Was that your Boner???

I've been staying home or spending time at other's homes. It's really just an excuse to watch The Jerk, drink alot, and spoon one another. Yes, my friends are a big bunch of spooners. My friend Miles suggests I pull a "reach-around", but I suppose I'm too shy.

Last night, a few of my friends stopped by for a would-be girls night/party planning session. Through some wacky misunderstandings, my new masculine friend ended up running into Helen, in-turn bumping into myself and my sexy personal trainer. She and I were clad in my dead grandmother's old furs, leotards, and Vans. We were purchasing Smirnoff Ice from the deli, and getting a slice of pizza. Yes, that WAS me putting my Vans on the counter to show the pizza guy. What else would one be doing on a Sunday night in Harlem?

We all came home, I ate my Sicilian, she ate her Veggie, Helen cooked lunch for the next day, and our man friend watched, wishing he had money. Before you start accusing me of being insensitive, I might say I treated him to a hearty lunch at White Castle earlier in the day. My trainer suggested we play "truth or dare". This was an idea that with greeted with mixed emotions. Helen quickly retired to her study to save the world, our man friend sort of just sat there, and I whole heartedly said YES!!!

"Truth or Dare" never really went well for me. At a sleepover when I was 14, I was dared to lay down on the street in my underwear. My mother didn't appreciate that. And of course the kissing of the female friends, met with giggles and whispers. By the time heavy duty "Truth or Dare" was in session, I had already been shipped off to my no-touching policy boarding school. I've never even played "seven minutes in heaven". But really, how much trouble can one get into in 7 minutes!

So we lit some tea lights and cranked up my Mates of State playlist on Pandora - you know, to set the mood of being ironically juvenile. Yes, good times were had by all. We all asked typical truth stuff, regarding loosing of virginity, who would you cheat on your partner with, what's the kinkiest thing you've ever done...I asked the hard hitting stuff, such as "Have you ever had a murderous thought?" What can I say, I'm special.

I've always preferred "Truth" to "Dare", because I'm quite the storyteller. Obviously. Yet, I'm painfully gun shy. I will never make the first move, and I'm ridiculously cautious. So you'd be as surprised as I was, when I found myself accepting the dare of dry humping one of our friends. Well, in all actuality, I was supposed to simulate what I look like when I'm about to have an orgasm. Honestly, I don't really know, what with me being chaste. And I'm pretty sure I accidentally touched his boner.

Dancing was had, legs entwined through one another took place, I got sort of turned on by a girl, and a delightful new sketch character was born on this night! Just you wait!!! If I can't almost have an orgy with my good friends, while creating comic gold, then what good are the for???

Goodbye, my lover.

Oh dear. My gentleman friend has found another. This was bound to happen, of course. That was the arrangement. If one of us finds someone they chose to be monogamous with, our relationship ends. I knew he'd find someone first. The Bronx isn't that big. It will be a loss, however.

We were coworkers, and it took me three months to introduce myself. I approached him in the lunch room of my nursing home and said hello, one day. Man, I was a DORK. He was my work crush. Now, the beauty of a work crush, is that is all it is. You would never date this person out of work, but seeing them makes a shitty day better. I'd get all smushy when I'd see him. So cute with his glasses and round tush! Ugh, sorry. Spending time with a senior, I'd go out of my way to be near him while talking to them. Remember when I said I was a dork?

When I quit, I told his best friend, the security guard, that I had a work crush on him. His response, "Really? That's funny, because he thinks your gorgeous." Awww, right? Well, that was 8 months ago.

No one has met him, not even Helen. I sort of like it that way. We're very different, and I like that as well. He's not a bull shit artist like so many people I know. He's direct and honest. The only Broadway show he's seen is Cats, prefers comic books to novels, he can't swim or drive, and takes care of his mother. We'll spend a good portion of the evening playing Nintendo, inbetween our trysts and General Tso's Chicken. No one know we're here.

The reason for my waxy poetry? I'll miss him. Our trysts weren't extraordinary. His kissing wasn't even that good. He'd never let me get to emotionally close - he'd speak about his personal life, but refuse to use names and exact locations. That being said, I felt safe and ok with him.

