Robo Lives

2006-02-10T09:27:00.000-05:00

A-tisket a-tasket...

Hey, folks out there in the expansive land of the Internets. I've been anything but a diligent blogger as of late. And here's why!

A green and yellow basket:

Work's been cuuurazy, man. For serious. Lots of shiznit to do. Same old story there. Finishing a major push to get over this part of the work cycle. Come next Friday, the easy beginning of a new cycle begins.

I wrote a letter to my love:

My l.0. (love interest... aka T) and I have been steadily moving forward. Dates, drinks, sleepovers... oh my. T asked me about two weeks ago to go exclusive. With nothing else in my green and yellow basket, I acquiesced and said, 'Yes.' Joking aside, I'm really happy I did so and am looking forward to what happens.

And on the way I dropped it I dropped it:

Last Wednesday, T left the City for Chicago on a work trip. A week long trip. Halfway through T's being gone, I entered my usual state of ambivalence about an l.o. who goes away. What's that state, you ask? How apropo of you! Well, see. When someone I'm dating leaves me, I get really sad the instant they leave (i.e., I detest 'good-bye's). Then once they're gone, I sort of, uhm, don't care? (The question mark is intentional.) It's not that I don't care, but I start to... move on... or, more to the point, worry that I won't like that person upon their return. I found myself calling T infrequently and being delinquent in returning T's calls and texts. Yes, I know I'm screwed up. I'm gladly accepting donations in order to visit a head doctor. Thanks! Anyway, T came back this Tuesday night, and everything was great.

I dropped it, And on the way I dropped it:

It being Fashion Week in New York, there are tons of parties and people in the City. Last Saturday night, I decided to get wasted with some of my best friends. Too many tequilas and Coronas later, I was meeting and talking to the likes of Naima (of America's Next Top Model fame), Fabian Basabe (aka Eyebrows) and, yes, Paris Hilton! Heh. I do not know any of these people, and my interaction with them was tangential and fleeting at best. But I was wasted and at an establishment where smoking indoors is permitted, so the interactions didn't seem shocking or weird at the time. Even in my drunken state I realized how goofball all of the aforementioned 'famous for being famous' personalities are. Thank you, alcohol.

A little girl picked it up, and put it in her pocket:

Yesterday was fun. My friend S took me to see this show. Great music, great clothes, hot models, and fashion magazine editors. Sweet. You know how much I love the models, so getting to go was good fun. Highlights included seeing Leanne Rhymes, Andrea Leon Talley, and watching one of my favorite models trip on the runway (schadenfreude!).

OK, have to back to work now. Thank god that stupid group photo with Cynthia Nixon is no longer at the head of Droneville. Gooh.

2006-01-25T17:35:00.000-05:00

Is it wrong that the first thing that popped into my head was, "Who's the person that would sleep with any of these women?"

Yes. The answer to my question would be yes. I'll show myself to Hell, thanks.

2006-01-25T13:41:00.000-05:00

It's official

I'm 25, and I'm [gulp] in... a word that starts with an "L" and rhymes with... glove. I've been seeing T for about five weeks now and, last Sunday (also know as the recovery day from my birthday boozefest on Saturday night), T asked if we could make it exclusive. I wittily tap danced around the obvious and ultimately arrived at the affirmative conclusion. One of the many thing that endears me to T? T secretly contacted my best friends and had a major hand in coordinating my surprise birthday party. True, if I weren't into T that could be viewed as extremely creepy and potenitally deemed as psycho. However, I am into T. A lot. o it just translated to bonus points.

Saturday night was amazing. Everyone that I love (sans friend A who works in London and friend CoolBrit who's traveling on business) was there. The perfect melange of best friends and work folks. I can honestly say it was one of the best celebrations I've ever had in honor of my birth.

Last night, I put my FoodNetwork obsession to good use and cooked dinner with T at T's place. An awesome chickpea and baby spinach salad (inspired by Rachel Ray) to which I added feta cheese. The entree was sauteed chicken breast with an herb and ginger reduction. Mmmm. It's official. I'm 25, putting FoodTV to good use, and happy to be "in a relationship."

2006-01-23T12:52:00.000-05:00

How am I not myself?

I found this to be pretty poignant. [via postsecret] Think about it.

As for me, it was an AWESOME weekend. A surprise birthday party was thrown for the Drone on Saturday night. Many, and mean MANY, tequila shots ensued. God, I love my friends.

