Confessions.of.a.NYC.Lezie

Along the deep constricted path of life, it allows us to meet, appreciate and love a lot of people. It obliges us also, to develop relationships with others. They either grow along the way or fall like rotten fruits.

Nothing is lost; all is used at one point.

Sometimes after many years, we find ourselves either misplaced or astonish and happy to have grown in parallels.

So…

I have the impressions that I have to fight to keep the friends I had during my college years. Our paths have separated inexorably.

What is left of them (for me)? And here I am alone…alone in this situation.

I also have the impression that I have done a lot of things wrong and I deserve what is happening to me today. But in fact, I have an extraordinary Family and other friends I have made throughout my years of existence…but…well…

Am I responsible for the things that are changing?

Should I continue to get hurt whenever I hear from them when in fact they hurt me even more without even knowing? How about not bringing up the “hurt” subject because it makes us both uncomfortable?

Should I, in contrary try to make amends, or try to reconcile my relationship with them?

These are questions I often ask myself. Somehow, I can’t even answer my own questions.

Pathetic.

Yesterday morning I booked my round trip flight on Orbitz and in this world of heightened security, my flight needs to be confirmed by the airline.

So I am flightless as I wait for Virgin to confirm that I am not a terrorist.

On that note, let me share a funny dream I had last night that made me smile when I woke up this morning:

I was at the airport waiting for my flight at one of those chained restaurants with a bar (Applebee’s? TGIF? Unos? Like always, my flight was delayed and the only thing that seemed perfectly fine (logical) for me to do was to grab an appetizer and 1 drink while my Virgin arrived.

For some odd reason, I was a virgin (not the plane but sex challenged). I was at the bar when she (I wont say whom, because it was embarrassing) sat next to me and ordered the same drink. We talked and talked and got loaded. As luck would have it, we noticed that we were sitting a few rows away from each other.

When we boarded the airplane, we asked a woman if we could switch seats so we could sit next to each other, to continue the conversation. We order more drinks and continue to chat. The lights in the cabin grow dim, and we are getting drunker. She puts a blanket over us and starts to lightly touch my leg. Now, I could say that I had no idea, but that would be bullshit. I wanted to see how far it would go. Her hand moved up to my breast and she began to kiss me. Between sips of our vodka tonics, her hand ventures into my pants and she feel that I have a Brazilian.

She invites me into the bathroom to join her and the mile high club. I turn her down. I was a virgin and didn't feel like losing my virginity over a toilet at 37,000 ft. She went to the bathroom, and waited for me. And returned all disapointed. I fell asleep with my head on the window after she returned to her seat.It seemed like It was one of the biggest regrets of my life. I mean, how fucking poetic would that have been? Losing my virginity on Virgin Atlantic.

Let's hope this trip will have the same luck.

Yesterday morning I booked my round trip flight on Orbitz and in this world of heightened security, my flight needs to be confirmed by the airline.

So I am flightless as I wait for Virgin to confirm that I am not a terrorist.

On that note, let me share a funny dream I had last night that made me smile when I woke up this morning:

I was at the airport waiting for my flight at one of those chained restaurants with a bar (Applebee’s? TGIF? Unos? Like always, my flight was delayed and the only thing that seemed perfectly fine (logical) for me to do was to grab an appetizer and 1 drink while my Virgin arrived.

For some odd reason, I was a virgin (not the plane but sex challenged). I was at the bar when she (I wont say whom, because it was embarrassing) sat next to me and ordered the same drink. We talked and talked and got loaded. As luck would have it, we noticed that we were sitting a few rows away from each other.

When we boarded the airplane, we asked a woman if we could switch seats so we could sit next to each other, to continue the conversation. We order more drinks and continue to chat. The lights in the cabin grow dim, and we are getting drunker. She puts a blanket over us and starts to lightly touch my leg. Now, I could say that I had no idea, but that would be bullshit. I wanted to see how far it would go. Her hand moved up to my breast and she began to kiss me. Between sips of our vodka tonics, her hand ventures into my pants and she feel that I have a Brazilian.

She invites me into the bathroom to join her and the mile high club. I turn her down. I was a virgin and didn't feel like losing my virginity over a toilet at 37,000 ft. She went to the bathroom, and waited for me. And returned all disapointed. I fell asleep with my head on the window after she returned to her seat.It seemed like It was one of the biggest regrets of my life. I mean, how fucking poetic would that have been? Losing my virginity on Virgin Atlantic.

Let's hope this trip will have the same luck.

My weekend was spent with the family, peaceful for once sans the bickering.

I actually saw and spent time with the entities that gave birth to me this weekend, something that doesn’t happen too often since accessing them is similar to trying to get a direct call into the President. They travel frequently. They work a lot. They have a lot of phones. By a lot I mean like three each. A completely futile system since they never seem to answer any of them, and when I call I’m never sure if the cell’s going to ring American style or beep and inform me that they’re in Europe or go static and inform me they’re probably in Haiti and I should use the Haitian mobile number I’ve failed to program into my phone despite the fact that I’ve had it for over seven years. Don’t get me wrong; we all love each other (with the assistance of consistent therapy). Our paths just don’t cross as much as some ‘more normal’ families (in my words) probably do.

On Friday night (our actual family movie night) we watched The Reaping. It was good. Profound. Excellent directorial skills. I am not a huge fan of Hillary Swank, but she was cute and even did an amazing job with her role. Watching that movie sparked my interest in getting a Bible. I know I know.

