Spazmania

There are so many exciting things happening in my life right now that I feel like I am in a constant state of spazmania.

On November 5th I am moving into the most fabtastic duplex/penthouse apartment with Momo. The only thing is I have to be out of my current place by the 1st so I've been packing packing packing packing.

Moving out of my apartment is bittersweet, I am uber excited to live with one of my best friends but I am sad to leave Eve.  When we moved in together we were simply acquaintances set up by our mutual friend Sabotage. But in the past year we have become really close and have had many wild and hilarious moments.  I am waiting to see what happens this weekend with Halloween before blogging about our year together.  For now we can revisit one of my most memorable posts about us as roommates; Attack Of The Pigeons!!

I have also started taking weekly private Karate lessons at New Generation Karate for self-defense purposes.  I always thought the idea of self-defense for a woman was silly because if a beast huge man is coming at me it's certain he will win. But I could not be more wrong.  My instructor is teaching me techniques that will, at the very least, put an attacker in pain long enough thus allowing me sufficient time to run far away.  The best part is I am actually not spazzy! I kick-ass at kicking ass! Karate is also the best stress reliever, a very close second to shooting guns.  I do a lot of things to lower my stress level - I run at least three times a week and take Bikram yoga classes (though I have not gone to Bikram in some time) and I use this blog as an outlet for my thoughts. But NOTHING releases tension from your body quite like holding and shooting a machine that has the power to kill someone or using all your might to punch and kick at bags or at the pads worn by the instructor. It is also a very intense workout and leaves me in pain for 3-4 days afterward.You can watch me shoot here.

Running is something I started just over a year ago and I have grown to love it, to depend on it. When I started it took extreme effort to run just 1 mile, now I find that I can run 3 easily and am always pushing myself to complete 5.  I signed up for the New York Road Runners 4 Mile Jingle Bell Jog - it's in December you should all come watch! While I can run semi-long distance, I am certain that I lack the necessary brain function to have complete coordination so I may or may not run with the same swagger as Pheobe Buffay.

Along with moving, running, karate and potentially being a personal trainer (more details to follow) I am in the process of starting MY OWN company.  I can't go into too many details yet as I am looking into patenting my idea but it is going to be for dog owners in New York City.  There is a blog that you can check out at http://www.tailmeaboutit.blogspot.com/ and you can follow my company on Twitter.  I am so excited about it! I have partnered up with Starryeyed and we have 5 employees - Wild Child, Sabotage, Burns, Lo and PLands.

Oh! Wild Child and I started a collaborative blog called Novel Girl and The Magnetic Shiksa - check it out at http://hotmesssocialdiaries.blogspot.com/. We are two hot messes who dig alliteration and blog about books, bands and boys.

Lastly, cynical me has started reading a dating blog. It's written by a 24 year old woman and tells of her experiences with dating men in New York City.  She's very honest, shares a lot of details and provides her own advice to singletons.  Her stories are funny, happy, sad, exciting etc. She doesn't hold back or try to only show herself in a good light. She admits if she does something awkward or when things don't work out perfectly.  What I like most about it is her positive outlook on finding a forever kind of love, it gives me a small hope that maybe, just maybe it really is possible. Most recently she was broken up with via BBM (we've all been there girl) and asked if anyone knew of someone to set her up with. I did! They went out last night and she blogged about how wonderful it was! Please check out her site if you don't already http://www.carlyschronicles.com/. Carly and I have never met, we've only 'tweeted' and emailed, but she trusted me and so far it seems things between her and my friend are going swimmingly!

Is matchmaking in the cards for me too? Just call me Yente.

Eeekk! So many happenings - total spazmania!

Cynical Me Or My Thoughts on Soulmates Love & The Concept of Fate

Blogspiration came to me when Momo asked via Twitter if anyone believed in 'love at first sight' or in a 'soul mate.'  I vehemently responded "NO and NO." Wild Child said "Lust at first at sight and more than one soul mate" and then proceeded to call me a cynic.

I am single.  I chose to be single.  When I ended my relationship with my ex fourteen months ago I knew what I was getting into.  I was warned by my girlfriends that were single at the time that dating in NYC is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thing. I didn't care; I was unhappy with my current situation and excited to be single again.

And boy has it been fun.

