7 Things of Christmas.

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:

3 Years!

Three years ago in Minneapolis I left a TV and a three foot tall light-up Easter bunny on the side of the road and headed off to NYC. My car was half filled with my belongings, and half filled with my friend Alisha’s belongings, who was sitting next to me in the front seat with a map of the United States in her lap and boxes at her feet. In the car behind us was my friend Nora, who was following us out East to move to Boston.

For our anniversary this year, Nora (a girl who doesn’t like to stay rooted in one place for too long) flew in from Seattle (her new home) to celebrate.

We made it a Brooklyn Day and visited both the Botanical Gardens and Coney Island.

(Nora and Alisha discovered why it’s called the “Swinging Car.”)

Happy Anniversary New York!

No More Boxes!!!

With the pending arrival of my sister and her BF tomorrow, a small flame had finally ignited under my ass for me to finish unpacking my boxes and find a home for all my kitsch in my new apartment.

When I realized that tonight was also the premiere of Project Runway, and that I’d have to be at the Good D’s to watch it since we still don’t have cable… or a TV, that flame turned into a forest fire.

I was planning to do a half day at work, but thanks to Ms. Heidi Klum and my love of all things reality TV (and all things gay), I went ahead and took the entire day off… Which of course meant that I spent all morning procrastinating. By mid-afternoon I finally got in the swing of things. But by early evening I was over it, and I had to start drinking in order to keep going.

8+ hours and few cans of cheap beer later, and I was finally done. I’d like to thank the makers of Miller High Life (classy, I know); the Dixie Chicks; Adam, who was home and had to listen to me listen to (and sing along with) the Dixie Chicks; and the makers of the Swiffer, a mop that’s fun to use while slightly tipsy!

I’m finally unpacked and I finally feel at home in Crown Heights.

We probably won’t be having a house warming party until Sept. to coincide with my b’day. But for those of you just dying to see it, here’s a sneak peak of my room:

This is my tiny, tiny closet. Not much to see here (literally.) But I am proud that I finally found a spot for my pink circle mirror! I love this mirror because it reminds me of something you would have seen in the Stephanie and DJ’s room on Full House. I’ve had it for awhile, but never on display. Before my move, I told myself I should just throw it away. Sure glad I didn’t.

Random shit I hung above my dresser. I have very little storage space in my new apartment. So everything must go up! Looking at this pic now, I realize that the frame around the Virgin Mary looks crooked. Ugh.

The place I lay my head at night. To the left is my great-great grandfather. Above my bed (starting top left and going clockwise) is: Dolly, Judy, Crystal, the Judds, Judy (again), and some chick who is holding her hands together in prayer.

And my favorite part of the room: My mantel of kitsch! Hanging on the wall to the right, is Tipsy (or Tripod as Jeanne calls him.) He’s a three legged cat that I purchased during my last trip to Mary Land. He was also the very first thing to go up on my wall when we first moved in two weeks ago.

AND NOW BACK TO PROJECT RUNWAY!

Here are my initial impressions…

People I Am Rooting For:

Keith, Kelli, Kenley. Only people who’s first name begins with a ‘K.’

People I Am Rooting Against:

Blayne, Suede. And if their name’s didn’t give me reason enough to hate them, their hair sure did.

Hipster Twins I Can’t Tell If I Like Or Loathe:

Emily, Leanne. I swear I see these girls everyday in Brooklyn.

Bitches In Waiting:

Daniel, Jerell, Terri. Mark my words, one (or possibly all three) of these people will act like a major cunt.

People Who’s Bio Pic Looks Like A Mugshot:

Stella. Love her!

In The Heights… Crown Heights.

Things I am loving about my new neighborhood:

1. I look out Jeanne and Adam’s front window and I can see the Manhattan skyline. I look out my back window and I can see fireflies floating around the untamed jungle that is our backyard.

