I found myself sporting a pair of undies that I knew to be the boyfriend's favorite, and thus decided to parade around his apartment in them while he sat at his computer before taking off for work.
He gestured me over to him, and, while music was blaring out of his computer, I somehow began to give him an impromptu lap dance--probably a bit on the lame side as it was 7am and I was SLEEPY--but still, a lap dance, in hot undies, nevertheless.
I could tell he was enjoying it immensely, which was a huge turn on, as I gyrated myself against him. I reached behind me to grab at him, and suddenly heard a large gulp and the sound of a glass being set down.
"Are you drinking MILK?" I sputtered.
Indeed, a glass of milk had been downed while I was having sexy time on my boyfriend's lap.
I mean, I know it does a body good and all, but really! ;)
Thankfully, he tapped that dry, and then tapped me. All's well that end's well.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Ghost World
For those of you not in the know, my boyfriend's apartment is haunted.
I did not know this when he and I first started dating--in fact, one day I woke up from sleep and calmly announced to him that I had seen ghosts...and he did not seem fazed.
He then proceeded to tell me this story.
You'd think that, knowing all of this, I would have run for the hills. I am NOT a fan of the supernatural, am afraid of the dark, and sleep with the light on when I can get away with it. Somehow, however,I am copasetic with these particular spirits, and there is generally very good energy in the Beehive household. So I don't sweat it.
Saturday night, I went through the usual routine of falling asleep on Beehive's couch, waking up in a stupor, and crawling back to the bedroom. As always, I left Beehive in a dead sleep on his couch, as he is impossible to rouse. I figured he'd make his way to bed eventually.
Suddenly wide awake, I started to read in the hopes that it would knock me out, and thankfully, about 15 minutes into "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides, I passed out. With the light on. I know the light was on, because the switch is far from the bed, and I was too lazy to get up and turn it off. I also recall waking up here and there thinking "I should turn that off" but never bothering to do so.
5am. I wake up with a start. Beehive never came to bed. And something's weird. The light, it's off! Who fucking turned the light off?
I ran out into the living room, and Beehive was fast asleep, TV still blaring.
"Wake up", I shook him. "Time for bed."
He looked at me confused, not knowing what hit him. "Dude, did you turn the light off in the bedroom?" I asked.
"mfflkjgl" was his reply.
Next morning, after a very good sleep-in, I asked him again if he turned the light off for me at any time during the night.
He shook his head.
"Awww. The ghost tucked you in," he laughed.
Nice. The ghost is concerned about conserving energy, as well as my comfort. What more could one want?
I did not know this when he and I first started dating--in fact, one day I woke up from sleep and calmly announced to him that I had seen ghosts...and he did not seem fazed.
He then proceeded to tell me this story.
You'd think that, knowing all of this, I would have run for the hills. I am NOT a fan of the supernatural, am afraid of the dark, and sleep with the light on when I can get away with it. Somehow, however,I am copasetic with these particular spirits, and there is generally very good energy in the Beehive household. So I don't sweat it.
Saturday night, I went through the usual routine of falling asleep on Beehive's couch, waking up in a stupor, and crawling back to the bedroom. As always, I left Beehive in a dead sleep on his couch, as he is impossible to rouse. I figured he'd make his way to bed eventually.
Suddenly wide awake, I started to read in the hopes that it would knock me out, and thankfully, about 15 minutes into "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides, I passed out. With the light on. I know the light was on, because the switch is far from the bed, and I was too lazy to get up and turn it off. I also recall waking up here and there thinking "I should turn that off" but never bothering to do so.
5am. I wake up with a start. Beehive never came to bed. And something's weird. The light, it's off! Who fucking turned the light off?
I ran out into the living room, and Beehive was fast asleep, TV still blaring.
"Wake up", I shook him. "Time for bed."
He looked at me confused, not knowing what hit him. "Dude, did you turn the light off in the bedroom?" I asked.
"mfflkjgl" was his reply.
Next morning, after a very good sleep-in, I asked him again if he turned the light off for me at any time during the night.
He shook his head.
"Awww. The ghost tucked you in," he laughed.
Nice. The ghost is concerned about conserving energy, as well as my comfort. What more could one want?
Friday, January 25, 2008
My Friday, So Far, Stinks!
This morning in the shower I had a partial meltdown when I realized how much money I had to get me through the weekend..and an even bigger meltdown when I realized that I actually have to make it til next THURSDAY with said money.
That being said, I decided that I was going to have to brown bag it for the next week or so.
I'm almost never home, ever, so I just don't keep food around, which means that options for bringing lunch to work are slim to none...I tore through my cupboard in the hopes that I had bought some soups or something to sustain me through the hard times. SCORE. I found a can of Amys Vegetarian Chili that hadn't expired yet.
I jammed that baby open and poured it into a tupperware, but it didn't seem right to me. The smell that wafted up was akin to, oh I don't know, dead reindeer scooped off the side of the road and sauteed with some shit. I decided I was being too picky, popped the lid on, and threw it into my bag.
Later that morning, I was sitting in my therapist's office, totally distracted. All I could focus on was the fact that SOMETHING around me smelled like dog crap. I was pretty sure it was my lunch. I had checked my shoes about fifty times and there was nothing there to cause the offensive odor.
