Bore no More!

So, just when I think things couldn't get any more boring, they start to get a little "edgy" again.

Thank GOD!!!!

We've got an aborted makeout sesh with guy who was "sort of dating someone". Although he did call me a temptress, which definitely made it all worth it ;)

Then there's this dude, who is on his way to my apartment right now...I guess he decided to make good on his long-distance booty call ;)

And the icing on the cake is an email that I sent out last night that I didn't even remember sending...that said, "If you and I could just fall in love with each other, all of our problems would be solved."

The answer:

"Well then move down here already."

This, paired with three tentative dates lined up for next week with all brand new guys could make for some interesting blogging, my friends! We can only hope!

Random Thoughts Before a Holiday Weekend

Well, here we are, the official start of summer. I'm shivering in my scarf and coat, soaked through the bone from the neverending rain, but hey kids, it's Memorial Weekend, and we are gonna have FUN!

I'm flying to the Outer Banks of North Carolina tonight, and oh how I hate to fly. So I took my regular Thursday yoga class in the hopes that it would calm my inner anxiety. It certainly helped, until I had the pleasure of witnessing the woman in front of me, wearing a loose fitting top and no bra underneath, boobs flopping around. I tried to avert my eyes, but then I saw one of the boobs sort of fall out of her top, and I certainly couldn't look away. So there you go, the start of a beautiful weekend.

So I thought I would leave you with some adorable pictures that I took last week in Central Park, when I was lounging in the sun after my hideous doctor's appointment that I really don't want to discuss. Lisette is the little cutie's name, and she just basked in the glory of being cute while her Batman (her mom) and I shot the shit over on Cherry Hill. Enjoy!


Scoping out the sights.


Making friends with a curious Pekinese.


Ain't she the cutest?

Cruisin'

Couple months back I had a pretty disappointing date with a man that I now refer to as Stoner Dude if and when he ever comes up in conversation.

Something that I never really admitted to most people, or on this blog, is that, Stoner Dude actually contacted me after that horrendous date, and wanted to go out AGAIN. And I, bored out of my mind and hornier than Ron Jeremy on hormones, actually agreed to try again. I didn't know what the fuck I was expecting, but the guy is hot and hey, times are tough.

A half hour before we were to meet (he was coming to my neighborhood for dinner, drinks, and a "massage". Ahem), he cancelled on me. On gchat. And didn't wait for a response. Then went offline, like, forever. I honestly didn't give a shit, it was kind of hilarious and just went to show what a colossal asshole this person really was. I, ever the grudge holder, deleted him on Facebook, and blocked him from every website and email possible. Just cuz.

For some insane reason, last week, this douchebag emailed me from an email address that I hadn't managed to block, and asked me what I was up to.

DELETE.

Ok. This post isn't really about any of this stuff. I guess I just needed to get all that off my chest. What I really want to talk about is this past Saturday afternoon.

Saturday afternoon I was strolling through the West Village with my friend UK. As we walked past Christopher on 7th Ave South, I saw a familiar figure hanging out on the corner. Pink button down, tucked into tight jeans, cowboy boots. Very strung out look. Clearly doing a walk of shame. Holy shit it was the Stoner Dude.

I, of course, was wearing my sweaty yoga clothes, hair on top of my head, not looking very sexy at all, and did not want to be spotted (although he probably wouldn't have even recognized me) but I sent UK over to check out the situation.

She ascertained that he was indeed in last night's clothes, and she made another interesting observation. "He's into guys."

This, coming from the diva who is a self-proclaimed fag-hag, works in the garment industry, spends summers in Cherry Grove on Fire Island, and has gaydar like nobody's business.

Hey, I have no idea if she is correct on this front, but either way, it was a lovely sight to behold, and that is just how I'm going to remember him. Cruisin' for dudes in his pink shirt, on 7th Ave South. :)

Stopping Traffic

There's a couple that lives a few doors down from me that I've only just started to notice. I'm pretty sure they are new to the neighborhood, because believe me, I would've noticed them before...she kinda reminds me of the Callie Torres character on Grey's Anatomy, except beefier, if possible. He is just a tiny little nerdy white dude with glasses. She's probably 5 times the size of him. To call them a mismatch is an understatement.

They are always walking hand in hand on their way to the subway before work, being all cute and kissy kissy, and it's a little sickening--besides the fact that they are physically just not attractive, the overuse of PDA is just too much for me at 9am on a Monday morning. I try not to let my mind wander and imagine the two of them in bed together. I try. But I don't always succeed.