2. The dollar store. Lots of products made in China. I bought a temporary shower curtain with two Asian women sitting in a concrete pool with floating flower petals. As Adam pointed out, the women are sitting in the pool fully clothed. Jeanne bought a 4 pack of loofas, which sold itself well by claiming to “Always refresh you everytime,” and “Makes your body comfortable and full of lather juat a few soaps used.”

3. I had this conversation with a Sassy Black Lady at the deli, as she listened to music on her sidekick:

S.B.L.: You know this song?
ME: No
S.B.L.: What? You don’t know J. Holiday?
ME: No.
S.B.L.: You don’t know music! You need to listen to R&B.
ME: I’ll get working on that.

S.B.L.: You know Mary J. Blige?
ME: Oh, I know Mary J.

(S.B.L. looks at me for a moment. She’s either shocked that I actually know Mary J., or shocked that she’s been talking to a big Homo this whole time and didn’t realize it until now.)

S.B.L.: You know R. Kelly?
ME: Yes, I know R. Kelly.
S.B.L.: Them’s baby making singers!

Right on, girlfriend…

DAY 237: Cake x 2.

Here’s a little tip for you: If you are meeting a date for drinks at 8pm, be sure to have supper beforehand.

Here’s a bigger tip for you: If you’re (more than) slightly intoxicated after having a liquid dinner on said date, do not try and bake a cake when you get home.

For Jeannie’s B’day party tonight, I wanted to make a cake. Knowing that I had to work today, I thought it would be in my best interest to bake the cake the night before.

After getting back from my date last night, I was a little sloppy thanks to two tanquerays with just a splash of tonic and no food in my belly. I should have known better than to try and bake a three-layered cake, but I thought I was a pretty functioning alcoholic. Turns out, I’m not. After making too much batter, there was a fourth layer to my cake… all over the bottom of my shitty, lopsided oven.

The batter that actually stayed in the pans did not-a-pretty-cake make. Because our entire kitchen is on a slant, the cake was uneven: burnt on one side and too spongy on the other. I saved all three layers, hoping that the following day (in a more sober state) I could salvage the cake into something edible. I couldn’t. A burnt cake is a burnt cake is a burnt cake.

After getting home from work today, I dove right into making Cake V2.0. This time I only took on two layers, and while each layer was still a bit uneven, I discovered that enough frosting can solve anything.

At the party, that cake was a hit. But I think that’s mainly because the majority of the cake-eaters were stoned. But hey, I’ll take what I can get.

AND NOW, I’D LIKE TO TAKE A MOMENT TO SAY…

Happy Birthday Jeannie!!! After being apart for so many years, I never thought that my west-coast-loving BFF would be living a mile away from me in Brooklyn. I’m so lucky to have you back

DAY 231: Sunday, Sunday… That’s My Fun Day.

Now that I’m working Saturdays, and my weekend is down to one day, I really have to make the most of my Sundays.

This morning I slept in, but not too late (10am.) I then partook in my favorite Sunday morning activity: Sitting with my laptop for hours and hours at my local neighborhood coffee shop, until church gets out and all the sassy black church ladies invade.

When I left the coffee shop, it was so beautiful outside that I was inspired to go for a walk… to the Family Dollar Store. I could tell that I was in one of my moods where buying stuff was going to make me feel really, really good. Luckily, it was the Dollar Store, so I could afford to go a little crazy. I bought $20 worth of crap, including (but not limited to): B’day supplies for a certain someone’s B’day party next weekend, a makeshift toolbox (how butch!), and a giant mixing bowl to serve sangria in this summer.

After my little spending spree, it was time to head into the city and spend some serious dough. First momma got her hair did… which momma was desperately in need of. Seriously, my head is now 5 lbs. lighter. Love my hair stylist.

My new do’ came just in time too, as afterwards I had a hot (platonic) date with Shalisha. We went to our favorite cheap eats sushi restaurant in the EV, which gives you 50% off when you order as much raw fish as we do.

