1. Best. Present. Ever.
I don’t mean to pit my friends and family against each other, or upset anyone who was kind enough to buy me a much appreciated Christmas present this year… but if I’m being honest, there was one gift that stood miles above the rest. My boyfriend (the best boyfriend ever– yes, I have to say that now) bought us tickets to see the one-night-only, star-studded concert reading of A Little Night Music at the Roundabout. It’s in my Top 3 of favorite Sondheim musicals (right next to Merrily and Company), and it’s the only one I’ve never seen on stage. I’m already getting goosebumps just thinking about it!

2. Worst. Present. Ever.
The chicken enchilada that was served to me when I clearly ordered the cheese. I had my first bite of poultry in over a year. Thank god for the giant margarita sitting next to me. The alcohol burned the taste of chicken right off of my taste buds!

3. A Crown Heights Christmas!
Last week Lady R. came over to the ghetto the heights to help Jeannie, A.Rod and myself make cookies. Results below…
Pre-frosting:

A woman’s work is never done:

The model-esque Lady R. (now parting her hair to the right):

Lady R’s gluten-free cookie mush:

Jeannie and the Xmas Tree:

The finished product:

All photos courtesy of A.Rod:

4. Air Un-Fair.
Part of my dad’s Xmas present was supposed to be a bottle of red wine, made locally in Long Island. While packing, I thought I was being smart by putting the wine in my carry-on. I wanted to be sure that my dad would be able to enjoy the wine, instead of having it break, and therefore staining all of the clothes in my suitcase. As if I haven’t flown on an airplane a dozen time since 9/11. As soon as my man-purse came out the other end of the x-ray machine, I was pulled aside an told that my “bottle of liquid” would have to be checked in or confiscated. Not wanting to buy a new suitcase on top of paying the additional fee for checking two bags… I said goodbye to the bottle of wine and shot the airport employee a dirty look. So as my dad enjoyed the much cheaper replacement wine bought at “Chet’s Liquor Store” off of Highway 13, I’m sure some employee of the LaGuardia Airport was enjoying his bottle. Happy Holidays, indeed.

5. Grandmothers Say the Darndest Things, Part I.
God bless grandmothers. Mine are finally becoming the crazy old biddies that all elderly people have the right to turn into once they reach a certain age. My mom’s mom (G.P.) is in the stage where she’ll just sit there any ask you the same questions over and over, oblivious to the fact that you gave her the answer not two seconds ago. This Christmas, her top three inquires were: 1.) What are you doing out in New York? 2.) When do you leave? And 3.) Who’s stocking is that hanging on the end of the mantle? And as if I didn’t hate repeating over and over again, “Yes, I’m still working at the pharmacy…” G.P. would also throw in the occasional “Why don’t you just get your degree in that?” Bah-humbug.

6. Grandmothers Say the Darndest Things, Part II.
While G.P. belittled me repeatedly, G.K. (my dad’s mom) slept soundly in her chair. Thinking it was safe, I sat next to her for awhile…. which worked out just fine, until she woke and gave me the play-by-play of how my grandfather died. Way to kill my steady holiday beer buzz grandma. My wish was granted when she finally changed the subject, however, the relief was short lived. G.K. then went into a 20 minute diatribe about her days as a working girl (not that kind!) It’s not that I don’t enjoy hearing about the history and hardships of my grandparents. But when grandma is still half asleep and talking in a whisper, it makes the story a little less enthralling.

7. Seven Pounds.
No, I am not referring to Will Smith’s latest Crap-fest. I’m talking about the amount of weight I’ve put on in the past week thanks to all of the cookies I’ve consumed. Okay, cookies and beer. Seriously, I’m going to need to start the new year out at a detox center. Preferably one that doesn’t resemble this:

1. D.C.
MD-BF and I had a great time last weekend. I don’t have many pics of D.C., mainly because we steered clear of all the monuments and memorial shit, as they were overpopulated with obnoxious children and their mullet-loving parents. I did however snap a few shots of these fun ladies, who were hanging outside of our hotel:

This one is spying on her friends:

And this one had a little too much fun Friday night:

