Leaving your house in red stretch pants with no underwear and a tank with no bra is not appropriate unless, possibly, if you live in Chelsea & are a gay man trying to get laid outside your front steps.
Living anywhere else in Manhattan & doing this is retarded... living in Soho & doing this should get you put in jail. My lapse of judgement & un-realization of what I was wearing as I left my Soho apartment this morning, ended up causing quite a stream of unhappy moments. The 1st was walking out of my front door & straight onto the set of Wesley Snipes new movie, which was quite an interruption & caused everyone to yell and scream & beg me to hurry off set. As I confusingly ran off set/my front stoop, I managed to head in the right direction towards the mailbox where I was headed. In the one block it takes to walk to drop off mail, I was screamed at by a homeless person, harassed by that guy Corky from Life Goes On, and had 2 waiters from Mezzogiorno stand outside the front door & laugh at me.
This is just the first 15 minutes of my day...
Friday, May 30, 2008
REDEMPTION!!
Kudos to you Oprah - I knew you would pull through...
Oprahs Mission Calendar Inspiration:
No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.
Oprahs Mission Calendar Inspiration:
No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.
—Dale E. Turner
Thursday, May 29, 2008
You're obviously smoking too much Pot Matthew Fox
Oprah's Daily Mission Calendar Inspiration:
There is no end to the beauty for the person who is aware. Even the cracks between the sidewalk contain geometric patterns of amazing beauty.
-Matthew Fox
There is no end to the beauty for the person who is aware. Even the cracks between the sidewalk contain geometric patterns of amazing beauty.
-Matthew Fox
Girl Crush (Official)
It is no surprise that my dating life circa NYC move has been less than successful & I have unofficially removed myself from any serious form of dating all together. Having said that, I'd like to announce my most recent crush & love, which ironically feels about as real as anything I've felt since moving to New York...
Teddy
It has come to my attention that something good can not happen to me without something bad also happening to me. I do not care that others have told me that this is directly related to some false notions I have about the world conspiring against me because these notions are not false if it is true. It is true that I have had some ups and downs these past two weeks, but these downs have all been made up for by the fact that I have been offered employment.
However, directly after receiving an offer, I have been experiencing symptoms that I have self diagnosed as being an ulcer. I am okay with this, except for the fact that my college reunion is this weekend and I am not exactly considering curbing my drinking/smoking cigarettes and/or other substance intake in the immediate future. My readership might be aware of this, but M&M combined have about seventy prescriptions. This variety includes ones to moderate their craziness, but one of these prescriptions I am well aware of is to moderate M's ability to drink seven lattes a day as her meals and take her various drugs to control her "pain" and "neurosis." This drug is prevacid. Some of you might also be aware of the fact that because I grew up in a "medical" household, I consider myself perfectly capable of making some sound medical decisions and know that the drug I need is in fact prevacid to moderate my symptoms.
Fine, so I took it upon myself to call M&M and tell them my problem. M&M have never been ones to resist giving their children necessary drugs. All throughout college and law school Atticus Finch and I were adequately supplied with drugs to increase our attention and performance on academic endeavors. So I really did not think that asking for something to ease my digestive track should be treated as though I was asking for crack. However, I should have known that the moment they heard I was going to my college reunion; they would revoke their offer as I failed to meet my husband the four years I spent on campus. Therefore, it seems unlikely that a return to this misery for a weekend will bring me such luck. Furthermore, they could not believe that anyone but complete spinster losers were returning and presumed that Dipshit (recently married friend) was not going because why would she? Ultimately, they demanded that I go see Teddy (our seventy five year old cousin who also happens to be a GI specialist) to get the prescription. Obviously, I must go to Teddy where I can be treated for free because no self-respecting physician takes the welfare insurance I pay four hundred dollars a month for.
While I appreciate M&M's thinly veiled earnest suggestion, my major gripe is that Teddy treats primarily eighty year old orthodox Jews in the projects. I know this because two weeks ago I went to go see Teddy for my tonsillitis and was stuck in the waiting room between two wheel chaired geriatrics yelling in Yiddish only interrupted by quick naps. The truth is, Atticus Finch and I can go see Teddy provided that our complaints have nothing to do with his specialty; Gastroenterology. Because if your gripe, as is the case with mine, has anything to do with a digestive problem Teddy tries to guilt you into getting a colonoscopy after telling you that you are an alcoholic. While M&M think this is perfectly acceptable, I have tried to explain to them that my other friends who are in their twenties and have had similar complaints have never been treated so aggressively. Teddy is not wrong per se, for when one of his usual ninety five yr. old patients complains about let us say heart burn, their heart is most likely about to give out.
Here is my major concern, because I refused to undergo Teddy's battery of tests the last time I consulted him on some similar digestive related matter, I believe that his distribution of the prevacid is contingent upon these tests. I will have to report back, but in the event this is true, I am going to tell M&M that my reading of M's revised novel is contingent upon M undergoing these tests for me. No one will notice.
However, directly after receiving an offer, I have been experiencing symptoms that I have self diagnosed as being an ulcer. I am okay with this, except for the fact that my college reunion is this weekend and I am not exactly considering curbing my drinking/smoking cigarettes and/or other substance intake in the immediate future. My readership might be aware of this, but M&M combined have about seventy prescriptions. This variety includes ones to moderate their craziness, but one of these prescriptions I am well aware of is to moderate M's ability to drink seven lattes a day as her meals and take her various drugs to control her "pain" and "neurosis." This drug is prevacid. Some of you might also be aware of the fact that because I grew up in a "medical" household, I consider myself perfectly capable of making some sound medical decisions and know that the drug I need is in fact prevacid to moderate my symptoms.
Fine, so I took it upon myself to call M&M and tell them my problem. M&M have never been ones to resist giving their children necessary drugs. All throughout college and law school Atticus Finch and I were adequately supplied with drugs to increase our attention and performance on academic endeavors. So I really did not think that asking for something to ease my digestive track should be treated as though I was asking for crack. However, I should have known that the moment they heard I was going to my college reunion; they would revoke their offer as I failed to meet my husband the four years I spent on campus. Therefore, it seems unlikely that a return to this misery for a weekend will bring me such luck. Furthermore, they could not believe that anyone but complete spinster losers were returning and presumed that Dipshit (recently married friend) was not going because why would she? Ultimately, they demanded that I go see Teddy (our seventy five year old cousin who also happens to be a GI specialist) to get the prescription. Obviously, I must go to Teddy where I can be treated for free because no self-respecting physician takes the welfare insurance I pay four hundred dollars a month for.
