Wrap Up Thursday – Because why not, right?

Weird things that happened to me this week:

. I came home from Book Con on Saturday with Alyson (not the weird thing) and my roomie and her friend wanted to grab dinner, so I offered to drive because I was SO DONE with walking. Well, lucky I offered because when we arrived at my car on the next block over, the back driver’s side sliding door was wide open. Just chillin there. The last time I’d been in my car was Friday morning to get my umbrella, so potentially, it had been open and sitting on the street for over 24 hours. My front door was unlocked and ajar, and my glove compartment was open and a little disheveled. But fortunately I don’t own any nice things besides my computer, which I keep on my person at all times.

But dude, that was freaky. I literally thought someone was going to be in my car when I walked up to it.

In other news, it seems that my tiny dime collection for parking meters is uninteresting to thieves.

We are literally the cutest ever. And people at the con loved our shirts!

We are literally the cutest ever. And people at the con loved our shirts!

. Before that, I went to Book Con with the Bibliosmiles powerhouse girls, Danielle Alyson and Gaby. I won’t steal their thunder, they all wrote some fantastic things for BibS,  and you can read all about it here. Lemme just say, it was a fantastic day, even with the whole car thing.

. I wrote a post for Bibliosmiles! And I worked a little more on one that I’ve had brewing for a few weeks. It’s hard when you fall into a rut of un-creativity. But sometimes a little push is all you need. Danielle needed me to hit a deadline, and when I forced myself to finish the post, it made me feel like writing, even if it was about nothing, like this post is. It just makes you feel good, ya know?

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Dumb Phrases I Refuse to Google

And now, a series of phrases that confuse me but I have yet to bother looking up the origin of – 

“Shit-eating grin”

What even is a shit-eating grin? If I had to describe a shit-eating grin, I don’t think I could. Like, I don’t think I could draw one. It’s just a term I use to describe a grin that does not express a contagious-type of happiness. Plus I can’t draw. So whatever. 

“Fresher than a motherfucker” 

Literally, ew. But in terms of cultural context, when you call someone a motherfucker, it’s typically a bad thing, right? When you’re reading character dialogue and someone says, “You motherfucker!” -there’s a definite tone of anger in their voice, they despise them! And to be fresher than someone or something is to be better than them – being of a higher current social status. But isn’t everyone better than motherfuckers? They already suck!

Help me, Chris Brown, you’re my only hope.

#OhWaitDon’tIHateYou

#OhWaitDon’tIHateYou

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Hot Mess Drag Revue (No, I don’t mean me.)

So I am CLEARLY no good at keeping up with this blog. I try. I think about it all the time. I have ideas, I take pictures for the ideas, I tell my friends, “HEY, this would be SUCH a good idea!”

And then, nope. I sleep in. I go to lunch. I cook mac and cheese from the box for the third time in a week. I re-watch all the Project Freelancer seasons of Red Vs. Blue [spoiler.] There’s just always something right in front of my face that seems to take precedent.

So chronology is officially out the window as I’m just going to pick fun stories to recap for a while.

A few weeks ago, I went to a drag show! A handful of friends and I nabbed some Groupons to Hot Mess Drag Revue at XL Nightclub in Manhattan.

First off, you can tell a lot about a person by their reaction to the question, “Hey, wanna go to a drag show?”

For anyone who responds, “Uhm. No. That’s super weird,  I don’t get it and frankly it makes me uncomfortable.”

…ya know, you’ve probably already been offended by something I’ve said in the past, so I really don’t need to be addressing you.

For my friends and I, our eyes lit up at the potential hysteria and chaos analogous with a drag show. All too excited, we got super cute one Friday evening and made our way to NYC.

I'M TAKING A PICTURE, EVERYONE LOOK HAPPY.

I’M TAKING A PICTURE, EVERYONE LOOK HAPPY.

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BiblioSmiles – What Its Beautiful Beginnings Have Already Taught Me

“I don’t read anything anymore.”

That was my absolute first thought when Danielle told me the fabulous concept for BiblioSmiles back in January. BibS, as I like to refer to it, is a site dedicated to celebrate the joy of reading within an online community. It’s brand spanking new, but I see big things ahead for it. A ton of people have already submitted stuff like reviews and personal essays and even more have expressed interest in contributing. And oh man, I immediately wanted to be a part of it.

Seriously, it's the only thing I have.

