A Return to the Met

It's Hard to be This Awesome

I don't know what happened. I moved to Hoboken and every ounce of my organized being went out the window. This is most apparent with the frequency of which I lock myself out of my apartment. It's ridiculous. The first time, I had to call my landlord. Then I got smart—I gave my friend a copy. The next two times I did it, he wasn't in town and had to come home. So I figured, "Hey let me leave the front door key at the bar—it's always open." Well, good call on that one. This morning when I got to work, I realized I never put my apartment key back on my keyring from the weekend. But, no worries, my front door key is at Duffy's. Done and done.

I got home from work, retrieved my key and went home. I looked at my spare keys sitting on the kitchen table and thought, "I'll just put those back later. There's no way I'm locking myself out twice in one week." In the movies, this is what we call "foreshadowing." I went about my business—dinner, yoga, wandering aimelessly around the apartment. Then Brian came by. But he called at the same time he rang the door bell, so I went into spaz mode and didn't know what to do first. So I grabbed the phone and ran out the door. And then immediately realized not only have I just locked myself out again, but all of my spare keys are resting nicely on my kitchen table.

"Fuck! Fuck me!" I yelled, stamping my feet.

After letting Brian in and explaining the situation, then giving him ample time to wonder why he's dating such a retard, I knocked on my neighbor's door, who was definitely home, to see if I could climb through her bathroom window and up the fire escape. No answer. Nice. I'll remember that lady, if you ever need help. I tried my first floor neighbor, even though I am well aware he is never home. Today is no different. That leaves the garden apartment. I've never met this man, but I knew he was a quiet older gentleman. Lucky for me, he was home!

This is where I should mention my attire. I was still in my hot shorts and sports bra. That is all. What a fun way to meet the neighbor! If I wasn't so frustrated with myself, I probably would have been embarassed. But he was helpful and got the ladder from the back so I could climb the fire escape, not before noting, "Situations like these normally require a fist full of dollar bills."

Yup. Hey, at least I got in. Like Brian said, I should buy him something nice, because it's only a matter of time before I need his help again. Hopefully next time I will have a few more pieces of clothing on. But hey, whatever works. Maybe one day I will remember where I packed my brain. Maybe it's in with the dishes somewhere. I don't know.

Uncomfortable Situation

Sure Uncomfortable Situation was the name of our imaginary band in college, but it applies to so many things, including my latest brainstorm. A few friends and I were discussing the lack of cards for inappropriate family situations. Sure it's Mother's Day, but what if you don't have a good relationship with your mother, yet somehow still feel the need to get her a card? I/We think there is a market for these instances and "Uncomfortable Situation" could most definitely be a great greeting card "company" name for the venture, or maybe plural, Uncomfortable Situations.

Bald Guy Greetings exists and is amazing, they are actually my greeting card heroes, but I think our cards would take sarcasm to a whole new level with a smattering of verboten topics. Did your mother abandon you? Did Daddy leave for his new family? Did Mommy have a drinking problem? Well now you can celebrate your childhood traumas by sending passive aggressive greeting cards! Stay tuned...

April Showers

Lazy Sundays

bleed into Mondays

where the weekday

forgets me

Only to wait again

for the weekend

for the false hope

for you

Hollywood Has Destroyed Our Love Lives (a short rant)

After reading about it on another website, I read the John Mayer interview on Playboy.com. Despite all the backlash it received, I think it was a solid and honest interview. Plus it helps to support one of my latest rants - that Hollywood has distorted women's perception of what dating and love should be so much that there may be little hope for us.

John stated, "Internet pornography has absolutely changed my generation’s expectations. How could you be constantly synthesizing an orgasm based on dozens of shots? You’re looking for the one photo out of 100 you swear is going to be the one you finish to, and you still don’t finish. Twenty seconds ago you thought that photo was the hottest thing you ever saw, but you throw it back and continue your shot hunt and continue to make yourself late for work. How does that not affect the psychology of having a relationship with somebody? It’s got to." (Playboy.com)

The same kind of reality distortion goes for women, but with romantic comedies. We've become so influenced to think that these situations where the man is hard to get, emotionally unavailable or just plain disinterested, have some sort of happy endings. We think that it's going to make some grand romantic story that we will tell our kids one day. So we put up with it. We drive ourselves insane wondering why he isn't calling and why he hasn't gotten back to us. We wait for him to show up on our doorstep with flowers (preferably in the rain to complete the feature film imagery) and say they were wrong and they love us, that they can't live without us. But in reality, they likely haven't given us a second thought, because as Mayer so aptly described, there's always something better around the corner. There's always someone new who may be better than the one before.

So while we are sitting at home theorizing endlessly to our girlfriends for the thousandth time, they've already moved on; and so we will, but not before torturing ourselves over what they were thinking and where we went wrong. We've all been conditioned in one way or another. We need some shampoo.

Puerto Rico

Diablo

so many straws, so little time

Dakota in Vernon

Puppies

dart fail

Happy Home

A Day In the City with Leslie

Rainy Day & New Camera

Great Wall

Chapter 2: Narcissus Lives In Jersey City

A night at the beer garden, watching the 2009 World Series, introduced me to Anthony. Oddly enough he had the same name as Thom Thumb (shocker right? His name wasn't actually "Thom Thumb"). I thought "Hey, maybe Anthony will be a theme for me this year." "You’re name’s not Anthony, I’m sorry, I can’t give you my phone number." This story ended a few days later, which could be considered progress since Thom Thumb only made it 24 hours.