2. Wednesday Night Supper Club, Resurrected.
This week Lady R., Jeannie, A.Rod and I decided to resurrect our Wednesday Night Supper Club… on a Monday. Our meal was a simple whole wheat pasta dish with red sauce and a melange of whatever veggies Jeannie and A.Rod had in the fridge. We of course had our signature garlic bread and a bottle or two of red. For our movie, we decided to get nostalgic for the 90’s and watch Dick Tracy. I remember being big into D.T. as a child. My favorite character was The Brow:

I think I was a fan because my dad used to get a brow every time he took off his glasses. When the movie first came out I remember being disappointed because The Brow bit it in the very first scene. This time around, eighteen years later (eek!), I still wasn’t impressed. All though Jeannie thought the movie had the most “Saturation [of color] she had seen in years,” we all sort of agreed that Madonna can’t really sing.

3. MD-BF Goes LCB-HDTV!
It finally worked! After month of whispering subliminal messages to him while he slept, my BF got a new flat screen TV:

Now I can go back to whispering about the other thing I want him to buy, my Stanley:

4. My Latest Obsession:
iPhone Scrabble.

I haven’t even finished reading my last two issues of Entertainment Weekly because now all of my precious subway time is now spent trying to get Bingoes. (A bingo is when you lay all seven letters down on the board at once.) So far, I’ve gotten three. I also like trying to play dirty words. For the record, you can use “poon” and “taint,” but not “cunt.”

5. Raul!
This week I went with my (MD)BF to see my other BF (Raul) in Speed the Plow.

He had to be kind of un-sexy and disheveled in the first act, which was a bit disappointing (and a true testament to how good of an actor really he is.) But don’t worry, by act three he was back to being suave and muy caliente. Good looks aside, he could also act circles around the two TV “stars” that he was forced to share the stage with.

6. ANTM.
Okay, I think it’s pretty obvious that McKey is the only one left at this point with even a fraction of the talent that it should take to win this Pony Show. However, let me remind you that this is America’s Next Top Model and that they rarely pick a deserving winner. (Hello, Whitney and Mushroom Head.) A few weeks back I started getting a sneaking suspicion that they were pimping this clown to be this cycle’s unemployable “winner:”

Ugly-pretty? Or just Pretty-annoying?

7. Top Chef.
Yay! Now that we are living in a Project Runway-less world, I am glad to have my Padma & Co. back.

None of the contests really struck me as lovable or loathable just yet. But don’t worry, once I start passing judgment, you’ll be the first to know. That being said, this contestant did stick out to me as being a very convincing drag queen version of Daryl Hannah:

1. One Year Anniversary of Being Meat Free!

Last week I was so busy de-Cleansing that I forgot to mention I had my one year anniversary of being a fish-atarian. The last meat party that took place in my mouth was the night before my 1st bout of the Cleanse. Chicken fingers from Whole Foods. Not very memorable, but then again, I wasn’t planning on becoming meat free afterward. It just happened.

During Master Cleanse V2.0 I started craving meat and thought that I might return to my carnivorous roots. But now that I’m done starving myself, the smell of bacon does absolutely nothing for me. Looks like I’m back to ruining Christmas dinner for mom again this year.

2. Six Month Anniversary with MD-BF!

We booked a last minute trip to D.C. to celebrate. Hopefully, we’ll be celebrating our new President too. Otherwise, the whole weekend will most likely be ruined.

1. The Master Cleanse.
Sorry I haven’t posted on here in awhile.  I was too busy starving myself and blogging over here.  The good news is that the Master Cleanse is over.  Forever. The even good-er news is that you’ll never have to read about the contents of my colon again.  It’s a win-win for both of us.

2. Benefits of the Cleanse, Part I.
It did wonders for my allergies and sinuses.  The last time I went for a run (pre-cleanse) I was very short of breath and almost asthmatic.  For my first post-Cleanse run I kicked some ass.  I ran all of Central Park… that’s 6.5 miles in just under 55 minutes.  If only the former, 30 plus pounds, grade school version of myself could see me now!

3. Benefits of the Cleanse, Part II.
Besides 100+ lemons and three bottles of expensive organic maple syrup, I didn’t spend any money on food for 10 days.  An even bigger miracle… no money spent on coffee or booze.  Thanks to the Cleanse, I was able to transfer a serious chunk of change into my savings account.  I’ve set a goal for myself to have X amount of money in my savings by the end of the year.  Currently, I’m ¾ of the way there.   It’s nice to have money saved up… especially when you already know what you’re going to spend it on: Plane tickets.

