Thursday, December 22, 2005

If I have to utter (or hear!) 'transit strike' one more time...

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I mean, I hate to say, "I told ya so," but... I told ya so. The subway system, though necessary and unavoidable in New York, sucks some major tuckus. If you've been reading this ol' blog I roll for more than a few months then you're well acquainted with my inescapable disdain for the subway system in New York. Words or phrases that come to mind: inefficient, crumbling infrastructure, illiogical, smelly, patrons crazier that shit house rats. Just to mention a few.

Anyway, as you may ALSO recall, I recently moved to within walking distance of my workplace. A hahahaha. Su-weeeeeet. So, really. This.... transit strike... doesn't affect me at all. Not in the least. I walk to work. I walk to the gym. I walk to the deli. Walk, walk, walk. All the while with a big, fat, satisfied grin on my happy ol' mug. Honestly, I feel badly for everyone involved in this irrational (and not to mention illegal) charade. But that's all I have to say about it. The MTA had better hope that resourceful New Yorkers don't figure out and perfect a new (and better) commuting routine that obviates the need for the subways. Hm. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, MTA.

Moving on, Christmas is ever approaching. My lovely Gina has gone (mid)westward for the holidays, and I'm immensely jealous. I've been to her lovely family's abode and have never had so much down time and fun. Enjoy, G! I've decided to play the orphan this holiday season with one of my best friends, Cool Brit (CB). CB can't cross the pond for the holidays, so the two of us are hangin' in there together. Should be a lot of fun. Thank God for not having to travel commerically. Can I get a A-men.

In other news, I made out with a cute date last night (despite my saying that I wanted to take a break from dating). I'll report more if anything more develops. For now, I am just completely overwhlemed with glee that today is my last work day before I must return on January 4th, 2006! No night classes. No work. No nothing! Just eating, drinking, kissing, farting, and making like the vegetables do. Praises! Happy Holidays to you All! Make it a good one.

Aw, shiznit. My awesomer than awesome boss just gave me an awesome Christmas present, and I didn't get him anything! Uhhhh. What's the protocol?? I have my lunchbreak to buy a gift and pretend that I intended to give it to him anyway. Gooh. Mission.

Thing that annoys me (today.... aside from the [gulp] transit strike... for now):

*When I check my voicemail messages on my cell and the automated voice says (each. and . every. time!):

You have... ONE. Unheard. Message. The following message... has not... been heard. First message...

Uhm? Automated voice lady? Shut UP! Too many words! Redundant ones at that! Hurry up! Uhhh! (And, no. There's not a button that I can push to bypass her little obligatory and redundant utterance. I've tried that. Bew.)

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Friday, December 16, 2005

Best [Night] Ever

So last night was my department holiday party, and I had the best night ever. Seriously. Drinks, food, shots of tequila, repeat. It was awesome. I seriously love the people I work with. Not one of them is a downer. Here I am lifting a co-worker towards the end of the night.

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I have a tendency to pick women up... literally... when I get soused. Luckily, she was drunk, too, so there was no resistance on her part. Everything about the night was awesome. We did the whole Secret Santa thing. I gave the gift of Kiehl's body products to a female co-worker while I received the gift of a $25 gift card to Whole Foods and this AWESOME mug. The person who gave me MY gift was outdone only by the person who gave my head boss this gift. The helmet was accompanied by 2 tallboys and an implicit challenge to chug them at the dinner table. Which my boss DID. It was awesome.

I can't say enough for how fun last night was. Oh, and so an update. I drunk texted THE (see previous post) the following text:

Hey, THE. U over it? If not, call me. If so, no worries. Happy Holidays. -Drone

In response of which I received the following (immediate) reply:

Hey, Drone! All's well! I'm leaving for LA early next week until after the new year. Have a great holiday!

Uhm. Thanks for the wonderous vaguery. I've had about enough of THE's vague intentions and lack of cahones. As Gina wisely pointed out, THE is clearly avoiding the issue at hand. Fine! Maybe I'll go shopping with Mischa Barton to console my weary ego. Not. It's the holiday season, and I'll be drinking all of the gifted bottles of Merlot that I've been receiving from clients and vendors. Screw THE!

And falling under the category of 'just because':

*NO! Let me get this straight. They're dropping a hot model from a campaign for her rampant coke useage and picking up Lindsay Lohan in her stead? Like... as the so-LU-tion to the aformentioned issue that led to a quandry. Uhhh. NO! Just no. And enough of actors winning the war of Models v. Actors. It's an all out battle, folks. I want my models back! Take to the streets, people!!

*Does anyone else find it funny that the office bathroom (i.e., a space designated to shitting and urinating) makes it OK to fart unabashedly? I think it's cool, personally. Maybe it's a guy thing, but when I go into the WC, if you will, guys stand at urinals and freely bust a dustbunny without shame... standing right next to you. Were they 15 feet south (i.e., out the bathroom door and in the conference room down the hall), this activity would be laughable and appalling. So interesting, funny, and cool... all at the same time, to me. Like I said, just because.

