World AIDS Day at Grandma's House

A person can’t fully understand how random New York City is unless you live here. Visiting gives you a taste of the madness, but it’s the day-to-day stuff that holds the most promise for shear insanity.

I work part-time for a company I’m not allowed to mention since I signed some sort of contract or something saying I can’t blog about it, so we’ll call it Grandma’s House… why Grandma’s House you may ask? Because it makes me laugh. Anyway, so I do a few different things at Grandma’s House; one of which is working at art shows. There was an art show Thursday night. The three assignments to choose from were: main entrance, signing people in, and pouring wine/water (by the end of the night people were wishing I possessed some Jesus-like skills to turn the water into wine after we ran out).

The first part of the night, I had the pleasure of signing people in at the front door. The building has a couple galleries on other floors, so people would come in packs armed with their plastic cups of wine. FYI to all my NYer friends: Thursdays are gallery night out here and it’s free and you get unlimited free wine! Why am I just finding out about this?!?!? Don’t waste another Thursday sober…oh yeah, and support local artist. I’m hard of hearing in one ear (little known Alicia fact!) and I make a ridiculous amount of typos when people are hovering over me; needless to say, the email contact list will probably get 72% of them bounced back. Most people’s email addresses are theirnameinsomeform@gmail.com. Google, you’re successfully running shit online. My favorites included: the guy named Cosmo (which is actually his middle name), the French guy with the 14 letter last name, and the Russian lady who spelled her name using other words (e.g. D as in David, A as in Apple, D as in David, etc – I wish everyone had done that). The dad of one of the artist referred to his son as “the fruit of [his] loins.” As much as I enjoyed butchering people’s names, I wanted to go inside to get in on the art action and the tips!

Pretty sure I found my calling as a bartender that night. Wine makes people happy; and the happier they are, the more they tip. I can now uncork a wine bottle in like 10 seconds which is a great skill to have professionally and personally. Being that it was an art show, there was a very diverse crowd. You had your average 20-somethings that think art is cool and come to get drunk off the free wine. You have your fancy industry folks. Then you have your eccentric peeps that show up with painted faces and 5-inch platform silver sparkle boots (he was also wearing a gnarly fake fur coat and had a cane – the mental picture is forever imprinted in my memory). As a female, I knew I would be sexually harassed at some point in the evening. My stalker Oleg/Olef (I already told you I’m hard of hearing which does not pair well with loud music and a heavy accent) who was clearly in his mid-60s asked me if I like girls and if he could get my number. I give him props for trying, but not sure where he got the idea that I would want to correspond with him in the future. I was also approached by a photographer who insisted I do a shoot with him. I’ve seen Tyra. I know what can happen. This dude is gonna try to lure me to a hotel room for the "shoot" and talk me into some “tasteful artistic nudes.” Sorry homie. I’ll pass… and by pass, I mean Google you to see if you’re even remotely legit and then email you just for kicks.

Here’s the sexual harassment rundown...

Number of times my hand was kissed: 5

Number of times asked for my number: 3

Number of times told I had a nice smile: 6

Number of times told I was “sweet”: 10

Number of $5 tips: 3

The last stat is the only one I'm really ok with. Hey, it’s about time I benefit financially from being a woman. Not to mention, I was rather generous with the vino. We just had red and white. I learned that the majority of women prefer white wine and when men find out there is no beer, they will begrudgingly drink red wine. The growing tip jar gave me the much needed energy to stay on my feet since I had already worked a full day and worked until 8 the night before. My favorite tip was my triceratops figurine. Her name is Wino Dino. I think the guy with the mini dinosaurs (yes, he had several) was from the wine supplier because the company uses dinosaurs on their labels. If he wasn’t, then it’s just a happy coincidence.

After cleaning up, we were hanging out in the kitchen and I found out one of the head guys at Grandma’s House is like some super scientist that is making major advances in HIV/AIDS research. We had met him earlier and he was around all night. How cool is that?!?! And it was even cooler because I found this out on World AIDS Day. We split up the tips, downed one more cup of wine for the road, and then headed home. I felt like a mediocre stripper with my small wad of ones in my purse. All-in-all, it was a fun and successful night.

Lesson Learned: Everything is fun and games until the wine runs out.

We went through about 7 cases in 2 1/2 hours.

Insomnia

in-som-ni-a 
noun
 inability to obtain sufficient sleep, especially when chronic; difficulty in falling or staying asleep; sleeplessness.