$15 worth of saki and $40 worth of sushi later, our bellies were full. But not too full for ice cream. Pistachio ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, to be exact.

With ice cream in hand, we took a walk through Tompkins Square Park, where we stopped to watch the doggies at the dog run. I also watched as some creepy old homeless(?) man grabbed Shalisha’s hand and kissed it.

After bidding adieu to Sha, I made my way down to the L.E.S. for my group’s monthly Sunday Night Improv Show. Post-show I hung out with Beta and her posse, drinking like no one had to work tomorrow. (Ah, the joys of performing a at bar…)

Even though I knew it was going to take me at least an hour to get home (thanks to the MTA, who’s decided that not a single train should be running on it’s designated track this weekend), I decided to stay out way past my bedtime. Because after all, Sundays are the new Saturday.

Now if only Monday could be the new Sunday…

DAY 222: The Jury Is Out… For Another Month.

Today was Judgement Day for me, Jeffrey and our slumbag landlord. (Slumbag = scumbag who refuses to fix anything, therefore forcing his tenants to live in slums-like conditions.)

Or at least, I thought it was supposed to be Judgement Day. But instead, it turned out to be Postponement Day.

Jeffrey and I were supposed to be at court at 9:30am. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but I guess I was sort of under the impression that it would be a little bit like Judge Judy, except a lot shorter and much less sassier.

When we arrived to the court room there was a line of people waiting outside. As it turns out, everyone’s court time was 9:30am. I felt like I was at an open casting call, hoping to land the role of “Tenant Who is in the Right.”

As I was going over my lines in my head, and sizing up my competition, we were all called into the court room. I was happy about this because that meant that we got to listen in on each other’s cases. I love crazy people drama, and the majority of the people in that room looked like they knew how to bring it!

But much to my surprise, instead of it being “Twelve Angry Men,” it was more “A Room Full Passive People.”

The judge was a sweet, sensible Asian woman in a black tank top. She would have the lawyer and the tenant approach her desk, and then everyone would talk in hushed tones until a fair agreement was reached.

But before you could approach the judge’s desk, you had to go outside and talk your landlord’s lawyer, to see if you could resolve the situation on your own first.

Our landlord’s lawyer was surprisingly non-slimy. He was a fast talker and had a chipped tooth that I couldn’t stop staring at, but he actually sort of helped us out. He gave us the run down of how things were going to work, and then when we explained our situation to him, he told us not to settle. The fact the he had no idea what an absolute disaster our living situation was, was not surprising to me at all.

After the lawyer confided in us that he wasn’t a big fan of our landlord either, all three of us went back in and talked to the judge. She gave us a real court date for next month and advised us to get a lawyer… which scared me. But I think legally, she had to advise that, because then she went on to say that 90% of tenants defend themselves, and that there was a resource room down the hall where we could pick up some reading materials on how not to get fucked over in court.

On our way out the lawyer pointed us in the direction of the resource room and told us his motto, which was, “If it’s free, it’s for me.” Suddenly, it made perfect sense that this man worked for our landlord.

Jeffrey and I picked up some free pamphlets and were on our way. It was a beautiful day outside, and I wanted to be able to enjoy it… But I was still left with no answers and now even more to worry about. (Do we need a lawyer? Are we gonna get screwed if we try and represent ourselves? Should I wear a tie next time?)

However, instead of letting that ruin the rest of my day, I came up with my own motto: “If it’s not stress-free, it’s not for me.” So I chose to put all thoughts of lawyers and court and unpaid rent and legal fees and chipped teeth out of my head.

The day was still young, and I didn’t have to go back to work since I told them that I had to stay at home since the city workers were finishing putting in our new floor. (This was a half lie… they were putting in the floor, but I didn’t really have to stay at home, because Jeffrey had taken the day off too.)