While I appreciate M&M's thinly veiled earnest suggestion, my major gripe is that Teddy treats primarily eighty year old orthodox Jews in the projects. I know this because two weeks ago I went to go see Teddy for my tonsillitis and was stuck in the waiting room between two wheel chaired geriatrics yelling in Yiddish only interrupted by quick naps. The truth is, Atticus Finch and I can go see Teddy provided that our complaints have nothing to do with his specialty; Gastroenterology. Because if your gripe, as is the case with mine, has anything to do with a digestive problem Teddy tries to guilt you into getting a colonoscopy after telling you that you are an alcoholic. While M&M think this is perfectly acceptable, I have tried to explain to them that my other friends who are in their twenties and have had similar complaints have never been treated so aggressively. Teddy is not wrong per se, for when one of his usual ninety five yr. old patients complains about let us say heart burn, their heart is most likely about to give out.
Here is my major concern, because I refused to undergo Teddy's battery of tests the last time I consulted him on some similar digestive related matter, I believe that his distribution of the prevacid is contingent upon these tests. I will have to report back, but in the event this is true, I am going to tell M&M that my reading of M's revised novel is contingent upon M undergoing these tests for me. No one will notice.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Does Anyone Hear Me?
Three weeks ago M&M told me not to contact them unless I have "good news." I should have asked them to qualify what they meant by "good news." Because quite frankly I thought receiving an invitation to use a degree that they manipulated me into getting was at least sort of good news. It is true, that I am not exactly thrilled about the prospect of this either, but bitter sweet aside, they should be proud that their daughter was capable of fooling said establishment into believing that she really wanted to lawyer.
M&M were not remotely phased by this announcement. In fact, I think they were offended. It is true that we have had back and forth about my next career move. In fact, when a 22 yr. old co-temp got a job as a legal assistant at cravath, M&M thought this would be a good career move for me because then at least I would be presented with the prospect of meeting a cravath lawyer and ultimately getting married. When I tried to explain to them that this would essentially mean career suicide for me, they tried to explain to me that at age thirty I most likely would commit suicide if I was still single. Ultimately, career suicide is better than plain suicide.
Regardless, I should have known that M&M would not be thrilled about the prospect of me lawyering. For one thing, M&M were semi excited about the literary agency position. When I explained to them I see no reason why I can not still be an agent part time, they were semi relieved as they suspect that I will be able to publish M's tragic novel. More than that, however, they reinforced that when they said they wanted to hear only "good news" they meant they wanted to hear that I was engaged to be married. However, they did think it was quite possible that I would meet my husband at a deposition as they have heard of this happening. So, it is sorta good news.
M&M were not remotely phased by this announcement. In fact, I think they were offended. It is true that we have had back and forth about my next career move. In fact, when a 22 yr. old co-temp got a job as a legal assistant at cravath, M&M thought this would be a good career move for me because then at least I would be presented with the prospect of meeting a cravath lawyer and ultimately getting married. When I tried to explain to them that this would essentially mean career suicide for me, they tried to explain to me that at age thirty I most likely would commit suicide if I was still single. Ultimately, career suicide is better than plain suicide.
Regardless, I should have known that M&M would not be thrilled about the prospect of me lawyering. For one thing, M&M were semi excited about the literary agency position. When I explained to them I see no reason why I can not still be an agent part time, they were semi relieved as they suspect that I will be able to publish M's tragic novel. More than that, however, they reinforced that when they said they wanted to hear only "good news" they meant they wanted to hear that I was engaged to be married. However, they did think it was quite possible that I would meet my husband at a deposition as they have heard of this happening. So, it is sorta good news.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
It makes no Difference
Today, I have formally accepted a job at a law firm. My readership might be worried that this will somehow distract from my blogging. However, may I remind you that most of my blogging has been inspired by this field. In fact, if anything, because I am about to re-immerse myself in the culture, I anticipate a series of blogs that are based on my interactions with my clientele.
One might wonder, C, what would inspire you to take on a legal job? Well, kids, it took a lot. The most important reason is that the firm is down the block from my apartment. Because I will be making approximately a dollar a day, I can not afford transportation. The other reason is that I noticed the head partner had a bottle of Whiskey, a bottle of Bacardi and a bottle of Vodka in his office with shot glasses. This made me feel right at home. However, the major reason this job is amazing is because one of the lawyers who interviewed me today relayed to me the following information: There was another candidate under serious consideration who had graduated from a legitimate institution. Because I have not, I had to convince her why I was worthy. This was close to impossible, but I fooled her.
Some of my readers have contacted me today and told me I no longer can claim that I am less than successful. What I would like to make clear to those of you who have suggested this much is that while I may no longer be a temp, I most certainly remain truly unsuccessful. As by taking a position as an attorney, I will be making less money than I did as a temp. So there, I remain truly yours and entirely unsuccessful.
One might wonder, C, what would inspire you to take on a legal job? Well, kids, it took a lot. The most important reason is that the firm is down the block from my apartment. Because I will be making approximately a dollar a day, I can not afford transportation. The other reason is that I noticed the head partner had a bottle of Whiskey, a bottle of Bacardi and a bottle of Vodka in his office with shot glasses. This made me feel right at home. However, the major reason this job is amazing is because one of the lawyers who interviewed me today relayed to me the following information: There was another candidate under serious consideration who had graduated from a legitimate institution. Because I have not, I had to convince her why I was worthy. This was close to impossible, but I fooled her.
Some of my readers have contacted me today and told me I no longer can claim that I am less than successful. What I would like to make clear to those of you who have suggested this much is that while I may no longer be a temp, I most certainly remain truly unsuccessful. As by taking a position as an attorney, I will be making less money than I did as a temp. So there, I remain truly yours and entirely unsuccessful.
Whoop Dee Do
Its official - C has been offered employment. While we are thrilled to see her leave the cubicle for a shot at health benefits & paid vacations, it is a difficult & new challenge for lessthansuccessful. Her contributing effort will be continued however, & many trials & tribulations are sure to incur.
Congrats C! We only had a slight doubt you could do it
Lots of love,
eM
Congrats C! We only had a slight doubt you could do it
Lots of love,
eM
Officially a Fact
Dating is hands down better than applying for jobs. Despite the culmination or dissolution of an actual relationship following a date, there is ALWAYS the prospect and opportunity for sex. Which ultimately should count for something.
However, it is safe to say that with each interview (whether it be in person or on the phone) the least you are going to get is coffee. And, although I am no recent expert, I do not think that is comparable to sex.
However, it is safe to say that with each interview (whether it be in person or on the phone) the least you are going to get is coffee. And, although I am no recent expert, I do not think that is comparable to sex.