For the past few weeks I have had the pleasure of waking up between 3 AM and 5 AM regardless of what time I go to sleep. 5 AM isn't so bad because at least the sun is somewhat ready to rise... On the other hand, bars and clubs are still open at 3 AM (at least here in NYC). So what do I do when I can't sleep? A number of different things:

1) Read. My life has been consumed with reading the Harry Potter series for about 2 weeks now. That's right people, I read all 7 books in roughly 2 weeks. That's no small feat; book 5 alone was 870 pages (Books 1-7 = 4111 pages!). I wish there was an adult summer reading program like we used to have back when I was growing up, where you got prizes (usually tickets to an A's game or pizza) for reading a certain number of books or how much time you spent reading. For as much as I've read this summer, I deserve a box seat at a Yankees game. Other books I've read this summer include: The Hunger Game series, Low Boy (super weird), For Colored Girls..., and pretty sure there was one or two more that I can't remember. I guess I'll get back to Catch 22 now that I'm done with HP.


2) Browse the interweb. This generally involves catching up on my favorite blogs, planning trips I'll never be able to afford (which usually leads to looking for seconds jobs to fund said trips), online window shopping, selecting random people from my past and checking out their Facebook profiles to see what they're up to these days (i.e. "Facebook stalking," it's amazing to see how many people are now engaged/married/knocked up/parents), and cleaning out my 3 email accounts (I probably have a combined 4000 emails, yet as much as I purge I really don't make a dent. Not sure why I'm still saving those emails with the pictures of crazy ice sculptures or the bitchy email from my former roommate in Columbia housing.... call me an email hoarder I guess).

3) Think.My brain rarely ever shuts down. Here is a sample of what was running through my head as I lay in bed at 3 AM:  "I'm really tired, but I'm also really excited to go back to Fashion {the high school I work at} tomorrow. Oh goodness, I'm going to have to move my things into my new office. <pause to draw a mental floor plan of the office> Hmm... where will my computer go? Where will my intern go? Oooh! Two chairs and a throw rug would look really cute right there. Right, gotta make room for the intern... and groups. I wish I could buy comfy chairs for the office. Maybe I can get some from STEPS {my agency}. Note to self, email Connie {my boss}... wait, I should also ask if I'm still going to get that laptop because sharing a computer with someone two days a week is going to suck. I hope I get along with my intern... if not, where can I send her when she annoys me? Maybe she can hang out in my old office... I need a planner. I also need to make a to-do list, well another to-do list. I hope the guy emails me back about with a price for the t-shirts and that I don't have to do anything to the design. I should email myself the stuff just in case.. or should I bring my laptop? But it's so heavy..." This stream of thought was probably a minute long. My thoughts can vary from what I'm going to wear tomorrow to where I'll be in 5 years. Bottom line: I'm a spaz that thinks way too much... Maybe I should incorporate meditation into my nightly routine (and buy that damn planner, lol).

4) Cook. I used to love cooking early in the morning while listening to music. Some of my best culinary creations were made in the wee hours of the morning. I don't live alone anymore, thus this option is no longer on the table. It's not polite to bang around pots/pans and sing while food smells drift into the bedroom. 

5) Draw. It's been a while, but is one of my favorite past times. I miss it and I don't do it often enough. I wish I was one of those abstract artists that can make things up out of pure imagination. I'm a little too logical and rigid to let go creatively. My brain isn't always fully functioning this early in the morning, so maybe this is the perfect time to be a little more abstract. 

That's about it folks. If I get lucky and tired enough, sometimes I'll pass out on the couch. The best part is that I still have plenty of time before I really have to be anywhere. Time for a power nap before I start my day. Good morning!

P.S. I don't consume caffeinated or sugary stuff on a regular basis. just in case you were trying to formulate theories about why I don't sleep. Trust me, I've thought of them all.

Kids say the darndest things

I had the pleasure of doing 3 classroom workshops today... the second to last day of classes. Needless to say, kids are pretty fried by the end of the year. I can't remember which class it was (either the second or third), but I had a ridiculous encounter after spending 45 minutes talking about teen dating violence.

A girl approaches me (which is not uncommon) after a workshop and I'm thinking she wants to talk about abuse... silly me.
Student: Is it supposed to rain today?
Me: Um, I'm not a meteorologist... I'm a social worker.
Student: You're a social worker? You take people's kids away?
Me: No, I do this. There are different types of social workers. We work in schools, hospitals, and tons of other places. Not all social workers take kids away.
The student pauses, looking like she's actually thinking about what I've said...
Student: So do you think it's going to rain? Cuz I left my rain boots in my locker and my mother keeps asking me about them.
Me: (finally giving in) I think it may rain like later tonight, but not anytime soon.
Student: Well, do you think I should wear them?
Me: No, that would look crazy.
After going back and forth for another couple minutes, she decides to not bring them home. Really glad I could help with this "crisis." Don't worry folks all hope is not lost. Several other students shared powerful stories and had legitimate questions about how to help friends get out of abusive relationships. Sometimes you need nonsense like this to help balance out the heavy stuff.