It isn't so much that I don't believe in love.  I love my family. I have best friends that I love.  I have a dog who I love and who loves me back unconditionally.  My parents are still married and in love and both sets of grandparents were never divorced.  Most recently I have best friends that have gotten engaged and their happiness proves that loving someone enough to spend the rest of your life with them is possible. But did they find their 'soulmate'? Andy Warhol wondered, "if it's possible to have a love affair that lasts forever." Honestly I'd like to answer yes.

But when you get down to the nitty gritty I just don't think its for me.  It's important to remember that I was in two relationships that lasted around three years so it isn't like I don't have experience with that. It's just that men these days bore me so easily.  Here's what happens - I will meet a guy, we will get to know each other and if I find them intriguing then more talking, perhaps on a deeper more intimate level, will ensue.  That's when they think I want a relationship and the games begin; subsequently, I lose interest immediately.  The flip side is things move too fast and then my commitment fear kicks in and those guys don't stand a chance.  Wild Child has coined men these days 'man-boys' and has written a terrific post about them HERE.

It's almost like the whole 'lets just get to know each other and hang out' stage doesn't exist anymore.  It was certainly cool in college. Either they come on too strong, or they think all women are the same - we want to marry them immediately, after knowing them for like two minutes.  Talk about having major egos - which naturally makes them all the more sexy, naturally.

Women like me make it tough for men that actually like us.  They need to find that perfect balance of romance to satisfy our needs as a female combined with just the right amount of doucheness to keep us intrigued.  I recently told my male friend DL that I can not stand overly nice guys and actually like it when a guy is a dick sometimes. He responded with "F*ck you B*tch get over here now."  His point was crystal clear.  Men need to understand that there is a huge difference between being slightly arrogant and cocky versus being a total douchelord.

I always tell Wild Child that I want to be a successful business woman.  One who, if I do end up meeting a man who doesn't bore me and I marry, will be financially independent of her husband.  In the meantime however, I'd like to make a lot of money and travel and have a lover in every city. 

My friend Mamacita is one of those single women ready for a husband and to settle down.  She is a huge advocate of online dating services since the men in this city (and it seems in most other cities too) totally suck.  These sites are not for me. I am not against them in any way and I know that they prove to be very successful. It's just not my style.  I did however check out Match.com tonight since I am battling with a terrible bout of insomnia.  For FREE I was able to pick and choose very specific qualities I wanted in a man.  Some may find that like totally awesome, I think its like totally freaky. I mean why don't I just type in MARK SANCHEZ. If only...

Aside from your standard A/S/L (I'm hoping you all remember AOL chatrooms and know what that means) I answered these questions:
Height: 5'11"-6'4" Body Type: Slender, Athletic/Toned
Hair and Eye Color: I chose 'any' for both - come on I'm not that superficial.
Sports: I am a spaz so I am no good at sports - but I like them.
Common Interests: Reads books, likes music, likes to travel...
Marital Status: Um, I am 26 so 'never married' thanks.
Religion: Agnostic/Athiest would be the most convenient Jewish would make my mom happy.
Then there are political views, language and level of education: Please speak English, and if you are going to actually have a political view at least have a B.A. and be intelligent enough to defend your side.
Lifestyle was probably the easiest: Non-smoker, social drinker, gym rat, has no kids but wants kids and likes dogs because I have one.
Occupation: JUST HAVE A JOB.
Holy Crap! I can choose 'Salary Range'! Who would pick the lowest? 150k+ please, thanks.
Zodiac Sign: Anything but Gemini - haha jk Wild Child - I love you girl.
Finally an 'optional' Keyword box: Dougie

No matches. Shocking. I guess my 'soulmate' isn't on that site.

Soulmate believers will say that I just haven't met mine yet.  That's like saying, "everything works out in the end, if it hasn't worked out its not the end" or however that bullshit saying goes.  If you believe in that, then you believe in fate and you believe that everything is already predetermined.  If that's the case then we have absolutely no freewill which is a terrifying realization.  The best defense people have told me with regards to this statement comes from the movie Can't Hardly Wait "Fate! There is such a thing as fate, but it only takes you so far. Then it's up to you to make it happen."  You know who says that? The character is called 'Angel Stripper.' It is a totally bogus load of crap. 