She asked me if I wanted to lie down on the couch. I looked at her like SHE was nuts. "Why on earth would I want to do that?"
She said that sometimes, people lie down so that they can focus more on themselves and what's going on, and since I seemed so distracted, perhaps it would be helpful for me to do this.
At that moment I looked down at my jeans and saw a big slop of dried chili stain on my thigh. Good God, is THAT what stinks???
I am DEFINITELY not eating THAT for lunch today...
That being said, I decided that I was going to have to brown bag it for the next week or so.
I'm almost never home, ever, so I just don't keep food around, which means that options for bringing lunch to work are slim to none...I tore through my cupboard in the hopes that I had bought some soups or something to sustain me through the hard times. SCORE. I found a can of Amys Vegetarian Chili that hadn't expired yet.
I jammed that baby open and poured it into a tupperware, but it didn't seem right to me. The smell that wafted up was akin to, oh I don't know, dead reindeer scooped off the side of the road and sauteed with some shit. I decided I was being too picky, popped the lid on, and threw it into my bag.
Later that morning, I was sitting in my therapist's office, totally distracted. All I could focus on was the fact that SOMETHING around me smelled like dog crap. I was pretty sure it was my lunch. I had checked my shoes about fifty times and there was nothing there to cause the offensive odor.
She asked me if I wanted to lie down on the couch. I looked at her like SHE was nuts. "Why on earth would I want to do that?"
She said that sometimes, people lie down so that they can focus more on themselves and what's going on, and since I seemed so distracted, perhaps it would be helpful for me to do this.
At that moment I looked down at my jeans and saw a big slop of dried chili stain on my thigh. Good God, is THAT what stinks???
I am DEFINITELY not eating THAT for lunch today...
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Me and My Wine
I got home from work tonight a little bit stressed out, with my cell phone ringing off the hook with more work people trying to drain me of all of my blood and other bodily fluids. I sat down on my couch and poured myself an innocent glass of wine, and lo and behold...3 hours later, here I remain, 3/4 of the bottle missing. Missing I tell you! Where did those beautiful golden droplets go? I fear they may be sitting in the bowels of my tummy, but oooh how much fun it was while it was going down!
Some things that I've learned this evening, while chillin' with my homey, Talus Chardonnay {which, I will admit, I completely stole off of my ex-assistant's desk while leaving the office tonight. It had been sitting there for a while, and I decided that no one was going to miss it. oops}.
-Kashi Mediterreanean Frozen pizza..the nutritional info indicates that there are three servings in the box. I don't THINK so!
-I post super long, well thought-out comments on others' blogs while under the influence. Life-changing stuff--if I happened to give you any advice tonight, you should listen!
-Never Been Kissed. What a great movie. Oscar worthy! Michael Vartan. Yummy..wanna slurp up with a spoon. Do they give Oscars for extreme hotness?
-I can conduct a conference call, from my couch, after two glasses of wine. And sound way more professional than my every day me. So sad. But true.
-If I squint, I have the same profile as Mr Roper on Threes Company
-My cat really likes it when I sing Hole songs in falsetto. He thinks I am in heat and starts to hump my leg. Horny ass cat. Just like his momma.
-I created a new dessert for desperados too drunk and tired to go to the supermarket for REAL ice cream--take a blue bunny cookies n cream popsicle, nuke it for 1O seconds to make it nice and gushy. Cover with Redi Whip originally purchased for naughty sex games, sprinkle with chocolate syrup ALSO purchased for said sex games, yet somehow always gets used for actual dessert situations. Hardcore chocoholics can sprinkle choc chips on top...you know, the ones that were bought to make Christmas truffles with, but that now just sit in the cupboard waiting for moments like this.
-I really do enjoy date night with myself at home. It's been a while since I've had one, and damn, do I treat myself good!
Some things that I've learned this evening, while chillin' with my homey, Talus Chardonnay {which, I will admit, I completely stole off of my ex-assistant's desk while leaving the office tonight. It had been sitting there for a while, and I decided that no one was going to miss it. oops}.
-Kashi Mediterreanean Frozen pizza..the nutritional info indicates that there are three servings in the box. I don't THINK so!
-I post super long, well thought-out comments on others' blogs while under the influence. Life-changing stuff--if I happened to give you any advice tonight, you should listen!
-Never Been Kissed. What a great movie. Oscar worthy! Michael Vartan. Yummy..wanna slurp up with a spoon. Do they give Oscars for extreme hotness?
-I can conduct a conference call, from my couch, after two glasses of wine. And sound way more professional than my every day me. So sad. But true.
-If I squint, I have the same profile as Mr Roper on Threes Company
-My cat really likes it when I sing Hole songs in falsetto. He thinks I am in heat and starts to hump my leg. Horny ass cat. Just like his momma.
-I created a new dessert for desperados too drunk and tired to go to the supermarket for REAL ice cream--take a blue bunny cookies n cream popsicle, nuke it for 1O seconds to make it nice and gushy. Cover with Redi Whip originally purchased for naughty sex games, sprinkle with chocolate syrup ALSO purchased for said sex games, yet somehow always gets used for actual dessert situations. Hardcore chocoholics can sprinkle choc chips on top...you know, the ones that were bought to make Christmas truffles with, but that now just sit in the cupboard waiting for moments like this.
