:D

I was just thinking how at about this time last year I was house-sitting for my family friends and having a “Home Alone” worthy experience with their cats. Weird. That seems like another lifetime ago.

In fact, I was breaking down the themes of the last few years. 

2010: The Year of the Trainwreck

Reasons supporting this conclusion: I got a DUII and 4 traffic tickets (that should really seal the deal right there, actually) I was living with a musician 11 years older than myself and performing housekeeping services for him in lieu of paying rent until  he proposed and I moved out. Hmm.  I had a little too much rock and roll going on for an average 22 year old.

2011: The Year of Change

Reasons supporting this conclusion: I changed addresses 3 times. One from the musician’s house, back to my parents’ house, and then to my Upper West Side residence 3000 miles away. New job, sold the car, traveled a lot… 2011 was a really excellent year for growth.

2012: (Tentative theme, since we are still pretty fresh into it) The Year of the Perma-vacation

Reasons supporting this conclusion: I’m not going to lie- I love living in NYC. I love that I am busy and have something going on every single night and (selfishly) it’s all about ME! I don’t have pets to let out, kids to pick up, a significant other who has any expectations of me whatsoever. It’s amazing! I go to work, where my boss loves me and I get to see people be happy with their engagement rings. I go out to bars with cool people or amazing restaurants for dinner afterwards. I go to Broadway shows (For FREE) about once a week. AND my new roommate is awesome, my new apartment is awesome, and, honestly, the only thing I can even complain about in my life right now is the weather. Life is fucking amazing. 

That said- I have a birthday party with an “All You Can Drink” Cocktail situation going on in a couple of hours. What a way to kick off Memorial Day Weekend! Tomorrow I have brunch plans, followed by a Broadway show, and on Sunday I will be attending a Zombie themed pub crawl. Bring it on!

Moving, Dating, And Other Disasters

I am so hungover today. First and foremost, let me mention that I did not move back to Portland. Upon careful consideration, I decided I had nothing going on for me back there that should compel me to move back to the West Coast where I would probably develop seasonal affective disorder and hopefully drown from all the rain.

So I stayed in NYC and decided to move on to full time employment with the diamond dealer.

However, yesterday was terrible. I found out that the apartment of my dreams (which I have had multiple interviews with all of the roommates for) will not be mine. They went with another candidate, stating that they would feel more comfortable living with another guy. Then the guy that I recently went out with has NOT called me back after several days (indicating that it is probably our last date) which really bums me out as well. The reality is, I need to learn to accept rejection better, but I take it way too personally, so yesterday my Aussie friend said we should go out to cheer me up.

Although my memories of last night are patchy, here’s what I remember:

I left to meet up with my Aussie graphic designer friend yesterday after work. We hopped in a cab and headed down to Mulberry Project, this lovely, classy little speakeasy in Little Italy. After dropping about $80 apiece on drinks, we decided to hit up another spot. However, by this time we were both quite buzzed and in an unfamiliar neighborhood, so we ended up wandering around in a large circle on the lower east side, smoking cigarettes and considering places to go.

Finally we found a cab and had him take us to a bar my Aussie friend likes called Boxers. It includes bartenders with ripped abs wearing nothing but their boxers, undoubtedly her brilliant plan to get the Unsuccessful Date Guy out of my head. And that actually worked out pretty well. We negotiated our way into getting enough quarters to play a few rounds of pool and drank a few more drinks. At some point the bartender offered us shots, and it went downhill.

Upon taking the shot, I promptly vomited behind the bar, continued to drink the drink I had been drinking before, and then audaciously left my phone number on the bill when we left…. Apart from the fact that no bartender would call a drunk girl who had practically deposited a distillery on him, we were at a gay bar and our bartender was probably not even into women.

Sadly, my friend’s iPhone was stolen while we were dancing around the pool table, a fate I recently shared when I visited my sister in Florida. I left a voicemail demanding the thieves to bring the phone back (although retrospectively, this made no sense as they wouldn’t know the code to check the voicemail.)

Then we snagged a cab, where our driver was incredibly rude to us, and after dropping my Aussie friend off, took me home, where I yelled at him for being rude and threatened to report him for it. In fact, I actually attempted to do so when I went inside, but was too drunk to make much sense of the requirements for filing a formal complaint against a New York City taxi driver.

My roommate unwittingly asked if I wanted anything from the bodega across the street and I began crying about everything- the apartment, the date that amounted to nothing, the vomit behind the bar, the rude cabbie… He told me it would be okay and I went to bed, naked and alone, and forgot to set my alarm.

I was only 10 minutes late to work today, but woke up and rushed out the door without bothering to shower first, so I suspect that I still smell like the cigarettes from last night. At least not the tequila vomit though, as I did have a chance to brush my teeth. There is still blood on my foot from some unknown source, and I’m fairly certain my boss knows that something went down last night, but at least he’s being nice about it.

I’ve decided not to file a complaint against the cab driver. I think having a belligerent passenger, such as myself, yelling at him at 2:30 am on a Tuesday is probably punishment enough. And I need to more closely consider getting my shit together and possibly taking a sabbatical from drinking.

I can feel my bra tightening.

Not in the good way (as in, I’ve gone up a cup size). More like I’m going up a belt size. As I write this, there is a Corona “Light” in my hand with a slice of lime in it. That would be my fruit intake for the day.

Drinking is becoming, sadly, the thing I turn to out of boredom. I am a full time helicopter buyer, part time alcoholic. 

Me, stuffing my Gorilla-face

This is probably not the best move made tonight given that I have just purchased 2 new bikinis in preparation for a family vacation in the British Virgin Islands that starts on Friday. If anything, I should be going for a run- straight to Sono Bello for a last minute tummy tuck. I suppose it still doesn’t matter too much though- with the way I’ve let my eyebrows and other bodily hair grow freely, I will soon be more closely resembling an 800 lb gorilla than a 24 year old human.

The Caribbean vacation is not a cruise. It is my family of 5 and my godparents (bringing the total number of people up to 7) who are renting a 40 ft catamaran and chartering it around the islands themselves. 

My Dad.

Here are some interesting facts to take into consideration:

• ·         None of us has ever been to the Caribbean.
• ·         More than half of us have never been on a catamaran.
• ·         My dad knows about sailing, but he has a Cal 20 racing boat, not a 40 foot Cat. And the Cal took a beating last year in the Columbia river when the mast inexplicably split in two, causing everyone to evacuate and having to get the boat towed to shore. This is basically going to be Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer chartering a Carnival Cruise ship through tropical islands they’ve never been to.

I guess we’re as prepared as we can be, though. With my mom on board, we’re bound to have the most over-planned, efficient vacation ever!

Last week she prepared by researching all the drinks one could make with rum. Unsurprisingly, it primarily involves coconut and pineapple juice. 

Paradise!

“Look what I did today! And I have it divided into blended drinks and on-the-rocks style. Because I’m not sure if we’re going to have access to a blender or not.” It was a laminated brochure of rum-based drinks. 

 Shortly after that, she emailed all the people in our party with a typed up menu of food she thought we would be eating at each meal for the 10 days we’re gone. 

I feel prepared- I have 2 swimsuits, a light cotton skirt, and a bikini wax scheduled tomorrow. My godfather is bringing ipod speakers, I plan to buy some magazines and dive into my Tina Fey book. I think my mom has everything else more than under control.