I think, with every person you encounter, whether it be a lover, an enemy, or a friend, there is something to learn from that person. Some small piece you can take along with you. I suppose the one thing I can take away from him, is the knowledge that I am actually ok. And that I don't need him, or anyone to reaffirm that. I will miss the General Tso's...

Island Hopping

After a neverending ride on the D train, and an all to brief Chess singalong with Mark, I am home. We went to check out the Judith Shakespeare Company's Shakespeareathon in Long Island City this evening. Now, I'm not that big into Shakespeare. I enjoy the comedies; I love A Mid Summer Night's Dream. But the idea of a weekend of pub songs and corsets and fortune telling is all to good to pass up! And the most important reason to be in attendance? To support our wonderful friend.

She was scheduled to perform last evening, and I missed it. Even with a date book and my iCal, sometimes I just can't get it together. Tonight she was running around, doing ticket raffles, singing songs, making sure everything was where is it was supposed to be. She's good at that sort of thing. I love having her in my life for many reasons, a big one being that when I'm on the verge of a meltdown, she swoops in and with the flick of a wrist, all is right with the world again.

It was a fun time; I'm glad I got off the big island just for a bit. As you know, I don't make a habit out of going to Brooklyn or Queens, but I guess once a year won't kill me.

Home Decor Day!

I'm very excited! Like most women, I love shopping. But I prefer a very specific form of shopping - home decor!!! Oh, I adore home decor! And I hate shoe shopping. I can spend hours upon HOURS in Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Ikea is truly an all day event. I've always been into ultra modern furnishings and deco. I freaken love deco.

Anyway, the cause of my excitement! My lovely friend Allison and I are hitting up our favorite decor shops today. I love my friend Allison. Not only is she a fabulous listener and all around kick ass chick, she loves home design almost as much as I do. She's hard core about things - she makes lists! Of course I have a typed up inventory of every cosmetic I own. And I keep it updated. So we're both a little hard core.

We'll check out CB2 first - a hip outpost of Crate and Barrel. I wait eagerly every month for the arrival of my CB2 catalog. My dresser is from CB2 and it's just...ugh I can't even explain it. Then we'll head up a few blocks to Crate and Barrel, the wedding registry dream land. Contemporary furniture, dinner ware, stem ware...Allison is moving into a nice new place with her boyfriend, so she's eager to out fit the place.

After our stint in Soho, and a quick stop to Kid Robot to check out the new Labbits (ah, I love Labbits!) and Jonathan Adler to dream about one day affording any pottery from his Muse collection, we'll head up to Chelsea.

West Elm, Allison's favorite place, is what she dreams about. If she sees a piece, she can tell you what page in the catalog you can find it. West Elm is a bit to cookie cutter for my taste, but I do love their lacquer furniture, end tables, and home accessories. My little ceramic rabbit is from West Elm. I'm just along for the ride.

We finish our day with The Container Store. Who knew storage could be so amazing! Like AMAZING! Storage for socks. Storage for mugs. Storage for dog food. Storage for mouthwash. I need to pick up some little storage containers to keep in my bathroom - I'm slowly trying to get organized. I feel with that organization, I'll clean my room. Because honestly, I'm getting tried of climbing over clothes to get into bed at night.

And you know what a clean room means??? Slumber party!!! No boys allowed!

What's so great about the Staten Island Ferry, anyway?

Remember when you were in junior high and you were in a group of people who thought similarly to you? A clique, if you will. Remember the band geeks and the theatre freaks? I was in both! Remember the jocks, and how you'd stay after school to watch Jeremy Bennett wrestle in tights? Remember the burnouts and the goths who thought Hot Topics was the mecca for punk and angst? Remember the obviously bitchy girls invite you to a pool party, and ignore you the whole time? What about the mean girls that give off the appearance of being sweet but in the end, turn out to be vicious, spiteful girls?