*The only reason I often long for a return to the summer of 2004:

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Sigh.

Have a great weekend.

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Thursday, December 15, 2005

Red Eye

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Well, thanks be to Bejeezle, I'm basking in that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Last night was my final... final at night school (for this semester). My humongous presentation at work happened on Wednesday (in preparation for which I was required to work all last weekend and until 1 AM on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning). I was only allowed to leave work at a reasonable hour on Monday because I had a final exam at night school. Just in case you need speeding up, I'm taking night courses in pursuit of a degree. Don't really need the degree for what I do professionally but I love it and it gives me a good excuse to leave work (occassionally) at a decent time. Anyway, my "hell" period is over. Everything should be pretty smooth sailing until 2006. I'm on my way to leaving the funkitude behind me.

And now for a further insight as to why I was in a funk. It had to do with my dating life. Shocking, I know. Some of you may recall that I briefly mentioned meeting the hottest person I've ever seen in my entire life (oh, such a promising scenario for an enduring relationship). I did. Out one night. Ended up talking to THE ("The Hottest Ever"). Much to my dismay, not only was THE hot, sexy, and cute but also smart, funny, and successful. What? Could this be? I spent the entire night trying to contain my glee. Gave THE my number. Fast forward a week. No call. Duh. Well, as luck would have it, I ran into THE in real life... like... during the daylight hours. THE stopped ME and said how cool I was and asked to hang out. Duuuuu, YES I'LL MARRY YOU... I mean, SURE. So, THE texted me that the Drone simply must come to a "dinner/gathering" at THE's apartment. Uhm. OK. No date? No one-on-one interaction. Strange, but... OK. I'll take what I can get. And that's just what it was.

Drone showed up at THE's apartment for a "dinner/gathering," complete with twelve guests, ice-breaking interactive activities, cocktails, and a full meal. Guess with which one of the aformentioned elements Drone indulged his nerves? Three hours and (ready for this?) 2 tequila shots, 2 vodka/tonics, 2 glasses of red wine, 2 more shots of tequila, and half a bottle of champagne later... I was... erm... dru..mekemmane...nk. I held my shit together pretty well. Outwardly, I was effortlessly charming. Inwardly, I was crazier than a shithouse rat. I made more than a few trips to THE's bathroom in order to talk to myself in the mirror ("Don't act like an idiot, Drone!") and attempt to vomit said booze. Not a skilled bulemic, I was unable to vomit.

At the end of the night THE asked if I wanted to go to a bar. Uhm. NO WAY. I was way beyond drunk and wanted to go home before I embarrassed myself. Believe you me, nothing would have made me more excited than to have taken THE to the bedroom and do naughty, naughty things for eternity. But I was so drunk that even that seemed completely unfathomable. So I politely declined and went to the guest room to get my coat. Where I promptly fell asleep. I woke up... maybe 10 minutes later (?), to the sound of THE's voice, "Drone? Droooone?" I quickly woke up and apologized for nodding off. Then went home in a cab in that teetering between drunk out of my mind and blacking out phase. Though I wasn't able to induce vomiting earlier, the cab ride was able to kickstart the ol' upchuck factor. I puked not once but twice in the cab. Cabbie pulled over and demanded twenty bucks extra to clean the cab. I completely agreed with him, apologized, went to an ATM, gave the cabbie a 20 spot, and walked home.

So. It's been two weeks since that night, and I've heard nothing from THE (after a voicemail and text on my part). Did I blow my shot with THE? What happened. THE doesn't know that I threw up and was nasty drunk. All THE knew is that I briefly nodded off (probably in a cute posture!) on the guest bed. I was effortlessly cute for three whole hours. What the F?! Anyway, this scenario got me all YOU BLEW IT, DRONE... THE COOLEST PERSON EVER AND YOU BLEW IT. Now, I'm over it. But that was a significant factor in my funkiness.

Phew. Moving on. OK, so Red Eye was probably the worst movie ever made but a red eye is apparently God's gift to both Starbucks and the Drone.

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Coffee + espresso = Hello, I'm in love (aka, the red eye)

Maybe I'm way behind the eight ball on this one, but I just learned of this creation after reading the new W Magazine article on Mary-Kate Olsen. This, the chai lattes, and the skim lattes are apparently MK's like... total faves. Uhm, who are you kidding, MK? You don't drink the chai lattes. Everyone knows they have lots of gewy fat and calories. I do, however, believe MK consumes the red eyes. And, as luck and the Volkswagen Beetle Effect would have it, once I read about the red eye it seemed everyone was drinking it. The guy in front of me at S'bucks ordered it this morning. And, unless the construction worker also read and was influence by the MK article, I'm thinking it's been around for some time. So, once again, thanks to MK for kicking ass and introducing me to yet another fad. All hail Queen MK.

