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.

2005-12-13T11:22:00.000-05:00

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!

2005-12-08T09:42:00.000-05:00

[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.

2005-12-01T09:33:00.000-05:00

"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...

2005-11-18T16:06:00.000-05:00

Seasons Change

Ok, so many of you may know that I'm pretty obsessed with fashion models. Usually of the female variety. I prefer their visages on magazine covers (rather than actresses) and salivate when I see them tramping down the runways. While I don't tend to follow male models and their careers, this is unavoidably hilarious.

So, male model Brad Kroenig is probably one of the most recognizable male models right now (in terms of fashion advertising). To wit.

Well, you know how you're always hearing that modeling is a fleeting career path and that an intelligent model should consider an alternative career after the coke blowing, champagne guzzling days are over? Well. Check out Brad's... transition.

It's no joke. Apparently, you can call his cell (if your inner stalker is so inclined) AND you can visit him at an open house on Laffayette and Spring this Sunday at noon. Good for him, I guess??
[scoop via COACD]

2005-11-18T13:52:00.000-05:00

Just gimme da light

I'm totally pulling for Sean Paul and Wynona Judd. These kids can make it.

2005-11-18T13:19:00.000-05:00

So much better than my thug horsehead costume. Sigh.

2005-11-18T09:19:00.000-05:00

Rock Out...

I must be gettin' all Kevin Spederline on your asses because last night I got drunk yet again. At yet ANOTHER magazine party. Uhm. Not that I'm complaining, but what are these magazine parties about anyway? Free booze and people schmoozing, but do these things really increase circulation? Eh. Whatever. Like I said, free booze... so I won't complain.

My friend R invited me out to the party after I went to the gym. Shit was packed at first and then mellowed out towards the end. Really had fun with the open bar. Went to the "co-ed" bathroom and was practically assaulted by a girl guarding the facilities. Clearly sauced, the gatekeeper giggled and told me that I couldn't go in because her friend was in there and that it smelled "really bad." Uhhh. I laughed and then pushed past to use the urinal. Then Drunky McDrunk asked to see my "penis." Uhhh. No. Natch, Drunky McDrunk became a good friend the rest of the night. Drunky's friend (once she emerged from the crapper) and I bonded on looking like celebrities: I like Matthew Fox and she like Kate Bosworth AND Alison Lohman.

After that, I left the club with R and his friend. We smoked a cigarette on the FREEZING sidewalk whilst I witnessed a drunk girl literally collapsed like a giant redwood. Timber!!! Shit. Was. Fun. NY! She was OK so I didn't feel so badly for laughing uncontrollably. Oh what a night. I love New York.

Tonight, my friend M is taking me to see the new Harry Potter movie. I couldn't really care less about it, but a movie's a movie so I'm going. Then [wetting index finger and testing the wind current], I predict getting drunk will be in order.

2005-11-17T14:58:00.000-05:00

It doesn't get much better than Lu.

2005-11-17T10:38:00.000-05:00

Yesterday's Muse

Oprah has struggled with her weight in the past. Ders. Let's get to the real issue, folks.

Contrary to popular belief, neither Beck nor Sienna Miller serve as the the inspiration for Hipsters and fashion victims from far and wide. It's Oprah c. 1985! Who knew?

Upon hearing the news, Sienna seriously wigged out...

And, oh. dear. Lord. Talan (C-List) + Kimberly Fugbert (B-List) = a pretty damn mediocre B-

2005-11-17T09:21:00.000-05:00

We can do it alright

Why, oh why, did I choose to go balls to the wall on a Wednesday night? I'm just a little restless, lately. So I ditched my night class and went out with my best pal, Cool Brooklyn, and CB's beau (R) in my new 'hood.

CB and R tried to set me up with R's friend, M. Natch (because I'm too damn picky and destined to be alone), there was no interest on my part so I just got drunk and chatted it up. Until I saw someone in the bar that I had axed about six months ago because of excessive clinginess and claws-digging-into-me-ness (read: STALKER!). I got all stiff and scared when I noticed. I may have even asked CB to "hide me."

But. In light of my new desire to be totally mature about relationships, I said 'Hi' and then engaged in some catch-up talk. Oh, and then we made out. D'OH! Blasted tequila. You'll have me destitute before long, won't you? Sweet, sweet misery.

Speaking of sweet misery, "Stank-up Ho's" time's up on Top Model. You'll be sorely missed. Can't wait to hear what Midwestgrrl has to say on this development. Guess it goes to prove that not always do the love-to-hate-'ems prosper. Hm. Bye, Lisa.

2005-11-16T11:07:00.000-05:00

Certifiable Heartmelter

Today's Dog of the Day, Mister, is so f***ing cute:

... and also happens to bear (no pun intended) a striking resemblance to the teddy bear from the worst piece of never-ending crap movie ever (aka A.I.):

2005-11-16T09:18:00.000-05:00

Ambivalence = Sexy

So just call me sexy, ok? I'm in kind of an eh mood. Nothing's bad, per se, but I'm sort of craving a... relationship. M hm. It doesn't help that, after I cut ties, my ex- called me two nights ago sounding lonely and interested in me. C is a very sweet human being but really caused me some hurtin' when we ended things. To get back into that or even SEE C would be a bad thing, I decided. Well, last night at the gym, who should I see working out with a trainer...but C.

Grrreat, I thought. Should I be mature and say Hi or be a schoolkid and scuttle off? I did the former. Literally tapped C on the shoulder with my water bottle and said, "I'll let you get back to it... Just wanted to say Hi." Uhhhh. Life is weird sometimes. So we don't talk, speak, or run into eachother for over a month. I'm feeling great about myself for not really caring. Then C calls me AND we run into eachother in a span of two days? What the F? Not that I run my life according to some foolish belief in Fate, but it's a weird and cooincidental series of events to say the least.

I recently cut the fat from my dating routine. All potentials have been nixed but the cut and sweet J(o). We're going to dinner on Saturday night. I'm still not sure exactly how I feel. It's a third date which, for me, means I have to make up my mind if I want to go further or just end it. Dating is so f***ing exhausting. And, to be honest? I just want to meet someone that makes my stomach do that fluttery crap and makes my head mull over every part of them... AND have that person return that kind of affection. Lately, I seem to be 'plagued' with feeling eh about people who seem to get fluttery over me. Bew, Fate. Bew. Not nice.

Anyway, last night I met up with three friends from college for dinner. I hadn't seen them in over a year, so it was really awesome to catch up.

Read the funniest story about how *Jason Lewis* hearts Lindsay Lohan.

2005-11-14T15:12:00.000-05:00

Weekend Recap

I know all thirteen of you are just DYING to know what I was up to this weekend. Right, well let's get to it.

Friday night was ridonkulous. I went to a magazine party where I drunkenly approached and conversed with Naima of America's Next Top Model fame. So hilariamous. She was surprisingly tall and entertainingly diplomatic. I tried to get the lowdown on who was mean and such...

"I don't believe that people are mean... they merely respond to their inner selves."

I think I uncontrollably chortled out loud after a pregnant pause. Thanks, alcohol. Luckily, the club was loud and so packed that I don't think good ol' Naima understood that I was laughing at her ridonkulousness. Immediately texted Gina and informed her of my siting to which she replied:

"Hahahahahahahahaha."

Rightly so. Moving on, I was led to another nearby club with my friend M.

Once there, I ran into tons of people I knew from various aspects of life for whatever reason. Extremely random and funny. Ended up getting more and more drunk off of drinks that people were buying for me. Then. I spotted and began talking to the hottest-meets-intelligent person I've ever seen in my life. For real.

I was so puppy dogly infatuated that my sole ambition for the night became to make sure that I talked to said person now and in the future. True to my dumbass form, I played it cool and only managed to give my number to said hottie at the end of the night. Why I didn't demand the hottie's number is beyond even me. I'm an idiot; that's why.

Anyway, after that I shared a cab home with a friend J who I accidentally ran into at the club. We both live in the same vicinity, so it made sense to share the fare. What didn't make sense was when J tried to make out with me upon exiting the cab. Again, I uncontrollably laughed mid-kiss, not knowing what the hell was going on. Alcohol tends to bring out the giggles in me at inappropriate moments. After I laughed, J sort of scuttled away--embarrassed, I presume. Did I mention that I only know J because J was going out with my ex's best friend? Take a second and think about that. My ex (C) has a best friend named C. THAT C and J were together when C and I were together. The four of us used to go to dinners together and even went on a beach vacation together. Just so wrong on so many levels, I think. Oh, well. Just another weird moment... continuing along with the seeming theme of the night.

Saturday consisted of indentured servitude to my cell phone. Ring, I thought. Come on, RING. RING!! I am dying for hottie to call me, but I'm doubting it's going to happen. I'm just a pessimist like that. Saturday night, I went out with J(o) for our second date. We had a great meal near the window of said restaurant when I noticed my drunk friends outside waving to me and making faces from across the street. As I was facing the street and J(o) was facing inward, only I could, thankfully, witness the drunken antics of my friends. Luckily I wasn't drunk at that moment or else I probably would have, again, uncontrollably laughed out loud. Let that be a lesson to us all: never tell your friends where you're going on a date! Oh how I love my carousing New York pals.

J(o) is very cute and nice and, as I found out on Saturday night, an awesome kisser. So J(o) is as high on my list as it gets for now.

Sunday consisted of hiking with friends in upstate NY. Check out ViaGina for details (and my backside).

