in my life (yay!).
The monster is lying dormant right now, and with the spring coming, my search for a new crush in full force, and assholes aplenty in Manhattan, I fear for this fair city.

So boys, let this be a warning. You are the reason we get the crazies from time to time. Stop. Being. Such. Dicks.

Ho-tel, Mo-tel, Holiday Inn....

Hotel living suits me. As I write this, I just showered with expensive toiletries at hand (Crabtree & Evelyn), my clothes are hung up and ironed in my closet, I'm drnking a cup of fershly brewed tea and getting ready to go to bed at 10:30 pm.

Looks like Chicago has aged me into my forties and it agrees with me, I look fab.

On the other hand, I almost slipped when I got into the shower and I realized that if I fell and died, no one would find me until Tuesday when I'm supposed to check out. Whoever found me would see all of my naked lady parts. Even in death I'm still modest.

So I got out and rested my cell phone on the floor next to the tub just in case.

Being single sometimes blows. But at least I smell like delicious Crabtree & Evelyn products (although I've never seen anyone under the age of 40 shop there...shit!).

More on my Chi-town trip when I return. And no, I did not get to hang with the former crush and put an end to my lust. Figure I wouldn't keep leading you on there. Unlike some people I know.

Is that an 8-ball in your pocket, no, it's your peen.

On the subway with Q on Tuesday. Packed rush hour train. I only had her to hold on to and some man leaning on me. I felt something poking my butt/thigh repeatedly. Then I realized the train wasn't moving.

I still feel filthy.

UR SECRETZ. I KNOWS DEM.

I know someone who has something in common with Eliot Spitzer. Ass.

Something a little cheery after that last post...

This ALWAYS makes me chuckle:

http://www.xsunderground.com/thechilde/

But this is totally the type of guy I was referring to in the previous post.

The Guythagorean Theorem

In an email conversation with DMBMeg, we wondered why it's always the lame guys that like us the most. Sure someone awesome will want to diddle me every so often, but it's always the lamest, weeniest possible people who want to date me. The kind of guy that wears his heart on his sleeve and tells you what an "amazing person" you are. The kind of guy that cuddles. The kind of guy that wants you to take the lead in the bedroom ALL THE TIME. The kind that isn't really funny, doesn't have much personality...kind of like the Whitney Port of guys. In a sense, a big weenie.

I am totally his type.

I have a theory that when it comes to strong and independent minded women, manly men just stay away. It's like we are a threat to their machismo. Sure they can think we are hot and want to bone us but the second we assert ourselves and say what we want we get put on the shelf.

It's like Type-A doesn't mesh with another Type-A's. You hear about power couples and I think it's bull. It's either people in a relationship of convenience (Hillary and Bill) OR some sort of weird balancing act that only exists in a perfect world.

The math works out like this:

Type A + Type B = Power wife and Mr. Mom

Type A + Type A = devizzzle


Maybe it's because I say no and I argue and always think I'm right. Maybe it's because I'm so used to answering only to myself that I give off this "I am not one to be fucked with"-vibe. Maybe I just seem scary because I refuse to be something I'm not.

Or maybe it's all my problem. Maybe I am bound to end up with a lame-ass girly-man who lets me run the show and never challenges me. God I hope not. I thrive on the challenge and I want to be led. I want someone to prove me wrong and show me that they can be the boss of me. I want someone to take control and show me how it's done rather than the other way around. I want a teacher and a leader and someone who wants me to be the same. I want the one I'm not supposed to, the one that let me down (just under different circumstances). I wish I could go back in time and change some things and find a way to make it happen rather than giving up. I wish I had never had found out what he did but I would be delusional if I wasn't somewhat relieved that I have.

Since none of that is possible, I'm left to figure out where I'm going and what the hell I'm taking from all of this. I'm a getting stronger? Am I learning more about myself? Because lately I just feel lost, like I've been on the shelf for a while and if someone doesn't notice me soon I might expire. Life is happening all around me but it's not happening to me. Essentially, except for my job and number of sexual partners, I am in the same place I was four years ago. Sitting here, on the laptop, staying strong and still chasing the boys away, one weenie at a time.

Or maybe I just need to learn how to be the neck and learn how to keep control without letting a guy know I have it. Maybe I need to compromise and ease up. (I can think of three people who will scream: DUH! to this.)

So am I destined to marry someone who will be my bitch for the rest of my life or will someday, someone find my sense of self and opinions exhilarating and fun? Or am I just a hot mess who is confused with how the world works? Or someone who is obviously overlooking the right guy for her (this I don't think is true)? Or, gulp, am I just someone who was meant to be alone and live a more solitary life? Only time can answer those questions for me, but if this theorem works out...the girly-men of NYC better watch out.