For much of 2009 I’m going to be touring the US. So far I have:

1. Trip home for my sister’s wedding(!)
2. (Possibly separate) trip home for my BF to meet the rents.
3. Trip to San Antonio to meet the BF’s rents.
4. Possible gay-cation/winter-get-away to Florida.

And most importantly…

5. Trip with the BF to Dollywood. Yes, DOLLYWOOD!!!

4. Work.
They’re downsizing before the end of the year.  The good news: I’m not losing my job.  The bad news: I’m not losing my job.

5. Married Life.
I’m enjoying it immensely, thank you.  Last weekend I baked an apple pie:

And the BF taught me how to sew.  You see, the BF hosted a Martyr Party for All Saints Day, and I decided that instead of spending $50 on a stupid costume that I would only wear once, I should just make one from scratch.  Well after a trip to Mood, Broadway Fabrics, Pearl Paint, Lee’s Art Store, and American Apparel… I ended up spending $50 anyway.  But at least my costume was handmade with love (and a little frustration.)  Much better than buying something from Ricky’s that has been handmade by slave children in Malaysia.

6. Martyr Party.
I went as Joan of Arc burning at the stake, because after all, I have the hair for it.  Ironically enough, I don’t have any pics of my fabulous Joan hair.   Thankfully, I happened to take these two pics while getting ready in the bathroom… before I consumed too much wine and ate my weight in baked brie.

7. Stylista.
Every year the CW has some shitty new reality show that is so bad, it never gets another season.  (Yes, I’m looking at you, Crowned: The Mother of All Pageants.)  And every year, I get sucked into watching it.  When I first saw the promos for Stylista I said to myself, “This is going to be the year that I break the cycle!”  But then my BF, who made fun of me for watching the first episode of that other CW Crapfest: 90210 (out of morbid curiosity, I swear), decided to DVR it.  And of course, now that I’ve seen one episode, I have to watch them all.

The only person more unlikeable than the brainlessly bland contestants, is this botoxed cow:

I don’t hate her as much as I hate Rachel Zoe.  But then again, that’s like saying I don’t hate 9/11 as much as I hate the Holocaust.

1. My One Woman Show.
It’s going great, thanks for asking. I finally have a first draft on all my characters, which means that now all I have left to endure is a million rewrites. The deadline for a November performance is just a few days away. I could probably scrap together a final draft in time, but instead I’ve decided to wait one more month. After all, what’s one more month on top of the six that I’ve already waited?

2. Master Cleanse V2.0.
Only 7 days until I foolishly start Version 2.0 of the Master Cleanse. I’m half excited, half scared. To help myself mentally prepare I’ve 1.) Cut down my coffee intake to one grande Misto a day. 2.) Stopped stress eating at work. And 3.) Started drinking two liters of water a day… just so I can used to the pissing schedule that I’ll be on soon.

3. Shopping Like There’s No Tomorrow… Or No Such Thing As Credit Card Debt.
This weekend I set up an appointment with my personal stylist (my BF) to help me spend some birthday money on a few new items for my fall/winter wardrobe. Trying to be a good boy, I only had three things on my shopping list: A new winter coat, black dress shoes, and shit-kicker boots. However, the birthday money only covered about one shit-kicker… so Momma ended up dipping into her personal savings a little bit.

And then some…

Since I only found two of the three items on my list (winter coat and shit-kickers) I allowed myself a few other (un)needed purchases. Besides stopping into an H&M in search of a single t-shirt and leaving with a giant shopping bag and one less Benjamin Franklin… I also purchased a second jacket at the Army Navy store, that I had no good reasoning for buying other than the fact that it “fit me so well,” quoth my BF. Thank god October is a three paycheck month a work.