-I really do enjoy date night with myself at home. It's been a while since I've had one, and damn, do I treat myself good!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
What's New Around the Office Water Cooler
Sad!
Actor Heath Ledger Is Found Dead
By Sewell Chan
The actor Heath Ledger was found dead this afternoon in an apartment building at 421 Broome Street in SoHo, according to the New York City police. Mr. Ledger was 28.
At 3:31 p.m., a masseuse arrived at Apartment 5A in the building for an appointment with Mr. Ledger, the police said. The masseuse was let in to the home by a housekeeper, who then knocked on the door of Mr. Ledger’s bedroom. When no one answered, the housekeeper and the masseuse opened the bedroom and found Mr. Ledger unconscious. They shook him, but he did not respond. They immediately called the authorities. The police said they did not suspect foul play and said they found pills near body.
Mr. Ledger, a native of Perth, Australia, won acclaim for his role as a co-star in “Brokeback Mountain”, a 2005 film. The film, based on a short story by Annie Proulx about two cowboys who fall in love, won critical acclaim. Reviewing the film in The New York Times, the critic Stephen Holden wrote, “Mr. Ledger magically and mysteriously disappears beneath the skin of his lean, sinewy character. It is a great screen performance, as good as the best of Marlon Brando and Sean Penn.”
Mr. Ledger met the actress Michelle Williams while filming ‘’Brokeback Mountain.” The two actors fell into a very public romance. They had a daughter, Matilda Rose, who was born on Oct. 28, 2005. They moved to Brooklyn, but then separated last year.
Calls by The New York Times to Mara Buxbaum, a publicist for Mr. Ledger, and Steve Alexander, the actor’s agent, were not immediately returned this afternoon.
Actor Heath Ledger Is Found Dead
By Sewell Chan
The actor Heath Ledger was found dead this afternoon in an apartment building at 421 Broome Street in SoHo, according to the New York City police. Mr. Ledger was 28.
At 3:31 p.m., a masseuse arrived at Apartment 5A in the building for an appointment with Mr. Ledger, the police said. The masseuse was let in to the home by a housekeeper, who then knocked on the door of Mr. Ledger’s bedroom. When no one answered, the housekeeper and the masseuse opened the bedroom and found Mr. Ledger unconscious. They shook him, but he did not respond. They immediately called the authorities. The police said they did not suspect foul play and said they found pills near body.
Mr. Ledger, a native of Perth, Australia, won acclaim for his role as a co-star in “Brokeback Mountain”, a 2005 film. The film, based on a short story by Annie Proulx about two cowboys who fall in love, won critical acclaim. Reviewing the film in The New York Times, the critic Stephen Holden wrote, “Mr. Ledger magically and mysteriously disappears beneath the skin of his lean, sinewy character. It is a great screen performance, as good as the best of Marlon Brando and Sean Penn.”
Mr. Ledger met the actress Michelle Williams while filming ‘’Brokeback Mountain.” The two actors fell into a very public romance. They had a daughter, Matilda Rose, who was born on Oct. 28, 2005. They moved to Brooklyn, but then separated last year.
Calls by The New York Times to Mara Buxbaum, a publicist for Mr. Ledger, and Steve Alexander, the actor’s agent, were not immediately returned this afternoon.
Monday, January 21, 2008
In the Red
Today was one of those days that I like to call a throwaway day...which basically means that, although it wasn't the worst day ever, I could definitely think of better ones, and chuck this one out the window in favor of yesterday, or hopefully, tomorrow.
It's not that anything of note happened. I just generally felt a tad out of sorts, which is never a good thing.
Feeling out of sorts led to all sorts of fun stuff, such as freaking out in the shower when Beehive decides to make fun of my amorous advances...almost full-on bawling while visiting Grandma Beehive as she insists on showing me every single item in her breakfront, telling me the history of each item, and making me miss my grandmother with all my heart...sitting at a bar in a total huff after Beehive says "you're hot in your OWN way" which I believe to be the biggest insult of my life, where he was trying to compliment me...{i still maintain that being hot in one's OWN way just sucks, as I would like to just be hot, period, universally, all-around HOT, but hey...what can I do?}
At any rate, as you can see, my mind is insisting on acting like the Wonder Wheel in Coney Island, spinning uncontrollably and making me and everyone in it uncomfortable as all hell.
As we exited the bar, I hugged my confused boyfriend as I remembered why I've been such an asshole all day long.
"I got my period today" I whispered into his ear.
"Oh, you THINK?" he laughed. "Did you think I couldn't tell?"
Well. Good thing SOMEONE is paying attention!!
It's not that anything of note happened. I just generally felt a tad out of sorts, which is never a good thing.
Feeling out of sorts led to all sorts of fun stuff, such as freaking out in the shower when Beehive decides to make fun of my amorous advances...almost full-on bawling while visiting Grandma Beehive as she insists on showing me every single item in her breakfront, telling me the history of each item, and making me miss my grandmother with all my heart...sitting at a bar in a total huff after Beehive says "you're hot in your OWN way" which I believe to be the biggest insult of my life, where he was trying to compliment me...{i still maintain that being hot in one's OWN way just sucks, as I would like to just be hot, period, universally, all-around HOT, but hey...what can I do?}
At any rate, as you can see, my mind is insisting on acting like the Wonder Wheel in Coney Island, spinning uncontrollably and making me and everyone in it uncomfortable as all hell.