I thought junior high, high school was over. The truth is, it'll never be over. As long as the world keeps spinning, people will continue to knock others down in an attempt to make themselves feel better. Knowing that you have the ability to make someone cry is an amazingly powerful thing. We, as a people, take the ability of taking control and having power over another, for granted. Consequently, often times we don't see someone slowly beginning to have control and exert power over us. And that is what we need to focus on - taking back the power.

Your mother and father were right; bullies are bullies because of insecurities, broken homes, factors that are beyond their control. They choose to bully, in an effort to take that control back. Life is a big, bitchy power struggle.

I am writing this, not so much to be informative to my readers, but as a lesson plan for myself. I need to stop letting the control others have placed upon me, break me. I need to remember that whatever happened in the past, isn't relevant now. This is me, taking back my power.

so, fuck it. I took back my power, and I promise to never be so generous with it again.

Choo Choo! It's the Vibrator Train!

My friends have been telling me for months to take some time for myself, whatever that entails. People keep suggesting I go to the Park, and just sit. Honestly, I'm not someone that easily finds serenity, and a patch of green full of sun bathers and happy couples ain't gonna cut the mustard. I'm not a fan of yoga, because I have a thing about bare feet. And it takes alot of effort to hop on the subway to visit a museum; plus I always feel guilty paying just one dollar...it does say "suggested donation!" And a house of worship? Very unlikely. To most of you, these places are sanctuaries for being one with your thoughts and just being present and content. Personally, I'd rather read Nylon Magazine and go to Sephora.

Since I'm a stubborn pain in the ass, and rarely listen to others, I finally gave in and took some time for myself. I went to the Lower East Side and bought a vibrator. People are surprised to learn I don't own one. That probably has to do with the fact that I've always lived with others, from my parents, to families I nannied for, to a plethora of roommates. It's just respectful. You wouldn't want your roommate's boyfriend to ejaculate all over your sofa/love seat combo - no matter how much you deserve it.

The location of my purchase was super female-friendly Babeland. They're extremely friendly and ridiculously well informed. It's bright, fancy, and pretty. Women like pretty things! Their mindset is to put the customer as ease, because sex toys are fun and choosing one shouldn't be an arduous task. A refreshing approach to sexual empowerment. In the past, I've been terribly timid to even browse in such a place. Yes, I do have one or two conservative bones in my body - though I think I broke them having sex. :rimshot:

My best friend and I would take her bumper sticker-fied Jetta to South Street in Philadelphia. Sort of like the West Village and Williamsburg, only smaller, cheaper, and drunker. We'd giggle at the bongs and piercing parlors. I will go on record stating that I was thisclose to getting my tongue pierced at Warrior Piercing. Near Warrior if you follow the sidewalk, you'll begin to see little cartoon spermies, leading you to Condom Kingdom - the be all end all giggle inducing sex shop. There were spermies on the sidewalk!!! If anyone can verify that these spermies are still around, please post!!!

We'd NJ Transit ourselves up to Christopher Street to check out the ironic lesbian t-shirts. But these sex shops were disgusting, and I remember actually feeling like I was going to throw up in one store. I couldn't get over all of the video (wow, that dates me) covers full of women with their legs spread open. And butt plugs. Butt what??? These big knobs that resemble cartoon arrowheads. You put them where??? I couldn't even fathom how that could work. I mean, after my mother purchased me the "Getting to know your body book for girls", it took me several months to wrap my mind around the whole "penis in vagina" thing. And it took the guy who was playing Chief Bromden in Cuckoo's Nest several days to explain anal sex to me. After professing my love to him, he told me he was gay - hmm, it all made sense now. And I clearly remember having a heated debate with Rachel Jankowski's little brother, protesting that you cannot have sex via the ear canal! Sex in the cusp of sexual awakening age is a scary, freaky, crying in the fetal position time.

My best friend and I once swiped her dad's porn "Double Penetration 6", and I was shocked. You can put your mouth there? GROSSSSSSSS!!!!! She was not fazed, as her grandmother owns a stripclub on route 309 that bears her name. I was definitely the sheltered one in the friendship. Now she's a nurse and lives happily with her girlfriend of many years in New Jersey. It's her birthday today :) Happy Birthday Coo!!!