Saturday morning I found myself walking behind them and I was so not in the mood. But try as I might I wasn't able to walk around them, they were always just one extra step ahead of me. So I was forced to witness their display of nastiness.

Right as we're crossing Washington Avenue, a very busy, two-way thoroughfare, they stop short. By the time I realize they have stopped short, I am not only caught up to them, I have almost smacked right into them. And as I almost smack into them, I notice that they have stopped short, (in the middle of a two-way thoroughfare, with a light that changes before one has time to actually cross the entire street, so one has to run like a maniac to get to the other side) so that they could MAKE OUT. In the middle of the street.

GET a fucking ROOM people! At the very least, wait until you've crossed the street! Grrrr.

Those Old Habits, They Do Die Hard

Couple years ago, when I was a smooth operator, I had a bunch of different boy situations to choose from at all times.

One of them was a Billlyburg dude who I don't think I ever saw in the light of day. 1am was when we usually started to communicate with each other, and our "dates" usually began in the vicinity of 3am or so.

This "relationship" carried on as such for months, even ending with a proper "breakup" (me cabbing to his house after a date with someone else, to tell him we couldn't see each other anymore, which ensued in "breakup sex") and then never really speaking to each other again.

A few months ago, this person showed up on my IM, out of the blue. It was oddly nice to hear from him. Even better when I found out he had moved to another state.

What's hilarious is that, now that we have re-established contact, I still get the 1am "booty texts".

Do you think I need to remind him that he lives 5 states away? Ha!

Snore

I realize that if I don't post SOMETHING I'm going to lose the 3 readers that I've managed to accumulate over the last few years...but honestly, I'm not really sure what I have to say that is going to be interesting or exciting to any one of you.

I guess I'm going through a weird slump of sorts. I'm definitely not interested in much of anything in the way of the opposite sex. For real. I didn't think that was possible, but it's proving to be so. I'm not too worried about it yet, but if I'm still feeling this way in a month, we should check for brain tumors!!

Seriously, I've been spending most of my time at the gym (tri training season has begun) yoga (for all that emotional healing) and with close friends, just chilling old school with some wine or dinner..Lots of retail therapy, catching up on TV and books... been chatting with a few boys who I will probably never go out with, another who will probably never go out with me, and so it goes.

I've also had some mystery "illness" for a couple weeks now, and starting Sunday night it flared up in such a way that I was sure I'd end up in the ER (where I'm sure there would be no Dr McDreamy waiting to sweep me off my feet, dammit). I'm happy to report that I am finally taking my ass to the doctor, in the hopes that I merely have acid reflux, and not a pulmonary embolism.

Being that on Sunday eve I spent many hours at the new Beer Garden in my 'hood, imbibing Original Sins like they were water, then headed over to my local Mexican haunt for some tacos (but not fish tacos, you pervs! keep it clean, yo!), and then woke up at 5am with horrible pains in my chest, I'm gonna go with acid reflux! God, this getting old thing just keeps getting better and better!!!

Das Boot

The time had come to pay a little visit to my girl-crush, the podiatrist. As I've previously mentioned, the podiatrist is Tina Fey hot, and going to visit her is like hanging out with my cute, hot friend who I may or may not be bi-curious about ;)

Tri season is upon me, and my feetsies are pissing me off yet AGAIN. I headed over to ersatz Tina Fey's office and got her to adjust my orthotics. Yea, that's what we're calling it these days...at any rate, I mentioned to her that I was having a weird pain in my left heel/ankle, especially when I first woke up in the morning.

"Oh, you've got plantar fasciitis," she said, very matter of factly.

WTF? Why did it sound like she was telling me I had the clap, or some equally horrible va-jay-jay disease? What on God's earth is plantar fasciitis?

To make matters worse, she reached into a closet and pulled out THIS monstrosity:



Apparently, I'm supposed to wear the friggin thing at night, while I'm sleeping. It is supposed to stretch out my heel so that the pain is minimal upon awakening.
I guess things could be worse, I mean, at least I don't have to be the tard walking around town during the day in that thing...however, this accoutrement does NOT fit in well with, say, one-night stands..."Oh pardon me while I extricate myself from your hot warm body, so I can put my boot on before we fuck..otherwise we might fall asleep and then I'll forget." Yea, not so much.