As we exited the bar, I hugged my confused boyfriend as I remembered why I've been such an asshole all day long.
"I got my period today" I whispered into his ear.
"Oh, you THINK?" he laughed. "Did you think I couldn't tell?"
Well. Good thing SOMEONE is paying attention!!
I'm Easy Like a Sunday Morning
Sunday morning, after some kickass Beehive lovin' and a Spin class led by a drill sargeant, I headed into Manhattan to meet up with Kristen for brunch.
I am reading Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential for the 1OOth time, and in it, he spends some time discussing why one should never eat brunch--the reasons ranging from leftover old food, to the fact that the real chef would never work on a Sunday, and therefore, you've got some rube of a chef cooking your meals. To that I say pish posh, because I honestly love brunch.
It's not so much the food--although there are some places where you can get an incredible spread, such as Artisanal, but seriously, anyone can slop some eggs onto a plate and charge money for them...I think it's just the excuse to get together with friends, and drink in the middle of the day without a second glance from anyone.
I told Kristen to pick the place since I rarely head into Manhattan anymore on weekends, so she texted me the address to Sette, a restaurant in Chelsea that I've walked past a million times but never thought of going into.
Thankfully Kristen had the foresight to make reservations earlier, but just to get the guy's attention was proving to be next to impossible. When he finally decided to realize that we were there, he gave us two choices of tables..one next to the door, the other in the back room. Naturally, we chose the back room, I mean what could be so bad about that?
A restaurant's gotta have major balls when they offer you a seat in the "back room", which ends up being an unfinished space that was clearly freshly painted, with brown paper still taped to the floor. The only other people in the back room was a party of 1O or so, and weirdly, the only other table in the room was our table for two.
Yea. Wasn't really in the mood for that fresh painted feeling, so we scurried back into the main dining room to request another table, to which our ever so impatient host banged on a two-top that had just been vacated...we weren't sure if he was giving us the signal to sit, or asking the busboy to clean it up, or both...he had a very clever way of never looking us in the eye when we spoke to him, as well as pretending there was something much more urgent always going on, and running away.
Indeed, we were being summoned to sit, and that we did.
Now, any place that offers unlimited mimosas/bellinis/bloody marys with brunch is a-ok in my book. It was a lovely sight indeed, watching the waiters circulate with carafes of bellinis just ready for the taking, and take we did...
3 bellinis later, I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating or did a girl wearing NO BOTTOMS just sit herself down in front of us?
Seriously, what is up with this latest fad? First, there's this numbskull, but now I have to go to brunch and literally before my eyes some chick is parading around in a sweater (it was a sweater, not a sweater dress, but a bonafide, just to the hips sweater} and SEE THROUGH pantyhose. Not leggings. Not even tights. pantyhose that, every time she got up and down from her chair, I got to witness her ample butt cheeks bobbing up and down. And not in a good way.
We weren't sure how her friend and boyfriend allowed her to leave the house like that, but eh, whatevs, it gave ME something to laugh at, and that's all that matters!
After quite the yummy meal-frittata for me, eggs benedict crabcake for Kristen--the check appeared as if it had fallen out of the sky. Mind you, we had never asked for it, and the crowd had died down...so it's not like anyone was waiting for our table.
We were sufficiently inebriated, but dammit, the menu said UNLIMITED drinks...so fuck them, we wanted more. Garcon, bring over that carafe and give us a little topper!
A girl can only have so many Bellinis before feeling like she's going to start pissing peach nectar, in addition, a girl tends to crave certain things after an afternoon of boozin' {and, in my case, pms} so we peeled ourselves away from the unlimited alcoholic goodness, and walked two long blocks in the freezing cold, to find ourselves yet again at the fabulous Billys.
This time, they brought out a fresh banana cake and we couldn't resist...it was like the damned thing was calling out to us....eat me, bitches!
What can I say. Beehive, Brunch, Bellinis, Butts, and Banana Cake. Hot damn, that's a good Sunday!
I am reading Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential for the 1OOth time, and in it, he spends some time discussing why one should never eat brunch--the reasons ranging from leftover old food, to the fact that the real chef would never work on a Sunday, and therefore, you've got some rube of a chef cooking your meals. To that I say pish posh, because I honestly love brunch.
It's not so much the food--although there are some places where you can get an incredible spread, such as Artisanal, but seriously, anyone can slop some eggs onto a plate and charge money for them...I think it's just the excuse to get together with friends, and drink in the middle of the day without a second glance from anyone.
I told Kristen to pick the place since I rarely head into Manhattan anymore on weekends, so she texted me the address to Sette, a restaurant in Chelsea that I've walked past a million times but never thought of going into.
Thankfully Kristen had the foresight to make reservations earlier, but just to get the guy's attention was proving to be next to impossible. When he finally decided to realize that we were there, he gave us two choices of tables..one next to the door, the other in the back room. Naturally, we chose the back room, I mean what could be so bad about that?
A restaurant's gotta have major balls when they offer you a seat in the "back room", which ends up being an unfinished space that was clearly freshly painted, with brown paper still taped to the floor. The only other people in the back room was a party of 1O or so, and weirdly, the only other table in the room was our table for two.