Lesson Learned: A good social worker doesn't take kids away AND can give weather forecasts.

This image is courtesy of clipartof.com.
It's called "Smiling Hispanic Weather Girl Discussing Weather Patterns"... They should really try to be more specific.

Looking for love in all the wrong places...

The internet is a shady, shady place. As we all learned from our new favorite congressman Anthony Weiner, be careful who you talk to and what you send to people. I’m not going to judge him (not in this post at least, lol) because we all make really, really embarrassingly stupid mistakes in our lives. Being a grown ass woman, I tend to avoid befriending random people online. I did a workshop once with high school juniors and seniors about their online lives. I asked them first how many friends/followers/buddies they had on Myspace, Facebook, Twitter, AIM, etc… and then I asked them how many of those “friends” they actually knew in real life. The percentage was alarmingly small. But as we have seen (and may even be guilty of ourselves) adults can be equally as foolish in the world of cyberspace.

This brings me to the beast known as Craigslist.

Craigslist is probably the shadiest place on the internet (and yet the website ends in .org….). While it can be good for finding apartments, used Ikea furniture, and jobs, the tiny little column labeled “Personals” is where some of the creepiest people on the planet go to prowl. One of my guilty pleasures is looking at the “Strictly Platonic” section. I don’t know about you, but sex with a stranger is not “strictly platonic” in my book. I feel like they should rename the section “Lonely Stoners” (as so many folks just want someone to smoke with) or “No Strings Attached” (since the non-stoners just want to be FBW – that’s friends with benefits in case you were wondering). “Missed Connections” is also quite entertaining because it’s almost like an intelligence test to figure out if a person may be looking for you. Here’s an example of what a “missed connection” might look like: Heading – Cute blonde reading book on train yesterday - m4w - (2 train): “You had on a white shirt and jeans and were reading a paperback book. I smiled at you then got off the train at 14th street. I should’ve said something but was too shy. Email me.” Um, ok… How many cute literate blondes in jeans do you think ride the 2 train? Probably more than one! Granted people don’t really smile too much on the train, so that may help blondie narrow it down, but there was no description of the guy, what time this took place, or which direction the train was going. 99% of the time when I’m reading a book on the train, the only time I look up is to see what stop I’m at. Random guy, put in a little more effort next time you want to track down your soul mate.

The regular personals are definitely not the place to go if you actually want to find someone for a relationship. Here you will find pictures of body parts, crazy propositions, and little known (at least to me) fetishes. So here are some headings that let you know just what New York City has to offer in the “love” department:

Men Seeking Women

“My girl don’t treat me right… Can you?” Maybe your girl appreciates good grammar…

“I would like to date a woman more intelligent than I am – 56” Hmmm...

 “Dr Seeks Hot Sugarbaby $$$$ (700 Weekly) – (Upper East Side)” I may or may not have emailed him… I have outrageous students loans to repay!

“Ladies Unhappily Married? Join ‘The Club’ – 38 - (Fairfield County)” Is this an actual club and is there any sort of fee involved to join?

Women Seeking Men (pretty sure most of these are prostitute...)

“Would You like A Live-In Girlfriend? – 22 – (Yonkers)” Maybe I’m a bit old-fashioned, but this seems just a little forward.

“Sugar Baby :) – 22 – (Upper East Side)” She needs to hook up with the Dr! Clearly they want the same thing and they live in the same neighborhood. I should email them each other’s contact info; I’m sure they’d thank me for setting them up and I’d be in their wedding.

“Are there any serious men out there who just want a booty call? – (Bronx)” I’m sure there are!

“The Most Mysterious Girl on Earth” False advertising. She doesn't look even remotely mysterious in her picture. 

Strictly Platonic

“LETS SMOKE A FAT BLUNT AND SEE A MOVIE – m4w – 25 – (jackson heights)” This actually does seem pretty platonic.

“Come read the Bible with me. Be my Bible pen pal. – m4w – 49 (to Godly Bible pen pal only)” … And so does this one.

“Nude Beach road trip, Tuesday, leave from CT or NYC – m4w – 40 (Midtown)” This one is slightly suspect… but only slightly.