4. Running.
Two weeks ago, while watching an episode of The Biggest Loser (yes, I have no shame when it comes to reality TV…) I suffered a brain hemorrhage and got the crazy idea in my head to sign up for a half marathon. I was one credit card transaction away from committing, when thankfully, I came to my senses and decided to sleep on it for a night. While I have been good at keeping up a pretty consistent running routine these past 6 months, I seemed to have forgotten that I only run 5 miles at a time… not 13.5 miles. While I would someday like to work up to 13.5 miles, the half marathon would have been this Saturday, and me thinks that would have been a little bit too soon. Instead, I am happy to report that they only running I did this Saturday, was the running of errands.

5. Latest iTunes Obsession.
A few weeks ago MD-BF and I were enjoying a Inspector Lynley Mystery on PBS and every time they went to commercial, we were invited to join Carole King In Her Living Room. Since then, I haven’t been able to get Ms. King out of my head. I finally downloaded her Greatest Hits on iTunes, which means that I’ve officially turned into a lesbian. It’s like she invited herself into the living room inside my brain and she won’t stop playing this song:

6. Top Model.
Okay, so this photo is actually from last week’s episode, but I didn’t find until this week. And since it’s quite possible my Favorite. Moment. In. Top. Model. History… I simply have to post it:

She’s hoping the earrings draw attention away from her penis.

7. Project Runway.
Kunt-ley.

At this point, I hate her so much that I’m back to loving her.

Last night, my first thought crawling into bed was, “Shit, in 365 days I turn 30.” My second thought was, “I’m crawling into bed with my boyfriend. How nice.”

A year ago, had my past-self met with my present-self (which I guess back then would have been my future-self), my past-self would have been shocked (in a good way) to hear that I would be in a serious, four-month relationship by the time I turned 29.

One year ago today, I set out to find myself a boyfriend… for the first time in 27 years. I decided that it was time to get over my irrational fear of men and to start going on some (bad) dates. And believe me, there were plenty.

All my life I was convinced that dating wasn’t for me. And with the number of awkward dates that I forced myself to go on, it only cemented my belief that I would be better off spending the rest of my life flying solo.

But then, after one very promising date, everything changed. I met my Prince Charming… and the rest is history. (As a testament to how much things have changed, I just typed “Prince Charming” without gagging or tasting vomit in the back of my throat.)

I met my goal for 28: Stop running away from potential relationships. Mission accomplished. It took about eight months, but I finally found someone that actually made me change my mind about being a “Forever Single.”

So what’s next? Why am I still scared of turning 30?

Well, there’s just one area left in my life that I’d still like to change.

I’m happy to be living in New York. I’m happy to be writing again. I’m happy to have a loving boyfriend. However… 5 days a week it still kills me to have to wake up and go to a job that I loathe.

A year ago, this is what my birthday horoscope read:

“Everyone was born with a talent and according to your birthday chart you will get the chance to make something of your special ability over the coming 12 months. What today may be no more than a hobby or marginal activity will by this time next year be a central, and lucrative, part of your life.“

While I didn’t expect to have my dream job (getting paid to writing) fall into by lap by then end of the year… I did promise myself that I would absolutely, no-doubt-about-it quit my job at the pharmacy before I turned 29.

Instead of waiting around for my dream job, I thought the least I could do was force myself to start looking for it on my own. And what better way to light a fire under your ass than to be unemployed, in desperate need of some income? In my fantasy world, I would have an extra 40 hours a week to write, and I would become more active in pursuing paid writing gigs.

However, here I am one year later and realistically, I am in no position to live that Bohemian, goateed-wearing, spending all day at Starbucks nursing the same coffee, lifestyle. So I’m extending my deadline. I’m giving myself another year.

Yes, I’m copping out. But I feel okay about doing so for two reasons:

1.) My work situation has (slightly) improved. I still hate my job, but I’m back to working four days a week. As long as I can stay self-disciplined, I plan to use that extra day for more writing.

2.) Although I’m only working four days a week, I’m actually making more money. And I’m back to saving it. Surprisingly enough, after a very spendy summer, the savings account I started last spring is not completely drained. And I plan to start putting more money into it this fall and winter. That way, when I finally do quit my job, I won’t be completely fucked.

So that’s Life @ 29. The year of finding a new job. Wish me luck!

The original plan for today was for me to do a half day at work, so that I could join MD-BF and his sis (in town from TX) to go upstate and dine at the C.I.A.