A-men.

Tiny dancer will burn in hell. This is taken from her 'hot priest" calendar. What's with the bottle of jaeger? And the cig? Amen to both!

In case you didn't know...

I'm attempting this thing called "dating." Apparently people go out in public and get to know each other before going home and sexing. Sometimes you get free drinks and dinner! And you don't get shitfaced and forget what happened! WHO KNEW?



Yet another sign of the apocolypse. Start repenting people....

Question...

Does anyone know of any hot spots to meet single men (straight ones)? I know of the obvious ones in Manhatty but I would love to hear some tips on some possible untapped resources.

Lately I've been realizing that I've been recycling way too many guys from the past. I need to meet some new semi-attractive, slightly chubby, hysterically funny guys who are closeted sociopaths with great talents for mind effing me and making me cry. That seems to be my type.

So if anyone has any suggestions, I'm open...

Do I or Don't I?

So I've now been on 3 dates with this guy. It's so PG it's rediculous.

The problem is I can't tell if I like him or not. Usually I know right away and I get totally swept up in falling in like. Not this time. I'm numb. He's funny, nice, and pretty effing good looking. What's not to like?

Well, he leaves messages like the guy in that commercial ("Hey. How are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.") and he doesn't watch TV. What am I supposed to do with that?

But he's different than anyone I've ever given a shot before. So I figure I'll keep trying until I get that all consuming feeling or justs top answering his calls until it goes away. God, I hate this getting to know you crap.

Stay tuned...

Sexual Tension x 7 years

In life, I have been generally lucky enough to hook up with almost every guy I've ever wanted to hook up with. Sure there have been the handful that have fallen through my grasp but ever since I took a queue from my good friend Angel in college, I've pretty much gotten a little something from those I set my sights on. Although I'm not counting the repeat here. I have a tendancy to want people years after I hook up with them and they are either taken or simply not into me anymore (from which I can recover pretty quickly with only three exception and those are the three that broke my heart). But overall, I would say I operate at an 85-90% success rate. Which is pretty funny considering that all of my game is built on the fact that I have no game.

Ok, so back in 2001 when I was studying abroad in London I was man crazy. I had a crush on anything with a peen. Within a mile radius. I swore I was going to fall in love that semester and God did I try. I made out with an average of 5 guys every Saturday night. It never happened. No great love story. All I ended up with were some really good stories.

But there was one guy. One guy who I started crushing about three weeks before we left. Sure we had flirted a bunch of time as we were wasted or passing each other in towels after showering (I had to walk a small flight of stairs to the bathroom and the guys had to travel even further). But after awhile I started to majorly want this guy. Long story short, we talked a big game but the two of us couldn't get our shizz together. We were either too preoccupied, too drunk, or too busy hooking up with other people. But we got along so well and had a rediculously obvious sexual tension (so much so that I was banned from saying his name until I saw his peen).The one night we were both ready, willing, able and alone, we got interrupted by his best girl friend in a crying fit. Never one to break the hos over bros bond (I was friends with her too) I let him go off and calm her down. By the time we were ready to DI, his roommate was passed out in the room talking in his sleep. We stayed up talking for hours and it was really weird, turns out we has so much in common. He pretty much got me (that never happens--only two others guys have come close and they are two out of the three who have broken my heart) and it made me angry we hadn't gotten to know each other that well sooner. Not to date, neither of us wanted that, but to become really good friends. At the end of it all, the roommate sort of woke up and we shared a lingering kiss and I sent myself to bed, never to have the opportunity again.

I saw him again when I returned over spring break the next semester to visit another friend. He had told people I was coming to see him that cocky douchebag. We barely hung out and came no where near the chemistry that we had the first time around. And that was that. I figured I would never see him again but every so often around NYC I would swear I saw him. On the subway. In the W. Village when I was in grad school. On Fifth Ave.

Finally through the magic of facebook, we have been put back in touch. We email, we post to each other's walls and we are even violently Superpoking each other. I figured it was no big deal. Until I found out I will be in Chicago in March. Where he lives. Over his birthday weekend.

As I have now been dubbed "the best present ever," I'm getting a little concerned. The sexual tension is running high (even though the years have only accentuated the amibiguity of his sexuality-I still don't think he's gay but others argue) and now I know I will actually see him. And soon.

So what should I do? I know I have to see him but should I even bother exploring the idea of a hook up? I don't want this to go down as big regret (as it has been since that one night. even the girl who innterrupted us has since apologized to me since she knew what we were about to do and how bad we both wanted it) but at the same time, I don't want to get excited for something that won't happen. Or something, according to DM, has the potential of being incredibly dissapointing.