“Let’s get married for fun – m4w – 41 – (bed stuy)” The ad ends with “Pre nup mandatory” … well that kinda takes all the fun out of it.

And let’s see what the ladies (using the term loosely) want…

“Very Attractive Lesbian Female Seeks Wingman – w4m – 28 (NYC)” It's a sad state of affairs when a "very attractive" female needs a wingman.

“Platonic Only: Seeking Strip Club Buddy – w4m – 28 (NYC)” Spoiler Alert! This chick is bi!

“Gotta shed the muffin top – w4m- 34 – (Upper West Side)” She wants someone to walk fast and rollerblade with her who will also “hold her accountable.” That’s a lot to ask of a stranger lady; hire a trainer instead.

“what i wouldn’t do for a bottle of add’all right now –w4m – (college/final exams/centrally located)” I mean she didn’t offer anything sexual for it, so I guess it is platonic.

Missed Connections

You gotta look these up yourself because you never know who might be looking for you. Below you’ll find two of my favorites… Enjoy!

Lesson Learned: You literally can find anything on the internet.

I want to know what Leo said...

This CANNOT be real because it is so hilarious. Use your imagination to fill in the blank .

Prom and the aftermath...

My, how prom has changed in the past 10 years (gulp, way to be super old Alicia). While some things will always be the same (up do's, princess dresses, drama, and inappropriate dancing), the kids are taking it to another level as time goes on. Three things I had to keep in mind all night: 1) this is New York City, not Pleasant Hill (meaning most of these kids are cooler now than I’ve ever been/ever will be in my life), 2) it’s 2011, and 3) these kids go to a high school for fashion (hence some of the style choices). There were some amazing outfits the students designed/made (yes made) themselves.

Chaperoning was a bit intense since we had designated stations assigned to us the entire night. My first shift was bathroom duty, which was perfect because no students were there yet and I avoided the late night bathroom drama that is inevitable on prom night. I was not in the mood to help mend ripped dresses and broken hearts. Ms. Hammond the social worker was off the clock! My favorite parts of the night were the photo shoot and dancing with the kids. Rachael and I took some pretty amazing pictures and I can’t wait to see which ones they actually give us. The photographer was trying to flirt (see below), so maybe we’ll get all 4 pictures. Watching the kids dance was both entertaining and disturbing. You know you’re getting old when watching teens grinding brings on waves of nausea. The last hour of the prom was awful music-wise. I defined the “music” in question as what it would sound like if house music and pop music had a baby. Stop and think about that for a second. They played upbeat songs for the prom court to dance to (well, since R&B no longer exists, I guess the slow dance has kind of died). There was some sort of fashion award that this young man won because he looked like he raided Lady Gaga’s closet. I can’t begin to describe the outfit, but there were definitely 8-inch patent leather stilettos involved. Upon accepting his award, we were blessed with an impromptu performance of “Born This Way.” Pretty sure my mind exploded on the dance floor.

At the magical hour of 1 AM, I was ready to turn into a pumpkin and pass out since it was way past my bedtime. We ushered the kids out the front door and then headed out for an adult beverage. Grabbing a drink tuned into a ridiculous chain of events that I was so not prepared for. Gotta love when your night starts at 1… Here are some of my favorite moments/quotes of the night.

As I’m sitting at the front table to check students in (who showed up as late as 11:30… I would definitely not spend hundreds of dollars for prom to go for an hour and a half. Most of them were more excited about the after parties, for which they all had separate, equally expensive outfits for)

Photographer: Why aren’t you enjoying your prom?

Me (confused): What?

Photographer: Shouldn’t you be dancing?

Me (realizing that he’s flirting): Haha, that’s sweet, but I am definitely not in high school.

Photographer: You can’t be that much older than them

*thinking to myself: If you think I’m that young, why are you talking to me creeper?

I proceed to chat with him for a few more minutes, mostly because I hadn’t taken my picture yet and didn’t want to burn that bridge. Lol.

Then Rachael and I headed to a bar in the Meatpacking District (aka the Douche Capital of Manhattan). We were hit on approximately 10 times in the 30 seconds it took to get to the bar. We posted up and got some drinks. Then Dance Fever (as Rachael called him) entered our lives…After freaking me from behind (keep in mind I’m seated on a stool) without my knowledge, he decides to introduce himself. We question his sobriety, and here is his response:

Dance Fever: I don’t drink; I’m an athlete. I’m just high on life.

He dances away (naturally) and is grinding on other women without their knowledge. I guess this place wasn’t happening enough for him, or it was past his bed time because he came up to us to say goodbye.