So I officially ended things with the "beautiful yet intense" J(u). I am also phone phasing out the hot and sexy A. Just bad news and not what I'm looking for right now. In the meantime, I'll hold my breath for the hottest person I've ever met to call me. Somebody please stand by with reviving paddles when I pass out from asphyxiation.

2005-11-11T10:13:00.000-05:00

Wanna annoy Paris?

Do the obvious. What else? GET MARRIED! I'm done. [You can't see me, but I'm throwing my hands up.]

And, in related news, Lindsay to set foot in an actual school without camera crews and scripts.

2005-11-11T09:51:00.000-05:00

When it rains, it pours.

Such is my life, as friend A so rightly acknowledged via E-mail this fine Friday morning. I experience a major dry spell and then all of a sudden get laid and have two separate dates with two separate people.

So, as you'll recall, J(u) and I have seen eachother four times or so and done the nasty. I'd be up for going down the serious path, but like I said: I'm not counting any chickens. So, last night I had a first date with A. A is hot. Very hot. Not beautiful. Not pretty. But hot... and pretty damn sexy. A seemed totally confident and cool but by the end of the date I had A in the palm of my hands. Literally, I suppose. No, not like that. Like on A's cheek while we were 'making out' goodnight. So there was that. Now, A wants a second date. I ALSO have a second date with J(o) on Saturday night. Ahh!

A is hot and sexy [but probably bad news], J(o) is cute and sweet [but maybe too boring], and J(u) is cute and beautiful [but is pretty intense and high maintenance]. We'll see.

Been going to the gym like a maniac, so I'm feeling pretty good about myself in that respect. Basically, I'm ready for this jam packed weekend:

Tonight: Party #1 and then a Magazine Party with Gina and friends.

Saturday Day: Brunch with an old friend from college.

Saturday night: Dinner Date #2 with J(o) and then maybe something else with friends if date sucks.

Sunday: HIKING! with all my friends on a trip that my friend Cool Brit coordinated.

Sunday night: Date #2 with hot A.

I'm tired just thinking about it. I need a nap. Happy Veterans' Day.

2005-11-10T11:09:00.000-05:00

Gimme

Ahh. The work morning always feels so much more manageable when you get laid the night before. Yes, my loyal tens of readers, the Drone was up until 3AM making devious with with his newest... date?

J and I've hung out four times or so. It was about time and was pretty good. Still not too sure how I feel about J, but at least I know I like the goods. See, I don't really tend to get physical unless I'm interested in a relationship. Call me a square. Call me a prude. Call me a square prude. A spade is a spade. So, I guess my subconscious is willing to go there with J. No expectations, though. Ever the pessimist, I'm expecting the worst and excited if something contrary surprises me. In keeping with that mindset, I'm leaving my options open and going on a drink date with new person A tonight.

Ok, enough of being thankful for what I have. Moving on to the greed-filled holiday of Christmas: Gimme. Gimme. Gimme!

2005-11-10T10:43:00.000-05:00

Time Goes By... So Slowly

From FourFour, "Congratulations, ANTM. You're still in the running towards becoming the gayest shit I've ever seen in my life." A hahahahah.... hahahaha [choking laughter accompanied by a tear rolling down cheek]. So true. So true. The only thing that would make that scene from ANTM better were if it had Madonna's Hung Up playing in the background with go-go boys in thongs.

2005-11-09T12:28:00.000-05:00

Giving thanks

In honor of the impending holiday, I'd like to phone in this blog post. Things for which I'm thankful:

*Walking to work from my new kickass apartment in three minute's time
*U2
*Fannypack
*Anna Nicole Smith

[Image via here]

*The beggining-of-the-end of Jessica Simpson's fame-for-nothing

*Text messaging
*Gainful employ (ok, simply employ)
*Physical health (I don't have AIDS either! Rock.)
*Friends Gina, A, Cool Brit, Cool Brooklyn
*Tara Reid

*The Clash
*Annie Lennox
*Brunch with booze
*Mean Girls on Showtime On-Demand

PS: To all those clotheshorse females out there, Stella McCartney's work for H&M debuts tomorrow ("at 10AM")... Sans ads featuring Ms. Love Me Lines Long Time.

2005-11-08T09:59:00.000-05:00

Don't Funk With My Wardrobe

Oh. My. GOD. Today's Lookbook feature, one "Sam Masters, High-School Junior," makes me--in short--want to hiss and spit like a venomous cottonmouth defending its young. Oh, Sam. I don't even... I mean...

* ...I’m at Browning but I’m also very much into acting [read: I'm deep]...
* We’re just a big hippie [read: UPPER EAST SIDE OVERPRIVILEGED] family, really.
* I definitely like to funk it up. [no no no no no no no no no no no]
* I like things very deep and very complex... [read: unlike my style]
* I guess I just really love tight clothes.
* ...I fall in love very easily. I have a girlfriend named Destine [read: I'm not gay... I swear.] I met her at one of my best friends’ sweet sixteens. She goes to Dalton, and she’s a big David Bowie fan. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

Oh, Sam. So young to be so banal and, as you say, trademarked. Barf. Yack. Vomit. Dry heave. I need to go lie down. [Thanks to A for the heads up.]

2005-11-07T13:49:00.000-05:00

"Do people always tell you..."

Uh. It happened AGAIN. At lunch today. On my way back to work from lunch with friend B. Not one, but TWO Matthew Fox misidentifications. The first thought I just looked like him while the second began to compliment me on "[my] work" before I stopped her and explained. Oh, brother.

And, just because...

[Thanks to friend A for the heartmelt]

2005-11-07T10:30:00.000-05:00

Home, Sweet Home

Well, it's final. I've moved in to my new place, and I walked to work this morning. What a weekend. First of all, major doting goes out to G. Gina was my knight-ess in shining armor.

Early on Saturday morning, I get a voicemail from two friends saying that my best guy friend Cool Brooklyn (CB) has fallen in a bar and cracked his head open and that they are at the hospital. Whether or not they'll even show up to help me move is called into question. At first my mind goes to, 'Gosh, I hope CB's alright!' but then pretty quickly segues to 'You know you have to do heavy lifting to help your friend move, so you go get wasted the night before?'

So Gina and I go to collect the sketchy UHAUL from the skecthy Russian hardware store owner when we are informed that they do not have the small UHAUL truck but rather a larger version that, at first, made me want to cry at the thought of driving it. Nonetheless, I took the keys along with a big gulp and lurched towards my apartment.

Turns out, G and I were the only ones to move me OUT of my place. Gina guarded the van while I literally lifted and carried every single material possession out of my place and into the van. Just as we were finishing, my friend B showed up with coffee and sympathy. B was supposed to be on the downtown leg of the move (under the assumption that my two other friends would be coming for the uptown leg). B rushed uptown and was awesome. Then, after many cigarettes and a break, CB showed up with a Frankensteinian stitchline across his cranium and a huge bandage on his head. I felt horrible at that point, so all was forgiven.

So then we all went downtown and met my friend S. At full count, we were six getting me moved in. That part was awesome and fun. After that, G and I drove the van back to the Russian sketchbomber and then met up with my friends for food and booze. Post meal, G and I went back to my place so that I could unpack and arrange everything. I did it, true to my OCD form, in about two hours flat--pictures hung and all.

After a shower and nap, all my friends came over with booze and more booze. Had an awesome little party there and then went out in the new 'hood for a maniacal rampage of booze and partying on the Lower East Side. So much fun. Best weekend ever.

And the kicker? I walked to work today. In five minute's time. Subway? Are you listening? It's been swell... but we're through.

2005-11-04T14:20:00.000-05:00

Gone With the Wind

It's official. I'm moving tomorrow. East Village-bound, I am:

Bright and early, Gina and I are picking up my UHAUL from the sketchy franchise manager in midtown. Then five of my closest pals are coming to help load in and load out. I'm actually looking forward to driving at 10' high truck in the City. Slow-moving pedestrians, watch your asses. Or else.

Speaking of Gina and being 'gone'... my lovely has once again parted ways with a job that is not worthy of her brilliance. My move-in will double as a celebration of her moving onward and UPWARD.

By the by, if you happen to be moving from Abbeville, Alabama to Manhattan, prepare for the crime. Sweet: find out how much you would need to make in order to move to another city.

2005-11-02T10:00:00.000-05:00

Happily Never After

Get your hot, single self to the MoMa store and buy yourself an engagement ring to... proclaim your independence? Er.

2005-11-01T10:01:00.000-05:00

Suddenly Stupid

Now, I'm not quite sure what I was expecting when I went to MSN.com for dating advice; nonetheless, I've had it up to here with these so-called instructional articles not offering any real advice that I can use. Hey, Laura J. Schaefer? Your $.50 a word isn't just to see how many words you can write. I think you're getting paid to actually, you know, instruct.

As you all may or may not have extrapolated, I'm having a little bit (read: a lot) of difficulty getting over my ex C. Imagine my interest when I saw the article Getting over it: Is there any way to speed it up?

'Alright I'll bite,' I thought to myself.

*Work it, work it, get up and move that body. There’s nothing like a rush of endorphins to wash that man (or woman) right out of your hair. [Uhm. One? I already do that. And, two? C and I actually enjoyed doing that toGETHER, so that only reminds me of C. Gooh. Next!]

*Distraction, distraction, distraction. Be kind to yourself after a tough breakup. Indulge in frequent matinees at the local Cineplex... [Oh, yeah. Nothing like a good movie by yourself, reminding you of your solitude and being forced to watch couples hold hands and whisper to eachother, to wash that ex right out of your hair.]