Seriously, it’s the only thing I have.

My second thought was, “I have nothing to contribute.” I work at a PR and brand marketing company, where ‘office hours,’ are a joke, so I end up with a 60 hour work week stretched between HQ and home. How am I supposed to do a book review or talk about my favorite author when the last thing I read for pleasure was “The Year Ahead: 2014” edition of Bloomberg Businessweek?

So I provided my ‘professional’ opinion *cough* on things like contributors and blogging platforms and social media outlets and how her logo should be a replica of the Teletubbies Sun-Baby except with a picture of her shinning face. I know Gunnar put a lot of work into the current logo, but I still think mine had some potential.

So happy! Nicely done, sir.

So happy! Nicely done, sir.

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Next Week On, “My Life After Purchase”

I sort of can’t believe it’s February. So much has happened, so much is happening, so much is probably about to happen in the world that I just have no idea about cause it’s happening to people I don’t know or care about. Gosh, so much to take in.

Since my last post in *gasp* December, I’ve clearly moved up in my job. I’m not saying I’m any better at doing things, but I’m more confident about telling people what I think and having my opinions promptly rejected. Hey, whatever, at least I’m trying. I’ve been invited to two, that’s right, TWO, big, important, boss-type meetings. To take notes, mostly, but I was there! And I cracked some jokes!

Even on break, the room still looks important.

Even on break, the room still looks important.

I’M SO IMPORTANT, PEOPLE, HOW CAN YOU EVEN STAND TO BE AROUND ME.

In what I guess is bigger news, I’m moving. Like moving out.

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Will Work for Cute Boots

Seasons Greetings! Hope Santa was good to everyone this holiday!

And for those who don’t celebrate Christmas, sucks to suck. Though I thank the Lord for Judaism, as it means my boss took these two weeks off from work and jetted to Tel Aviv for a big family vaca. I’ve been chillin on LI, hanging out with friends, catching up on some much-needed me time (a.k.a. sleep) and being surprisingly productive.

I got three pairs of boots for Xmas because I am a fiend for a horseback riding ensemble and let me tell you NOT ONE OF THEM FIT MY NEWLY RIPENED CALVES.

No really, look at them.

No really, look at them.

I don’t know what happened people, but my previously 15-inch calf decided to balloon out to just over 17 1/2 inches, and I am not happy because tall boots make me happy and I can’t wear tall boots. So after crying over my new Madden Girl Brown Zuzu’s, I got my ass on the treadmill this morning, had a salad for dinner, and threw in some squats for good measure.

Squats BUST my knees, because my mother’s entire family has either had a knee replacement or have their sites set on one. My mother actually just got her second knee replacement in early December.

My 90-year-old grandmother has had three knee replacements. Don’t ask. Continue reading

“No” Doesn’t Mean Anything on a Friday Night

CHRIST ON A CRACKER, PEOPLE, LET ME TELL YOU A STORY.

So Chelsea, Emily and I go out for a few drinks Friday night, celebrating something, who really cares. After margaritas at a Columbian restaurant, we head to a bar we like. But there’s a cover for some crappy live music, and everyone in there looks like they have fathered many children, so we move on.

Next on our list is the Half-Penny Pub in Sayville, which has a cool setup and a lively atmosphere. The bartender is busy, but fun, attentive and good for a suggestion. We’re having a good time just the three of us, observing, drinking, chatting at the bar.

SuperKim

SuperKim

Enter Vinny and Frank. Vinny is an older dude. Frank is a younger, much drunker dude. The matchups have been decided – Vinny vs. Emily. Frank vs. Chelsea. Kim vs. The World.

To get right to the good part, Vinny buys Em a shot despite her saying, “I’m okay, got a full beer right in front of me.” (I decline the shot, I’m driving.) After the shot and some chatting, Vinny thinks he’s being slick when he leans behind Emily and begins his play with, “So, hypothetical situation-”

“A guy at a bar thinks this girl is cute, buys her a drink, and wants to get her number, but really wants her friends’ approval first.”

I made him repeat himself, because doesn’t that always piss you off? When you think you’re being cool and someone doesn’t understand you? “Wait, what?” So he repeats himself. And during his second run through Emily starts grabbing my knee, so the end game here is clear. This is my favorite part – where I get to be a bitch and there will be no repercussions. If I do a good job at being a bitch, I even get thanked for it. What could be better?