Dance Fever: Hey ladies, you should check out my website erickellylife.com. Then he proceeds to spell it out for us. All we could say is thanks. Then he and his entourage left. We start to think maybe he is an actual athlete. Then we speculate about what sport he might play.

Me: Too bad his website wasn’t erickellylife.org… or .edu

Rachael: Or .gov.

We later checked out his website (because we couldn’t wait until we got home and we wanted to see it together) and it turns out it’s under construction. Lol. A Google search revealed that Mr. Eric Kelly is in fact a boxer. I wonder if Mike Tyson goes to bars and freaks people from behind without them knowing it…

After meeting a mini racist (he was maybe 5’4”) and avoiding a double date by saying neither of us could dance (Rachael is an amazing dancer, FYI), we decided it was time to go. Then we met Andrew Michael Harris.

(From behind us) AMH: F*#@! (he dropped his iPhone and the back was totally cracked).

Me: That sucks.

AMH: Yea, it does.

Me: Look on the bright side, at least the screen isn’t cracked.

AMH: Yea, but look at the back.

Me: Why don’t you have one of those cases?

AMH: They’re too bulky…

Me: Um, bulky is better than your phone being f’ed up.

Rachael: Excuse me, can I ask how old you are? (AMH looked 18, max)

AMH: Oh man, people ask me that all the time. I’m 21.

We chat with him for a while and find out that he’s a model or actor (I was clearly paying close attention). His roommate left him to go off with some girl and as a result is locked out of his apartment.

AMH: I’m gonna have to sleep on the street.

Me: It’s New York City, I’m pretty sure there’s tons of places open 24 hours that you could go to until the sun comes up.

AMH: I’m afraid of homeless people. I’d rather fight a bear than a homeless person.

Me: I get it, bears are more predictable.

AMH: Yea, this one time when this bear was chasing me…

Me: Wait, you outran a bear?

AMH: Yea..

Me: Well, obviously you outran the bear, you’re alive. I mean unless he took a chuck out of you.

This is when he proceeds to lift up his shirt and show us his 21 year old model/actor abs. At some point we asked him his name and it got formal with first and last names. Rachael just gave him her first name and he was not satisfied with that. We wished Andrew Michael Harris a good night and good luck with the homeless people and/or bears. He assured us that we would meet again someday…I’ll probably see him in a movie or on a billboard and recognize his abs before his face. Is that wrong? ;)

The night concluded at a diner… The Diner actually. I was approached by a tall woman who told me about a tall women’s society (for lack of a better word) and I’m pretty sure I joined right there on the spot. She was talking about height like race; “it’s nice when we find each other…” Huh? Lol. Two douches next to us tried to talk to us; one invited me to his jazz concert in November while the other took Rachael’s USED knife and fork off our table starting cutting up his food (despite the fact that there was silverware on his table). Our last douches of the night were right outside the diner. One had a bottle of vodka that was clearly taken from the bar, another had on a wig (and was certain that Canada was south of Antarctica), and the last was wearing a Mr. T like chain with ray-bans connected to them. I had reached my douche quota for the night and it was 4 AM, so I put Rachael in a cab and waited half an hour for the train. Gotta love coming out the subway station as the sun comes up.

Lesson Learned: Prom is WAY more fun as an adult :)

Prom 2001... Please note the up do and custom dress

... and 10 years later. I had way more fun with Rachael (no offense Shawn).

Worst blogger ever!

I know.. .I know. It goes without saying that I officially suck as a regular blogger. As most of you know, I can be a bit slow to respond to things. A blog a day? Who was I kidding? I have a hard enough time responding to voicemails, texts, and emails. Anywho.... people still say crazy shit on a regular basis, but for the life of me I can't recall a single thing in the past few days. Perhaps it's because my job is steadily depleting my emotional energy which makes all other interactions and experiences in my life seem pretty innocuous. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and want to "save" them all, but vicarious trauma is no joke (here's some info for those of you who are unfamiliar with the term: "Burnout? Don't mind it I do!"). I'll try to do better remembering quotes. I'll keep a mini notepad with me (the kind that have Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus on it that you can get at Claire's) and write things down as they happen. This may be complicated on a moving train or in a bar, but I'll make those sacrifices for all of you... whoever "all of you" are. 


Oh wait! I just remembered something that happened a few weeks ago when Alli, Rishauna, and I were at the Goodwill.