*Face the pain; stare it down. Some days you may just have to acknowledge that you’re feeling sad. [Uhm, OK? I don't really have a problem with realizing this instruction. But... what defines "some days?" When is it not a "some day," and when do the "some days" end?]

*Get out of town. What better way to justify a nice vacation than “getting away from all those painful memories?” How depressed can you be if you’re sitting on a beach or by a pool with a margarita in hand? [How depressed can I be to go on vacation alone? To hit a warm destination where I used to sip share that margarita with C from one straw? Let me count the ways. One one thousand, two one thousand... Didn't Laura J. Schaefer ever hear that it's not too healthy or even realistic to try and run away from your problems?]

*Next! Once you’ve done all that good work above (and yes, taking that healing vacation counts as work), it’s time for you to start dating again. Even if it’s nothing serious, a night out with an alluring member of the opposite sex is the wonder drug of post-breakup recovery. [Hurray. I've done this one and, still, not found anyone I consider suitable. Sure, maybe I'm too picky. But, according to this advice, I'm basically a failure if I can't even find a "night out with an alluring member" to distract me from my ex. Plus, every time I go out with someone who I don't think is right, I go right back to the thought that noone will compare to C and thaat I'll forever be alone.]

My main issue is with these writers and their topics. So bland, boring, and monotonous. I'm always hearing how difficult it is to 'break into' the world of magazines and OpEd. Uhm. Why? Seems like any idiot could pull that crap right out of their cornhole. Can these writers please defy me and actually, you know, offer one piece of sage advice for once?

And, yes, a nice piece of cheese would go very well with my whine.

2005-10-31T11:21:00.000-05:00

Giddy up

Such a great weekend. Had a first date on Friday night which was preceded by getting drunk with some of my best pals at a bar that was half a block from where I was to meet my date. I'm a big fan of evening out the nerves with a little pre-date pre-gaming. Works every time.

Saturday involved seeing just about everybody I love in NY. Started out with Gina. Then I headed to my friend H's apt in Chinatown with three other friends to move H out of her current place. Even though moving sucks in general, this move was actually a lot of fun. Went pretty quick with five people. After that, my friend Cool Brooklyn (CB) and I went to one of his friend's house for hanging and getting wasted. After that, headed back to CB's place in the BK to get our horseman outfits on.

[view the video!!]

Got more wasted and proceeded into the City for drinking at CB's roommate's bar (where she bartends). Free drinks and blabbing until 4 in the AM. The horse masks were a massive hit. People like trying them on.

Like CB's roommate, the bartend(ress):

And the guy at the deli who made our drunken sandwiches:

I crashed in the BK at CB's pad and woke up to meet my Friday night date for a second date on Sunday. Went well. Not head over heels well. But well. Though some head over heels action might be appreciated.

This weekend: MY move. Sweet.

Last night I had some crazy dreams. The first had something to do with my not being able to do a cartwheel. For some reason, this was extremely distressing. I'm pretty sure that I actually can do a cartwheel. Dream #2 involved my ex (C). In my dream, C was, like, this rich, arrogant lover who had people throwing themselves all over C. Sex, money, attention, the works: all eyes seemed to be on C. I woke up feeling extremely jealous and... sadly... longing for C. Damn, I literally am DREAMING about my ex. Not good. Not good. Stupid psyche. Shut up! Boo, you whore.

2005-10-28T16:48:00.000-04:00

Cake and [No] Sympathy

I am truly beffudled as to how she ends up in the ditch.

I am also truly delighted that she does. Enjoy. [via here from here]

2005-10-28T16:10:00.000-04:00

Horsin' around

This is my Halloween costume, by the way. Sherioushly. Neigh.

2005-10-28T09:11:00.000-04:00

BUH bam!

[click image to view my witty text]

Well, it's official. (Sorta) like the Jeffersons I'm movin' on [down] to the East Side. Hasta la vista, Upper West Side. See ya, subway. I'm taking the leap and heaping all my material crap across and down town. Maybe I can win this...

2005-10-28T08:45:00.000-04:00

What's that smell?

As I emerged from the subway last night to meet up with Gina for excessive amounts of wine and cigarettes, I smelled a NICE smell in the air.

It actually put a smile on my face. But more than that, it confounded me. Where's the ass smell? The hot garbage smell? The exhuast? It actually smelled like... molasses? Turns out, I'm not the only confounded New Yorker.

Only in New York would a GOOD smell launch an investigation. I can hear it now: "The terrorists are going to kill us by sabotaging our Febreze Scent Stories!"

2005-10-27T17:10:00.000-04:00

Mr. Owl? How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie center of a tootsie [book]?

Oh my loveable, studious little M-K...

[image via Pink]

Did you really say this? 'Cause if you did, I love you even more.

2005-10-27T12:24:00.000-04:00

Fergie Ferg's in the House

Ok, let me just issue a disclaimer that I feel REALLY. badly. about this post... but I have to do it. It's just too funny not to post. So we all remember when Fergie had a Depends moment, right?

Well, last night I went out with a bunch of friends to celebrate my friend S's birth day. Dinner led to drinks led to my friend K pole dancing. My friend K, who I love dearly, could be found strip teasing ala the Fergmeister...

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

I'm SURE that K just spilled a scant portion of her G&T... but still. I know, I'm a horrible friend and I'm going straight to hell.

2005-10-26T13:38:00.000-04:00

Stop, Drop, and Roll!

OK so it's not M-K, but it's the next best thing.

[image via Pink]

Thanks, Ash, for wearing a fire blanket out in public. That's hot!

As the fire blanket website advises, you too can brandish this hideous visage of fashion:

Step 1: Yank the blanket out of the wall holder.
Step 2: Wrap it around the victim to smother the fire.

Ah, yes. Victim. What a fitting term.

2005-10-26T09:34:00.000-04:00

Happy Holidays?

I was opening the lid of my yogurt last night when I saw a holiday-related lid reading "Happy Holidays"... complete with holly leaves and berries and snow. OK look, Corporate American Advertisers and Marketers. Halloween hasn't even occurred yet! See those dogs up there in the photo? Images of pumpkins, scarecrows, and ghouls might be appropriate now. But Christmas? Thanksgiving? OK, maybe Thanksgiving. But Christmas?!

This happens every year: "Only eight billion shopping days until Christmas!" But it seems like the start of the season keeps getting pushed further and further ahead. I do remember getting excited as a kid that Christmas was nearing, but that was usually on Thanksgiving Day. Call me old-fashioned, but I'd prefer to not be sweating my balls off in the New York City July sun when I begin thinking about what Old St. Nick will be bringing my friends and relatives. Well, since you asked...

For my thirsty little M-K.

For my moist little Fergie.

For my lovely, SJP.

For Miss Nasty, JJ.

For TC and Katie Holmes (aka, TomKat) and their future magic.

2005-10-25T18:07:00.000-04:00

Oh no you didn't...

A thugged out girl tests all of her ring tones as loud as possible for a solid minute.

Preppy girl: Are you serious with that? Can you do everyone a favor and stop?

Thug girl: I know you're not talking to me. You messed with the wrong girl.

Preppy girl: I'm sorry, I can't hear you. Your screaming phone made me deaf.

Thug girl: I'll f her up. But then she'll call the cops; her people love the cops. Go back to where you came from!

Preppy girl: I'm trying to. That's why I'm on the train, you stupid bitch. Look, you got a new cell phone and that's great, but figure it out at home.

Thug girl: I'll f you up. You're f-ing with the wrong girl. Don't be fooled by the pretty face.

Preppy girl: Pretty face? Where?

--N train

I stand corrected. Sometimes the subway ride CAN be worthwhile. [via Overheard]

2005-10-25T18:02:00.000-04:00

Look!

...at the 'camel toad'-friendly Look Book entry for today. M hmmmmm.

Oh, Gaby. A stylist? For shame.

2005-10-25T16:55:00.000-04:00

Movie or Catastrophe: The Saga Continues

So my friend Cool Brooklyn (CB) just emailed me the following:

I just watched a car catch on fire on madison avenue and then EXPLODE! it was wild and crazy. we think it was an accident followed by the fire/expolsion. yikes. i hope people got out safe.

My natural response was, "They were probably filming a movie."

Damn you, New York. So 'wild and crazy' that I have no idea what's up and what's down. Gooh.

2005-10-25T16:35:00.000-04:00

Beware the Inbred, Murderous, and Retarded West Virginians

So this past Saturday night I was supposed to go to my friend H's birthday party downtown. However, due to a torrential downpour and the malfunctioning subway (shocker!) I was forced to stay in... stay in and watch the most. NON. PC. MOVIE. EVER.

At first, it seemed like a good time killer. A teen horror flick with as much naked flesh as gorey chopping-up scenes. Indeed, it was a good time killer. Everything was going great and predictably. Cute twenty-somethings make a... wrong turn... off the main highway and into the woods of West Virginia mountains. Where, presumably, monsters would hack them to pieces.

It was only when I realized who the 'monsters' were that my jaw dropped in awe at the level of inpropriety and political incorrectness. The monsters were non other than inbred and genetically disfigured... West Virigina... backwoods living... hicks.

Oh. My. God. Could mine eyes be deceiving me? Is it possible that this movie was actually produced without a lawsuit from the West Virgina Board of Tourism?

Four out of five stars... one star withheld only because it just feels so indecent to take pleasure in giving it five.

2005-10-25T16:24:00.000-04:00

Lies, all lies

If I had a dime for every rich, beautiful, lucky, and successful celebrity that touted how sexy it is to be 'normal-looking,' I'd have enough money to afford a boob job and teeth straightening for every actress that was told she's not f***able behind her back. Give me a break.