Unfortunately, MD-BF’s sis had to cancel her trip at the last minute. So instead of going upstate to eat, MD-BF decided to use the day to go upstate and clean out his storage space. As soon as MD-BF explained that he would be donating his unwanted goods to the local Goodwill and Sally Army, I immediately volunteered to take the entire day off so that I could “help” him.

When MD-BF texted me at work yesterday to suggest that we go to the beach instead of a storage facility, I happily agreed (once of course I got over the initial shock of my precious thrifting being taken away from me.)

Although I just had a four day weekend last week, I decided that I needed another extended holiday. When I am at work, I bust my balls. In fact, I’ve busted them so hard the past few weeks, that I don’t think I can have kids anymore. So don’t a deserve a little something as reward?

Or a big something… Like the brand new 26″ Widescreen Flat-Panel HDTV/DVD Combo I bought myself this morning. (MD-BF had a rental car for the day… Brooklyn just happened to be on the way to Long Beach… I had all this extra OT $$$ on my paycheck… My birthday is coming up… It’s Friday… I had a million good reasons to buy this TV, okay?)

After we dropped of my new lover TV at my apartment, MD-BF and I drove off to Long Beach so that I could get back my Miami tan (minus the hideous sunburn.)

While Long Beach is not quite as picturesque as Miami Beach, it’s at least a step up from Coney Island Beach (which doesn’t take much.) Instead of being covered with garbage, Long Beach is littered with translucent (dead) jellyfish that look like silicone breast implants.

I guess along the boardwalk there was a little bit of garbage. But as they say in the world of garage sales and thrift stores, “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.” Truer words have never been spoken.

MD-BF wrestled a small child found this Cinderella doll in the sand. We had fun playing Top Model with her.

Here’s Cindy getting her seaweed wrap.

I spotted this baby that had it’s head smashed in by a brick. I considered rescuing her and bringing her down to the beach. But in the end, I didn’t want to mess up the tan lines she was working on getting rid of.

Here’s me almost flashing the whole beach as I tried the old changing-under-the-towel trick.

While I didn’t get to thrift today… I still had a pretty sweet day. Of course, I didn’t have to work today either. So really, I could have done absolutely anything, and I would have considered it “pretty sweet.”

No, the title of this post isn’t a reference to that god-awful song sung by that god-awful slut, Miley Cyrus. Instead, it’s a new weekly feature that I’m adding to my blog.

Since I’ve stopped blogging on a daily basis, I’m sure you’re all wondering what boring, self-deprecating, semi-neurotic musing on my homosexual lifestyle you’ve been missing on out.

So, to appease the masses (there are masses, right?)… here are 7 Things I Would Have Blogged About This Week.

1. My Hair.
As much as I loved my short, Robyn-esque, dyke hair this summer, I’ve decided to grow it back out again for the fall. Specifically for my b’day. I’ve already picked out the outfit I plan to wear, so why not have the hair to match? The good news is that my hair grows fast. The bad news is that it’s not growing fast enough. Last week my hair entered it’s “Awkward Phase.” Currently, I look like a person with short hair who is too lazy or poor to get it cut.

2. My Skin.
It’s flaking. I got some serious sunburn in Miami. The parts of my body that had not seen the light of day since I was young and carefree enough to run around outdoors wearing just a diaper, turned unpleasantly pink. In the past week I’ve shed almost an entire layer of skin. Like a snake. Or someone with severe psoriasis who can’t stop scratching at it.

3. The Olympics.
I’m actually enjoying watching them!

Behold the power of Adonis-like men in spandex!

I suspect that my love of all things competitive is also to blame.

4. Work.
Surprise, surprise… I continue to hate my job. I’ve been looking for something new, but with the economy as shitty as it is, I’d probably have a better chance of winning the lottery and retiring early than finding a new job that will pay me a comparable salary to what I make now, working in hell. And speaking of hell… the one co-worker that I actually liked working with in the dungeon quit. So now, instead of doing the work of two people… I’ll be doing the work of three people, as my third co-worker continues to get paid to be a professional e-mailer.