Yea. Wasn't really in the mood for that fresh painted feeling, so we scurried back into the main dining room to request another table, to which our ever so impatient host banged on a two-top that had just been vacated...we weren't sure if he was giving us the signal to sit, or asking the busboy to clean it up, or both...he had a very clever way of never looking us in the eye when we spoke to him, as well as pretending there was something much more urgent always going on, and running away.
Indeed, we were being summoned to sit, and that we did.
Now, any place that offers unlimited mimosas/bellinis/bloody marys with brunch is a-ok in my book. It was a lovely sight indeed, watching the waiters circulate with carafes of bellinis just ready for the taking, and take we did...
3 bellinis later, I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating or did a girl wearing NO BOTTOMS just sit herself down in front of us?
Seriously, what is up with this latest fad? First, there's this numbskull, but now I have to go to brunch and literally before my eyes some chick is parading around in a sweater (it was a sweater, not a sweater dress, but a bonafide, just to the hips sweater} and SEE THROUGH pantyhose. Not leggings. Not even tights. pantyhose that, every time she got up and down from her chair, I got to witness her ample butt cheeks bobbing up and down. And not in a good way.
We weren't sure how her friend and boyfriend allowed her to leave the house like that, but eh, whatevs, it gave ME something to laugh at, and that's all that matters!
After quite the yummy meal-frittata for me, eggs benedict crabcake for Kristen--the check appeared as if it had fallen out of the sky. Mind you, we had never asked for it, and the crowd had died down...so it's not like anyone was waiting for our table.
We were sufficiently inebriated, but dammit, the menu said UNLIMITED drinks...so fuck them, we wanted more. Garcon, bring over that carafe and give us a little topper!
A girl can only have so many Bellinis before feeling like she's going to start pissing peach nectar, in addition, a girl tends to crave certain things after an afternoon of boozin' {and, in my case, pms} so we peeled ourselves away from the unlimited alcoholic goodness, and walked two long blocks in the freezing cold, to find ourselves yet again at the fabulous Billys.
This time, they brought out a fresh banana cake and we couldn't resist...it was like the damned thing was calling out to us....eat me, bitches!
What can I say. Beehive, Brunch, Bellinis, Butts, and Banana Cake. Hot damn, that's a good Sunday!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
File This Under "WTF????" {NSFW}
So, I'm sitting here like an asshole waiting for my super to come and fix some shit in my apartment {he was supposed to be here at 6...he just got here at 8. No apology. No phone call. Nothin'. Gotta love the balls}and what else is there to do but, cruise the internet some more. Since I don't do it NEARLY enough at work.
I happened to stumble across this little tidbit on TMZ.
Seriously,WTF?
Does anyone but me think it's more than just a little bit strange that the chick in the background is running around bottomless? Baring her skanky vag hole to the world? Is it not mandatory to wear clothes in LA anymore? I'm confused! Who told her THAT was a good idea? Does she get her fashion advice from Brit Brit and Lilo?{Beware, both of those links are NSFW} {pervs, you can thank me later}.
I even went as far as watching the video in order to see Vag Girl in action, but sadly, no such luck.
At least she had the "decency" to wrap her sweatshirt around her waist. Thank God for small favors.
I happened to stumble across this little tidbit on TMZ.
Seriously,WTF?
Does anyone but me think it's more than just a little bit strange that the chick in the background is running around bottomless? Baring her skanky vag hole to the world? Is it not mandatory to wear clothes in LA anymore? I'm confused! Who told her THAT was a good idea? Does she get her fashion advice from Brit Brit and Lilo?{Beware, both of those links are NSFW} {pervs, you can thank me later}.
I even went as far as watching the video in order to see Vag Girl in action, but sadly, no such luck.
At least she had the "decency" to wrap her sweatshirt around her waist. Thank God for small favors.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Yet Another Reason Why People Suck
Even when I'm not training for something, as most of you know, I spend the majority of my free time at the gym (not that you could tell by looking at me). I try to go after work, but if I'm strapped for time, I'll sneak out and go at lunchtime. There's a bevy of NYSC in the area so I have my pick, depending on my mood.
Due to a very busy workday yesterday paired with a social obligation in the evening, I did not get to the gym at all..the last I had been was Tuesday at lunch.
I was very much looking forward to giving these fat ole thighs a workout today, and saw that my workload was a little lighter today, enabling me to head over for a midday sweatfest. I looked underneath my desk and couldn't find my gym bag anywhere. I was a little perplexed, as it is ALWAYS there, right at my feet...and I didn't imagine that someone here would have taken a bag full of my sweaty, odorific clothes...so I figured I probably had a brain fart and left it in the locker room at the gym on Tuesday. No biggie. I'll just head over there and get it out of lost and found...
So I get to the front desk, and the girl immediately knows where my bag is. She can tell me what it looks like, and that it is locked up in a closet in the locker room for safekeeping, and that she saw it there just earlier today.
So we get to the locked closet, and she has Housekeeping open it, and...there's no bag. Where's the bag? It was just here! How can it be gone? We look in the other Lost and Found. No bag. We go back to Housekeeping. There are only two women with keys, and neither of them know what the hell we are talking about. How is it possible that the only people who have keys cannot disclose any kind of information about a bag that was allegedly there not 2 hours before???