Crossing my Fingers
I recently applied for a personal assistant position where the only qualification was the ability and interest in baking cakes. Like many of my girlfriends, I have always dreamt of owning or running a bakery & saw much possibility in this opportunity. Per usual, I sent the employer my over qualified resume, headshot & a short email discussing why I am the perfect candidate. Also as usual, I received no return email & ultimately did not get the job.
Today on one of the many daily reads of Craigslist, I came across the below request for employment:
"hello
i am looking for a clown to do my kids 3rd birthday. i would like face painting and balloon animals done with the kids. there should be tops maybe 10 kids or less. i am located in the bx.i am looking for about 1 hr 30mins tops. please email if with price n maybe a photo."
PERFECT, I have an extensive art background, am great with people, and a clown suit will easily hide my enormous breasts. I've sent an email and photo; I think 200 is reasonable provided I need to bring the costume and supplies.
Please cross your fingers, I just can't possibly get turned down again.
Today on one of the many daily reads of Craigslist, I came across the below request for employment:
"hello
i am looking for a clown to do my kids 3rd birthday. i would like face painting and balloon animals done with the kids. there should be tops maybe 10 kids or less. i am located in the bx.i am looking for about 1 hr 30mins tops. please email if with price n maybe a photo."
PERFECT, I have an extensive art background, am great with people, and a clown suit will easily hide my enormous breasts. I've sent an email and photo; I think 200 is reasonable provided I need to bring the costume and supplies.
Please cross your fingers, I just can't possibly get turned down again.
Throw me a bone Oprah
As you may already know, I am on Oprah's mailing list. In addition to weekly updates on the book club (which gets deleted immediately) and weekly emails regarding her online 'classes', I get the daily Mission Calender Inspiration. This had become a favorite daily email after receiving a particular Inspiration that inevitably led to the ultimate decision to quit my miserable job. However, over the past month, Oprah has single handily taken the Inspiration quotes from inspiring to down right retarded. See below for todays bloody bullshit statement:
"Body obsession is like an obnoxious relative: No matter how annoying we think it is, it always gets an invitation to the party."
What the hell Oprah? What am I supposed to do with that information? Are we writing tshirts to sell on Canal street?
You are not only inspiring me to quit, but as I start the first day of my unemployment, you pass me on this clearly unmotivating bullshit line about my desire to be skinnier. There is a serious lack of consistency here, and now that I have time to read, re-read, & ponder your daily inspirations, I would appreciate a little more effort on your half.
I'm looking forward to a redemption quote for tomorrow.
-eM
"Body obsession is like an obnoxious relative: No matter how annoying we think it is, it always gets an invitation to the party."
What the hell Oprah? What am I supposed to do with that information? Are we writing tshirts to sell on Canal street?
You are not only inspiring me to quit, but as I start the first day of my unemployment, you pass me on this clearly unmotivating bullshit line about my desire to be skinnier. There is a serious lack of consistency here, and now that I have time to read, re-read, & ponder your daily inspirations, I would appreciate a little more effort on your half.
I'm looking forward to a redemption quote for tomorrow.
-eM
Monday, May 26, 2008
Tag Team
Dear Homeless guy @ the Broadway Lafayette F stop,
No, I will not give you change. In no way do I feel badly for you. It is obvious that although you look miserable & unkempt, you clearly have it better than I.
Here is our comparison on paper:
You-> live in Soho & don't pay rent
Me -> live in Soho & pay 1300/month (which is supposedly cheap)
You -> don't have a job
Me -> don't have a job
You -> are single
Me -> are single
You -> pee/shit on the street
Me -> pee/poo in a dirty small bathroom comparable to the street
I could go on forever, but the bottom line is: Stop asking me for money. I propose, instead, we actually take turns @ the top of the steps. I believe I could really elevate your daily rate of incoming change & together we could really could be a profitable team.
Sincerely,
eM
No, I will not give you change. In no way do I feel badly for you. It is obvious that although you look miserable & unkempt, you clearly have it better than I.
Here is our comparison on paper:
You-> live in Soho & don't pay rent
Me -> live in Soho & pay 1300/month (which is supposedly cheap)
You -> don't have a job
Me -> don't have a job
You -> are single
Me -> are single
You -> pee/shit on the street
Me -> pee/poo in a dirty small bathroom comparable to the street
I could go on forever, but the bottom line is: Stop asking me for money. I propose, instead, we actually take turns @ the top of the steps. I believe I could really elevate your daily rate of incoming change & together we could really could be a profitable team.
Sincerely,
eM
Thursday, May 22, 2008
I Don't Care What You Say
I went to college with this chic and I kinda love her.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/25/magazine/25internet-t.html?hp
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/25/magazine/25internet-t.html?hp
Sex Twist
It has come to my attention that my blogging inspiration is directly correlated to my work. For the past two weeks, our labor has greatly diminished in that a series of contracts are being held hostage in storage. I am sure I have mentioned before that the nature of my work is as follows: I review contracts and enter the terms of the contracts into a database. And quite frankly, since I have not been engaged in this very important project in about two weeks, I am starting to realize that I bloody love my job. It is true that over the past two weeks I have played text twist to a point of compulsion and now only think in six letter words, but it is also true that my blog has suffered because of it. So, in the spirit of creativity, I beg this storage facility to kindly release these contracts.
Despite my failure to blog, there have been some interesting successes that I would like to share with my readership. The first and foremost is that last night I had a major breakthrough in therapy. I asked her if people make friends by sleeping with people they want to be friends with. It has recently come to my attention that this is perhaps an untapped route. I have been complaining for months about how I want to trade in a few of my more boring allies for new ones and I think a good way to broach this issues is to find a target and be like "Hey Clare (I am by no means bi-sexual, but I have like two girlfriends and thinks it's high time I get some more) do you want to meet for coffee and sex?"
Despite my failure to blog, there have been some interesting successes that I would like to share with my readership. The first and foremost is that last night I had a major breakthrough in therapy. I asked her if people make friends by sleeping with people they want to be friends with. It has recently come to my attention that this is perhaps an untapped route. I have been complaining for months about how I want to trade in a few of my more boring allies for new ones and I think a good way to broach this issues is to find a target and be like "Hey Clare (I am by no means bi-sexual, but I have like two girlfriends and thinks it's high time I get some more) do you want to meet for coffee and sex?"
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Today
There is the distinct stench of sewage coming from the kitchen. While most people are offended by this smell, it does not bother me at all. I want to be like "listen here you spoiled brats, I worked in sewage all last year and did not complain once."
Monday, May 19, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
I am Quite Charitable
I do not think I have ever fully addressed my feelings regarding homeless people. I have never been one to pass up the opportunity of being charitable. Therefore, when a homeless person asks me if I can spare some change, I generally can and will. The truth is I hate carrying around any change as in dimes, pennies, nickels and quarters.