After selecting some awesome, cheap finds, we walked up to the register to this scene:


Little Old Lady (L.O.L....haha): I want that globe in the window.
Cashier: I'm sorry ma'am there is no globe.
L.O.L.: I just saw it in the window 10 minutes ago.
Cashier: You may have, but I just sold one a few minutes ago. 
Meanwhile, the girl and her co-worker are humoring the woman by climbing in and out of the window display searching for the globe that apparently was already sold.
L.O.L.: Are you sure? It's gotta be there. I just saw it.
Other Cashier: Sorry, but she just sold it.
Yet another worker: There's no globe. It's gone.
L.O.L.: Well, shit.
Other Cashier: You can check in the window on your way out and if you see it, come back in and let us know. Can you please step to the side so she can help this lady (meaning me)?
Cashier: Hi. Will this be all?
Me (being a smart ass): No, actually I would like the globe in the window.


We all had a good laugh and Rishauna playfully reprimanded me for making fun of the L.O.L. I complimented the cashier on how well she handled the situation.


Lesson Learned: If you want the globe in the window, you better damn well ask for it the second you get in the store because someone else may take it out from under your nose.

This is not the Goodwill, but it is the one I regularly donate to.

I'm a slacker....

See, this is the reason I didn't want to start a blog... the same reason it took me five years to finish a diary in junior high... I can't commit to writing everyday. I also haven't had much to share lately. Don't get me wrong, my life is still full of ridiculousness and entirely inappropriate encounters; it's just that I can't share everything with you guys ;) Hope you understand.


So Saturday night I went whiskey tasting with friends. Two things: 1) whiskey is heinous and 2) whiskey tasting is ridiculous. When you register, they give you a coin that is good for a free drink at the bar (which is only stocked with whiskey - boo!). The coin ironically resembles what you get for milestones in AA...still not sure how I feel about that... Anyway, after we redeem our free "Dewar's Smash" (aka whiskey mojito... Um, Dewar's? Mojitos should only be made with rum.), we found some chairs and parked it until the tasting began. Then came the barrage of food. Mini burgers (beef and chicken), things made with mushrooms and goat cheese, mini hot dogs (super disappointing), empanadas, caprese salad on a stick, and maybe something else. I am ashamed to admit, I tried everything but the empanada (don't judge me!). The servers kept coming around every 30 seconds, which was a bit intense. 


Then they lured us into the back for "The Tasting." 


My friend Rachael was convinced something shady was going to go down behind the curtains... I thought the most they would do is roofie us and then rob us. We were seated at a table in the back, which is a recipe for trouble. At each place setting there was a rack of test tubes filled with different whiskeys and random shit. The random shit was intended to help us identify scents or something (I whined about not having enough honey and made my friend switch my test tube for one that had more... then I kept sniffing the lavender in the "floral" tube). This tool, who we named Chad or Brad (don't remember what his actual name was... I'm pretty sure it started with a G though), talked nonstop about the history of Dewar's Scotch Whiskey and gave us useless information. We learned how to say cheers in Gaelic (don't remember that either) and got to sample different whiskeys. Then we got to blend our own based on the scents. I'll give you the lesson learned now: ALL WHISKEY TASTES THE SAME (i.e. what I imagine perfume tastes like)! After about half an hour of acting like a restless 15 year old in a boring class, they let us leave. They kicked us out pretty quick and gave us each 2 Dewar's glasses... you know, for all the whiskey we're gonna buy and drink at home (totally re-gifting that btw).


And that was whiskey tasting... I think if I partake in another tasting for hard liquor, it's gotta be clear ;)

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And here's my first guest submission! Thanks Ali...


"Hey you cute sexy little black thing. Look at your ass wiggle. Can you spare 50 cents baby?" - Homeless man to Maisy, Ali's black lab puppy

NOTE: She no longer has the cone and has grown since this picture was taken.

Atlanta Weekend

Sorry for the hiatus, but I was away this weekend and am just now getting my energy back. I had some fun encounters while I was away. 

Date and Time: Friday, September 24th at 10:38 AM

Location: On my AirTran flight about 20 minutes outside of Atlanta

Captain: "On behalf of all the AirTran employees and all my ex wives, I'd like to thank you for flying with AirTran." 

Lesson Learned: Cheap airlines = funny pilots (probably because they have to moonlight as stand-up comics to make money on the side)

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Date and Time: Saturday, September 25th at 1:45 PM

Location: Publix grocery store in Midtown Atlanta

Ashley: "6 cents? I thought it was free..." 