2006-01-20T09:18:00.000-05:00

No, darling. I simply don't need the press.

OK, so I have what my friends would hopefully refer to as a pretty cool job. I generally like what I do... and I'm not too bad at it either. My role is one of, I'd say, moderate to heavy responsibility. But I'm definitely not a big wig. Yet. Which is why the following E-mail I (mistakenly) received from a company big wig is so funny:

hi there -

I wanted to know if you were going to be around on friday -
I am spending the day with a writer from [a high-falootin' magazine] who is doing a little story on me .... we are going to be talking about the house renovation and I mentioned that you were making light swtiches for me and he thought that was intersting .

I wanted to talk about the places where I have switches that are ganged [huh? oh.] and one with an outlet in it - thought it could be nice to talk to you about that and show him your diggs....

Let me know if that's cool with you and if the time works....

I know you don't need the press - but I think its cool....

oxox

The E-mail got me to thinking. Will I, too, one day have ganged light switches in my *diggs* the likes of which warrant an article in a highly circulated publication? Maybe. But I won't need the press, so it's moot really.

2006-01-19T13:59:00.000-05:00

...before I get all Ozark on your ass

*Hey, Reesey-poo? Don't make me get all Ozark on your ass with a wicked backhand thwack. You and Nancy Ryder best a shut the traps before you find yourselves riding the back of my unusually large claws. Now hush!

*If you don't shut your trap... I swear that I'll have your fake gummy bears removed and shipped straight to the Ozarks. Thank your lucky Ozarks that you have money in the bank and. HUSH. UP!

*The instant this fetus sees the light of day, I'm letting Marge the Wonder Dog of Ozark loose on his mom and dad.

Hold on... why wait? Sick 'em! ... Damn. Fast work, Marge! A sneak attack and noone is the wiser!

*OK, people. So, Nicole's skinny. Duh. Who else is skinny, you query? What a fine query indeed. Exhibit A. Exhibit B. What do the three of them have in common, you ask? An even finer query. Behold:

Stylist Extraordinaire, Rachel "Ozark" Zoe.

Tee hee. Some people like to use earrings exlusively as accessories for the earlobes while I, in my in infinite styling genius, like to double them up as bicep bracelets! So fetchin' fetch.

Look at her mug, for cryin' out loud. That bitch is HANGRY! Doesn't take no rocket surgeon to figure out the equation...

Hangry Biatch

+

Fat Star

=

Fat Star (one month later)

If DJ AM really wants to help Nic (and these other Ozark-lovin' chicks) out...

Pst. Nic. Please tell me you didn't splurge on that thyme and oregano salad.

...he'll sick Marge the Wonder Dog on Hangry's ass.

Yo, Rach. What's that? Holy!

Grrrr.
....

Aaahhhh!!!

Peace out from the Ozarks.

2006-01-19T10:35:00.000-05:00

1/4 of a century and counting...

So last night was awesome. I met up with T for a surprise dinner. A great meal of wine and vegan organic delights. T gave me an awesome present and a really thoughtful card. After that, we walked over to G's new place of employ. I decided to surprise her in order to introduce her to the new s.o. Side note: G's hair looks AWESOME. Watch out, boys (artists and employed men alike).

A great night all in all.

2006-01-18T18:13:00.000-05:00

It's My Boozeday

...and I'm still at work! No fair. I'm going for dinner with T. Nothing really beyond that.

Here's some VINTAGE M-K... just 'cause:

Me & M-K jumpin' on the tramps.

Who knew MK was a triplet??

MK looks hot, but what's with all the Lexus SUV's in the parking lot??

MK in the best movie ever... filming on the campus of my alma mater.

2006-01-18T12:32:00.000-05:00

Chan-HELL

Apparently, this is a big deal. Via Dlisted, Reese's rep said: "Reese was told the dress was vintage. It was not. I'm not angry - just a little disappointed, but the big deal is Reese won the Golden Globe."

Uhm... it WAS vintage [you moron]. If it was authentic Chanel and had been worn before then it is, by definition, vintage (i.e., a garment from a previous season's collection). Dumbass. Vintage doesn't mean it's never been worn before.

So boo hoo. You allowed a $50,000 dress to see the light of day for the second time in order to win a major award. Why don't you cry? Oh, wait. You did... with a whole It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to moment. I, for one, will be losing sleep for weeks.

Can we get to the real Chanel disaster, please?