5. Airline Outrage.
My sister and one of my dear Hags have been bugging to me come home for a quick visit this fall. My sis wants me to bring home Doctor Boyfriend to meet the rest of the fam, and my Hag wants me to come home to meet the love child that I may-or-may-not have fathered. (J/K, sickos.) It used to be that I could get a flight home for just under $200. Yeah, and I also remember the days when gas was 98 cents a gallon. Now the cheapest deal I could find was in the $300 range… and that was only if I wanted to go home for a week and a half. Tickets for a long weekend were dangerously close to the price of rent. Disgusting. Sorry kiddos, but it looks like I won’t be home again until Christmas. (Assuming of course, that I get approved for the small loan I’ll need to take out .)

6. Running.
Thursday night after work I went for an extremely long run in Central Park. Afterwards, Doctor Boyfriend took me out for dinner. Unfortunately, I pushed myself too hard during my run, and I suddenly felt nauseous. I took about 5 bites of pasta and spent the rest of my time staring at my plate. I was afraid that if I lifted my head too far up, the bright lights might make my head explode. After dinner MD-BF was sweet enough to put his doctoring skills to use by laying me down on the couch, and treating my illness with a dose of ginger-ale and a Project Runway booster shot. Which brings me to my last point…

7. Project Runway.
How could they have sent Kelli home?

Really? Over Blayne? I was having flashbacks to last season’s Ricky Gate.

Also, I still hate Brooke Shields.

SJP, you ain’t.

This Fourth of July I took a vacation. I said good-bye to my beloved Brooklyn, and went up north all the way to 59th Street!

Okay, so I was only staying at my b-friend’s apt. for the holiday. But after moving last weekend, and a hellish 4 days at work, it definitely felt like a real vacation.

Thursday night the Good Doctor took me to see Alan Cumming in The Bacchae at Lincoln Center. In The Bacchae, Mr. Cumming plays Dionysus, the Greek god of wine. At least, that’s what I remembered Dionysus being when I did a report on him in 6th grade. My report-partner and I did a skit where I played Dionysus as a waiter at a fancy restaurant, explaining to the patron what wine was.

What I didn’t learn in 6th grade, was that Dionysus was totally bi and “the inspirer of ritual madness and ecstasy.” Learning Greek Mythology could have been so much more fun if it wasn’t in a Catholic school setting…

The play began with Mr. Cummings being lowered from the ceiling, hanging upside down by his feet. Did I mention that he was only wearing a gold lame kilt? You could see his buttocks in all their firm glory.

The play ended, as all good Greek tragedies should, with everyone being stark-raving mad and covered in blood.

The Good D. and I ended our night stark-raving drunk. After a late dinner of Chinese, we decided to go out for a night cap. It ended up being more like a night body bag…

We went to Therapy, a ridiculously fruo-fruo gay bar that neither of us would normally be caught dead in. After our second round I went to the powder room, thinking that we’d head home after I had finished my business. When I got back to the bar, I was surprised to find a fresh, crisp G&T waiting to parch my thirst. And in the interest of keeping our bar tabs even, I was forced to buy us a forth round.

The Good D. always laughs at me when I tell him I’m going out for “a drink or two” with friends. I think he thinks I’m trying to mask my alcoholic tendencies by rounding down. Waking up Friday morning without a hint of a hangover did not help my case that I’m no stranger to having alcohol pulsing through my veins.

And while I didn’t really have a hangover, my body definitely wasn’t in tip-top form. I went for a 40 minute run in Central Park Friday morning. And if I hadn’t already sweat all of the previous night’s gin and morning Starbucks out of my body during the run, I probably would have thrown it up afterwards. During my cool down walk I was seriously worried that I was A.) Going to vomit, B.) Going to pass out, C.) Going to pass out in my own vomit. Not that any of those options would have looked out of place in Central Park.

Friday afternoon, the actual day of our independence, the Good D. and I went to some lesbian couple’s apartment in Harlem for a rainy BBQ. To celebrate Independence Day, the couple had recently adopted a baby! Luckily, the Good D. warned the lesbians ahead of time that I was not a baby person… so I was not forced to hold it or talk about how cute it was. Although, thanks to the baby, that night I did have a dream that I had a baby of my own and I named it Toast. (Take that Apple Paltrow!)