Oh, and for the record, Hilary 'Mr. Ed Choppers McGee' Duff...

...diditbecauseshecrackedherfrontteethonamicrophonewhileperformingandhadtogetcorrectiveemergencycaps!!

Uh huh.

2005-10-25T15:34:00.000-04:00

Drunk = Sexy

Do any of you remember this post of mine? Well, if not, here's a quick re-cap from a night out on the town...

...The funniest aspect of the evening was when R and I were saying adios for the night. Outside a bar, R and I saw a pretty awesome looking 1981 Corvette that someone had completely tricked out... This car was so awesome that it garnered attention from many bar goers who were outside smoking. One fine gentleman proclaimed that, 'Anyone who drives a car like that is a douche bag.' I couldn't really disagree even though I really did like the car for its oddity. However, one fine drunken girl piped up (in that all too familiar I'm-about-to-fall-over-I'm-so-drunk-slur), 'No way, man! I love this car! If I drove this car, would I be a douche?!'

...I took it upon myself to play a little cat and mouse with the girl. She turned out to be from Milwaukee. I simply could not resist, so I whipped out my digital camera and cajoled the Wisconsin-ite to pose White Snake style in front of the car. Which she JUMPED at the chance to do. Cla. SSIC...

My dear friends, the drunkest, errr, sexiest girl from Milwaukee that night...

Thanks to you, the Milwaukee White Snake Video Goddess, for these unforgettable shots.

2005-10-25T13:34:00.000-04:00

On the road again

It's not 100% official yet, but I'm signing a lease tomorrow for my new apartment! In my looong list of impending annoying moving-related tasks to come, there's one down. You know, the actual GETTING an apartment.

I'm no fool. Annoying dramas to follow: acquiring the keys in time for my move; picking up the UHAUL; actually getting my heavy crap out of my current place and into my new place (a third floor walk-up); etc etc etc. Only when I have a signed lease, have keys in my hand, and am moving into the new place will I be relaxed.

Nonetheless, I'm having a party the night before with friends to bid farewell to my current place. Then, said friends are sleeping over and helping with the move. Instead of housewarming gifts, I'm requesting that guests bring power tools (with which to dismantle my furniture), muscles (with which to carry my furniture), and keen eyes (with which to guard my furniture when the UHAUL is parked on the curb so that this doesn't happen to Drone).

Here's to the hurricane of headaches to come. God, I love moving.

2005-10-24T10:12:00.000-04:00

Sweet dreams are made of these

Oh, man. My back is all stretched out and... reflexologied. My face is all oxygenated, unclogged, and moisturized. The gift certificate to the spa was uh-may-ZING.

The Drone's not one to get pampered very often. In fact, I often take pride in getting beaten down by this abusive boyfriend of a city known as New York. I enjoy crawling back for more each and every time my big apple slaps me in the face and tramples all over my spirit. But Sunday was different. Sunday was a four hour marathon of relaxation.

First, Wanda kneaded all of the knots out of my tired back, legs, feet, and hands. Then I scuttled from my massage room to the 'lounge' in my complimentary terrycloth robe and Haviana flip-flops where I ate vegetables and guzzled free Coronas. By the time my facial was ready to go, I was buzzed and flying high.

Then, Christina kneaded and cleaned my face for an hour. Please be reminded that this was all courtesy of my ex. A rediscovered birthday gift certificate, found whilst cleaning my apartment. Let that be motivation enough for you, too, to clean your own personal heaven.

After that, I met up with Gina for an awesome vegetarian meal in alphabet city. All in all a good weekend. Still don't have a new apartment, but I'm always on the lookout.

2005-10-21T11:23:00.000-04:00

Memories...

Like the corners of my mind...

Misty water-colored memories...

Of the way...

We werrrrrre...

Come back, M-K!!! We miss your dear sweet soul.

A Venti coffee just isn't the same without you.

Balenciaga bags have lost all meaning.

Prarie skirts are dead to me... well, ok, some things remain the same, but the fact remains... the Drone and all of NYC want you back!

2005-10-21T10:45:00.000-04:00

80% Chance of Depression

From weather.com: Showers early, becoming a steady rain later in the day. High near 55F. Winds ENE at 10 to 15 mph. Chance of rain 80%. Rainfall near a quarter of an inch.

Sounds like a slumber party kind of weekend. Speaking of which, last night Gina and I had these grandiose plans of meeting up at my newly cleaned apartment to watch cable and consume my homemade feta cheese, spinach, and tomato frittata. Well... we made good on the meeting up part.

So after looking at a ridiculously small apartment with a lofted bed space for a mattress that was one block away from Gina's place, I met up with G. Once we were cozed into her place, we nixed the idea of walking 17 blocks north to my place. Then we slowly but surely arrived at the point where we were nixing the homemade meal in favor of order-in burritos. Order-in burritos were accompanied by a viewing of Back to the Future II on TBS. The two of us were curled up on a futon under a wool blanket watching the most awesomest movie from my kindergarden days. Never wanted to leave! And realized at that moment how good it was to be five, carefree, and not have to work for a living. Sigh.

So, after texting, emailing, AND leaving a VM message for the broker of my current 'apartment on hold,' I received the following text:

sent app in afternoon. call you in am.

Great. Thanks so much. Do you realize that I'm going to be homeless if you don't get on the ball, retard? Do ya? Make that a 95% chance of depression.

2005-10-20T13:50:00.000-04:00

"And the card attached would say..."

Blanche: Sophia, by placing this pearl necklace between my bosoms, does it make me look like I'm a sex-starved slut who is in need of a man to bed?
Sophia: Yes.
Blanche: Good, then I'll wear it.

So my friend Cool Brooklyn and I are corresponding via email when I mention that (for one reason or another), I'm becoming verklempt. To which CB responds:

...that's so golden girls blanche of you to say that! if you were a GG you would be dorothy for sure. i would be sophia, or rose...

In response to which I, after Googling the show to recall who's who, said:

I am NOT the tall dyke. I'm Sohpia. And dear GOD... Look at the characters' supposed full names on IMDB...

According to CB:

here's the breakdown

Dorothy = smart wise
Sophia = witty
Rose = naive
Blanche = whore

OK, fine. Apparently I'm Dorothy "Pussycat" Petrillo Zbornak Hollingsworth.

And PS: when I was a kid and my mom was watching Golden Girls on TV and the theme song was playing in the background, I thought it was saying, "And the heart attack would say..." Fitting, really. Given the characters and their respective lots in life.

2005-10-20T13:24:00.000-04:00

Crises

Conductor: Attention passengers: for future reference, "Stand clear of the closing doors" does not mean "stick your head out the door."

--R train

...I heart the subway...

...but not often.

And remember when I made the statement that New Yorkers would rather logically jump to the conclusion that a film is being made than a crisis actually occurring?

Man: My friend asked me if they were shooting a movie, and I said,"Yeah, it's called Bombscare."

--Astor Place

[all via Overheard]

2005-10-20T13:08:00.000-04:00

Extra! Extra!

The sky is blue.

Well, at least I can take solace in knowing that "Manhattan is not the most expensive place to own an automobile." Terrific.

This article makes me all the more frightened; for I've just been informed that my current studio (on the market for all of two days) has rented for $75 more than I'm paying right now. I have to be out in one month's time and do not have a signed lease elsewhere.

I wonder if it's expensive to be homeless?

2005-10-20T09:44:00.000-04:00

I for ironic

I'm not sure if you guys see the same ads I do, but featured above are links for "Spacious Manhattan Apartments." While I have agreed to entertain the above ads because they're usually interesting and/or helpful to me on other people's sites, I do not have any control over what the ads are for. Is it a happy coincidence that these ads are for real estate in NYC, or are the Google ad folks mocking me?? Drone will not be mocked, Google! Heh.

2005-10-20T09:05:00.000-04:00

Thank G-d for texting

And thanks to G and E for getting me drunk after class last night. Last night after my class with the miserable, old, crotchety teacher I was invited to join friends G and E at a museum opening (where, most notably, there was to be free booze).

"Yeah, I'll be there in five."

Ended up hitting on someone I recognized from my daily routine. After I asked this special someone (A.) out on a date, I learned that A was to be moving to Chicago in twelve days...

"So, I guess I'd better call you pretty quickly."

When I got home at 11, I decided a wittily worded text to A would do the trick... and it did just that. A and I are going out Saturday night. Something tells me neither us are banking on a longterm love. Just a hunch.

In apartment news, I'm still waiting around to see if my current situation pans out. I can feel all 25 of your prayers for the ol' Drone. Keep those fingers crossed!

In... free massage/pampering on the sucka ex's dime news... I can't wait for my four hours of reflexology, facials, and whatnot on Sunday. I NEVER do stuff like this (read: I'm poor), so this will be awesome. And the whole time I'll be snarkily thanking my ex in my mind. Heh.

2005-10-19T16:51:00.000-04:00

No Xians Permitted

Well, if I can't find a place on my own I can always shack up with this guy.

2005-10-18T12:27:00.000-04:00

I'd like to break some brokers

Drone: Hi, I'm calling about the advertised $1,200 studio...

Bloodsucking Vulture: How much do you make?

Drone: I'm sorry?

Bloodsucking Vulture: How much do you make?!

Drone: [divulging information]

Bloodsucking Vulture: Sorry, you're a bad candidate. You need to make 90 times the monthly rent.

Drone: Sorry. Not to be rude [right], but what kind of asshole making $108,000 a year (i.e., 90 times $1,200) wants to live in a 150 square foot studio on the lower east side...