According to today's WWD:

Maybe the Witherspoon fracas caused Chanel to overlook another star it clad for the evening: Mariah Carey. Karl Lagerfeld designed a siren couture gown specifically for Carey at the request of Andre Leon Talley, who is orchestrating the pop star's makeover. Talley apparently went straight to Lagerfeld for the look--and sources said the designer delivered against the advice of in-house publicists. The happy diva proudly declared it was Chanel Couture to all who cared, yet Chanel didn't mention her in and post-Globes releases. It took two requests regarding the matter to Chanel to confirm that Carey did, indeed, wear Chanel.

The two lovebirds, Mimi and ALT, together:

A hahahaha. So much fun to be made. Poor Mariah's playing the role of Chanel's bastard stepchild. Only afforded the Chanel dress by invoking force! Heh. So, wait. THIS GUY is orchestrating anyone's makeover??

Someone please abduct the both of them. Bind them, gag them, and make them BOTH over.

Speaking of fashion, I'll be watching this today, tomorrow, and the day after. Guilty admission: I can't wait for its release.

And by they way, it IS my party today, but I won't be crying (unless Mariah Carey becomes the new face of Chanel). The Drone turns 25. Sweet.

2006-01-17T12:04:00.000-05:00

GG Do's and Don'ts

OK, so I did watch the Golden Globes. It was an entirely predictable affair. Overly-dressed rich people. In your face Moet champagne product placement. Mariah Carey and Melanie Griffith to make much fun of. Gwyneth Paltrow's smug visage and ever-cultivating British accent. Ryan Phillippe tripping on Reese's coattail... all the while eyeing the hot guys in attendance.

Could she take any more of an Ew, get away, I'm embarrassed posture, if she tried? And could he hold on any tighter?? Were I skilled at Photoshop, I'd tranform Reese into one huge $. [image via Defamer]

A few of the speeches were surprisingly funny (including Geena Davis's speech about a fabricated incident where a little girl tells her that her performance makes her want to be the President of the United States), and even fewer awards were actually surprising.

I watched the event over at new s.o. T's house with T's roommate on TiVo. My favorite peanut gallery comments were always from the roommate:

"Oh my God! Drew [Barrymore]! It's called a BRA. Look into it!"
"I bet Emmy Rossum has a secret addiction to Dexatrim."

+

= Fugly Nude-Colored Gown Swaddled Hangry

"Oh, Mariah. I hate you. Don't ever change."

But let's get real. This whole shindig is all about clothing... namely, women's clothing. My review, in brief:

Best Dressed

Numero Uno: Natalie Portman in Chanel

Numero Dos: Keira

Numero Tres: Felicity

Numero Cuatro: SJP

Worst Dressed

Depp and the wife... this picture speaks for itself

...and the award for worst-dressed winner of a Globe goes to the crunchy iridescent silk shantung wearing Rachel Weisz. I don't care if you are pregnant, this one's like fish in a barrel.

This one saddens me. I mean. Vintage Chanel + Reese Witherspoon should be a no-brainer. Alas, the sequined... 1/8 of a wife beater left me thinking all night... 'Where are her boobs?' A miss in my eyes. But hey, she's cute... and so is her gay husband. So it's all good.

Make your own fun.

2006-01-17T11:50:00.000-05:00

Drone Loves Costello

So while the rest of the world was the watching the Golden Globes, the Drone was reliving the glory and splendor that is The 2006 AKC/Eukanuba National Championship.

And the winner, who I picked early on in the show, is Costello the Alaskan Malamute. Two words: so. FLUFFY. I want to pet him now! If anyone has any connection whatsoever... hook a drone up. For serious.

2006-01-17T11:10:00.000-05:00

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS

In honor of my approaching birthday (tomorrow) and the melancholy that inevitably accompanies said day, I believe a reading of Oh, the Places You'll Go! by the inimatble Dr. Seuss is in order.

Methinks Dr. Suess was, like, the original Tony Robbins:

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.

...

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So...be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!

In other news, each and every one of my friends have been either explicably or inexplicably MIA.

G now has a non-9 to 5 schedule (i.e., a Drone unfriendly work schedule). Cool Brit is in Hawaii on vacation... yeah. CoolBrooklyn has disappeared into the full-on relationship vortex... hopefully to be heard from again. Good friend S has ALSO been sucked into the relationship vacuum. Though I've talked to my pals over the phone, I haven't seen a one of them since last Wednesday. Thank God I met T, my new... potential significant other (?), with whom I spent the entire three-day-weekend in bed. Looming birthdays, much like New Year's Eves, usually suck butt. Oh, the places I'll go...

