I saw you with the ticket stub on your hand.

Saturday night my two buddies came to work to have a couple drinks while I finished up. I had been drinking half my shift so I was in the mood to go out and rage. My one friend had an extra Hold Steady ticket at Williamsburg Music Hall but I decided to go to my old roommate's birthday party a couple of blocks from my apartment. She is in the whole bike scene in Brooklyn so every bike messenger dude seemed to be there. She was already bombed by the time I got there and while trying to sit down and talk to her for a second she fell off her bar stool almost taking me with her. I saw the biker version of Elvis Costello and immediately swooned. Somehow we ended up together and we romped around Brooklyn. I guess being wasted I thought Union Pool would be the perfect choice for a, "good hang" but it was over crowded and too much.

I then decided in my drunk mind I NEEDED TO GO DANCING and the perfect choice seemed to be Sugarland - the gay bar in Williamsburg. We waited in line - biker Elvis Costello and I to get in and when the lesbian at the door demanded $5. Now I don't pay door covers and I thought I was being really crafty when I told biker Elvis to, "follow my lead," and I booked it past her and into the club only to be escorted out by the bouncer. Elvis just stood outside confused while all this happened. We ended up going back to my place and fooled around...no we didn't sleep together because the poor chap couldn't get it up but maybe that's a good thing.

Sunday we had coffee at the park by the water and exchanged numbers. I'm so bad with this single shit of who is supposed to text who first. We sent a couple of texts Sunday - me thanking him for coffee, him thanking me for putting up with his drunk ass but I haven't heard anything. I tried chatting with him on facebook but he never responded. I am trying not to wrap my head around it too much. Do I text him? Do I wait for him to text me? FUCK...when did things get so complicated?

Been down one times. Been down two times. Never going back again.

Today one of my ex's called me to grab 'coffee'. I assumed coffee = sleeping together since we did two weeks ago when we saw each other for the first time since I've been single....after we 'spent some time at my place' we eventually took the L train to the East Village to get some coffee. I had to run to work tonight and it was pretty busy (I work a couple nights a week in a restaurant in Williamsburg). All I could think about the whole night is that my co-worker's wad of herb he had in his pocket that we kept talking about smoking after. We stayed true to our pact and rolled a joint, smoked it, and went out to meet Delia at the skee-ball down the road....yes, folks, in Williamsburg it is officially hip to play skee-ball and booze and like any game you play drunk, the more you drink, the more you convince yourself you are, 'better playing it drunk than sober.'

High as a kite, I had an argument with the dude that was trying to hook up with Delia that Michael Jackson is known universially around the world more than Jesus or McDonalds....this was my stimulation of the night. I think he was getting annoyed with how annoying I was being because I was INSISTANT that about Michael Jackson. I think he also thought I was crazy because I also kept calling FRIENDS, 'one of the worse shows ever on television.' Well, that sucks for him because I know he's still chasing my friend's tail because I made like a banana and split so I could watch king of the hill and eat plums that I bought from Trader Joes.

While high I came across this video...there's so many things wrong with this viideo, I can't even begin to explain...

My Bridge

Weird Fishes

This morning I was woken up at 7am with a phone call from my 20 year old hot dish. I've been acting like a crazy 18 year old phone stalker with him ever since I left - sending him text messages, emailing him, calling him. Like I mentioned before, I deleted his phone number from my phone so this call was a surprise. So anyway, for the first time we actually talked on the phone. It turns out that he drank too much Patrone and took too much Aderol hence he's awake 4am his time, 7am my time. Speaking to him is like speaking to well, an immature 20 year old kid. It was painful. He was sitting in his apartment in Arizona while his friend Leah (yes, I already tried to look her up on Facebook) was passed out in the living room. Like a crazy woman, I offered to buy him a plane ticket out to NYC (he's never been) but he declined the offer because he has, "too much work to do." I realized besides great sex, we don't have much in common. I will try to curb my fantasies about him today.

Last night on my way to my buddy's house, I passed a Frenchman and his two year old kid (who had a scarf tied around his neck - how oh so French). The dad was checking me out. All I could think of is how if I was was either dating or married to him, him and his son would go back and forth at what an idiot I am in French while I sat there at the table without a clue what the fuck they were saying.

The faux pas of the day with men is - BAD SHOES. If a guy is wearing bad shoes it is a deal breaker for me. To be safe wear gray New Balances.

I thought this time I'd keep all of my promises. I thought you were the girl I always dreamed about.

After work I went to meet friends at a dive bar by NYU with $3 tap beers. As the first one there I sat at the bar and pulled out my book. Four loud undergraduate students were going on and on about Indonesia. I don't know how these four losers became friends...oh, yeah I do. They are all losers that found each other and found out that they like Indonesia. They probably all went for a couple of weeks and now they think they are experts on the subject. Did I mention they were all crackers? All I could hear is, "Well in Indonesia all they care is about what kind of religion you are and in Indonesia, everyone asks if you are married...." I almost wanted to take the muddle the bartender was using and stick it in both my ears to blow out my ear drums so I would never have to listen to the word "Indonesia" come out of some snot nosed just turned 21 kid with a small dick.

