Everytime I try to be a good Christian someone tries me and comes to me with some bullshit and makes me lose my cool with them
The reason this post isn’t a review of blacking out is because I myself have never personally blacked out. While I’ve forgotten a few details of nights, maybe a conversation here or there or hallucinated a bit I’ve never completely lost a night.
My roommate however is a different story.
This Thursday we decided to go out and celebrate the 4th of July – or not having to go to work Friday. Our night started out pretty good with some reasonable pregaming.
When you pregame like there’s only one way your night is going to end, and that is by sending texts like this.
This snapshot is giving me ‘Hey I’m really blacked out and am trying my best to hold a conversation but I’m struggling to find
the right words any words to say’
Hey does not answer ‘Are you in town’, ‘What’s up’ or ‘Where are you?’, and while it is a nice opening line, it also is not a response to ‘Happy 4th’. It is clearly a sign that someone (my roommate) needs a glass of water, a pillow, or a friend to help her write her text messages.
This my friends is what happens when you black out.
I try really hard to take good care of my nails, I do them every week and try to get a gel manicure at least once a month to give them a chance to grow. When I break a nail or the polish chip I hate it, I hid my hands or peel all the polish off until I can do them again.
This is one of the things I hate the most, I also hate when people don’t realize how short and fleeting life is. In order to keep this post from being sentimental I’ll just dive right in.
I don’t know who told everyone that in order to be a functional person you had to have your first boyfriend in High School, break up with him in college for a few years of partying, finally meet someone your junior year, fall madly in love only to break up again after graduation, have a few more year of craziness, find a 9-5, go to happy on Thursdays, get shitty on Saturdays and spend your Sunday’s recovering, hate your job, struggle continuously until your late 20’s when you finally stable out, advance in your job to make a stable salary. Finally you’ll meet the man of your dreams, fall in love, have kids and at last find your happiness in your husband, your family and your stability.
What a load of shit.
Some of us are on the express train in life, with limited stops while other are on the local train with delays. Either way, we all get to the same place, some of us just have a little more time to enjoy the view than others.
Another day another $10/hour.
I have now moved on to working as a receptionist at a real estate company. Said real estate company provides employees who request free housing. We all know where I’ll be trying to wiggle my way into.
But seriously, these people have some big bucks. The office is located in a very nice, very exclusive and trendy part of Manhattan [and a convenient 10 minute commute from my apartment] and unfortunately for me they are not looking for new hires, but anyways — moving on.
While on the job I’ve compiled a list of things I do and don’t enjoy .
- I do enjoy the fact that I don’t need to follow traditional office dress rules
- If I screw up it doesn’t matter…I don’t work there
- I don’t enjoy that the person who hired me to temp, doesn’t even know who I am
- The lunch possibilities are endless – Pinkberry delivers
- I get to participate in all the office gossip with none of the guilt or nervousness associated with consequences of adding my two cents
- I enjoy getting a pacycheck
- I don’t enjoy how small it is
- I like structure
- But then again I don’t. I haven’t gotten a chance to marathon Breaking Bad in soooo long
All in all I would say things are going pretty good. I’m not tied down, I still have time to work on my site, It’s a pretty good life.
However; I still don’t have benefits.
1) The city is expensive: Whenever people ask me I always say “I just moved back to the city two weeks ago” as if I was here already. Let’s be clear I lived in the Bronx, not Manhattan. The difference is about $2-$5 which might not seem like a lot, but let me break this down.
- Pasta in the Bronx- 29 cents
- Manhattan- $3.99
- Ramen in the Bronx- 99 cents
- Manhattan- $2.39
- Cheese in the Bronx- $1.99
- Manhattan- $5.00
So on and so forth. Now I remember why I used to never go to the city in the first place. I could go literally weeks in the Bronx living off of $15. Screw Manhattan and their $11 drinks, I miss the Bronx.
2) There are some real weirdos here: Everyone always says that New York is an eclectic city, people come here to make their dreams come true, it’s a mixing bowl, and that it is. The pickup lines I heard in the Bronx were ridiculous but the ones here are truly absurd, they take it to a new level. Not just that but the things I’ve seen people wear? Like who told you a suit and hiking boots match? Please if you know you’re going to be on the subway during peak hours take a shower and for everyone’s sake paint your toenails before you throw on a pair of flip-flops.
3) Tourists are annoying: I’m from D.C. so I’m used to tourists but these people are just fucking annoying.
4) Food is everywhere: Within 5 minutes of my apartment there is a Cucina Liberta, Subway, PJ Clarkes, Adrienne’s Pizza Bar, Uno’s, Rise, several liquor stores, a Domino’s, grills and various deli’s and yes all of them deliver. Good thing too because I am literally always hungry. You never realize how much walking you do in this city and just how much energy it takes just to pick up a simple roll of toilet paper. Also I literally can’t walk 3 feet without being engulfed by the smell of roasted nuts- nuts 4 nuts…I hate you.
5) I miss my car: Yes I hate driving, I hate traffic but I miss my car. I couldn’t move my first 4 days here because I was so sore. All this walking is not for me. My back hurt, the legs hurt, my butt hurt, my eyes hurt (the air is not the cleanest), I was a mess. At this rate I’ll be purchasing a new pair of shoes every 5 months.I don’t hate it.
Yes this is only 5 things but I can’t think of anymore. I’m happy to be living here but in all seriousness I do need a job.
Going out. Just the phrase going out make me want to put on footie pajamas, my biggest pair of underwear and watch a thousand episodes of Downtown Abbey. I was first introduced to the idea of going out at the tender age of 16 while spending my school year abroad in Zaragoza, Spain, and I couldn’t get enough, so much so that for the next six years it was my livelihood. However, this all came to a screeching halt the second Father McShane handed me my diploma and I moved back home. Fast forward and things still haven’t changed. A miniskirt hasn’t hit my flesh in one fiscal year, and I couldn’t be happier.
Gone are the days of wobbling around in 4-inch heels, piling on five layers of mascara and taming my hair. My Friday and Saturday nights are now consumed with eating unhealthy amounts of ice cream, browsing tumblr and thinking about how nice it is, that I’m not going out.