I'm getting close to tears, as my sneakers and orthotics alone cost around $400...not to mention the brand new workout clothes, my sentimental tri shorts, plus the bag itself...we see a big plastic garbage bag at the bottom of the closet. We go through it..there's random stuff in there, a sweat shirt, some shorts. I see my black workout pants with the pink trim. WTF? Someone took the trouble to actually go into the closet, open up my bag, decide they don't like the black pants, and dump them in a garbage bag? Oh yea, they also decided they didn't want my package of Carefree pantiliners either. What, you don't like my pants, and you don't use that brand of pantiliner? Fuck you!
So, the housekeepers won't talk, and I'm left without workout clothes..so my only choice is to file a complaint. The manager was nice enough to come out and tell me they were going to investigate, and at the very least, he was going to give me one free month at NYSC. I'll let you know if that actually happens.
So not only did I not get to workout today, something I REALLY needed...I am sans shoes and orthotics. Yes this is turning into a pity post, as I am poor and cannot afford new ones...I realize you are all poor too, so we here at Vulgar Truths are not going to try to take up a collection on my behalf ;) However, the only thing I can think of that is going to make me feel even slightly less like killing someone is to keep staring at the very lovely naked picture of
Anthony Bourdain that is adorning page 18 of the new book "My Last Supper", which was sent to me earlier this morning.
It's the little things that get me by!!!
UPDATE: I will say that, as shitty as I feel, NYSC has actually called several times to follow up...so maybe they're not so evil after all..Keep you posted.
Due to a very busy workday yesterday paired with a social obligation in the evening, I did not get to the gym at all..the last I had been was Tuesday at lunch.
I was very much looking forward to giving these fat ole thighs a workout today, and saw that my workload was a little lighter today, enabling me to head over for a midday sweatfest. I looked underneath my desk and couldn't find my gym bag anywhere. I was a little perplexed, as it is ALWAYS there, right at my feet...and I didn't imagine that someone here would have taken a bag full of my sweaty, odorific clothes...so I figured I probably had a brain fart and left it in the locker room at the gym on Tuesday. No biggie. I'll just head over there and get it out of lost and found...
So I get to the front desk, and the girl immediately knows where my bag is. She can tell me what it looks like, and that it is locked up in a closet in the locker room for safekeeping, and that she saw it there just earlier today.
So we get to the locked closet, and she has Housekeeping open it, and...there's no bag. Where's the bag? It was just here! How can it be gone? We look in the other Lost and Found. No bag. We go back to Housekeeping. There are only two women with keys, and neither of them know what the hell we are talking about. How is it possible that the only people who have keys cannot disclose any kind of information about a bag that was allegedly there not 2 hours before???
I'm getting close to tears, as my sneakers and orthotics alone cost around $400...not to mention the brand new workout clothes, my sentimental tri shorts, plus the bag itself...we see a big plastic garbage bag at the bottom of the closet. We go through it..there's random stuff in there, a sweat shirt, some shorts. I see my black workout pants with the pink trim. WTF? Someone took the trouble to actually go into the closet, open up my bag, decide they don't like the black pants, and dump them in a garbage bag? Oh yea, they also decided they didn't want my package of Carefree pantiliners either. What, you don't like my pants, and you don't use that brand of pantiliner? Fuck you!
So, the housekeepers won't talk, and I'm left without workout clothes..so my only choice is to file a complaint. The manager was nice enough to come out and tell me they were going to investigate, and at the very least, he was going to give me one free month at NYSC. I'll let you know if that actually happens.
So not only did I not get to workout today, something I REALLY needed...I am sans shoes and orthotics. Yes this is turning into a pity post, as I am poor and cannot afford new ones...I realize you are all poor too, so we here at Vulgar Truths are not going to try to take up a collection on my behalf ;) However, the only thing I can think of that is going to make me feel even slightly less like killing someone is to keep staring at the very lovely naked picture of
Anthony Bourdain that is adorning page 18 of the new book "My Last Supper", which was sent to me earlier this morning.
It's the little things that get me by!!!
UPDATE: I will say that, as shitty as I feel, NYSC has actually called several times to follow up...so maybe they're not so evil after all..Keep you posted.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Are People Really This Stupid???
Seriously, did these bozos rent Weekend at Bernies and decide to try it out for themselves? Cuz, you know, it's such a BRILLIANT idea to begin with. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall while this Lucy and Ethel scheme was being hatched...
NYPD: Pair Used Corpse in Fraud Attempt
By MARCUS FRANKLIN – 12 hours ago
NEW YORK (AP) — Two men wheeled a dead man through the streets in an office chair to a check-cashing store and tried to cash his Social Security check before being arrested on fraud charges, police said.
David J. Dalaia and James O'Hare pushed Virgilio Cintron's body from the Manhattan apartment that O'Hare and Cintron shared to Pay-O-Matic, about a block away, spokesman Paul Browne said witnesses told police.
"The witnesses saw the two pushing the chair with Cintron flopping from side to side and the two individuals propping him up and keeping him from flopping from side to side," Browne said.
The men left Cintron's body outside the store, went inside and tried to cash his $355 check, Browne said. The store's clerk, who knew Cintron, asked the men where he was, and O'Hare told the clerk they would go and get him, Browne said.