Anyway, getting back to the point of this yarn. I was very pleased with my purchase, peeking into the bag on the subway. I'm very proud of myself for doing something that will bring me peace, and help me remain centered. Because never pausing just to breathe for a moment, is one of my downfalls. So I thank my wonderful friends for prodding and the many texts I've been receiving today, wondering how the "new friend" is doing. I think it'll be great - I've been looking for a good milkshake maker for awhile now.

10 years later

It seems as though most of my musings have been related to past experiences, as of late. Rest assured, when I am once again gainfully employed, I'll pepper this space with the random wtf moments you have come to know and love. In the meantime...

I had lunch with an high school friend earlier today. For those that aren't aware, I went to a boarding school because public school couldn't handle all "this." Yes, yours truly, was once a pistol-packin mama minus the pistol. I spent more time in the nurse's office feigning illness than attending class. And throwing desks at teachers was also a natural response. Needless to say, my fellow boarding schoolers were of that elite mentally disturbed state.

My lunch date today was an old high school crush. When you're ill, you really aren't able to gauge other's illnesses. So this is one of those secret shame crushes. He was from Miami, worshiped Anna Kournikova claiming they dated, and he had that cute pin straight bowl cut parted in the center that was all the rage in the mid-90's. His parents would love nothing more than to see as married; apparently they think of me as a stable Jewish girl. They've got the girl part right.

In my high school, our version of "prom" consisted of dimming the lights in the gym, dragging in the tables from the cafeteria, and booking a DJ. Needless to say, your prom, even if you didn't attend, was 100 times better than mine was.

My mother took me to Fashion Bug to purchase a dress. When your family is poor and you weigh 250lbs, dress options are limited. I am no Molly Ringwald. I ended up with this maroon tent with sparkly flowers all over it. It was $3.00. I was terribly proud of it. I required a tiara as well; $5.00 at Claires. Oh I was splendid!

I remember hanging out my friends, dancing to Smashmouth and Lou Bega. I remember Dustin and his mohawk and Christina, who apparently was murdered several years ago. And Karen trying to take off her dress. And my crush, with his pin straight hair rocking out with his best buddy, a Neo-Nazi from Long Island. I finally asked/begged him to dance.

We danced to Green Day's "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" which is a TERRIBLE song to slow dance to. And an even worse song to give hope to new beginnings. I have pictures of him looking absolutely miserable, dancing with me. We graduated, a class of 10, and we went on our respective paths. His involved becoming a sports agent. Mine, well I'm still working on that. But at least I look good.

Through the powers of Facebook, he found me, and we've kept in contact over the past few years. We've lost touch with most everyone we graduated with. Apparently one girl became a nun. She doesn't have a Facebook.

We finally met after 10 years, last spring, for dinner with his parents at Fiorello's. So terribly awkward, but they acted as if I was their pride and joy. He's in town for the US Open, and wanted to meet for lunch today.

He doesn't know the city at all, yet he walks a good 10ft ahead of me, in his awkward style. Rest assured, dear reader, any attraction I harboured for him, has long gone. We ate at one of my favorite dinners, the Westway on 44th and 9th. Check it out. I once got drunk and made out with a guy on the corner of 44th and 9th. Ah, memories.

He seemed to think I was nervous, since I spilled my soda all over the table. Twice. I'm never clumsy like that. I wasn't nervous, just eager to finish this painful lunch, in which he constantly bragged about this and that, trying hard to impress me. He paid the bill, and insisted I walk him back to his ugly hotel in Times Square. We said our goodbyes, promising to see one another again, sooner than later. And I sashayed my ass out the revolving doors, and trotted away from the misery that is Times Square.

All in all, I suppose it was good to see the guy. Compared to many of our classmates, he's done incredibly well for himself, and I do wish him the best. He's like a bath; I'll see him once a year, whether I need to or not. After all, he's one of the only memories I have left of a painful high school experience. And as I've learned, using the pain for good, only makes you stronger. Loosing 100lbs and wearing a low-cut black dress and heels while embracing the pain does a world of good as well!