That being said, I am a bit confused as to why these people are homeless and I am going to play with a few possibilities. One of these possibilities, and I have heard this excuse from multiple people that are not homeless, is that they can not work in an office. This is what I would say to this excuse: “Look, do you bloody think anyone likes working in an office? I mean there is an entire series making fun of working in an office. I do not EVEN have a cubicle. All I want from life is a god damn office at this point.” The other excuse I have heard is that “I have a drug addiction.” Well, the last time I checked there were no crack-cocaine trees. I mean if there were, do you think there would be ads about saving trees what have you? No, because no one would cut down a bloody crack-cocaine tree. So this is my response to this excuse; “Gosh, I sure wish crack-cocaine was not so god damn expensive, but it is. In order to support your addiction, you are going to have to suck it up and work in an office. By the by, I do not know anyone who does not have a drug addiction and they all freakin work in an office.”
I guess the reason I am a bit sensitive right now is because I have been temping for quite some time. Really, I am not sure that the “working class” (I say working in the sense that you have a job, not in the sense that you are blue collar) is aware of what is possibly capable of temping. I am fairly certain that some of the people I have met in my walk of life have at one point been homeless. In fact, it is entirely possible that some of my co-workers are still homeless. And what did they do about it? They went to a temping agency and were placed on various floors of companies in conference rooms and are working on some ridiculous unnecessary project. I am fairly certain that this is the way of companies giving back to the community; they invent projects for homeless people and garbage cans.
So next time, someone asks me if I can spare some change, I am going to reply “I can do better than spare you some change. I can give you the number of a temping agency.”
That being said, I am a bit confused as to why these people are homeless and I am going to play with a few possibilities. One of these possibilities, and I have heard this excuse from multiple people that are not homeless, is that they can not work in an office. This is what I would say to this excuse: “Look, do you bloody think anyone likes working in an office? I mean there is an entire series making fun of working in an office. I do not EVEN have a cubicle. All I want from life is a god damn office at this point.” The other excuse I have heard is that “I have a drug addiction.” Well, the last time I checked there were no crack-cocaine trees. I mean if there were, do you think there would be ads about saving trees what have you? No, because no one would cut down a bloody crack-cocaine tree. So this is my response to this excuse; “Gosh, I sure wish crack-cocaine was not so god damn expensive, but it is. In order to support your addiction, you are going to have to suck it up and work in an office. By the by, I do not know anyone who does not have a drug addiction and they all freakin work in an office.”
I guess the reason I am a bit sensitive right now is because I have been temping for quite some time. Really, I am not sure that the “working class” (I say working in the sense that you have a job, not in the sense that you are blue collar) is aware of what is possibly capable of temping. I am fairly certain that some of the people I have met in my walk of life have at one point been homeless. In fact, it is entirely possible that some of my co-workers are still homeless. And what did they do about it? They went to a temping agency and were placed on various floors of companies in conference rooms and are working on some ridiculous unnecessary project. I am fairly certain that this is the way of companies giving back to the community; they invent projects for homeless people and garbage cans.
So next time, someone asks me if I can spare some change, I am going to reply “I can do better than spare you some change. I can give you the number of a temping agency.”
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Oprah Contradictory Winfrey
Monday Oprah sent her readers a mission statement regarding the importance of taking care of your appearance, & ultimately looking good (See previous post for quote). Today she retracted by posting a quote commenting on the ultimate importance of personality (which is referred to as 'zest') when beauty & looks fails you. Her 'sly' attempt at making everyone applicable to her daily mission statements was very apparent... enjoy her words of wisdom all you dirty, unkempt, but great and amazing personality people:
"What do those of us who aren't tall, flawlessly sculpted adolescents
do? Answer: Console ourselves with how relative beauty can be... Thank
heavens for the arousing qualities of zest, intelligence, wit,
curiosity, sweetness, passion, talent and grace." -- Diane Ackerman
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Vodka Tonic
Middle aged horribly single man at open bar event: "Here's my card, call me, we can talk, you should be an actress and I have some positions I think you'd be good for"
20 something slutty looking asian girl bartending the open bar event: "I don't do Asian porn"
20 something slutty looking asian girl bartending the open bar event: "I don't do Asian porn"
F*ckin Facebook
Does Facebook not know that I have bloody nothing to do all day long and I want to take all of their stupid tests without inviting my "friends" to do the same? I mean for the love of Christ, I have like two friends and facebook is just a front. I can not consistently invite these random people that are only my friends on facebook to take the "who was I in my last life test," or "what eighties movie am I?"
If you were bloody curious, I was Marilyn Monroe in my past life and Facebook has not released the answer as to what eighties movie I am. Why? Well, because they are holding the answer hostage until I invite eight "friends" to take the test. I will not concede. Five was enoough to find out my previous life personality. Jeez.
If you were bloody curious, I was Marilyn Monroe in my past life and Facebook has not released the answer as to what eighties movie I am. Why? Well, because they are holding the answer hostage until I invite eight "friends" to take the test. I will not concede. Five was enoough to find out my previous life personality. Jeez.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Even Oprah recommends not being ugly
Today's Mission Calendar Inspiration from Oprah.com:
"When you tend to your surface, you are making a statement of faith.
You are saying, I matter. You are saying, The world is worth dressing
for. You are engaging in the best kind of optimism, an optimism that
propels you out of bed in the morning, that directs you to the day. When you
put on nice clothes, you are putting on hope; you are saying, Here I
am. This is fun. Look at me." -- Lauren Slater
Monday, May 12, 2008
I Am Not Ashamed
Look, I generally do not make apologies for my drinking behavior. The way I see it, until something completely phenomenal happens to me, I am entirely entitled to solo drinking. Okay, that is a lie, even when something phenomenal happens to me, I probably will drink a few by myself to celebrate. This often inspires me to re-examine the following:
a) If I am ever not single, will my boyfriend dump me because I am a lush?
b) Will a real job give me enough drinking space?
c) Will I quit my new real job if it does not give me enough drinking space?
d) Am I slut? (I realize this one is not in line with the rest of the questions, but
I recently have come down with a case of tonsillitis which my ENT has told me has a
direct relation to various trysts. Use your imagination).
Anyhow, these major dilemmas aside, I am perfectly fine with M&M passing the occasional judgment on some of my alcoholic tendencies, but WHAT I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT okay with is my liquor store passing judgment. The first time this happened, I let it slide. It was about a month ago close to eleven PM on a Friday night. AJ and I swung by my local super market (the liquor store) to pick up a bottle of red and a bottle of white prior to going to a friend's apartment. The cashier, who yes I do believe has a crush on me, asked me: "why are you so late tonight?" I thought about it, and realized that every Friday I come by the super market exactly at 5:30 in the afternoon to pick up my provisions for the weekend.