I left the office, bewildered at the most recent ailment old age has brought me, but excited to try out my boot and ward off the evil pain that had been bestowed upon me.

I strapped myself into it and settled into bed that night. I managed to fall asleep pretty easily, but probably woke up every hour or so, with the feeling that a weight had been strapped to my ankle. Not pleasant. Even the cat was put off by the contraption and refused to sleep in the bed with me. Fucker. If I've gotta suffer, you've gotta suffer! But whatever, he's a cat, and a fair-weather friend. So what can you do?

The next morning I felt exhausted, AND my heel was in more pain than ever.

A few more nights of this, and I realized that, not only was I not getting any sleep, but my heel was just feeling worse and worse. Last night, I tore the thing off my leg, and threw it across the room. This morning I stepped over it on my way to the loo, and noticed that I had no pain, my heel felt just fine.

I guess another trip the podiatrist is in order. Boo hoo. ;)

Lots to Talk About

Some of you may have been lucky enough to catch my short-lived post about dinner with the ex Thursday night. For those of you who weren't, suffice it to say you didn't miss anything. Honestly, I took the post down because, although he may not have feelings for me, he still does have feelings that can be hurt, and although I don't owe him anything, it probably was less than cool of me to air more dirty laundry with regards to that relationship. So, moving on.

So, has anyone ever had this happen to them: you're getting an intense massage, and due to the release, or the particular way you are being touched, you start to cry? Saturday morning I attended my usual yoga class, and I guess in the delayed reaction to the emotions from aforementioned dinner with ex, I was the big, fat asshole who started to cry during the closing chants. Yea, I'm lovely. I wasn't crying big fat baby cow tears and boo hoo hooing in an obvious way, but the tears were streaming down my face. It was very definitely similar to the intense massage scenario. Which has also happened to me. Maybe it's just me that these things happen to. Ok, so I'm a freak. Anyway, yea, so at the end of class I grabbed a box of Kleenex and scurried out of the room, ashamed at my emotional state.

Needless to say, I was in a shit mood for the rest of Saturday, that even a shopping spree at Virgin couldn't remedy. Thankfully, I had a dinner to attend at Pylos, and let me tell you, eating there would put a death-row inmate in a good mood, it was the most delicious meal I'd had in eons. So, full belly and glass of red wine later, my sis and I met Kristen at a bar across the street from
my friend Steve's Cinqo De Mayo Party. I proceeded to get jiggy with some Blueberri Vodka, and sis and I started walking down memory lane, comparing who made out with who in high school. I was shocked and amazed at how many of the same dudes we both swapped spit with. It was fascinating and putrid all wrapped up in one.

Next stop, the party. And what a party it was. Margaritas and Coronas aplenty, a mariachi band, and all the guac a girl ever dreamed of. I met a boy. He was totally cute, and cool. I'm not sure if he is age appropriate. I kind of don't want to know. He put his lime in my Corona, and it was love. Sigh. I got his digits. But I'll bet we will become good friends. It's sort of how I've been rolling these days.

Cute boy left, and I realized that I was SHITHOUSED. I remember trying to speak and realizing that things were slurring together and even I wasn't sure what I was saying. My sister was sitting on a couch with a look on her face that said puke all over it. And Kristen had the most adorable red cheeks that complemented her red hair quite nicely. I think we all decided that was our cue to go. We got ourselves downstairs, and I recall getting into a scuffle with some dudes over a Marlboro Red. Nice.
We found cabs, and all I can say is, whoever introduced credit card machines in the backs of taxis is a GENIUS. Last night would have so been one of those nights where I realize I have no money, wander the street for blocks in the rain looking for an ATM, and decide to walk home from midtown because I can't find an ATM nor a cab. It was so lovely to be able to just swipe my little card at the end of the ride and be on my way. I LOVE YOU TLC. You've made my life that much more wonderful.

This morning I woke up feeling shittier than I've felt in a million years. Seriously. Tequila is NOT my friend.

Thankfully, a bagel (10 WW points I'm sure) and iced coffee helped a ton. Because I have a dinner date tonight. Date #3 with Mr Appropriate Aged Person. I keep trying to tell myself that I will start to like him. I know it's hopeless. I think tonight I have to tell him we can only be friends. I mean, when a guy kisses you, and you feel nothing, and have no desire to drag him back to his place and rip his clothes off, that's a big sign? Right?