2006-01-13T12:40:00.000-05:00

Beauties to see

Just because a) it's cold outside; b) I love nicely framed and well-lit photographs, and; c) I'm in love with models... Damn, I need a tropical vacation.

Caroline Trendini

Frankie Rayder

Fernanda Tavares

Daria!

Check out more cool photos. [via COACD]

2006-01-13T10:10:00.000-05:00

Beautiful to see

Last night featured the Drone and the new love interest (T) hitting up a 'fashion event space opening party'. T brought along the best friend K. So the Drone, T, and K boozed it up good. It bears mentioning that this wasn't one of those lame open bars featuring crowds clamoring to get free, watered-down drinks before midnight when everyone turns into a pumpkin and must once again pay twelve bucks for shitass G&Ts. Nu uh. Open bar as far as the eye could see. Attentive bartenders. Moet champagne. Belvedere vodka. Whatever. No strings attached.

The three of us got drunk of our asses. I hit it off right away with T's friend, K, and realized just how much I'm kinda sorta crazy about T. The funniest nuggets from the evening:

*Arriving at the party, first we had to walk through the 'space' being unveiled (you know, a 'space' to rent or whatever for a runway show or a cocktail party... whatever). To get to the space, however, you had to take a mysterious elevator ride (think Willy Wonka meets Vogue). In this elevator was an artsy-looking Andy Warhol-esque older man holding a scruffy dog. Being a dog lover, I couldn't resist petting the little thing. Upon doing so, I was met with the weird guy's rendition of "Reach Out and Touch Someone." I quipped, "When he's that cute, how could I not reach out touch him?" Then, the weird went creepy when the man lecherously said, "I'd like to reach out touch you!" Ew. I turned beet red in front of all the elevator's passengers while T and K giggled. Heh. But ew.

*There were photographers milling around the party, flashing paparazzi style at party-goers. One clearly (which we later confirmed with a bartender) mistook me for Matthew Fox because she and another photographer took endless shots of me (asking for shots with and without T and K). T and K once again giggled.

I heart open bars... ok, and I think I'm starting to heart T. Help me, Rhonda!

2006-01-12T16:07:00.000-05:00

Totally...

Brainy Kid

In high school, you were acing AP classes or hanging out in the computer lab.
You may have been a bit of a geek back then, but now you're a total success!

Who Were You In High School?

AP tests ruled; however, I never hung out in the computer lab... that Vincent kid who was in there all the time was a total freak. Ahem.

2006-01-12T13:48:00.000-05:00

Hello, Assistant Lackey? Get me coffee! Now! ... Yes, I was just at Starbucks, but I don't see how that's relevant? Now MOVE!

2006-01-11T14:41:00.000-05:00

Oh, New York

Hi, Caroline Winberg. So beautiful. So young. So tall. So blonde. So thin. So wealthy. So unfair.

That's usually where my mind goes... a lot... living in New York. Gina and I accidentally sat next to Ms. Winberg one day shopping in SoHo. We stopped for a coffee and parked it on an outdoor bench. I asked a girl with her back to me, "Do you mind if we sit here." Turning her head, I realized instantly it was Ms. Winberg. Gina and I both did. We exchanged a look that said, "Eek!"

Eventually, after Ms. Winberg had fled, I couldn't help but think, "Waaaaa." It's the same way I feel when I see amazing Manhattan real estate. That instantly familiar... "maybe some day [I, too, will have that]" moment. My friend just sent me a link to this available unit on the Upper East Side. Sigh.

I wish I could just enjoy the finer things in life, even if I only incidentally have access to them, but I can't help but wish that I could have them... pronto. Oh, New York.

2006-01-10T13:14:00.000-05:00

Must Love Dogs

Last night I went to see Match Point with potenial s.o., T. Unless you're thinking about leaving your wife for a sexpot mistress and go to see the movie with your wife ('cause then you might feel a little awkward at times), I'd highly recommend a viewing. I liked it despite mediocre reviews from others. Seems the concensus is that this 'wasn't one of Woody Allen's best.' I beg to differ. I think Celebrity was his absolute worst and that Match Point was one of his best. To each his own.