After spending some quality time outside in my newly cleaned up backyard, I went for a nice long walk in my neighborhood, where I proceed to hit up some of the dollar stores and thrift shops that I had surprisingly, yet to venture in.

I was happy to have a chill afternoon, as my evening was very busy. It started off with an impromptu mojito party in the backyard with Jeffrey, his straight couple (Jon & Soph), and my straight couple (Jeannie and A. Rod.)

I had to ditch out of the party before it got too wild, as I had my Harold Team audition in the city. I met up with Beta and some other peeps at Ye Ol’ Sports Bar, before our 11pm(!) audition slot.

After our audition (which went just fine, thanks for asking) it was back to the bar to drink ourselves silly and not have worry about staying sober and clear-headed.

Yes, I wish that tonight my friends and I would have been able to celebrate the Slumbag getting his ass handed to him in court. But hopefully come next month, we’ll have good excuse to throw another mojito party.

DAY 220: The Perfect Day.

Today was truly the perfect day. I started off my new Mon, Tue, Thurs-Sat work schedule this week, which meant that I had the day off.

I still got up early-ish (8am) but I had the luxury of lounging around in bed for another hour. I wanted to get ahead start on my day, but at an easy pace.

First I went to my local neighborhood coffee shop to get my daily caffeine fix and update my blog. I had plenty of more writing to do (like my one-man show, which I’ve been slacking on) but I had already made up my mind that today I was going to do whatever I felt like doing. And today, instead of spending all day inside, glued to my computer, I felt like being outside.

Of course, I still needed a little more computer time, so I grabbed a cup of joe to go, headed back home, and sat on my back patio enjoying the 70 degree weather.

Once I was all caught up on my e-mails, it was time to get dirty. I threw on my favorite old pair of cut-off jeans and a wife beater (which I only wear in the privacy of my own home, or while running) and I got to work on cleaning up our backyard.

Yes, I know it’s kind of stupid to be cleaning out my backyard when Jeffrey and I are more than likely going to have to move before the summer starts. But I’ve come to the conclusion that we’ll have at least one more month at our apartment, and I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna use that backyard as much of possible in that time.

Cleaning out that bitch was definitely an all day project. Besides your normal dead grass and leaves… there was also a layer of peanut shells, hand rolled cigarettes, and glass littered across our yard. And garbage. Lots of random garbage, like 3 giant gasoline containers, rotten oranges, and a grill that wasn’t there when we first moved in, but somehow showed up over the winter.

4 hours and 7 garbage bags later, things were finally shaping up back there. I can actually see the grass. Or at least, the few patches of grass in between the dirt.

Of course, today was only Phase One of Operation Backyard. But it was a damn good start. And it felt good to get it done. Whenever I feel like my life is a mess, cleaning up a more tangible mess always makes me feel better.

After working all afternoon in the backyard I went for a very satisfying, yet torturous, 30 minute run. I ran through Fort Green park, which I had been meaning to explore ever since moving into the hood last Sept.

I came home, cleaned myself up real good, and lounged around listening to music and playing on my laptop for awhile.

Once night had fallen (8pm, love that it’s getting darker later now), my Boo came over and we made our way into the city for one of his friend’s birthday party at an bar that is known to be a mecca for old gay men.

Now, I guess it wasn’t a truly perfect day, since I didn’t met any silver foxes. But there was one or two piece of old man eye candy for me to look at. There were also a few crazies for me to people watch.

After a few rounds I was on my way back home, but not before stopping for that perfect late-night, slightly-drunk piece of cheese pizza that is essential before getting on the train.

Once home, I really should have gone to bed, but it was a good TV night, so I allowed myself one show (Top Chef) from my DVR. I fell asleep twice trying to watch the last 5 minutes, which is always sort of an oddly comforting feeling. Like the TV is watching over me.

Truly, the non-existent Lord couldn’t have ordered up a better day.

I heart Wednesdays!

DAY 209: Shit Cookies!