Bloodsucking Vulture: [silence... then] Click.

Trust me when I say that the above does not even come close to representing the worst of my interactions.

There was the crackhouse a broker took to me to in order to view a 'real steal' on the lower east side. What transpired was meeting a transient in his underwear that was squatting in the crackhouse's 6th floor walk-up apartment that featured no electricity and expansive views of refuse strewn all about the apartment. Then there was the 'cottage' apartment in the backyard (seriously, in the back yard) of an actual apartment building that featured a shower in a closet and seven-foot ceilings. Unreal, people. Unreal. Brokers suck. They lie. They cheat. They deceive. And they make massive quantities of cash for doing absolutely nothing. If you are a broker in New York City and you're reading this, then you invariably lie, cheat, deceive, and do not deserve your 15% commission.

On the happier side of things, I have (like I may have already mentioned) an apartament deal that is in the works. I'm losing sleep and crossing my fingers every night; for, in 30 days I'll be officially homeless if I haven't found something. Hurray!

2005-10-17T14:24:00.000-04:00

Homme Improvement

So, this weekend. I had so much fun with friends and really enjoyed my measly 48 hours off. More specifically, I resolved to move out of my current apartment. I want to be closer to work and want to pay less rent per month. The former will allow me to officially break up with the subway (read: I will walk to and from work) while the latter will allow me to drink more. A win win.

Fingers crossed, I lined up a place that meets both criteria. As the story goes with Manhattan rentals, nothing should be believed until you see it (and, more importantly, until you have the keys in your hand). I let my current landlord know the news and thereby committed myself to leaving. Once I told him, he was already commissioning the bloodsucking vultures of the Manhattan real estate market (known by some as 'brokers') to whore out my apartment. So, I spent my entire Sunday cleaning and purging my place from top to bottom. It now looks sparkling clean and better than when I first moved in. It's a showroom, if you will. The vultures will have no problem finding a taker. So, that's the scary part. I had to commit to leaving before I actually had a definite go-to. That's the way it goes in NYC. Gotta take your chances. I'm 99% confident that my apartment in waiting will not fall through. Please pray for the ol' Drone, though.

Like I said, I spent the entire day on Sunday weeding through papers and clothing. I scrubbed surfaces and swept every square inch. The place is not merely organized but legitimately clean. All of my laundry is done and neatly folded and all of the dishes are clean and neatly stored. I threw out at least 6 large trash bags of crap that I don't need. I really performed a pre-move purge so that I'm now move-in ready. There is really nothing extraneous in my place at the moment. It's an amazing feeling really.

Pouring over old birthday cards, photos (yes, real photos that were like printed on paper at a store) and handwritten notes yielded some very interesting moments. Mostly, I would get very happy to see a card I had forgotten or be reminded of a time that had passed and escaped my memory. The remainder involved coming across photos of my ex C and me together in Miami, LA, New York... you name it. I even found the following: a picture of us both on our second date where we both look hot and happy, and; a note that my ex wrote me after our first date that almost made the harsh and unfeeling Drone well up. Oh well. The best thing I found was an old birthday gift from my ex C: a gift certificate for almost $400 worth of spa treatment here.

I'm not quite sure why I didn't use it, but the fact remains that I never did. So I called the spa right up and booked almost 3 hours of back to back massages, facials, and other pampering treatments. Can't wait for next weekend to get it! Heh. Thanks, C. Sucka!

After turning my apartment into a sparkling ode to cleanliness, I took about 50 pounds of change (coinage) to my local grocery store in order to convert it into paper with the Coinstar. Much to my surprise, the Coinstar read: OUT OF ORDER. Sweet... I knew my good spa fortune of earlier would have to be addressed by the kosmos in some fashion. So I happily trudged back to my showroom with the 50 pounds of change. Hurray for inefficiency... and Coinstar machines sucking butt.

2005-10-17T12:50:00.000-04:00

Uninvited Guests Need Not Apply

If only this available apartment's description were a joke. Alas, it is not. Amazing what the selling points for affordable Manhattan real estate have become. What's next? 'No smelly old people whose apartments smell like urine that are grandfathered into the building' ???

2005-10-17T12:09:00.000-04:00

Noooooo!!!

Why, God. Why? So sad.

Oh well. I have a lot to say about my new apartment search and this past weekend. Will update ASAP. Let's all reconvene when our M-K withdrawal tears have subsided.

2005-10-14T15:57:00.000-04:00

All the live long day

Uhhhh! I was toiling away last night at my job until 10:30PM and got to work this morning at 7:30AM. It was fine, though. I'm meeting a deadline, and those are to be expected. Much like when I was in college, however, I do not enjoy crunch times. I prefer to get an assignment, jump on top of it, and finish said assignment as quickly and efficiently as I can. Usually.

This late night was a result of my boss informing me of said deadline a day before the deadline. Hence, I was ill-infomred (ney, uninformed) so there was not much I could have to done to have avoided the crunch. At any rate, my awesome boss and I worked side by side and have completed the task(s) at hand.

Speaking of getting on top of things, I have decided to move from my current abode to one more conveniently located to 90% of my friend and, more importantly, to my job. I might never, dare I say it, have to take the subway to work! Imagine, if you will. Drone liesurely walking to work each morning, never again having to pop a neck vein whilst taking the subway. One can dream. I've already looked at a handfull of places and, let me tell you if you're not already well aware that, real estate in Manhattan is out of control. Ridiculous. Absurd. An alternate reality. I don't know quite how else to capture it, but the prices are so nuts in relation to what one gets. I understand that right now is a particularly hard market and that vacancy rates are at an all-time low, but still. Fourteen hundred dollars a month for a piece of shi-ite? No. Sorry, but no. So, I'll continue the search and hold out hope that I can break up with the subway.

No big plans this weekend. It's supposed to rain the whole weekend long. Hurray! But I hear it's supposed to clear up just in time for my subway commute to work onMonday morning. How... lovely.

2005-10-12T14:04:00.000-04:00

Bad = Hilarious

I'm not going to set this up. Just have fun chortling.

2005-10-12T13:44:00.000-04:00

I'll have Malayalam on Rye, please...

After reading this job posting from a daily E-mail which I still (for some reason) receive from my alma mater, I uttered a mental 'Whu?'

We are looking for a Malayalam translator/interpreter toassist us on Oct. 25th in the evening for a television shootand one other day (flexible schedule) translating previouslyshot footage. We will pay a negotiable day rate for both daysand travel if necessary.
Qualifications=Fluent in Malayalam, willing to travel (withtravel stipend paid for).
Duration=1-2 day Oct. 25th and flexible second day
Compensation=Negotiable

So, we're all amongst friends here. How many people knew (specifically) what the hell Malayalam was before I posted this?

And just because these E-mails are so endlessly entertaining to me, here's another:

Looking for an assistant to help a pleasant elderly man (78)in good physcial shape to organize his life. Duties willinclude companionship and administrative tasks -- organizingpapers, finding lost keys, walks to the store, etc.Qualifications=Must be smart, patient and kind. Experiencewith senior citizens preferred. An interest in the arts aplus.duration=10-12 hrs./week, spread out over 3-4 days any day ofthe week.Compensation=$10-$15/hr depending on experience.

Dude, I can't even organize my OWN life. 'Nuff said. (By the by, I suppose if you live in the vicinity of Manhattan and are actually interested in the above positions, I can provide the contact information.)

2005-10-12T11:06:00.000-04:00

New York, New York

Ever have one of those 'Don't f*** with me' days where you walk around with that 'Don't f*** with me' look on your face? So have I. Well, I'm not having one of those days today. But. Have you ever NOT been having one of those days and SEEN a person that clearly IS having one of those days? That happened to me this morning at the Times Square subway station where I begrudgingly transfer from the world's crappiest subway line to a pretty reliable subway line. While in the station, I could see this oncoming 'Don't f*** with me' individual from a mile away. The emotionless face and the bee line hyperdrive walk just threatening to body check anyone who got in her way. I kind of smirked from afar and felt her pain. Boy, have I been there.

I definitely wasn't smirking in a condescending way. It was more an empathetic smirk of comradery. 'Did the subway just piss her off?' I wondered. Was she perhaps just breaking up with her boyfriend? Did she just realize that her rent to monthly earnings ratio is dangerously approching the number one? Regardless... I'm there with you, sister. And that's why I now present you, my loyal 20+ readers, with the following lists:

Top 20 Things I Hate About Living in New York
20. The Subway at rush hour.
19. Hearing a broker say, "$1,300 is a STEAL" in reference to a 200 sq. foot studio in a 6th floor walk-up in Chinatown.
18. Paying $1,400 to live in a 350 sq. ft. studio on the Upper West Side, when 90% of my friends live on the Lower East Side.
17. The Subway on Saturdays.
16. Paying $12 for a snack and a magazine at lunchtime.
15. Realizing my rent gobbles 62% of my annual post-tax income.
14. The Subway when it rains.
13. Dating (read: knowing that others will always look over their shoulders looking for the next best thing).
12. Explaining to people who don't live in New York how expensive New York can be.
11. The Subway late at night.
10. People like this.
9. Peddling on the Subways ("Ladiesandgentleman, I am TRY-ing to make money for my basketball team... blah blah blah).
8. Being exposed to the most amazing things in the world (i.e., food, fashion, entertainment) and yet not having enough resources to afford them.
7. The subway's rising prices despite the fact that it's quite literally falling apart.
6. The pressure of knowing that there are probably 2 million people that are hotter than I am... within a 10 mile radius.
5. $12 "cocktails" (read: thimbles filled with vodka and soda).
4. The fact that most employers offer young professionals about enough money to pay their rent.
3. People NOT MOVING IN ALL THE WAY... on the Subway.
2. The fact that the City is crippled by anything remotely resembeling anything out of the ordinary (read: rainstorms and beyond).
1. And the number one reason? THE SUBWAY!!!