I have two months to decide. But God, all I can think about is how awesome that one kiss was. And how good it feels to finally get what you want, even if it's just sex with no promises of any sort of continuing relationship.

Does anyone else go through this? I just hate thinking that I have another chance to reverse one of the big "What If's" in my life and I might let it go. These chances don't come to often...

Stay tuned.

Oh, and PS: Turns out he was in NYC a bunch of times. It could have been him on the Subway. Who knows?

Everyone should have a list.

As I write this I am supposed to be getting ready for my second date with [redacted]. He's a really nice guy but I find myself feeling a sense of dread every time we make plans. It's not him. I actually had a good time with him last time we went out. It's this part of relationships that I hate. The "Let's have awkward small talk and get to know each other."

Like most people in their mid-twenties, I have accumulated a laundry list of crap that I really try to stay away from discussing in the beginning of a relationship. It's hard to explain that my mom nver remaried after her divorce, but there's this guy who hangs out at our house all day and this woman who babysat me as a child is still around like a grandmother. Honestly, when I explain this, people ask how my Uncle Jesse is doing.

Everyone has their weird habits too. No one is normal. I wish that on all second dates (the first date is just a test drive to see if the person is generally in your own expectations of normal) each party had to show up with their list of weird shit that needs to be aired out before things went any further. Seriously, if you tend to be a gassy person, it owuld just be easier to say it up front put up front. That way those months of waiting for the other person to accidentally fart aren't as painful and the first slip of gas isn't as embrassing. Trust me, it's TERRIBLY embarassing when it does happen and yes, I've has the SATC moment where it happened one morning after sex. Yes boys, girls fart! Most of us pretty regularly and often accidentally. We just don't announce it and ask others to smell it. It's kind of like when there was a kid with really bad acne in grade school. Everyone knew it was there but chose to ignore it until it cleared up. Or like if you've ever paid for sex...I mean these are things people need to know.

So in hopes that this will start a trend, I am publishing my list of shit that guys should know about me before we start dating:
1. I have a pretty bad fear of committment and general emotional intimacy.
2. I have slept with enough people that sometimes I feel guilty about the number but I am still learning what I like and what I don't like. [Note: Compared to many people I know this number is not rediculously high--it's all pretty normal for someone who is 26, but 18 years of Catholic school has taught me to feel ashamed about this.]
3. Before I take a shower I usually stare at myself in the mirror searching for imperfections.
4. I hate the mole on my chin but the dermotologist won't remove it.
5. I am a messy person.
6. I watch way too much television and am addicted to celebrity gossip.
7. Somedays I wish I were famous.
8. I shower the night before work, not in the morning before, because I prefer to get the extra sleep when it's light out. I would sleep only in the day if I could.
9. I have had a gym membership fr two years. I've used it three months total.
10. I usually start out relationships by pretending I'm a non-smoker or "trying to quit." It's kind of a lie. Although a serious attempt at quitting is scheduled for after my Vegas trip with DM.
11. I don't like morning sex until I've brushed my teeth. Please do not attempt this.
12. I hate snuggling in bed in general.
14. I don't hate pornography.
15. I hate small talk and can seem socially awkward when I attempt this.
16. I like what most people my age consider to be "bad" music.
17. I sometimes curse and burp like a truck driver.
18. If I have a pimple, I will try to pop it (luckily this does not happen often).
19. I'm bossy.
20. I don't eat sea food. I think it's gross.
21. I sing badly and often. I usually combine this with my white girl dance moves.


I think that's a pretty good outline. I'm sure I've forgotten plenty of things. Now I suggest all you single folks out there take a long look at yourself and do the same. Let's make this a thing!

If you're not in debt...

makeitrightnola.org


Help out. Most of use have no idea what they could ever go through. Besides, it's an excuse to watch Brad on the web.

OH! BTW...

To all of those who care...the date went well. It was an actual grown up date. He's really cute. I didn't get bombed. The conversation was pleasant and hardly forced. We had a few cocktails and called it a night. He didn't attempt to maul me in the cab ride nor did he even presume that we would be hanging out really late. I think we'll probably go out again.


And, no, I didn't put out (which apparently, you aren't supposed to do...who knew?). We didn't even make out. And he still called...I guess he's this mystical creature I've heard of thought to be extinct...a how do you say..."Nice Guy?"

Apparently being a hot mess suits me...

because a guy I met this past drunken Friday has asked me to hang out...stay tuned for deets.

Also, all I remember about this guy is he's got a puffy LeTigre jacket and his name is [redacted]. And according to Q, he has nice eyes and we had a very involved conversation.

And he lives in Long Island.

EFF! DO NOT WANT!

But as Spanish, Mrs. Krabbypatty, DM and BFF tell me, I have to start giving people an actual chance before turning them down.