Instead I decided to put on my iPod (yes I was the bitch listening to the iPod in the bar) and wait. I immediately got hammered after three drinks and by that time my friends were also two drinks deep. We went to another bar where I started to panic and get even more hammered and dropped an "I got to go home vibe." I found a cab, called my 20 year old lover I met out west (we met each other while I was on vacation there last month). He told me he was with his metal band and that he would call me later. It's official, I've been stalking him ever since I've gotten back to NYC with calling him everyday and sending him photos. For every 6 texts and 5 phone calls I get he calls me once. It's like a math equation.

Tonight I am writing his number down on a piece of paper, sticking it in my Bukowski 'Post Office' book and erasing it from my phone. So when I got home I called my best friend Shane who now lives in the south and told him how depressed and broke I was and how I wanted him to come up here and hold me. He told me that I should watch some Red Tube and relax.

While on the phone I put on some Red Tube girl on girl action (which never appealed to me before), got off the phone with Shane, and did my business which miraculously made things better...maybe not so much of a miracle.

I watched The Office and once again wondered what kind of porn Jim watches in real life, made some raviolis, and passed out on my couch.

Rachel Ray

Rachel Ray is one annoying bitch. I read somewhere that Rachel Ray is a smoker. I could totally picture her ripping butts, drinking one of those ginormous cups of Dunkin Donuts coffee, and yelling at her Personal Assistant. She would say something in the sense of, "I said more fucking E.V. O. O.!" and then throwing a wok at the Personal Assistant's head. I bet she smokes Marlboro Reds and keeps promising her husband that she will quit one day. She probably tells her boyfriend she quits and then goes into her office, puts on a Sheryl Crow album, and smokes a red while eating Triscuit and Nutella sandwiches (Nutella spread on two pieces of Triscuits)...don't knock it until you try it.

I wonder what Rachel Ray is like in bed. I bet she's more exciting than any woman on the view (besides Joy because she seems like she is one freaky bitch in the bedroom). Does Rachel Ray have a vibrator? Beads? A Gag? Has she ever gotten it on with a girl? Whatever, she still annoys the shit out of me.

Love Will Tear Us Apart

Last night was the first night I haven't been out in five days. It felt good sitting on my couch popping Trader Joe's Bon Bon's into my mouth while watching An Education. A complete miss because of the lack of animalistic sex between a young Carey Mulligan and Peter Sarsgaard. So I decided to wake my dog up and take him out. I looked like crap but I didn't care with a pimple the size of a walnut on my chin. Bra less and in 70's track pants I walked my dog around the corner hoping not to run into anyone.

I went to go back into my apartment when I noticed I fucking locked my keys in the apartment. The first time this has happened since I moved in over two months ago after my ex-boyfriend and I broke up. My dog is sitting there shivering and I am as well and at the same time panicking. My buddy on the Grand stop has my spare and I am off of the Bedford Ave stop. I don't have my phone nor do I know any numbers except for my ex's who I haven't seen since we stopped having break up sex which ended with my emotional breakdown after he came in me the last time (WARNING - break up sex never works).

I kind of despise my ex-boyfriend (yes, I am in that stage now). So back to my story. Since I don't know any phone numbers other than his, I have to call. I ask a scared elderly Polish woman if I can use her phone which appears to be from 1999 and I rack my brain how to use it. The conversation goes as follows with my ex.

"Hello?" says ex.
"Um, hi this is ___. I know this is random but I'm locked out of my apartment and your number is the only one I knew."
"Oh, um, who's number is this?"
"Some random woman that is sitting next to me." The woman proceeds to hold out her hand letting me know to get off of it. "Listen I don't have keys and my friend does can you come and help me? Taco (my dog) is shivering and I don't know what to do."
"I'm on N9th I'll be there in a bit."

I'm devastated at this point. Last time he saw me I was curled up naked sobbing on my bed telling him to get, "The hell out of my apartment and to never call me again."

He arrives in my car and all I can think about is about the pimple on my face that if it could would grow legs and walk away out of embarrassment.

He arrives and he's a lot shorter than I remember and I feel a combination of embarrassment and anger. He says, "hi" and bashfully asks me how things are. I mumbled something and ask him to take me to my friends house after I figure out her phone number after emailing him from Ex's phone. Luckily she is home. Ex starts to mention something about how he thought of me last night and hated how things ended. I flashed back to me on the bed hysterical and ignored him.

He drove me in his car to my friend's house and we made small talk and as soon as I walked up to my friend's door who was holding the keys, smoking a ciggie, and laughing all I could utter is, "Get a gun and shoot me."

I hopped back in the car praying that I double checked my spare keys before I gave them to my friend and started awkwardly talking about Radiohead to make things less awkward with Ex. I thanked him a thousand times and pictured him on a date that I probably interrupted and then pictures him having sex with some girl who is shorter than him and uglier than me and then realized I was back home, keys in hand, Taco in my lap. I thanked him one more time, kissed him on the cheek, said something about getting coffee (which will not happen) and left.

When I got back into my apartment, I called my friend who had the keys bitched to her how I hate men, watched the office while thinking about having sex with Jim on the office while Dwight videotaped us, and fell asleep.