A police detective who was having lunch at a restaurant next to the check-cashing store noticed a crowd forming around Cintron's body, and "it's immediately apparent to him that Cintron is dead," Browne said.
The detective called uniformed New York Police Department officers at a nearby precinct. Emergency medical technicians arrived as O'Hare and Dalaia were preparing to wheel Cintron's body into the check-cashing store, Browne said. Police arrested Dalaia and O'Hare there, he said.
Cintron's body was taken to a hospital morgue. The medical examiner's office told police it appeared Cintron, 66, had died of natural causes within the previous 24 hours, Browne said.
"He was deceased in the apartment when he was removed by these two," Browne said.
Dalaia and O'Hare, both 65, were being held by police and faced check fraud charges, Browne said.
A call to a telephone number listed for Cintron at the apartment he shared with O'Hare went unanswered Tuesday evening. Police said they didn't have an address for Dalaia or attorney information for him or O'Hare.
Hosted by Copyright © 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.
NYPD: Pair Used Corpse in Fraud Attempt
By MARCUS FRANKLIN – 12 hours ago
NEW YORK (AP) — Two men wheeled a dead man through the streets in an office chair to a check-cashing store and tried to cash his Social Security check before being arrested on fraud charges, police said.
David J. Dalaia and James O'Hare pushed Virgilio Cintron's body from the Manhattan apartment that O'Hare and Cintron shared to Pay-O-Matic, about a block away, spokesman Paul Browne said witnesses told police.
"The witnesses saw the two pushing the chair with Cintron flopping from side to side and the two individuals propping him up and keeping him from flopping from side to side," Browne said.
The men left Cintron's body outside the store, went inside and tried to cash his $355 check, Browne said. The store's clerk, who knew Cintron, asked the men where he was, and O'Hare told the clerk they would go and get him, Browne said.
A police detective who was having lunch at a restaurant next to the check-cashing store noticed a crowd forming around Cintron's body, and "it's immediately apparent to him that Cintron is dead," Browne said.
The detective called uniformed New York Police Department officers at a nearby precinct. Emergency medical technicians arrived as O'Hare and Dalaia were preparing to wheel Cintron's body into the check-cashing store, Browne said. Police arrested Dalaia and O'Hare there, he said.
Cintron's body was taken to a hospital morgue. The medical examiner's office told police it appeared Cintron, 66, had died of natural causes within the previous 24 hours, Browne said.
"He was deceased in the apartment when he was removed by these two," Browne said.
Dalaia and O'Hare, both 65, were being held by police and faced check fraud charges, Browne said.
A call to a telephone number listed for Cintron at the apartment he shared with O'Hare went unanswered Tuesday evening. Police said they didn't have an address for Dalaia or attorney information for him or O'Hare.
Hosted by Copyright © 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.
Monday, January 07, 2008
It Pays to Be a Big Ole Ho
Girls, if you want your man to treat you like the Goddess that you are, I have one thing to say.
Give a badass blow job.
Learn it, live it, embrace it.
How do you think I ended up with this fabulous bouquet of roses
paired with the most adorable of bears
I'm so kidding...although I DO give a pretty mean bj. ;)
The occasion for such items would be the two-year anniversary of the union of Beehive and Cheese. :)
You can read about how it all began here. It's the love story of the Century ;)
Give a badass blow job.
Learn it, live it, embrace it.
How do you think I ended up with this fabulous bouquet of roses
paired with the most adorable of bears
I'm so kidding...although I DO give a pretty mean bj. ;)
The occasion for such items would be the two-year anniversary of the union of Beehive and Cheese. :)
You can read about how it all began here. It's the love story of the Century ;)
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Rolling With the Homeys
I now live in the ghetto.
I know I always joke around that this neighborhood is the ghetto, but tonight, it became official. Because on the coldest night of the season so far, I have no heat.
I was fine with it at first, and thought it was kinda funny. But now I'm freezing.
I'm wearing two fleeces, sweatpants, ski sox, fingerless gloves, and a hat. And I'm wrapped in a fleece blanket.
The fleece blanket that I am wrapped in is the cat's humpy blanket, so we are having a tug-of-war over it. So far, I am winning.
I called the landlady hours ago, with no response. If I report to this 311, can I get away with not paying my rent til she turns it back on?
I know I always joke around that this neighborhood is the ghetto, but tonight, it became official. Because on the coldest night of the season so far, I have no heat.
I was fine with it at first, and thought it was kinda funny. But now I'm freezing.
I'm wearing two fleeces, sweatpants, ski sox, fingerless gloves, and a hat. And I'm wrapped in a fleece blanket.
The fleece blanket that I am wrapped in is the cat's humpy blanket, so we are having a tug-of-war over it. So far, I am winning.
I called the landlady hours ago, with no response. If I report to this 311, can I get away with not paying my rent til she turns it back on?
The Fight
This morning, my boyfriend had our first fight of 2OO8.
As we sat on the subway heading into work, we started having one of those conversations that is really just thinking out loud and not meant to be shared with others, such as "I need to pay my bills today", which led to "My cable bill is higher than normal. I'm thinking about cancelling my premium channels." Which led to the big fight.
"Your cable service sucks," Beehive reminded me. "The channels are in all sorts of a weird order, and you can never find what you want to watch."