Top 20 Things I Heart About Living in New York
20. Being able to walk just about anywhere I want when I've had it with the Subway.
19. Cabs (though I can't afford them).
18. Bars that are open until 5AM (ahemBostonahem).
17. Dating (read: the right to 'hold out' for that unrealistic vision of a mate because there are 8 million people constantly coming and going).
16. Take-out maragaritas.
15. Not having to justify to other New Yorkers why you're broke.
14. Sarcasm.
13. Misdirected anger (as long as it's not at me).
12. Finding an apartment that doesn't require you to either a) walk up 10 flights of stairs, or b) share a bathroom.
11. Overhearing shit like this.
10. Pretending you're oblivious with your iPod on when really you're listening to shit like number 11.
9. 24-hour delis.
8. The fact that online dating is beyond mainstream.
7. Laughing to yourself when you tell your mom from New Mexico that you met your mate on-line.
6. Crossing the street into oncoming traffic with reckless abandon.
5. Sushi on every fifth block.
4. The fact that you never have to see your ex- ever again if you don't want to... despite the fact that you live two miles apart.
3. Celebrity sitings.
2. Rooftop parties.
1. And the number one love? Borough pride (i.e., reFUSing to move to Brooklyn).

2005-10-11T10:34:00.000-04:00

Let the rain fall down

Or not. I'm sick of this weather. My favorite part of the forecast? The part where it rains bloody murder until next Monday morning at 9AM. Just in time for the work week! YESSSSSSS!

Seriously, all this greyness is affecting my demeanor. My usual bubbly, bright spirit is made surly and pessimistic. Er. OK, trust me. The weather is taking it's toll.

It's no secret that I've been in a funk as of late. Spoke to my father about my money woes, and apparently he thinks I'm in great shape (financially speaking). OK. Whatever. My love life still pretty much sucks. However, I did have a good date on Sunday night that will lead to a second date this Thursday night. Any suggestions for what we should do that's not a burden to follow through with are much appreciated. As I mentioned to Gina last night over dinner in her apartment, I have no problem with first dates. In fact, I've become quite good at them. I look at first dates sort of how I look at job interviews. If I can just get my foot in that proverbial door, I know I'm getting a job offer. The problem is everything between the first date and the point where where I'm cuddling on a rainy Sunday over reruns on the The Food Network. Seriously, dates two through 11 are always pretty challenging terrain. How you navigate can seriously affect the road ahead.

OK, so my love life is getting interesting (at best). As for my social life, that's pretty blah too. One of my best friends has fallen in love... [yack]. No seriously, good for him. But. That means I don't get to see him very often. Waaaaa. I mean. I'm so happy for you, Cool Brooklyn. Is it only Tuesday?????

2005-10-10T17:16:00.000-04:00

Anna + Fur = Tofu Pie in the Smug Mug

The pictures on Pink illustrating this story are pretty much priceless. (FAB, make sure this doesn't happen to you on Halloween night...)

2005-10-10T16:46:00.000-04:00

Sex and Rhodesians (but not together, please)

Just think about the ramifications of this propostion for future E-mail viruses. Gee-yikes. Would we all not be raped?

To wit, if one of Lindsay' s ideas were brought to fruition, everyone I know would see something like this:

To: Gina
From: Drone

We sould talk more about this. Because, as much I like sex, I really don't think I like it as much as other people do. I believe that I'm somewhere smack dab in the middle of the spectrum. Between those who'd rather not have sex and those that wish to have it all the the time (nymphomaniacs, I suppose). I like it, but most of the time I'd rather kiss or just eat yogurt and granola. Having said that, maybe I've just never met someone who blows me away in bed to the point that I'd want to have it all the time. Dunno. Hey, I saw a perfect puppy Rhodesian last night. SO. CUTE!

Sigh.

2005-10-10T15:56:00.000-04:00

Get out of my dreams [and into my studio apartment]...

I do not have the patience for sentences, either. My weekend was pretty much a big fat BLAH.

Had a post-Friday drink with a friend after work, then went straight home. Bought groceries, gorged, and passed out. Stayed in bed all. day. LONG. At about 6PM, went for groceries. Back to apartment. Gorged. Crashed. Woke up on Sunday. Did my laundry (in the building) and then begged Gina to get coffee with me so that I wouldn't turn into a blob.

Met Gina at an alternate Starbucks, as our usual was packed with soccer moms and stroller-pushing grannies. The second wasn't much better, but we just narrowly beat the rush and got a table. Talked about the universe, relationships, our quarter-life crisis states in life, and then saw a dog get hit by a car. Not fun. Luckily, the pooch was OK. The funniest part of the incident involved Gina thinking that the impending action outside the Starbucks window (i.e., screeching taxi cab wheels, squealing woman writhing in dramatic motions, and gawking on-lookers) was all part of a movie set that was clearly in the 'hood: "I think they're just filming a movie," said the jaded Gina.

"Wow. Good actress." said the Drone legitimately who thought that this squealing woman really showed genuine emotion. Der. That's 'cause she weren't doin' no actin', maw. Oh, New York. Watch a man get gunned down, and without batting an eye you're likely to say, "Oh I think they're jhust shooting Law and Order."

After that, I had a coffee date with someone of the exact same name and age of my ex. How's that for unlucky in love. The date actually was good and ended with me getting some makeout action in the front seat of a car that was dropping me off at my apt. How 11th grade of me. Then I bought groceries, gorged, and crashed. Ugh. The leitmotif of my weekend is not promising.

2005-10-06T14:16:00.000-04:00

Oh my God

Gymnastics with our Lord and Savior, anyone? Gooh. [via Pink]

2005-10-06T09:50:00.000-04:00

What It Means When He Tells You He Can't Give You What You Need

In honor of Gina's newfound class assignments to write a girlie magazine instructional article for her like-minded class, I have decided to expose the scenario in which your boyfriend or girlfriend tells you, 'I can't give you what you need.'

Remember, if you will, way back to yesterday when I informed you that my ex- C told me just that. C wrote me in an E-mail the following excerpts:

...I have been thinking a lot about us. I do not feel good about where we are... I am sorry for telling you this by email, but I can put my thoughts down more clearly than if I were to see you in person... I do not think our relationship is one of friendship, but of lovers. For me that means that ou[r] energy is more than just friends. I cannot give you what you need. I hope you understand and can forgive me. You are too special.

Just to give you the thumbnail sketch: C and Drone dated and lived together in bliss for exactly a year (yes, we broke up quite literally on the year anniversary of the day we met). This marked the longest, most committed romantic relationship Drone has ever had. After a year, Drone and C started to do the nondescript, vague act of growing. apart. Blah. So, I decided to move out of C's place and back into my apartment (thank GOD I didn't get rid of my apartment). I hadn't really seen the inside of my apartment for almost six months when I returned because C and I were always at C's place. It was a little time capsule for which I had been paying rent and was happy to have once C and I decided to separate on a trial basis. Our trial separation turned into occassional meet 'n greets for dinner and then sex. That happened for about six months. Which brings us to now, when C and I began to get awkward and feel more like 'friends with benefits' than a couple. I was dating other people and, presumably, so was C. I was ready to give it another chance with C, but clearly (from the above E-mail) C was not.

So. Let's go back to the E-mail:

...I have been thinking a lot about us. [K. That's always a good thing to hear.]

I do not feel good about where we are... [Whoa. With the above lead in? I'm shocked!]

I am sorry for telling you this by email, but I can put my thoughts down more clearly than if I were to see you in person... [That's OK. I understand. I'm more intelligent than you are, so you fear my Jedi-like brilliance and extensive vocabulary. You'd be intimidated by my dashing good looks and want to have sex with me on the spot if you tried to tell me your 'truth' in person.]

I do not think our relationship is one of friendship, but of lovers. For me that means that ou[r] energy is more than just friends. [Brilliant deduction, C. Brilliant.]

I cannot give you what you need. I hope you understand and can forgive me. You are too special.

Ok, so the last comments. You cannot give me what I need? Something about that statement just feels so condescending and prickly. What is it I need, C? Seriously. Tell me because I've been trying to figure out what I need for about 25 years. If you have all the answers, spill it. I need and crave your love and support? And you can't give it to me? Is that it? Hm. That's where you're wrong, C. You can't give me what I want. I want: sex with you, and; maybe a committed relationship if you weren't so in your head all the time. I don't really need it, per se. I can forgive you for not wanting to give me what I want. Got it. No problem. And, PS, "You are too special" is not an appropriate conclusion to an E-mail. It maybe belongs somewhere in the body. But the last sentence? Eh. That makes you a bad writer and therefore is not giving me what I need.

So, ladies and gents. When a former 'lover' tells you "I cannot give you what you need," drop him or her like a hot potato. It shows that they believe you NEED them (see narcissism). And, it's just another fancy way of saying, "Later." Sweet. Who woulda thunk? Another girlie magazine instructional topic that boils down to the same advice: get over it.

So, in other news, something good happened last night. I left work to go to my class with the horribly crotchety old lady professor. Arriving at school, I was informed that all classes were canceled for Rosh Hashanah. YES! Thank Jesus for the Jews! Er. You know what I mean. So I took the opportunity to go to the gym.