If anyone knows a dude that's at least 5'11, is thin/athletic, likes sports, likes music, reads, has never been married, is Jewish but not religious, speaks English, is intelligent, graduated from college, doesn't smoke cigarettes, drinks socially, wants kids, is a gym rat, likes dogs, and has a job and can Dougie - send 'em my way.

I feel like that describes every boring man I know. I'm lucky I'm pretty because it looks like I won't be settling down anytime soon.

The Homeless Man Consortium - Theory.

Because I am interested in conspiracy theories, whenever something goes awry I am convinced there is conniving treachery behind it. And because I can sometimes be naive, I give everyone the benefit of the doubt until they prove me otherwise.

Having a dog means that I spend more time walking aimlessly around New York City with no destination than someone who does not own a dog.  Walking without direction and with a dog makes you an open target for random conversation with friendly strangers.  Sometimes this can be great, these "microwave-relationships" allow me to meet some bizarre individuals that serve as a nice break from the banality that is dog-walking.

Some of my more interesting dog-walking experiences involved a Mexican standoff between my dog and Larry David, a run in with Tom Cruise and Suri, finding out one of my neighbors is a trapeze instructor and of course getting hit on by a variety of men and women who have used some very original pick up lines/techniques that would fill up an entirely different post.  I also had the opportunity last March to meet Homeless Man Tom who, up until last night's encounter, changed my view of the homeless in New York City. 

Basically, I am now convinced that the homeless men in the vicinity of my apartment are acting in collusion to use me as the primary benefactor to fund the Homeless Man Consortium.

If you read my earlier post about Homeless Man Tom you would know that he is one of those homeless men that have hysterical signs.  I was at first skeptical because I thought if he is creative enough to make such clever signs, is he really homeless??  But after learning his story (he's a Veteran and can't get a job, tries to make $20 a day to stay at a place he found because the conditions are better than at the Bowery Mission) and that he makes funny signs because it keeps him going on with life by taking his mind off of the struggles that he deals with daily (without his signs - he would just give up) my heart melted. I found myself truly caring about this man and I began to give him whatever singles I had on me whenever I passed him. As time went on and after a myriad of conversations HMT and I formed a sort of friendship, a friendship that involved him learning my dog's name and petting him from time to time and helping me parallel park my car by guiding me into a spot.

My dog-walking experiences morphed from a chore that I rushed through because it was one of the less exciting parts of my adult life to something meaningful, something so meaningful that it snapped me out of my own head, my head filled with rudimentary thoughts, and I became aware of those around me.  Instead of assuming every homeless man (or woman) I saw was a crack head or unworthy of attention or just going to use my dollars for booze, I conjured up all sorts of reasons for why they were living on the street, filthy, asking for a dollar and somehow still maintaining a belief in God.

Recently however, I noticed that I was not only giving my dollars to HMT and to the random homeless man who's path I crossed, but that there were at least three new men living on my street that were now recipients. There's Old Crazy Hat Man who's name I don't know because he has no teeth and mumbles, Jack Daniels who sits on a crate and cradles an empty bottle of Jack, and most recently there is a man that resides on 3rd avenue that I haven't had the opportunity to converse with yet.  None of this seemed strange to me until I saw HMT last night.

He had a new sign that said something about him being a Funky Monkey and when he saw me staring he waved and then hollered to my dog, by name, who of course responded to his beckoning jubilantly because HMT smells like a combination of old food and poop.  I went over and realized that it had been some time since I last saw him.  A very long time in fact.  He asked my dog to sit and then to lay down and then proceeded to pet him.  And that's when I noticed he was wearing a watch! If you don't have a home, I would think you would also not possess a watch.  He asked my dog to give him kisses, which he thankfully did not obey.  I awkwardly made the excuse that my dog doesn't like to kiss people he doesn't know.  HMT said, nah its cool I will get him to, I used to be a dog trainer.  Now please correct if I am wrong - but I never heard of someone needing to be a dog trainer while they were fighting in wars.  This man duped me.  He saw me coming from a mile away and took advantage of my donations.

I now believe the new homeless men that have relocated near my apartment are there because they just want MY money.  Obviously it's all about me.  I am the center of a conspiracy!  I am, if not the sole contributor, than the primary benefactor of The Homeless Man Consortium.  It's a theory, but so is gravity...until I'm proved otherwise it'll just be left that I'm lucky I'm pretty. How else could  I get away with this?