So, T and I have been on five dates now, and... I have to admit in this anonymous, no-commitment forum that I'm really starting to form an attachment. Gooh. I get a little scared when I do that, but hey. Wudda ya gunna do? If this whole dating people thing never really pans out, I can always buy a dog in support of what I've always known.

*Photo is vintage G and Drone fun... Put it up just 'cause.

2006-01-09T16:48:00.000-05:00

Stop! Or I'll Shoot My Mom...

Ok, so I wasn't sure if I wanted to bring this up, but I've recounted this story twice to friends and realized that it's too charming (read: ridonkulous) an anecdote to keep from these here Internets. It involves the recent visit from DroneMommy. Now. Something you should know right off the bat: DroneMommy knows exactly how to piss off the Drone. Though my buttons are hidden to most, they are HUGE, OBVIOUS, FLASHING RED, and (apparently) begging to be pushed by the DroneMommy (DM).

First of all, DM decided to plan her lovely visit to NYC the day before her son returned to work after not working for almost TWO. WEEKS. Now. Correct me if I'm misguided here, but I believe that a preponderance of people enjoy spending the last day of ANY vacation (from school, working, researching, farming, cow manure scraping... or what have you) vegging out like lazy bastards. You know, to mentally prepare for a return to whatever task they must return to. To be in the most relaxed state possible in which to handle the return to rigamarole. Well. For Drone, seeing DroneMommy ain't quite the embodiment of nirvana. So. DM decides to come THAT day... and then STAY for one more day whilst Drone is working, making her trip a two-day/two-night affair. And did I mention that DM decided to invite herself to Drone's tiny studio apartment for those two nights? No? I left that out?? Well, it certainly deserves mentioning!!

Breathe. Breathe. OK.

So, the first day of DM's stay was nice. DM arrived at 9 in the morning. I put out of my mind the whole 'Waaa. I have to go to work tomorrow.' shit and decided to enjoy the company of DM. We had brunch with CoolBrit and then walked around my 'hood. After being denied tickets to Match Point (upon seeing "The 4:00 and 6:00 shows are sold OUT!"), DM asked, "Is there anything you need to do for YOU? I don't mind." Uhhh. Since when don't you mind, uhm, anything, DM. Love you lots, but... gimme a break. She continues to press, so I said that I could benefit from a haircut. I go to a traditional barber who wanted to shave my beard with a straight razor. I consented. One hour later, DM was complaining, "My. That took a really long time... I wish we could have been spending that time together."

Breathe. Breathe, Drone.

We proceeded to one of DM's self-professed 'favorite' restaurants in New York. Before DM came, she specifically requested to go to this place. I thought, having been to said establishment each and every time she had visited before, that perhaps she'd like to try something new. NO. "I love it!" OK OK OK. Right. Well. Dinner that night: DM complained out the wazoo--everything from service to food quality to price. Gooh. The kicker? "Maybe we should have tried something new?" Gee. Why didn't I think of that?

Slept OK that night... though I was mildly creeped out by having to sleep in the same bed with my mom. Next morning: surprise! Work!! Hurray!!! Left SUPER early for work so that I could (admittedly) escape DM. She wanted to have lunch, so I met her for my lunchbreak. Had a nice enough meal. Then, DM asked how early I could get out of work to have dinner with her.

"Uhm. 7?"

[Audible huff.] "I don't eat dinner after 7:30."

"oooooo kaaaaaaay. 6?"

"No, no. It's OK. I'll just eat without you. Wouldn't want you to leave work too early for your mother."

Breathe, Drone. Breeeeeathe.

"5?"

"OK. Great!"

Please note, that I have never left work at 5, so I seriously had to sneak out of the office. I felt horrible about doing so... which the DM could sense and then guilt-tripped me like noone's business. It was at this point that she informed me, "I really decided to come because I was on the East Coast and thought you'd be mad if I didn't come to see you.... I mean, I love seeing you, but I thought you'd be hurt if I didn't."

Uhhhh. I said straight out that I wouldn't have been hurt. We did our version of patching things up... right after DM guilted the Drone with how she can't afford to stay in a hotel. At least, I thought, tonight would be the last night before DM's departure the next morning. Well, it gets *better*...

Fast forward to 1AM that night, morning. The DM is ripping the Drone out of bed.

"I smell smoke!"

"Whu... Huh [rubbing eyes]... Uhm... there are a lot of smokers in the building?"