After the gym, I went home and gorged on food and endulged in not one but TWO guilty pleasures. I trimmed my nose hair (hot!) and watched a cheesy movie on DVD (Stepmom). Damn, I'm such a catch. Where the hell are all my suitors?

2005-10-05T10:56:00.000-04:00

I guess I've got 2 outta 3

Please read Gina's post for clarification.

I haven't been posting lately becuase I've been in a real funk lately. Money's been tight, and my "love life" (or lack thereof) has been annoying to say the least.

Money's been extraordinarily tight lately. So tight that I called my father during my work lunch hour yesterday in full on freak-out mode. He listened patiently and was of great help (psychologically and emotionally speaking). I'm praying, however shamed it may make me, that he'll pull through--yet again--financially for the ol' Drone. As a supplement to my income, I've picked up a brief stint as an SAT tutor for a friend's son. I used to tutor said son and son's brother when I was in college. Quick cash with people I like. Not too bad. And just in the nick of time.

And in additional wonderful news: my ex- and I have officially cut ties (romantically speaking). It all transpired through a short series of E-mails. C said what C needed to say, and Drone said what Drone needed to say. The end result? We shan't be engaging in physical relations any longer. We've come to the conclusion that being "friends" isn't really a possibility right now (because, you know, "friends" don't really make love on a bi-monthly basis). So, we're basically not speaking or communicating which, for me, is odd. I've never really loved someone the way I loved C. I mean, I spent a whole year (or 1/25 of my life, if you will) with this person. Now we're not talking? Hm.

OK, so I've got great friends and a great job. If only my job paid me more and I were getting laid by someone extremely hot and cool. Two outta three ain't bad.

2005-09-30T12:28:00.000-04:00

Money Troubles

So. This list came out today detailing the "400 Richest Americans". Apparently, Bill Gates tops the list with $51 billion. I did a little math... for fun... with my awesome boss.

After asking, "I wonder how much he'd have to spend every minute to blow that much money?"

Well, assuming that:

1. Bill Gates doesn't earn more money between now and his death (which is, I know, an unrealistic assumption);

2. Bill Gates will die at age 78, and;

3. Bill Gates allotted no time to sleep or eat...

Bill would have 29 years left to spend $51 billion. Which would mean that he'd have to spen $3,300 every minute for the rest of his life... in order to blow his wod. Damn.

2005-09-30T11:55:00.000-04:00

Homeless Chic

I know what I'm getting a special someone on June 13th: sweet.

2005-09-30T09:50:00.000-04:00

40 mg, please

Sorry for the abstinence as of late, all. Been severely busy at work and, as of recently, a little down in the dumps.

I found out on Tuesday that, to make a long story short, I was brought into my new job to revitalize business. Mind you this is a MAJOR oversimplification of the circumstances. There are many talented people that contribute to the success of my employer, but I am now ever more aware of the pressure to achieve and succeed. I can feel the pressure to jump through hoops and prove myself. I tend to shine when challenged, but for some reason this awareness has hampered my ability to work at an unadulterated pace. It reminds me of when I was a competitive tennis player in my (younger) youth.

Every time I'd be in a final match, I'd ask my mother not to watch. It just made me so nervous to know that she was there. She never imposed any pressure on me or even really cared if I won or lost. But to me, I felt this intense set of eyes watching me. Like I had to impress my mom... or else. I'd be a fat loser... in front of my mom. I'd be killing the competition; but the minute I realized my mom was watching, I would start to lose. Never failed. It's the power of the brain, folks. Mom watching = loss because you will crumble under the pressure. Once my mushy mass incorporated that formula, it was extremely hard to overcome. So that's kind of how it seems to be at work. While there is this pressre to achieve, I'd rather not be in on the explicit truth. In other words, if my mom's going to watch don't tell me she's there.

So there's the work thing. Then there's the hot British Research Scientist. BRS asked ME out and asked ME for MY phone number. So on Sunday I gave my number to the BRS who said I'd be getting a call this week. Saw the BRS on Tuesday night at the gym where major flirting was taking place. But I hadn't gotten a call yet (during which call we were supposed to set up a date for this weekend). It's now Friday, and I haven't gotten a call. What the F? At least wait until we go out on a date to reject me. Sheesh.

So there's the BRS. Then there's my ex. I sent my ex a 'check-up' E-mail yesterday just to say, 'Hi.' In response to which I received a 'serious' E-mail about how we are over romantically and how we shouldn't continue to have sex blah blah BLAH. Kind of cracked me up a little bit at the start of the work day yesterday. So I was kind of a mess all day yesterday.

So there's the ex thing. Then there's the money situation. As you all probably know, living in NYC ain't cheap. I've been living in my own place for over two years, paying for classes, and then drinking like a rockstar. I pretty much never have an overabundance of cash, but these past two weeks have been TIGHT. Really tight. Budgeting to the penny kind of tight. I limited my work lunches to $4 (bye bye, $15 yummy organic mart lunches) and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I tend to freak out about money, so I'd rather starve to death than be in debt (Freud says, "Please see Drone's childhood when his financially irresponsible mother routinely carried over $20,000 in credit card debt.") So I guess my hunger could explain why I'm prone to being grumpy lately.

So there's the money thing. Other than that, I'm just DANDY! Happy it's Friday and that the weather in NYC is not so swelteringly hot. I actually used my down comforter last night and was a little cold under there. Sweet.

2005-09-26T16:40:00.000-04:00

In your neigh-borhood

True to Monday's form, work is way busy. A lot happened this weekend. And by a lot I mean drinking and rebel rousing. Check out Gina's post that recounts a part of my weekend. My favorite part is, of course, the horse head masks that I bought for one of my best friends, Cool Brooklyn. He and I are going as horses... er... with man bodies. Heh. Brilliant! If not incredibly hilarious. I've never laughed as hard as I did when I tried those heads on during Cool Brooklyn's surprise birthday party on Saturday night. PS: I was also drinking vodka from the bottle as if it were water.

I'll expound more when time presents itself. But. One interesting development is that I saw BRS once again at the gym on Sunday. A date is impending. Sweet. Neigh!

2005-09-23T10:18:00.000-04:00

Oh joy

In celebration of what is apparently National Singles Week (gooh), please feel free to scoff and snark at the expense of this boring and terribly written article by one Margot Carmichael Lester.

Incidentally, please note that:

Margot Carmichael Lester, author of The Real Life Guide to Life After College, visualized her ideal relationship every night before she went to bed. One day she met a man who’d been doing some visualizing of his own. Now they’re married and living their dreams every day.

B.A.R.F. BARF!

2005-09-23T09:25:00.000-04:00

Say What Say What

So this morning, upon checking my personal E-mail account, I noticed this following E-mail:

From : Yadda@mckinsey.com
Sent : Thursday, September 22, 2005 6:44 PM
Subject : McKinsey's response to tech difficulties for apps.

Good day!

As many of you now know, last night we were experiencing hightraffic on our web-site which lead to issues with our server. [skip to "I encourage you..." if already bored] The server at times was very slow or completely unavailableand many students had difificulty or were unable to apply.Due to these technical difficulties with the on-line serverlast night, we will be extending the deadline for applicantsto apply until 11:59 p.m. EDT tonight, Sept 22nd.

I encourage you to apply on-line by the new deadline. Allstudents who apply in the wee hours of the morning will havetheir application accepted.

A couple of points: please apply on-line by midnight tonight,using a PC computer (we do not support Macs) and to turn offpop-up blockers when applying.

Again, the deadline has been extended to 11:59 pm TONIGHT, and any students who were able to submit their applicationslast night, after the deadline, will be considered.Thank you for your patience while sorting out this issuetoday and for your assistance with this issue. I apologizefor any inconvenience this caused you. Please let me know ifyou have any questions.

Best,
Yadda

Well, good day to you too, McKinsey. But who the hell are you, and what the hell are you talking about? So I checked out the website, and I remembered what this shi-ite is. No matter how these "consulting" companies spin their "services," I'm convinced that they're just a high-end haven for Ivy League graduates that don't know what they want to do with their professional lives and don't mind having an inexplicable job that pays well while they try to figure it out. Plus, it's a great job for arrogant, indebted Ivy League graduates: two birds with one stone, if you will. Instead of having to go to graduate school, blossoming consultants can immediately realize their dreams of telling other people what to do AND pay off their college loans quickly. It's a win win.

All joking aside, I remember that this company recruited on my college campus. I don't remember registering with them, so maybe an "associate" gave them my E-mail address. Weird.

Anywho. Much to my chagrin, the British research scientist was not at the gym last night. Hence, we were unable to exchange contact information for our date. I'm seriously hoping that the BRS is there tonight, because I'm starting to form a jones for this cat.

After the gym last night, I went into Williamsburg (Brooklyn, not Colonial) to celebrate one of my best bud's (Cool Brooklyn's) 27th birthday. Went to an AWESOME bar that served $1 (yes, you heard me correctly) drinks until 9PM (beer, vodka, rum, etc.). I was double fisting like nobody's business. Plus, I got to buy CB tons of drinks, seeming like a great friend, and didn't have to spend a boatload. Awesome.

This weekend is basically the Cool Brooklyn weekend. I've planned a dinner and asurprise party (i.e., boozefest) for CB this Saturday night with all of our and his friends. Should be awesome.

I'm hoping for the hot BRS to be at the gym tonight, so maybe I can line up some making out for the weekend, too. Here's hoping.

2005-09-22T13:13:00.000-04:00

My name is...