I tried to protest, knowing that I had a weak argument. "But the Guide helps find all the channels," I reminded him.
"Your Guide also sucks, it takes too long to get to it and it doesn't tell you what the shows are about," he continued.
Ok man, now you're just hitting below the belt. Why you gotta talk about the Guide like that?
I winced, and tried to defend my Guide. "You can hit info and it'll tell you about the shows" I replied.
"nope. admit it, it sucks," he shot back.
"Fine. Your cable is better than my cable. You win." I hung my head in shame.
"I don't have cable. I have sattelite" Beehive haughtily retorted.
And there you have it. The first big fight of 2OO8.
As we sat on the subway heading into work, we started having one of those conversations that is really just thinking out loud and not meant to be shared with others, such as "I need to pay my bills today", which led to "My cable bill is higher than normal. I'm thinking about cancelling my premium channels." Which led to the big fight.
"Your cable service sucks," Beehive reminded me. "The channels are in all sorts of a weird order, and you can never find what you want to watch."
I tried to protest, knowing that I had a weak argument. "But the Guide helps find all the channels," I reminded him.
"Your Guide also sucks, it takes too long to get to it and it doesn't tell you what the shows are about," he continued.
Ok man, now you're just hitting below the belt. Why you gotta talk about the Guide like that?
I winced, and tried to defend my Guide. "You can hit info and it'll tell you about the shows" I replied.
"nope. admit it, it sucks," he shot back.
"Fine. Your cable is better than my cable. You win." I hung my head in shame.
"I don't have cable. I have sattelite" Beehive haughtily retorted.
And there you have it. The first big fight of 2OO8.
In a Nutshell
For the last few days, I have had a really yucky stomach. So much so that I couldn't even enjoy the delicious food and booze being served at Lesty's annual New Years Day brunch. I spent much of yesterday in the bathroom, unable to puke or poop, feeling really frustrated and just generally having bad stomach ache depression.
Today I ate a lot of this
It turns out that not only is this shit delish, it also doesn't upset my tum tum.
I've also been drinking a lot of this
It's very pink, it doesn't taste good, and did you know that it turns you poos black?
I can't say I'm very surprised that I'm having gastro distress. I've had the last week off from work and spent a lot of it EATING {surprise}.
Christmas Eve, I took it upon myself to cook, which I love to do but don't do often enough. I whipped up some honey-crusted salmon, roasted brussel sprouts, biscuits, and this delicious butternut squash thingie
topped off with ice cream sundaes {dude, I was too tired to actually MAKE real dessert, which is usually my favorite thing}.
Christmas day was a typical Italian/Lebanese Christmas, with plenty of Baked Ziti, Eggplant parm, and of course, Kibbe Balls!
In addition to the holiday meals, I engaged in various brunches and lunches at places such as L'Express and Bar Tabac .
My favorite food outing was with my girls roopa and
kristen, for our annual White Trash Christmas. Many strawberry margaritas were imbibed, along with mass quantities of fried foods such as tater tots and sweet potato fries...and many drunken conversations were had. Things such as "teeny weeny peen" and "he makes balloon animals with his cock" were uttered. Somewhere along the way, kristen and I became obsessed with needing to have cake, so brilliantly, roopa suggested we go Billys Bakery
where I proceeded to have two cupcakes and a glass of milk. I think I put my system into shock with the milk...unless I'm drinking it with coffee, when the hell do I ever drink it?
In addition to all the fabulous food outings, I also received 498572729 bajillion boxes of candy for Christmas from various vendors. Some of them got regifted, but most went down the ole gullet.
And I wonder why my stomach hurts...
Today I ate a lot of this
It turns out that not only is this shit delish, it also doesn't upset my tum tum.
I've also been drinking a lot of this
It's very pink, it doesn't taste good, and did you know that it turns you poos black?
I can't say I'm very surprised that I'm having gastro distress. I've had the last week off from work and spent a lot of it EATING {surprise}.
Christmas Eve, I took it upon myself to cook, which I love to do but don't do often enough. I whipped up some honey-crusted salmon, roasted brussel sprouts, biscuits, and this delicious butternut squash thingie
topped off with ice cream sundaes {dude, I was too tired to actually MAKE real dessert, which is usually my favorite thing}.
Christmas day was a typical Italian/Lebanese Christmas, with plenty of Baked Ziti, Eggplant parm, and of course, Kibbe Balls!
In addition to the holiday meals, I engaged in various brunches and lunches at places such as L'Express and Bar Tabac .
My favorite food outing was with my girls roopa and
kristen, for our annual White Trash Christmas. Many strawberry margaritas were imbibed, along with mass quantities of fried foods such as tater tots and sweet potato fries...and many drunken conversations were had. Things such as "teeny weeny peen" and "he makes balloon animals with his cock" were uttered. Somewhere along the way, kristen and I became obsessed with needing to have cake, so brilliantly, roopa suggested we go Billys Bakery
where I proceeded to have two cupcakes and a glass of milk. I think I put my system into shock with the milk...unless I'm drinking it with coffee, when the hell do I ever drink it?
In addition to all the fabulous food outings, I also received 498572729 bajillion boxes of candy for Christmas from various vendors. Some of them got regifted, but most went down the ole gullet.
And I wonder why my stomach hurts...
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