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Airport Diner

Late last night, after a very long day, my darling Chelsea and I went to a nearby diner to simultaneously grab food and be productive.  I had a huge report to finish for work and she had a math final to study for.

Though we got to the diner at about 8 p.m. or so, the following is a transcript of the most eventful portions of the evening.

Scene: Me on my laptop, though admittedly I don’t look like I’m doing work as I am on Twitter and Facebook tracking social media mentions.  Chelsea’s notebook and math notes are strewn about.  Quesadilla remnants and coffee cups litter the table.
 9:00 p.m.

Chelsea, who cannot focus for anything (too much caffeine probably,) settles on her mantra, repeating it to give her strength:

1-Do the stuff

2-Learn the things

3-Not fail the test

book

Aggressive.

9:17 p.m.

Mantra is slightly altered:

1-Do some of the stuff

2-Learn a few of the things

3-Consider not failing the test

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The Liberty

This white 2002, V6 3.7 liter engine, 4WD, hand crank window, gas guzzling, perpetually spotted windshield, balled tire’d creaky Jeep is one of my bestest friends.

Hello, beautiful.

Hello, beautiful.

The passenger side back door does not power lock like the rest, and I have to remind my friends after every ride to lock it.  Sometimes they get annoyed that I badger them about it.  But when I don’t, they forget, so I do.

There’s a weird leak in (I think) the top right hand corner of the windshield caulking, and probably somewhere else as well. You don’t notice this leak when it rains, only after, when the carpets are wet, and you constantly shock passengers with your sudden outcry of, “DON’T PUT YOUR BAG ON THE FLOOR.  Sorry, but it’s wet.”  Also, that means no suede boots.  Ever.

Because of this leak, when it rains in the summer, you have to be vigilant about remembering to run outside immediately after the showers have passed and crack the windows open. If you don’t, well gosh, I hope you’re not allergic to mold, like my roommate was when she came with me on a $130 trip to the car wash.  She braved the journey like a champ, while the workers at the most expensive car wash I have ever encountered gave me looks of sheer horror when I opened my trunk to reveal the damage.  Lesson learned.

I’m pretty sure in its heyday this beauty got a whopping 16 miles to the gallon.  But ancient and decrepit as it is, it’s no longer so very efficient.  When your commute is exactly 60 miles in each direction, three times a week, UGH.  A full tank of gas can get you there and back and there again and ALMOST back again, but not quite.  That’s right, one tank, less than two days of travel to and from work.

Now, that’s not entirely my girl’s fault.  She’s getting on in years, and my travel needs are absolutely absurd.  But it is the reality of the situation.

I am saddened today by the notion that it is time to say goodbye to my car.  My first car, my most loved automobile, my 2002 Jeep Liberty.

My mother purchased a new car recently, and has graciously allowed me to take her old Honda Odyssey for no cost.  That’s right – I’m getting a minivan.

I’m not particularly excited about what a banged up silver minivan is going to do to my bad girl image. (That’s a joke, in case you missed it.) But it’s the financially sound thing to do right now.  It’s already better on gas than my Jiberty, and because it’s such a mom car I’ll automatically drive slower in it, it’s natural, saving even more in the way of fuel.  As in, no more 85mph down the LIE just cause I feel like it.  And I’ve only ever gotten one speeding ticket as a youth, but I’d really like to avoid getting another.  Time to start leaving the house on time…

Lookit. The grill gives it a little edge, but all the rounded edges give it the feminine vibe I love. DON'T LEAVE ME.

Lookit. The grill gives it a little edge, but all the rounded sides give it the feminine vibe I love. DON’T LEAVE ME.

So this week, the Liberty goes up for sale.  Anyone interested?  Kelley Blue Book values my baby at about $3300, but I can be more than reasonable about a price!  No takers?  Ah well.

Wall-E is pretty upset too.  Don’t worry, he’ll be making the move with me.

“Life After Purchase”

#ThatAwkwardMomentWhen, you realize your school has a whole column, advertised on the front page of their Web site, with the same title as your blog.

 

lap

 

#ThatOtherAwkwardMomentWhen you are alerted to this fact by an alumni survey they sent you, that based on the title made you think something was up with your blog.

 

Screen Shot 2013-11-25 at 12.41.47 PM

 

Bro, I’ve had this blog since February.  Back off.

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