I have a new appreciation for Gina's mistaken Hollywood identity.

No. I am neither the guy from Party of Five nor the guy from Lost.

I have gotten this at least a dozen times over the course of the past two weeks! Ugh.

2005-09-21T12:19:00.000-04:00

All That and A Bag o' Chips

I'm so happy. And here's why.

Work: I was working kind of late last night preparing for an important meeting today. I got tired and agreed with myself that I should leave work in order to avoid burnout. So I went to the gym.

Where I saw this awesomely hot British research scientist (I guess they actually exist) that I had a conversation with Sunday night.

To back up even further, I went out with my friend M on Sunday night. M and Drone got trashed on homemade pre-game martinis and then proceeded to a club/bar for tequila shots and beer. Primed with booze, I was much more free with my actions and decided to approach said British research scientist whom I recognized from my gym. I talked to BRS for about an hour and then headed home (saying that we'd definitely see eachother at the gym). OK, so back to the gym last night.

Running on the treadmill, I noticed the hot BRS doing the elliptical machine behind me. I played it cool and began running with as perfect form as I'm capable. OK, so I was trying to show off. Without being annoying. Just trying to put my best foot (or feet, as the case was) forward. Then, the hot BRS got off the elliptical and made a bee line for Drone. I took out my headphones and let the flirtation commence. Uhhh. I was all butterfly-ey and awkward inside. Trying to talk to BRS while I ran proved difficult, so BRS left to let me get back to it. I said that we'd definitely talk when I got off. Fast forward: so we did and now we're gunna get a drink. Awesome. So that's why I'm happy for one. The whole anticipatory excitement of getting together with someone rules. Probably moreso than actually being with them. Or maybe that's only in my screwed-up world. OK, so now back to my work scenario.

I decided that I'd come into work early today to finish my prepartions for the important review/meeting today. When my boss came in and saw what I was doing, he said, and I quote:

"Bang up job, Drone. Your [work] looks better than any of my [similar work] ever [has]. Really great."

Pshaw. Little ol' me? Heh. So yeah. That's the second reason I'm happy today.

An update on the Date and Non-Date referenced in my last post:

The Date has called me twice and emailed me three times about getting dinner (i.e., having a second date). Uhm. You wish your roommate would end his life so that you can have a crappy apartment AND you don't know what an iPod is. You know how Donald Trump says YOU'RE FIRED? Well, to 'Date': PHONE PHASE OUT! In other words, I'm not calling you back.

The Non-Date definitely has gooshy feelings for the Drone. I suspected it when I received numerous pre-drink E-mails like this:

Dear Drone,

Looking forward to you and tequila tonight. Can't wait to finally see you.

[Friend of Drone's Ex who seems to want to re-enact an episode of The OC]

Non-Date is seriously cute and very sweet. But, Non-Date? I'm not Mischa Barton. Nor do I wish to be Mischa Barton's character on The OC. There is no way I'm making out with a friend of my ex. A GOOD friend of my ex. Especially when my ex and I literally did the nasty a week ago. Too weird. No thanks. Check please.

Funnily enough, I had my night class right before drinks with Non-Date. It's funny becuase I decided to pump the 18-year-old freshmen for their unadulterated thoughts on my situation. One girl had some very poignant ideas. I was shocked when she said 'If you want [Non-Date] to get the friend vibe, make sure you both pay for your own drinks.' Hm. Good idea. And that's exactly what I did.

We went Dutch all the way. I used the noun 'bud' a lot in reference to Non-Date and referred a lot to my ex in an affectionate manner. I think Non-Date got the idea, but I've received another invite for dinner. On a weekend night. Ugh!

As a result of my impending date with the hot British research scientist (Brains! Accent! Fit!), I am now officially on the Rosa Cha diet (see Image 8 of Page 5). I believe this diet consists of:

Morning cigarette
Protein bar for breakfast
Coffee #1
Coffee #2
Afternoon cigarette
Salmon steak
Coffee #3
Pre-dinner cigarette
2-hour workout
Can of tuna + Protein bar

OK, so I won't be on that exact regiment. But I'm determined to crack down. Trust me, the hot BRS is worth it. One word: ACCENT (forget the brains). Joke.

2005-09-19T09:55:00.000-04:00

Dates, Non-Dates and Dealbreakers

Happy Monday. Fashion Week is over, so I have to find some other ridiculousness on which to harp.

Drone's weekend wasn't too eventful; however, there are moments of note.

The Date:

Had another horrible date with another horrible individual. The estimation 'horrible' has nothing to do with the person's physical appearance (for once) but rather the verbal vomit that sprang forth from said date's mouth. Key pieces of conversation revolved around my date's apparently suicidal roommate who is on disability from work becuase of an accident that confines said roommate to a chair.

Said the date, 'My roommate never leaves the apartment!'

Thought the Drone, 'Well. The guy is on disability.'

Said the date, 'He never wants to go out.'

Thought the Drone, 'Again. He is on disability.'

Said the date, 'My roommate told me he wanted to commit suicide. So I lied and said that I'd be really upset if he did anything to hurt himself.'

Returned the Drone, 'Well, you didn't lie really. I mean, you wouldn't be happy if he hurt himself.'

Said the date (for real), 'Well. I would get the apartment.'

[Drone's inner jaw drops]

Yeah, so the date was a real winner. The conversation that had me packing (the icing on the cake, if you will) revolved around my iPod mini. Date asked what it was. Seriously. As if to say, 'What is this strange metallic blue piece of machinery before me?' I mean, most people who live in New York and haven't been stuck under a dead body or a pile of refuse for the past three years are expected to know what an iPod is, right?

'Is that like a computer?'
'Uhm. Sort of. It's a dedicated portable music player. It's really great.'
'Do you need a computer to use it?'

I won't bore you with how I literally explained to the date how an iPod works and the concept behind the product. Didn't know that an iPod was. When I told Gina this story, she rightly asked, "Does this person ever interact with people??" To which I responded, 'Date's a therapist.' Yeah. Figure that one out.

The Non-Date

So, tonight should be interesting. After class, I'm having a drink with one of my ex's friends. And now for the explanation.

I, as is the rest of the free world (unless you're the Date who doesn't know what an iPod is), am on Friendster. One day, perusing my ex's profile, I saw a few friends of the ex- that I remembered meeting and thinking were cool. So I invited a few of them to be my friends on my profile. All of them said yes and one of them started emailing me via Friendster. So this friend T. brought it to my attention that I go to night school near T's place.

'Let's get a drink after class next week.'

Hm. OK. Couldn't hurt. Sure. I'll need booze after my class anyway, so why not have company. However, the more I thought about it the more I thought that T. was asking Drone out on a date. I got a few E-mails that were something along the lines of, 'Can't wait. Really looking forward to it.' Yadda yadda. Uh oh. Sticky. Ex's friend. Visions of The OC. Ah!

After consulting with friends, I decided to send ex C an E-mail just saying that I'd be hanging out with T for a friendly drink and that's it. Not a date. No response from C. Hm.

Tonight's the night to find out what's on T's mind. I'll push the friend card as hard as I'm able, but when booze is involved I can't promise anything. T is seriously cute... but no. NO. C's friend. No way. Waaa. Awkardsville.

The Dealbreakers

At the request of Gina, I am now going to attempt to lay down specific things about potential mates that disqualify them from the Drone running. It was on our way to brunch on Sunday that I recounted the iPod therapist Date story to G. It was then that G requested I make a list of things that are dealbreakers (i.e., elements or acts that make me want to run screaming from a date or relationship) for me, personally. The only specification was that each item must be something that has happened or presented itself to Drone (i.e., it's a dealbreaker that's based on experience). This will not be exhaustive because my list of dealbreakers isn't so much a list as it is a scroll. Second only to the Dead Sea Scrolls in terms of sheer length and volume. To begin, in no particular order:

1. Bad teeth (crooked, pointy, yellow, etc.);
2. Bad breath;
3. Not knowing what an iPod is(!);
4. Giving a card to Drone saying 'May this always remind you of the night we met' on our third date;
5. Actors (ok, not all actors, but I've yet to be proven wrong on this one);
6. Models (see #5);
7. Huge ear lobes;
8. Wearing shirts that are too tight;
9. Uttering the phrase 'badda bing' at any time;
10. Saying you're 5'10" when you're 5'6";
11. Living with three roommates that smoke pot and offer Drone coke while smoking pot;
12. Bad kisser;
13. Your jaw makes a clicking sound when we kiss;
14. Your jaw seems to unhinge like a boa constrictor when we kiss;
15. Being so skinny that your hip bone scrapes me in bed;
16. You just moved to New York a week ago (read: needy and clingy!);
17. Use big words for the sake of using big words;
18. Utter grammatically incorrect phrases more than 10 times in one sitting;
19. Wonky eyes (see Paris Hilton);
20. Tell me how fat you are when you're not.

Top 20 for now... but I, as I'm sure you too, could go on...

2005-09-16T16:59:00.000-04:00

Office Space

It's about time!

Move over, Dilbert. 3-D in effect.

2005-09-16T09:59:00.000-04:00

Catwalk and the City

Check out this awesome British site that stops Londoners in their fashion tracks to complement their awesome fashion sense. Yeah. Awesome fashion... For me to poop on! [Click "Previous Day" for endless enjoyment.]

Oh, Brits. Keep to your awesome cuisine... I mean, keep to your awesome culture... I mean, keep to your cool accents and leave fashion to us New Yorkers. Thanks. [Thanks to A for introducing me to this little nugget.]