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Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Re-stressin' Special

Let's review my 'I'm going out of my mind with obligations' menu (cast members listed in order of their appearance in Drone's stomach), shall we?

Breakfast (c. 8:30-9:15 AM)
1 grande Starbucks houseblend
1 Pure Protein (Chocolate Deluxe) Bar
1 office coffee machine black coffee

Lunch (c. 1:30PM)
1 Pure Protein (Chocolate Deluxe) Bar
1 sugarfree RedBull
1 bag of BBQ-flavored soy chips
1 office coffee machine cappuccino

Linner (c. 4PM)
1 Diet Coke
1 office coffee machine black coffee

Now, would someone please sit on my leg to keep it from spasming? And please get this song out of my head.

PS: One of the many reasons I've decided to stop dating (for now and, possibly, EVER) is the fact that I've lost all hope in ever finding a decent human being with whom to hump. Quoth "hookup4u", from whom I received the following message on a supposed reputable site for those seeking legitimate relationships online:

I would love to cypersex you. I would begin with a long hot passionate kiss as my hand went down and up under your shirt as I begin to strip you down. I lay you face down on the bed as I begin to rub every mussle of your body down with hot oil. Just as you become completely relaxed I ....If you would like me to finish it email me at: [redacted] I would love to get you off on your wildest fantasy.[freak]

Cypersex? ...and what, pray tell, is a mussle? I know mussels and I'm familiar with muscles, but... well I guess I could choose to be flattered that someone wants me. But, well, I choose not to be.

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Get Right

Sorry. Still working through some of my funkitude. I've got about .0002 ounces of gas left in my personal tank of energy. Basically running on fumes. Work is insane, and I'm taking finals for my night classes. As much as I try to be ambivalent about grades and impressing my professors at school, I'm a people-pleaser and a teacher's pet to the max. "A"s matter to me. So I'm basically killing myself. Wednesday night marks the beginning of my... period of freedom. Things will slow down, and I will be taking some time off of work to take care of myself. I've been spending absolutely NO time going out and have not been out on one date in a while. Rather, I've been stressing out a lot and watching waaaay too much of P.Diddy's Making the Band 3.

Please bear with me until my shitstorm passes. Anyone desiring to make the Drone happy in the meantime can steal the following dog, name him "Scruff," and give him to me. Thanks!

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Thursday, December 08, 2005

[Blue] is my fay-vor-it cuh-luh

Chalk it up to depression. Sadness? Uneasiness? Malaise? Whatever. Choose your word, but Drone's feeling a definite blah-ness that's creeping in. Maybe it's the subzero weather in NYC that's got me down. But something tells me it has even more to do with the fact that last time this year, I was snuggled up next to the only person I've ever really loved. Now? Uhm. I enjoy taking night classes. That's cool, right? Uh. Anywho. What can I think of?

*Sure, she's a little "ew" in real life, but what model isn't? Hello? Have you ever SEEN those chicks showing up to fashion week? No? Well, they look like really tall, well-dressed wrinkles. Make-up and hair. Two words. Make-up and hair. Nicole, in my humble opinion, is the first winner of ANTM to actually resemble a model. Sure, a TeenVogue-CosmoGirl-Seventeen model. But a model nonetheless. Congrat's, Nicole. I haven't been such a loyal follower of the show lately, so when I found out she had won I asked, "Was she the white one?" To which I received the most apt response:

Yeah she's the white one. Guess they had to give it to whitey mcwhite after the 2 black women won. C'est la vie.

C'est la vie, indeed. Oh, yeah. MSN.com? How many times do I have to tell you? Shut your trap.

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Thursday, December 01, 2005

"Avoid a Meal with Your Family Thanksgiving"

So I'd be inclined to blame my blogging inadequacy on the tryptophan, but I know you all are smarter than that. Speaking of tryptophan, my Thanksgiving was probably the best on record for the ol' Drone. My best friend Cool Brooklyn invited me to join him and his friends in the BK for a home style Turkey Day. CB's friend A gets all Martha Stewart this time of year and really outdid herself from what I understand. Place settings? Check. Name plaquards? Check. Roaring fire place? Check. Eight tons of amazingly cooked, baked, and roasted foods? Check, check, and CHECK.

In addition to the the food that was there, each guest (of which there were six in total) brought a dish. I made my go-to frittata of smoked turkey, spinach, feta cheese, grape tomatoes, and cayenne. Mmm. CB won the prize for best pumpkin pie (read: orgasmic cream cheesey mass) by taking a page out of Paula Deen's (cook)book. Lastly, between the six of us we housed 13 bottles of wine (not to mention a bottle of champagne and a bevy of mixed bevies). Drunken Trivial Pursuit and Drunken Poker playing was enjoyed by all. If I had to have been away from the family, this was the way to spend it.

There's actually a lot more news, but work's a little crazy right now. The main tidbit is that I'm meeting up with the hottest person I've ever met in my entire life on Saturday night. Couldn't be more nervous or excited. More to follow...

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