** We parked in the Publix parking structure so we could attend a street fair. To avoid getting in trouble, we made it seem like we were actually shopping by walking through the store, grabbing free samples, and then walking out. As we approached the car like 2 hours later after the street fair and getting food, we saw a security guard so we felt compelled to walk into the store AGAIN. Thankfully we picked up a coupon for a free iced tea at the street fair, so we thought we'd further take advantage of Publix. We didn't read the fine print and were shocked when we had to pay tax... all 6 cents. We made sure we got a grocery bag and I waved the receipt around. It's good we didn't get caught because we saw several cars with boots on them. Take that Publix!**

Lesson Learned: If you're sneaky enough, you can get away with only paying 12 cents for public parking. 

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Date and Time: Sunday, September 26th at 5:22 PM

Location: the Popeyes at the airport (that's right, 1) I ate at Popeyes 2) on my birthday...) 

Random Guy: "You did a number on that chicken, girl." 

Me: (Embarrassed laughter) "I was hoping no one would notice."

Lesson Learned: People in Atlanta are pretty observant and not afraid to let you know.

You would think last night was Friday...

Nothing like wine tasting on a Wednesday to shake things up a bit... add your co-workers and boss, and you have a recipe for an exciting night (or a drunken mess). So many hilarious things were said, but thanks to all the wine that was consumed, I can hardly remember any of it...


Date & Time: Wednesday, September 22nd from 5:30 PM-???
Location: Hudson Terrace 


Liz (at my dancing) No, you have to dance so that just your ass moves.


Girl who works there with a clipboard and a really short skirt (said to Rishauna): Um, those tables are reserved for a private event. Maybe you can sit there until they come. You can ask one of the two Mexican guys running around, cuz I don't really know.
** Really?**


The following are not quotes, but other highlights of the night:
- Connie (my boss) talking to one of the Mexican guys trying to get us a table (she's Mexican so she thought that might help our situation... it did not).
- Everyone giving us their extra drink tickets... we had plenty of our own, yet random people would walk up to us and just hand us tickets. I mean, did we look like we needed it?
- Viv stealing the cheese plate from the JetBlue jerks and then offering it to people not in the cabana section
- Rishauna doing the splits... twice.
- Parmesan truffle french fries (yum!)
- Watching lightening through a glass roof.


Lesson Learned: Six drink tickets really are enough.

This is probably a good representation of the amount of wine all 6 of consumed last night.

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Then on my way home today:

Date & Time: Thursday, September 23rd at about 5

Location: Uptown C train

Guy on train (said to standing lady):  Do you want to sit?

(I was not looking at him and then I saw that he had a chair with him)

Standing Lady: Haha, no thanks.

Guy: Well, I just thought I'd offer since it's here and there's no where else to sit.

Lesson Learned: Bring my own seating on the train if I want to make friends.

This is not the man or the chair, but apparently this happens more often than I thought.

The MTA likes to make my day that much longer...

I knew something was wrong when I got to the subway platform for the C/E train and there was an A train just sitting there...


Date: Tuesday, September 21st at about 4:25 PM
Location: Sitting on the A train between the 23rd and 34th St Stations


Train Conductor: "I apologize for the delay. All A/C/B/D trains will be running local to 125th St due to an investigation at 103rd St. I repeat, all trains are in a conga line since they are all running on the local track. We will be moving shortly."


Conga line? Really? Is that the technical term they use at the MTA? Thankfully, the train I was on went express and I got home sooner than I expected. My commute should only take like 35 minutes max... it took an hour. The best part? I checked out the 103rd St station as we passed by and there was nothing going on.


Lesson Learned: Don't believe anything that's announced over the PA on the subway. No one knows what they're talking about.- AND- always bring some form of entertainment (e.g. iPod, book, etc); it will keep you sane.

Weekend Edition

I held out on posting because I knew the weekend would have a lot to offer in the form of interesting interactions. Here are some gems from the past few days:

"You fancy." ~ Said to me on the street by some guy simply because I was carrying my dry cleaning home. Little does ol' dude know, I go to the dry cleaner approximately once every three months... I guess that makes me fancy (only in Harlem...).

"I only lie in bed." ~ Sammy, drunken hot mess of a guy at the bar that looked like he stumbled straight out of an episode of The Jersey Shore. He was hitting on my friend Rachael. Not sure what the deal is, but 2 guys called her a liar. Do men think this is a fun way to flirt with women? (FYI: It's not funny or cute, so stop it)

Guy with thick Southern accent: (GSA): I just moved here from Georgia

Me: Oh really, how long have you been here?

GSA: I flew in today at 3:22 PM

Me:  Oh, so you literally just moved here. Haha. Have you ever been to NY before?

GSA:  No. This is my first time.

Me: Good luck. It's not like Georgia... at all. 