On Mondays-Thursdays, I am just too lazy to pick up dinner and order a delivery (the super market is across the street from my apartment). Well, tonight the usual suspect comes to deliver my selection and I have a towel wrapped around my head. He proceeds to ask me if this is a new hair style. I explained to him that I had just gotten out of the shower. He proceeds to explain to me my usual hair style upon delivery (pony tail). Just when I thought he was flirting with me despite being twice my age, he explains: "The reason I know this is because you are the only customer who lives across the street from the store and orders delivery...memorable, memorable."
a) If I am ever not single, will my boyfriend dump me because I am a lush?
b) Will a real job give me enough drinking space?
c) Will I quit my new real job if it does not give me enough drinking space?
d) Am I slut? (I realize this one is not in line with the rest of the questions, but
I recently have come down with a case of tonsillitis which my ENT has told me has a
direct relation to various trysts. Use your imagination).
Anyhow, these major dilemmas aside, I am perfectly fine with M&M passing the occasional judgment on some of my alcoholic tendencies, but WHAT I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT okay with is my liquor store passing judgment. The first time this happened, I let it slide. It was about a month ago close to eleven PM on a Friday night. AJ and I swung by my local super market (the liquor store) to pick up a bottle of red and a bottle of white prior to going to a friend's apartment. The cashier, who yes I do believe has a crush on me, asked me: "why are you so late tonight?" I thought about it, and realized that every Friday I come by the super market exactly at 5:30 in the afternoon to pick up my provisions for the weekend.
On Mondays-Thursdays, I am just too lazy to pick up dinner and order a delivery (the super market is across the street from my apartment). Well, tonight the usual suspect comes to deliver my selection and I have a towel wrapped around my head. He proceeds to ask me if this is a new hair style. I explained to him that I had just gotten out of the shower. He proceeds to explain to me my usual hair style upon delivery (pony tail). Just when I thought he was flirting with me despite being twice my age, he explains: "The reason I know this is because you are the only customer who lives across the street from the store and orders delivery...memorable, memorable."
COUNTDOWN TO UNEMPLOYMENT
Most of the time unemployment is a result of an action - In my case, however, Unemployment is a chosen route for my career... and we are officially launching the Countdown to this new departure.
10 Days & counting...
Friday, May 9, 2008
She is On My Side
Yesterday, I had the happy occassion of finding out that I am going to be still quite unsuccessful and poor, but at least am going to have a part time title as a literary agent. This is pretty good news given that for a long time, my major title has been TEMP.
When I called M&M to tell them that it appears that I might be onto something, they pretended for thirty seconds to be happy for me. However, the conversation quickly turned to how if this is the path I am going to choose, then I am going to have to seriously consider someone supporting me because this salary that is in fact below the poverty line. At this point there was a lull in the conversation followed by M squared asking for my therapist's phone number.
Those of you who know M&M know that M&M have had a therapist for twenty years and there is only one therapist in the tri-state area who agrees to see thme on a bi-monthly basis, Dr. Y. When I brought this up with them, they explained that they did not so much want to see my therapist for them, but for me. I was confused as to what the hell they were talking about so I asked point blank "What in God's name are you crazies talking about?" I received the following explanation: "Spinster head, we want this therapist to help you find yourself and help you get married as in set you up with potential suitors. I mean what are you paying her for?"
When I called M&M to tell them that it appears that I might be onto something, they pretended for thirty seconds to be happy for me. However, the conversation quickly turned to how if this is the path I am going to choose, then I am going to have to seriously consider someone supporting me because this salary that is in fact below the poverty line. At this point there was a lull in the conversation followed by M squared asking for my therapist's phone number.
Those of you who know M&M know that M&M have had a therapist for twenty years and there is only one therapist in the tri-state area who agrees to see thme on a bi-monthly basis, Dr. Y. When I brought this up with them, they explained that they did not so much want to see my therapist for them, but for me. I was confused as to what the hell they were talking about so I asked point blank "What in God's name are you crazies talking about?" I received the following explanation: "Spinster head, we want this therapist to help you find yourself and help you get married as in set you up with potential suitors. I mean what are you paying her for?"
Thursday, May 8, 2008
I Can Not Resist
In a recent search for employment, I made a detour on craigslist. Please see below:
Ibanker seeking romance
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2008-04-17, 3:20PM EDT
Hello,
ABOUT YOU:
You are a young and good-looking girl. The parental abuse that you incurred as a child has left you emotionally distant and sexually repressed. You are able to sustain months (years?) of loneliness because you shudder at the thought of human interaction. You have a constant feeling of inadequacy leading to excessive hours on the elliptical machine (and, accordingly, a nicely toned bum). I might do stuff to you while you are sleeping at 4AM (when I finally get home from the office), but, other than that, our sex-life will be nonexistent. Naive girls who have been in long-distance relationships and have had their hearts broken by guys who perpetually cheated are more than welcome to email me; I promise that I'm different.
ABOUT ME:
I am a first year analyst at a bulge-bracket investment bank; this means that I'm either Jewish, Asian, or from old-money (and, therefore, connected up the wazoo). Given that this post is (hopefully) grammatically correct, coherently legible, and satirically palatable, I'd like to think that I got into banking based on merits associated with my intelligence; therefore, I'm probably not from old money and am not connected up the wazoo (sorry).
I got into banking as a result of an overwhelming abundance of insecurities. I went to a top-tiered and prestigious undergraduate university, yet, have always felt inferior to the Harvardites and Princetonians that surround me. I'm likely either short and socially outcasted (with excellent kung-fu skills) or schnoz-nosed and unable to date, as every girl I meet in Manhattan is a UES slut that reminds me of my mother.
I go to the gym every morning, as my unnecessarily ambitious and secretively compensating type-A personality forces me to always strive for the best. That, and also the endorphins released from the exercise keep me elated enough to prevent attempting suicide for at least 24 hours.
I approach dating as I do anything else; as a strict meritocracy where I compete to win. At bars, I won't tell girls that I'm a banker; I feel that it would be unfair to take a girl home by playing the pity card ("Oh, you work in banking? I feel so bad for you. Fine, I guess I'll sleep with you."). I'll likely say that I'm a math teacher at the Dalton School (my Jewish/Asian heritage helps me here) so that girls realize that I'm piss-poor (as are all my other analyst buddies, despite what we tell our family and friends back home) but have Epstein potential.