Well, two seconds later, I could hear the walkie talkie of a firefighter in my building. Sweet karma. I hate you. Apparently, some dude's computer overheated and exploded. No big deal, BUT. Upon hearing the firefighters, the DM decided to run out into the hall and proclaim, "There's a FIRE in the building!!" Thankfully (note sarcasm), my neighbors (to whom I have, intentionally, never spoken to) decided to come out and engage my mother! The DM then proceeds to engage in a verbal tiff with my neighbors...

"You really shouldn't shout that there's a fire if you don't know for sure ma'am..." said the neighbor.

I actually agreed with this neighborly insight.

"Are you my son's NEIGHBOR?!"

Oh God Oh God Oh God. At this point, I literally ran and hid under the covers. Eventually, DM came back inside the apartment and went to bed. I couldn't sleep all night because I was really livid that she had crossed my prized boundary of domestic anonymity.

The next morning, I couldn't leave my apartment fast enough. I almost literally shoved DM out. She insisted on (extending my misery and) walking me to work. Which she did. Lesson learned: noone cohabitates with the Drone when visiting... and by noone I mean DroneMommy.

2006-01-09T13:57:00.000-05:00

Now BEAR with me

Yes, dearest G, you'd be correct. I was referring to my holiday nudity. No accidental infraction this time.

SO. Christmas was great. The Drone spent it in the City with friend CoolBrit (CB). We played the happy platonic couple by sharing Christmas Eve dinner together and opening Christmas Day presents together. It was great. So bare naked moment #1 came on Christmas Eve when I abandoned my dear CB to meet up with a long-distance... partner in flirtation (who lives in LA but was visiting NYC that night)... at said partner's hotel room for a much-needed night of... nakedness. The next morning, shirking all thoughts of how weird it was that I was waking up on Christmas morning with an LA-based hook-up buddy in a hotel room, I took a cab back to CB's place in time for our 8AM coffee and presents. I'm nothing if not reliable and punctual. Even a booty call won't keep the Drone from traditional festivities. So that was odd, but I was seriously in need of affection and attention.

The rest of Christmas was great. Saw The Family Stone (Eh), Brokeback Mountain (Excellent), and Memoirs of a Geisha (Visually stunning but mediocre otherwise) over my one-and-a-half week vacation. New Year's Eve was awesome. Unplanned. Zero stress. Involving all of my closest friends. Started out at CoolBrooklyn's house for drinking at 3PM. By 6PM, ten people were partying at CB's place. By 11, we were hauling it into the City to party with CoolBrit and her friends.

We all met here for a, surprisingly, hassle free New Year's ring-in. No cover. Not packed but busy, drinks all around, and a traditional countdown. Best ever. Truly enjoyed seeing my lovely G both collapse (with my best friend CB in tow) and walk into the ladies' room with her hair tied into the 'I'm about to puke wish me luck' bun that is ever-so fashionable. What a night indeed.

On the possible significant other (s.o.) front, Drone met someone named T right before Christmas break (quasi-bare naked moment #2). T and Drone enjoyed two dates before T went home to Arizona for break. Fast forward two weeks and waaaaay too many E-mails and text messages later, T and Drone were reunited about a week ago. I'm feeling good about this one, people. We shall see. We. Shall. See.

2006-01-06T12:45:00.000-05:00

Bare with me

Do as the title says, and know that I still love you all. I'm seriously starting to consider signing up for the Internets at home so that I can blog from locations other than my office desk and at speeds other than warp. Christmas and New Year's Eve were actually... get this... amazing. DroneMommy, however, decided to visit on Drone's last day of vacation (i.e., the day every normal human being likes to veg and mentally prepare for a return to corporatism) and STAY while Drone worked. Did I mention that DroneMommy chose to stay in Drone's studio apartment with Drone? Mmm. I just love sleeping in my reading chair. Anywho.

Things to look forward to:

*Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve re-caps;

*My Christmas Eve one-night-stand with a visitor from LA... that was actually cool;

*The new contender for Drone's love interest (not the above, sadly);

*And.... some other intriguing, wildly interesting shiznit.

2005-12-22T09:36:00.000-05:00

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

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.)

2005-12-16T14:31:00.000-05:00

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.

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:

Sigh.

Have a great weekend.

2005-12-15T10:29:00.000-05:00

Red Eye

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.

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.

2005-12-13T17:26:00.000-05:00

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.