Josh C2 (lol, only Alli can understand this): I'm from Rego Park, in Queens. Do you know where that is?

Me: I know some areas of Queens, but I don't know exactly where that is.

JC2: Its where the tornado hit last week.

Me: So is there a huge gaping hole where Rego Park used to be? 

JC2:No, but we got hit pretty hard. There are cars that were broken in half on my block.

Me:  Wow, that sucks...(Because what do you say to that?)

Spanish Tourist (she was part of a group of 4... oh yea, and Spanish as in from Spain): Um, can you help us?

Me: I can try.

ST: We are looking for the (insert intelligible words here in broken English)

Me: Huh?

She tried again and then we just stared at each other for a good minute. I used the word "calle" which was NOT helpful to anyone. Then she got a map from one of the guys with her. I pointed to where we were and tried again to see where they wanted to go.

ST: The (intelligible words again) church for the gospel.

Me: Oh, a church (Mind you, there are probably 25 churches (literally) within a 5 block radius of where we were). 

I pointed them in a general direction and wished them luck. They picked the wrong NYer to ask for help. It made me really want to brush up on my Spanish.

** I was sitting on a bench eating my hangover cure breakfast and I had noticed a ton of European tourists getting off the train at my station, but I couldn't for the life of my figure out why all these people were coming from far and wide to kick in Harlem on Sunday morning. Then I met this group and I guess hitting up a church in Harlem is a "must do" for tourists. I thought that was really cool. They couldn't understand English very well, yet they wanted to go hear the gospel at a church. Apparently some things transcend language. 

P.S. The hangover cure breakfast is a bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll with a vitamin water. Try it; it works every time.

Because sometimes your Ecuadorian cab driver also makes pianos for Elton John...

Date & Time: Thursday, September 16th from 9-9:30 AM
Location: In a cab from East Harlem to Chelsea


I have moved more times than I like to think about in my less than 4 years here in the city. Moving in the city is a major pain in the ass for numerous reasons I will not go into (at least not today, haha), but my least favorite part is transporting large/numerous items in a cab. Today was my first day at my new school and I had the pleasure of figuring out how to transport the following items by myself: 2 large cardboard boxes (not really heavy), two large canvas tote bags (jam packed with crap and reasonably heavy), and a computer monitor and tower (these things are large, bulky, and weigh a ton). I managed to load all this craponto  a hand truck thing and then I conned one of the only people in the office to help me take the stuff downstairs so she can bring the hand truck back up (leaving the computer on the street? NOT AN OPTION). 


Here is where part two of this adventure begins: trying to get a cab. There were at least 3 cab drivers that slowed down, saw all the stuff I had, and kept it moving. I was annoyed. Hello? I'm still going to pay you the same as if it were just me and I'm not asking for help loading/unloading. Whatever... My assistant (ok, I feel bad cuz I don't know here name... I'm making it a point to learn it so I can thank her again and you know not be totally rude) mentioned that our agency uses a cab company around the corner and she just so happened to know the number off the top of her head. I kid you not, no more than 3 minutes after I hung up with the dispatcher, the cab rolled up. It was a small SUV which was pretty much perfect. 


This is when Marco entered my life...


After we were loaded up and on our way, the conversation began with him asking me if I voted the other day (which was funny because he didn't either, but his excuse was way better than mine). Then somehow we started talking about where we were from. It was at about this point, that he started referring to me as "Pretty"... like it was my name. He told me about how hard it was for him when he first moved to the city from Ecuador back in 1990. This is what he said regarding his embarrassment about not knowing the language and working custodial jobs.


Marco: "Believe me Pretty, it was very hard. I was so embarrassed. There were many times when the tears came down."
Me: "I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you." (such a typical social worky thing to say).


Ok, so now Marco has earned a special place in my heart for being vulnerable enough to share that with me. He then told me about how he started driving a cab and began working for this piano company. He builds pianos and repairs them. He said his company sells pianos to orchestras and Elton John. They range in price from $1500 to $45,000. About this time we exchanged names, but he still insisted on calling me "Pretty." Super awkward. He continued on about his faith in God and how he can't help but be happy and positive because he has so much more than others even if it isn't a lot. Marco gave me his card and I said I'd call him if I ever have the money to buy one of his pianos (which will probably be around never...). He helped me unload my stuff and then we parted ways.


I'm glad I met Marco. I started this blog not thinking I'd have stories like this to share, but Marco was a sweet spot in my mostly bitter encounters here in the city. 


Lesson learned: Believe me Pretty, sometimes having a conversation with your cab driver can make your day.