My interests include playing brickbreaker on my blackberry, romantic dinners expensed to my firm, and finding novel ways to entertain myself during late-night hours (posting personal ads on Craigslist at 3AM - FUN; getting head from you while you hide under my desk - PROBABLY FUNNER).
If you fit my description (and God help you if you do...) feel free to email me. Pictures of boobs (yours or random ones you find on the internet) would be helpful to include in the email. As I'm posting this with my work email address, I'm hoping to get lucky enough that some back-office rat finds the inappropriate content during a routine inbox sweep, so that I can finally be liberated from this relentless world of superficial elitism. I'm talking about the old-money guys.
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 646020922
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright © 2008 craigslist, inc. terms of use privacy policy feedback forum
Ibanker seeking romance
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2008-04-17, 3:20PM EDT
Hello,
ABOUT YOU:
You are a young and good-looking girl. The parental abuse that you incurred as a child has left you emotionally distant and sexually repressed. You are able to sustain months (years?) of loneliness because you shudder at the thought of human interaction. You have a constant feeling of inadequacy leading to excessive hours on the elliptical machine (and, accordingly, a nicely toned bum). I might do stuff to you while you are sleeping at 4AM (when I finally get home from the office), but, other than that, our sex-life will be nonexistent. Naive girls who have been in long-distance relationships and have had their hearts broken by guys who perpetually cheated are more than welcome to email me; I promise that I'm different.
ABOUT ME:
I am a first year analyst at a bulge-bracket investment bank; this means that I'm either Jewish, Asian, or from old-money (and, therefore, connected up the wazoo). Given that this post is (hopefully) grammatically correct, coherently legible, and satirically palatable, I'd like to think that I got into banking based on merits associated with my intelligence; therefore, I'm probably not from old money and am not connected up the wazoo (sorry).
I got into banking as a result of an overwhelming abundance of insecurities. I went to a top-tiered and prestigious undergraduate university, yet, have always felt inferior to the Harvardites and Princetonians that surround me. I'm likely either short and socially outcasted (with excellent kung-fu skills) or schnoz-nosed and unable to date, as every girl I meet in Manhattan is a UES slut that reminds me of my mother.
I go to the gym every morning, as my unnecessarily ambitious and secretively compensating type-A personality forces me to always strive for the best. That, and also the endorphins released from the exercise keep me elated enough to prevent attempting suicide for at least 24 hours.
I approach dating as I do anything else; as a strict meritocracy where I compete to win. At bars, I won't tell girls that I'm a banker; I feel that it would be unfair to take a girl home by playing the pity card ("Oh, you work in banking? I feel so bad for you. Fine, I guess I'll sleep with you."). I'll likely say that I'm a math teacher at the Dalton School (my Jewish/Asian heritage helps me here) so that girls realize that I'm piss-poor (as are all my other analyst buddies, despite what we tell our family and friends back home) but have Epstein potential.
My interests include playing brickbreaker on my blackberry, romantic dinners expensed to my firm, and finding novel ways to entertain myself during late-night hours (posting personal ads on Craigslist at 3AM - FUN; getting head from you while you hide under my desk - PROBABLY FUNNER).
If you fit my description (and God help you if you do...) feel free to email me. Pictures of boobs (yours or random ones you find on the internet) would be helpful to include in the email. As I'm posting this with my work email address, I'm hoping to get lucky enough that some back-office rat finds the inappropriate content during a routine inbox sweep, so that I can finally be liberated from this relentless world of superficial elitism. I'm talking about the old-money guys.
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 646020922
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright © 2008 craigslist, inc. terms of use privacy policy feedback forum
Afternoon Flattery
M&M have called to announce that I am their second favorite child next to our parapalegic incontinent cat, Eve (sadly, she suffered a devastating injury after her father, M squared, accidently ran her over). Atticus Finch, you are not even on the radar.
EXCUSE ME
Okay, as we all know I am perfectly fine with being rejected. In fact, I embrace it. For, if I were not rejected so frequently, this blog might not even exist. Or perhaps it would, but in order to clear up the confusion I might have to sign my posts "A Little Bit More Successful than Less Than Successful Co-Blogger."
Regardless, we need not worry about such potential conflicts. As less than twenty four hours post submission of writing sample to the firm run by several garbage cans I received this email:
Hi C,
Thank you for taking the time to interview with us and for providing the
writing sample. Unfortunately, we cannot offer you employment at this
time. We wish you the best of luck.
Kind regards,
G
This only bothered me for about ten minutes before I realized how completely absurd I had been to draft the writing sample in the first place and ultimately decided that these soda cans probably just used my answer because they legitimately were posed with this fact pattern and could not answer it themselves. Ultimately, I considered writing G a nasty email saying something like "Listen, stinky trash, Atticus Finch and I slaved many hours over this ridiculous assignment and the least your mafia could do is extend us a second interview (Yes, we would potentially both go so they could meet my editor)." That idea was entirely forgotten as I was planning my departure to Blanco Plains.
All is well except for the fact that today I visit garbage's careernet only to discover that the slime has posted on their alma matta's site and have requested a useless writing sample that will not be considered in conjunction with the one they ask prospective candidates to draft. I think I have made this semi clear to my readership before, but I am going to reinforce this point; if we are strictly talking about Garbage, I am not so bad. In fact, I am going to say that if the firm is determined to hire one of their own kind, I would offer my services or suggest a small few who I think are competent. However, I have decided that the more appropriate strategy is to reapply to the firm and attach the writing sample they asked me to draft and then kindly ask them to steer clear of my pathetic turf. Have you no shame?
Regardless, we need not worry about such potential conflicts. As less than twenty four hours post submission of writing sample to the firm run by several garbage cans I received this email:
Hi C,
Thank you for taking the time to interview with us and for providing the
writing sample. Unfortunately, we cannot offer you employment at this
time. We wish you the best of luck.
Kind regards,
G
This only bothered me for about ten minutes before I realized how completely absurd I had been to draft the writing sample in the first place and ultimately decided that these soda cans probably just used my answer because they legitimately were posed with this fact pattern and could not answer it themselves. Ultimately, I considered writing G a nasty email saying something like "Listen, stinky trash, Atticus Finch and I slaved many hours over this ridiculous assignment and the least your mafia could do is extend us a second interview (Yes, we would potentially both go so they could meet my editor)." That idea was entirely forgotten as I was planning my departure to Blanco Plains.