I took interest in him because we had the same shoes on – laceless Converse. It was a conversation starter. I talked to him for maybe twenty minutes total that night, and within that time I think he told me his age about three times. He’s 38. Aside from his age and how young he felt he looked, we did cover the topic of food. I had said his sweater reminded me of pumpkin muffins, and like I mentioned before, I have the eating habits of a child. I don’t like plants; aside from peas, corn, potatoes and lentils. Although I don’t know if a lentil qualifies as a plant. Is a bean a plant? Anyway, Anthony let me know that he loves plants - especially lettuce. He told me with a little too much confidence that, "Oh… I eat about three heads of lettuce a week. That’s why I look so young! I’m 38." I didn't have the best feeling about this one, but figured I would give it at least one date. Maybe he was nervous and that's why he was prattling on. I've done it; I think we all have.

A few days later at brunch, I realized it wasn't nerves; Anthony was entirely too interested in himself, which made me not at all interested in him. Some highlights from my time with him: he didn't take off his sunglasses once during our meal, he skipped his high school reunion because he had a cold sore, and he had a bicycle crew. Yes, bicycle. He had dubbed them the "Handsome Devils." They all had matching bicycles, in different colors. There's really not much more to be said about that, maybe just an eye roll and a mildly disapproving head shake. Brunch was brief, and as we walked away from the restaurant, him back to his car, me back to the pier, I waited until he was out of sight - and deleted his number. It was a bad week for Anthonys.

Condom, Orange, Half-eaten Sandwich?

Looks like for awhile this bench had a lot going on...

A Day In the Park

Friendship

It's funny how the things you do to build a foundation are the same things that fall through the cracks in it.

There May Be a "Second Book" Coming

Chapter 1: Thom Thumb - A Love Story

No one ever said that meeting people at a bar was difficult; it’s meeting QUALITY people at a bar that’s hard. But you think to yourself, I am a quality person, there must be other people like me out there and I am going to find them. So you go out, and you try to meet Mr. or Mrs. Right, but you end up with people like Thom Thumb.

Let me explain. I was out with my sister watching baseball. I noticed an attractive man at the end of the bar; and it took him all night to come up and talk to me. It made him seem charming, shy and genuine. He also added how bad he was at talking to girls at bars. We hit it off and he had me laughing - which is key. He seemed pretty great, but isn’t everyone in the beginning? I noticed he kept his right hand in his pocket and a few minutes later I saw why. He had a slightly odd thumb that I thought may be the result of some sort of accident, but it had a baby fingernail so I suppose it was just deformed. I wondered for a moment if that was something that was going to bother me or something I would be hung up on. I imagined him holding my hand, shaking people’s hands, or running his hands through his hair, all with his baby thumb. (Sure, you may be calling me mean, but if you’re honest, you know you’d be doing the same thing.) The man was sweet and funny, so I figured I would just go with it. Maybe a tiny thumb was something I needed in my life. After an hour or so of talking to him, and having a dance off with the fellow bar-goers, I headed home. He took my number and said he wanted to take me out to a sushi dinner. When I mentioned that I eat like a five year old he suggested McDonald’s and wine. So far so good.

The next day, while my sister was being texted ceaselessly by the Irish man she met the night before, I wondered if I’d here from my guy. Before long, I did. A nice little note saying he enjoyed meeting me and hoped my day was going well. It was. When I got home that night and was getting ready to go out to catch the game with my friend Paul, I got a text message telling me to swing by the bar; they were out watching the game again.

This is when you start to run over the rules in your head. “I shouldn’t go, because I need to give the impression that I am busy.” “I can’t be too accessible; people always say that men don’t like that.” I always have been, and likely always will be, someone who just does what they feel is right. And I do believe that when I meet the right person, all the “rules” and “games” will just go away because it’s right. That, or my theory is wrong and I will end up alone and be the neighborhood cat lady. Check in with me in twenty years and I’ll let you know how that one panned out.

So, anyways, I grabbed Paul and we went to the bar. If we pause for a moment here; I sometimes wonder if this is another area I go wrong in… the male friend. But then I think to myself, I’ve agreed to go out with Thom Thumb, so clearly, he knows I'm interested. I wouldn’t show up at a bar with another man that I was interested in, that would be weird. One would think. After introducing Paul to Mr. Thumb, we all stood around talking. I noticed that Paul and I were doing most of the talking so I made the effort to engage Thom some more. That’s when I noticed something was off. He was talking to random girls at the bar - and he wasn’t shy about it; in fact, they were all laughing and having a great time. So what was he going on and on about the night before? A half hour later he was getting their phone numbers right in front of me. At this point I deleted his number because clearly he wasn’t interested or the charming man I met last night wasn’t so much at all. The girls left and Thom made some more small talk with me, before leaving.

I was a little blown away by the fact that he invited me out so I could watch him hit on other women, but it was so brazen I found myself laughing at the whole situation. It was the first memorable encounter of my new life living in Hoboken. I knew at that moment that this was going to be a wildly interesting time in my life, so I texted my friend, “I love Hoboken,” as Thom walked out the door.