Where Is Never, Neverland And How Do I Get There?

Just when I am in desperate need of 'blogspiration,' Wild Child visits New York and is the perfect catalyst to kick me back into gear and get my creative juices flowing.  The reason for her visit: my super sweet 21st 26th birthday debauchery party.  As always, when it comes to WC, mucho censoring is needed a requirement.

Stirring with anticipation of WC's arrival on Friday night and having already made plans for us party girls to party, I gave myself two full hours to get dressed and ready.  Two hours being ample time, even for me, to prepare for a random night of mayhem with a spectacular crew. So when my doorbell buzzed, and this cool cat from Rhode Island turned New York City aficionado was doing the buzzing, I was of course still in a towel with partially blow dried hair sans makeup completely ready and immediately urging her to get to that point too.
About an hour and a half forty-five minutes later and after determining that if we were dudes we would totally bang us we looked super fly, we hailed a cab and made our way to JJ Backstreet's apartment for some pre-bar libations. 

JB was, per usual, a perfect host and we proceeded to drink from his liquor stock until we were intoxicated enough to be just below the point of blackout status be drunk but still pass as normal, functioning members of society. After taking a couple more shots each for good measure and now content with our inebriety we made our way to that evening's bar of choice, The Volstead. 

We were going there to crash attend the birthday party of some girl none of us knew and ended up successfully unintentionally taking over the bar area since we were rolling about 10-12 people deep.  More drinking ensued and, while my brain is only able to conjure up a picture book of memories, it seems as though the rest of the night went a little something like this: Patron, Prosecco, Dougie. Repeat x-Infinity. And as if that weren't enough, I woke up the next morning to a picture text message from Momo of one of our friends with his face badly scraped and bleeding a little banged up.  Apparently there was a minor scuffle outside the bar and garbage cans were thrown, also apparent - I blacked out.

Saturday was dedicated to me beautifying myself for that night's big event, my birthday (shared with Momo's) soiree. While I got my hair did, Wild Child meandered around Soho with our friend AA checking out galleries, shopping and spotting Jared Leto. All of this naturally resulted in a new found love of yet another area of Manhattan for WC. Naturally.

The party that night from what I can remember was spectacular. All of my friends that I wanted with me to celebrate my becoming an old lady were in attendance.  I love having big birthday parties, and have been doing so since my 21st, because it's the one time of the year I get to have all my favorite people around me at the same time.

When we woke up Sunday morning Wild Child and I tried to piece together exactly what went down the night before. If Friday night was a picture book of memories, Saturday was the same - but with pages ripped out.  Walking into my kitchen we saw an absurd amount of garbage from McDonalds - this was thanks to my roommate's boyfriend who ordered everything off of the menu for himself, dropped it on the floor, then went back and ordered the same all over again.  Upon review of text messages, BBMs, outgoing calls and an investigative brunch with Momo and JJ Backstreet  - we deduced that the party was debauchery for all totally awesome with just a few minor bumps. I had messages that my friend's boyfriend ended up in the emergency room after being hit on the head with a bottle in the bathroom, clues pointed out that we participated in some mind expansion around 5am, heard stories that some new loves were formed and old loves were ended and learned of a few minor brawls between friends. If that doesn't spell successful party - then I don't know what does.

Hungover, exhausted and incapable of formulating clear sentences the four of us moseyed on down to Union Square so that I could attempt to gain back some brain activity by playing Chess with one of the men in the park.  I lost, but the man I played said, "you're actually pretty good, I'm shocked."  I assured him I will be back. Momo performed her hilarious and eerily very on point impersonation of Ms. Swan from MadTv. I then naively approached met a peace activist who promoted his views through "Peace Through Face Sitting."  Wild Child and I bought some "I Music NY" shirts and all JB wanted to do was buy some batteries and then it was time for us to say good bye. 

I truly believe it's important to party all the time and as often as possible while we are still lucky to be pretty. Because aging is inevitable and although I am trying to hold on to my youth for as long as possible, I fear turning 26 may be the tipping point...

In the mean time - Wild Child, you rock - I'll be seeing you in 24 days for a 'Newportant' and what I am sure will be a wildly crazy perfectly under control weekend!