All is well except for the fact that today I visit garbage's careernet only to discover that the slime has posted on their alma matta's site and have requested a useless writing sample that will not be considered in conjunction with the one they ask prospective candidates to draft. I think I have made this semi clear to my readership before, but I am going to reinforce this point; if we are strictly talking about Garbage, I am not so bad. In fact, I am going to say that if the firm is determined to hire one of their own kind, I would offer my services or suggest a small few who I think are competent. However, I have decided that the more appropriate strategy is to reapply to the firm and attach the writing sample they asked me to draft and then kindly ask them to steer clear of my pathetic turf. Have you no shame?
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
GEE, I am Curious as To Why Match.Com Has Not Solved All of My Problems.
Ladies,
I think in the blog I titled "consultant," I falied to accordingly warn you of the countless douches you will encounter on this site. I can not tell you the number of times I have received this exact message email from Screennameyouwillthankmelaterthatiamkeepingyouannonymous. However, I am going to gamble no less than ten.
Hey there,
I'm surprised that I haven't heard from you yet.
So I'm guessing that one of three things may have happened to you...
1. You're sitting in your underpants too nervous to type - who knows what could happen?
My Answer: It is three twenty in the afternoon on a Tuesday. While I am quite the nudist, I am not exactly sitting at my temping post stripped down to my underwear. However, if I were, no one would notice and I most certainly would not be in the least bit nervous.
2. You're mourning the death of disco
My Answer: I am not in fact mourning the death of disco. What I am in fact doing is mourning the fact that I have been forced to sit on this site for over a year and a half and much to my dismay, you are my most persistent suitor.
3. You've recently gotten engaged to Dr. Phil and are focused on the next 40 years lovingly staring at the bald-moustashe combo. Congrats!
My Answer: Well, if I were recently engaged to Dr. Phil, I most certainly would be in a better F*ckin position than I am now, wouldn't I? I mean, I have no health insurance and/or real job and Dr. Phil has made a killing by clearly not discriminating against members such as yourself. In essence, if I were engaged to Dr. Phil, I would most certainly forgive his "bald-moustache combo."
The Rest of this Email:
As you might remember... I'm the incredibly awesome international development investor, photographer, and part-time (and not-so-modest) goofball. I live in the Village, have the rest of my life together, and learned that persistance and humor pays off back when I was a short-round.
I mean, are you like, totally, OMG, for sure, like trying to play hard to get... ALREADY? Nice! That's soooo 1950s of you. ;)
So unless you're mourning the death of disco in your underpants snuggling with Dr. Phil, you should calm your nerves, check my profile, see if you could handle a guy like me, and drop a quick note to let me know that you're still alive.
No excuses or apologies needed because if you think like me, planning is nice but spontaneity is a virtue.
I think in the blog I titled "consultant," I falied to accordingly warn you of the countless douches you will encounter on this site. I can not tell you the number of times I have received this exact message email from Screennameyouwillthankmelaterthatiamkeepingyouannonymous. However, I am going to gamble no less than ten.
Hey there,
I'm surprised that I haven't heard from you yet.
So I'm guessing that one of three things may have happened to you...
1. You're sitting in your underpants too nervous to type - who knows what could happen?
My Answer: It is three twenty in the afternoon on a Tuesday. While I am quite the nudist, I am not exactly sitting at my temping post stripped down to my underwear. However, if I were, no one would notice and I most certainly would not be in the least bit nervous.
2. You're mourning the death of disco
My Answer: I am not in fact mourning the death of disco. What I am in fact doing is mourning the fact that I have been forced to sit on this site for over a year and a half and much to my dismay, you are my most persistent suitor.
3. You've recently gotten engaged to Dr. Phil and are focused on the next 40 years lovingly staring at the bald-moustashe combo. Congrats!
My Answer: Well, if I were recently engaged to Dr. Phil, I most certainly would be in a better F*ckin position than I am now, wouldn't I? I mean, I have no health insurance and/or real job and Dr. Phil has made a killing by clearly not discriminating against members such as yourself. In essence, if I were engaged to Dr. Phil, I would most certainly forgive his "bald-moustache combo."
The Rest of this Email:
As you might remember... I'm the incredibly awesome international development investor, photographer, and part-time (and not-so-modest) goofball. I live in the Village, have the rest of my life together, and learned that persistance and humor pays off back when I was a short-round.
I mean, are you like, totally, OMG, for sure, like trying to play hard to get... ALREADY? Nice! That's soooo 1950s of you. ;)
So unless you're mourning the death of disco in your underpants snuggling with Dr. Phil, you should calm your nerves, check my profile, see if you could handle a guy like me, and drop a quick note to let me know that you're still alive.
No excuses or apologies needed because if you think like me, planning is nice but spontaneity is a virtue.
I Tested Positve for SPAM.
In a recent correspondance from Michelle@literaryagency.com:
"The message you sent requires that you verify that you are a real live human being and not a spam source. To complete this verification, simply reply to this message and leave the subject line intact."
Dear Michelle,
It is funny that you have asked me to verify my existence, as every day, I am forced to ask myself this very question: "Who or what the F&ck Am I?" The answer is, I am not entirely sure if I am that much different than SPAM. I am sort of much the same as the SPAM which your email naturally quarantines and/or the one you buy at your local bodega. Therefore, I am not a real live human being.
-C
"The message you sent requires that you verify that you are a real live human being and not a spam source. To complete this verification, simply reply to this message and leave the subject line intact."
Dear Michelle,
It is funny that you have asked me to verify my existence, as every day, I am forced to ask myself this very question: "Who or what the F&ck Am I?" The answer is, I am not entirely sure if I am that much different than SPAM. I am sort of much the same as the SPAM which your email naturally quarantines and/or the one you buy at your local bodega. Therefore, I am not a real live human being.
-C
Monday, May 5, 2008
Blanco Plains
Because I am not in the position to be picky about job prospects, I am most certainly not in the position to be picky about job geographic locations. While at one point in my life, the idea of a reverse commute seemed unheard of, at this point, the idea of a reverse commute is turning into a relentless reality. Some might say to me, "C, there is a law firm on every block in Manhattan; I see no reason why you can not find employment at at least one of these thousands of firms." Well, whoever this judgmental character is, should be shot. For, I have considered every law firm in Manhattan and I can not say the feelings are mutual.
Regardless, on Thursday, I had the happy occasion of being invited to a new level of sewage and now I have to entirely re-categorize my schema. While I thought I had renegotiated my standards the day I interviewed at a firm in the Empire State Building where the “attorneys” were actually using typewriters and one of the partners walked past me and proceeded to pass gas, I stand corrected. Make no mistake; I am not one to judge a book by its cover, as my previous shithole's offices were really quite lovely before they too were relocated to the lesser city.