Tonight Jeffrey and I hosted a “Get Baked & Bake” party with his straight couple (Jon and Soph) and my straight couple (Jeannie and A. Rod.) It was like a double date, but with six people.

But before company came over, disaster in the form of a toilet tornado struck at 947 Bedford Ave.

Our toilet has been a ticking time bomb for the past few months. Every time you flush, you have to say a little pray that everything will go down. Well this morning, Jeffrey forget his prayers. Which means that he got to spend the rest of his afternoon cleaning up Shitsville, USA.

I did my part to help, I ran to Home Depot to buy a toilet snake. Except the toilet snakes were called augers, and they cost anywhere from $60-$120. So instead I grabbed a sink snake and a new plunger.

At the register I got into a fight with the cashier, who tried to tell me that she couldn’t sell me the snake, because it didn’t have a barcode. As we waited 5+ minutes for a price check, the cashier looked at me and said, “I hope your not upset. You seem upset.” I wanted to explain to her the it was my shitter, not her that I was mad at… but I just didn’t feel comfortable having potty talk with my local Home Depot cashier.

Back at the house, Jeffrey went through a 12 step process to clean the bathroom, emerging every once in awhile for fresh air, and to chat with our guests, who were told to use their bathroom at home before coming over.

Once all the shit was back in the toilet where it belonged, it was cookie time! I had decided to save my pot cookie until after all the mixing was done, which was a wise decision since, even sober, I was having problems following the directions. For the frosting, I tried to add 7 cups of milk, when the recipe called for 7 tablespoons. Oops. Me stupid.

Jeannie and I finally had a chance to use all the random cookie cutters that I had bought us for Christmas: a giraffe, the state of MN, a wiener dog, a howler monkey, a fire hydrant. I also had a lot of seasonal cookie cutter that we got creative with.

Jeannie turned her witch into Smurfette:

A. Rod made his tombstone into a tongue and mustache:

Our “Get Baked & Bake” party was a success, but it also taught us an important life lesson: Never put that much sugar in front of a bunch of stoned people. We all overdid it and went into an immediate diabetic sugar coma.

And now back to more poop talk:

After I took those pictures, we were flipping through Jeffrey’s camera to look at them, and we came across some pictures that Jeffrey took of the clogged toilet. Siiiiicccccccckkkk.

I was thinking about linking one of those pics on here, because I know that some of my readers (Alexa) would want to see it… But no matter how funny I think poop is, I’ve decided to keep whatever little dignity I have left on this blog.

(For the curious, just imagine what shit soup would look like, and then multiple that by 1,000,000.)

Mmmmmmm, shit & cookies.

DAY 165: Scavengers!

Tonight was Jeffrey’s Faux-Hipster B’day Extravaganza, which was comprised of dinner at Sea, a crazy scavenger hunt, and the back room at the Alligator Lounge.

Here are some pics my team winning the scavenger hunt:

Have your picture taken with a group of “lame girls”:

We told them we needed a picture taken with a group of “pretty girls.”

Fall Asleep On The L Train:

Someone stick a dick in that mouth!

Pose With Phallic-Shaped Fruit:


These girls have one thing on their mind: Healthy Eating!

Get A Kiss From The Creepy Managers At Trader Joe’s:

Way to take one for the team ladies!

Rock Out At The Virgin Mega Store:

I wasn’t even listen to anything, that’s how good of an improviser I am!

Union Square Pyramid:

My cheerleader fantasy come true!

Group Photo In The Bathroom At Metropolitan:

Say gloryhole!

Celebrate Your Team’s Victory:

Jealous?

Sadly, we failed in getting the following pictures:
*A Mullet
*Lesbians Making Funny Faces
*A Group Of Asians Giving The Peace Sign

But at least we got this gem…

Look Crazy While Holding A Banana, With Confused Old People In The Background:

HAPPY B’DAY JEFFREY!