But before my baby nightmare, the Good D. and I had another show to see Friday evening: Arias with a Twist. For those of you who aren’t familiar with drag performer Joey Arias, get thee to You Tube:

It was a truly amazing show. A larger than life drag queen that sings a spot on Billie Holiday, and a stage full of strange puppets? What more could you ask for in a show?

Also, as fate would have it, who should be standing next to me in the lobby of Friday night’s show, but the star of Thursday night’s show: Mr. Cumming himself!

Saturday morning I took a little break from my vacay to update my resume. I hate updating my resume. The combination of coffee shops and pharmacies is a hard sell… especially when you’re trying to get a new job that doesn’t fall into either category. But at least it’s over and done with now… and hopefully going to land me a new job very soon.

Thankfully, it was a three day weekend. So while it felt like a Sunday, and that sense of dread that you get about having to go back to work the next day was just starting to set in… I got to remind myself that it was only Saturday and I still had another full day of eating and drinking ahead of me!

Saturday’s BBQ took place at a Mansion in Jersey. And while I normally don’t do Jersey, we had a free ride over and I was told that the tequila flows like a river over on the other side of the actual river.

But it wasn’t just the tequila that was flowing. Because I’m a lady, I started off with red wine at dinner. For dessert, we all went downstairs to the bar to start the Tequila Boom Boom shots. (Pour tequila and Sprite into a shot glass, cover the shot glass, bang the shot glass on the bar twice, and drink before it foams over and spills on you!) In between shots we drank margaritas and I may have had one or two vodka shots to cleanse the palate.

The funniest thing about the Mansion party is that the host’s kids and their kid’s friends were present. Some of the kids were old enough to drink (or at least their parents were cool enough to let them drink.) But to my surprise, by the end of the night it was the young adults who were most sober and in control, while the old adults were drunker than a sophomore at prom.

Age wise, I of course fall somewhere in the middle… but I was definitely not one of the more sober ones. Once the kids left we closed out the night by playing drunken speed pool and doing a paint by numbers that was too complex to follow even while sober.

Unfortunately, our free ride left early, so the Good D., his Hag and & I had no option but to catch a bus back the NYC. After waiting 45 minutes for the bus, I was certain that I was going to be sleeping on a park bench in Nowhere, Jersey for the night.

Luckily, the bus finally did come and the Good D. was sober enough to stay awake while Haggy and I tried to sleep it off a bit. As soon as we got out of Penn Station, we were greeted by a bunch of Taxi drivers who were offering to drive us back to Jersey. At that point, I had already vowed never to return to Jersey. Plus, I found it a little insulting that they thought we looked like we could live there.

Now this morning, I am of course starting to feel the dread of having to go back to work tomorrow. But before that happens, I have to pack my bags up and head back to Brooklyn… to unpack… boxes. Vacation time is over.

I’ve been keeping secrets from you dear readers. With all my tooth talk the past two days, I failed to mention that I had my second date with “That Guy I Think I May Be Into,” who shall hence forth be known as Dr. D.

Yesterday I met Dr. D for lunch in the Meatpacking District. It was a sunny, spring afternoon and we spent it outside on the patio at The Park.

Now, in the interest of me actually liking this guy and wanting to continue to go on more dates with him, I hesitate blogging about him or our date. That being said, I still have no problem writing self-deprecating things about myself…

Honestly, sometimes I wonder how guys can date me. Yeah, my friends tell me I’m a great catch, blah, blah, blah… But you know what, I act different around my friends than I do my dates. I’m very comfortable with my friends. I can be goofy, funny, even a little kooky-crazy.

However, around guys, I still get super shy. And unfortunately, shyness often translates to boringness. I think that’s why I hardly ever make it past 2-3 dates with a guy. They think I’ll start to get more interesting… but I never do.

Sometimes I think it’s self-sabotage. I shut off all personality on purpose, just to keep myself safely single forever. But such is not the case with Dr. D. I am honestly trying my best to be more outgoing and personable. Hopefully, it’s working.

We already have plans for a third date, and he invited me to a show the first week of June. That means he’s stuck with me for at least 2 1/2 more weeks. That should give me plenty of time to prove to him I am a charismatic, vibrant, young lad and not a emotionless, unloving robot.

Beee-booo-bop. Does not compute.