But really, nothing could properly prepare me for this encounter. As on this very special day, I was in fact interviewed by a garbage graduate midget. I must report that he was the best part of this firm. For, the nature of the labor was really remarkable; I would be asked to work in a special niche that represented police men and firemen who were injured while on duty. I do not know anyone who does this, but perhaps I would be really good at it. I am a firm believer that most litigation is the same regardless of where it takes place, even if it does take place above a Sears parking lot.
However, my major problem with this consideration, aside from the obvious, is that if for some reason I were to take a job in this fine city, sweet home of the lovely Galleria Mall, is that M&M will be literally ten minutes from my construction site. It is becoming all too clear what this would mean for me, but I imagine that by the end of the first month of employment, I will be prodded with the legitimate inquiry: "Spinster face, why not consider that nice midget who gave you the job? You are being too picky”
Thursday, May 1, 2008
And We're Back!
After a disappointing (I'm sure) leave of the city eM & C are back in full force...
The next month promises to be one full of unemployment, disappointment, lots of shits & giggles, and maybe even a few big breaks.
Stay tuned.
The next month promises to be one full of unemployment, disappointment, lots of shits & giggles, and maybe even a few big breaks.
Stay tuned.
Not a Nun After All
In a survey of the entire world, one would guess a general consensus would be most of the best decisions are not made while under the influence of alcohol and/or illegal substances.
Knowing this to be true, it is quite amazing that so many, including myself, continue to participate in risky behavior while participating in A & D.
My announcement & renouncement of my current state of celibacy comes after such an episode...
In hopes of the future staying free & clear of (too many) a repeat(ed) situation(s).
I'll chock it up to Bad Decisions & Good Memories ;)
Knowing this to be true, it is quite amazing that so many, including myself, continue to participate in risky behavior while participating in A & D.
My announcement & renouncement of my current state of celibacy comes after such an episode...
In hopes of the future staying free & clear of (too many) a repeat(ed) situation(s).
I'll chock it up to Bad Decisions & Good Memories ;)
Inflations a Bitch
eM & elle walk into the women's room at Le Deux... on their way out, B, the bathroom attendant, stops elle & wipes her nose clean with a tissue.
elle tips her $20 & walks out...
eM tips her $20 & walks out...
elle tips her $20 & walks out...
eM tips her $20 & walks out...
Is Elijah Single?
Those of you who are familiar with my upbringing know that I am anything but religious. I am so unreligious that the worst grade I received in college was from an intro to religion class my senior year. I do not know anything about any of the Jewish Holidays and quite often, for fun, some of my waspy friends will quiz me on the big ones and proceed to make fun of me because I am so stupid. It is true that Atticus Finch and I went to Hebrew school for a week. However, we were taken out of the program when it became clear I was having trouble socializing with the other Jewish children and the class's jerbel bit my finger resulting in M&M's conviction that I had rabies.
You can imagine my state of shock when about a week ago, M&M called me ten times in one day asking me to go to some sedar hosted by a family friend. My initial reaction: M&M do not have any friends. However, after I discovered who this alleged ally was, their scheme became all too transparent. Of course, they had a Jewish suitor in mind and told me that if I did not go with them to the sedar, then I would ultimately remain a spinster. (Please note, my therapist and I are currently working on a way for me to build up strength to say "no" to things I do not want to do, but for the time being I am a very easily manipulated subject).
Anyhow, so last Sunday, M&M picked me up and drove me to Long Island where it was clear I did not belong. I do not know how to dress for a sedar and had recently gotten my red hair locks touched up. Consequently, M commented on how I looked like a trollup and warned me to please curb my drinking. I did not follow her instructions, but I did, however, try to appease them by talking to the Jew who they had in mind. All things aside, he was not too awful, but certainly not someone I care to wed let alone see ever again despite M&M's opinion that "he was absolutely stunning."
However, the major problem with this setup is that M&M failed to take into account that their Jewish suitor was in fact a very religious Israeli. Therefore, over the course of the sedar, when I drunkenly announced that I did not know, nor did I care to, follow along in the Haggadah, the suitor who was reciting Hebrew cants, rolled his eyes and was anything but charmed. The major problem was when I was in fact asked to read a passage in English, I could not locate where we were in these various questions because in Hebrew, you read from right to left as opposed to left to right. For someone who is mildly dyslexic, let alone retarded enhanced by four glasses of wine, this posed a major problem. When I finally thought I found the passage, I did in fact read one which had already been read.
After the sedar, I proceeded to drink Elijah’s (who was also situated at my table) manishevitz, and talk about the various attributes of the Urban Outfitters website with the host’s nineteen year old daughter. The suitor proceeded to get up from the table and leave with his family. He did not propose, let alone say goodbye.
So, in the spirit of Passover, I ask M&M: “Why or how is this day different in its nature from other days?” The answer is this day was no different in nature than any other days.
You can imagine my state of shock when about a week ago, M&M called me ten times in one day asking me to go to some sedar hosted by a family friend. My initial reaction: M&M do not have any friends. However, after I discovered who this alleged ally was, their scheme became all too transparent. Of course, they had a Jewish suitor in mind and told me that if I did not go with them to the sedar, then I would ultimately remain a spinster. (Please note, my therapist and I are currently working on a way for me to build up strength to say "no" to things I do not want to do, but for the time being I am a very easily manipulated subject).
Anyhow, so last Sunday, M&M picked me up and drove me to Long Island where it was clear I did not belong. I do not know how to dress for a sedar and had recently gotten my red hair locks touched up. Consequently, M commented on how I looked like a trollup and warned me to please curb my drinking. I did not follow her instructions, but I did, however, try to appease them by talking to the Jew who they had in mind. All things aside, he was not too awful, but certainly not someone I care to wed let alone see ever again despite M&M's opinion that "he was absolutely stunning."
However, the major problem with this setup is that M&M failed to take into account that their Jewish suitor was in fact a very religious Israeli. Therefore, over the course of the sedar, when I drunkenly announced that I did not know, nor did I care to, follow along in the Haggadah, the suitor who was reciting Hebrew cants, rolled his eyes and was anything but charmed. The major problem was when I was in fact asked to read a passage in English, I could not locate where we were in these various questions because in Hebrew, you read from right to left as opposed to left to right. For someone who is mildly dyslexic, let alone retarded enhanced by four glasses of wine, this posed a major problem. When I finally thought I found the passage, I did in fact read one which had already been read.
After the sedar, I proceeded to drink Elijah’s (who was also situated at my table) manishevitz, and talk about the various attributes of the Urban Outfitters website with the host’s nineteen year old daughter. The suitor proceeded to get up from the table and leave with his family. He did not propose, let alone say goodbye.
So, in the spirit of Passover, I ask M&M: “Why or how is this day different in its nature from other days?” The answer is this day was no different in nature than any other days.
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