I am not one of those super freak Catholics who believe everything in the Bible. I am though, a believer. I have faith. I always said that I didn’t agree with the church (The Catholic Church is one of richest in the world) but there is not a doubt that there is something out there that is bigger than all of us. Heck, I don’t even know all Rosary prayers and I went to a Catholic Boarding school. It’s to tell you that I could care less about what’s written in the Bible. I read some of the passages as just plain literary work – a story, a tale, and folklore. I am not someone who believes that everything that is written in our sacred book is REAL.

Saturday, I ventured into Barnes and bought myself a Bible. I still haven’t opened it. It is still wrapped up in the B&N bag with the receipt in it.

Also, Saturday I visited some houses in Saddle River – NJ. My parents are looking into buying a new home – a bigger home (as though, our 6 bedroom house wasn’t big enough). They are secretly trying to keep my siblings and I under their roofs until we can escape by marrying someone (eww) or be a homo (brave) and move out.

Sunday was the Breast Cancer Walk. 3 People stopped me (at different times) and thought I was Eva Pigford. When I had my hair really short, people always asked for an autograph. I used to get really upset because I am unique – duh. But really, yesterday I had my hair in this little messy bun with a scarf and looked absolutely cute in my outfit. I do look like her but I can only see it when she is profile. But my skin isn’t dark like hers – she’s black, I’m half. – Actually I don’t know if she is. Nonetheless, she is dark and I am not. Although I should say that she does have a nice color, which I envy during the cold winters, when I am as white as Casper (our friendly Ghost).

I am sure all of you have seen her show on MTV, or at least you’ve seen the previews. I have never been a huge fan of Tila, although she is cute in her own little “slutty” way but she is just someone I’d sleep with and not call the next day – ok I take it back, I’d go for seconds and that would be it. I swear.

I’ve noticed that there are only two dykes (I wouldn’t really say dykes – rather butch) and a dozen of feminine –bleached fake rocker looking girls with silicone tits and porn star attitude. Even the one girl who claims she’s a virgin. MY ASS. She looks like she’s into some crazy shit – like dominatrix. The one girl whom I’ve instantly fallen for is this half-breed. She is totally not a knockout but she is sweet (although in the next episode, Tila catches her making out with some other chick). If you’ve seen the first episode, she was the one with the angel outfit. Remember the cartoon with the wolf when he gets excited, his tongue rolls out of his mouth and his eyes pop out of his head – yeah. Enough

Now now, hold your horses. I need to talk about the two dykes. Dyke #1. I’ll call her Shane wannabe. From the hair to the way she handles herself – purely Shane. I don’t have a problem with her, except when Tila asked the girl to wear an outfit that describes them (or something like that, it may have been “find the dirtiest outfit you can find” and this Shane wannabe comes down the runway in some Hugh Heffner type of robe and a Fedora Hat. I’m positive there are little Lezies out there who found Shane wannabe a total knockout. I didn’t. I wasn’t impressed at all.

Dyke #2 was fucking hot. A lot of people who know me would be checking my temperature right this minute. I don’t really do “dykes” per se or Butch ladies. Lets call her, Your so hot I Wanna Know Ya - aka YSHIWKY. There is something about her. AND when YSHIWKY came down the runway, she had her firefighter pants on and she looked amazing. Wow. Ok, I think I should stop.

Dyke #1 went home this week. Hopefully Dyke #2 stays for a very long time. But Tila said it herself that she is more attracted to the feminine ones. Well Tila, if you don’t want Dyke #2, I will gladly take her under my sheets. wings.

Since I am still too sick to go out and party – pretty much the best excuse I’ve given everyone who invited me out the past two weeks (it worked so far), I’ve resorted to the next best thing – stalking my friends’ online albums for pictures of myself. Sound pitiable? It is. I’ll be the first to admit it. I came across a bunch of pictures taken almost a year ago and to my disappointment found that I look absolutely atrocious in every single one and no, I am not giving you the link.

Usually these so called-professional (my friends) photographer people take good photos. Usually I’m out in a place that’s dark enough with such an impressive but minimal make-up on that I always come across looking acceptable. Usually, I pass for having a sense of style.Not on the night these photos were taken.First of all, I’m wearing a top and leggings that don’t match. Two, the top isn’t a top anyone should wear with leggings. Three, I’m way shiny, and silly, and look lost. Four, my hair looks drier than hay.

At the particular party where these photos where taken, there happened to also be in attendance a young woman I especially dislike. Everyone has people in this world we scribble on our imaginary hit list, either because they trash talk our friends, are clueless about proper social behavior, are extremely desirable, or have fucked the girl we like (in my case with this woman, all four). The worst part about this group of online photos is that however much I look awful, my nemesis looks fabulous.

She’s a knockout in every frame! I’d say we’re tied for the number of photo opts, but while I look remarkably unwanted, she’s glowing like a model straight from a Maxim cover. Her outfit was also casual, classy, and…perfect.Guess you can’t win ‘em all.

I don't know for you, but I hate calling the Boss early in the morning and telling him that i will not be coming in. Seriously can NOT do it. This morning though, I woke up extra early, snoozed like 10 times and debated whether I should call or not. No i wasn't really sick, I wasn't hung over...I just didn't feel like going to work.

I woke up at 6am, snoozed until 7 and decided at 730am that i wasn't going in. I called the Boss and said:

"Hi (Boss's name) I hate to tell ya, I will not be able to come in today, (fake cough) I woke up with a terrible cough and I really (cough) don't want to infest anyone at work. It is best that i stay home and watch lifetime and sip on really really hot tea with lemon. Call me if you need anything (cough)"


I am pretty sure he laughed or not. yikes! I'll find out tomorrow.

I have (i think) a few excuses for my voicemail or the fact really that i didn't want to show up to work. Since i have a gazillion vacation days left, I have to used them . I don't think I mentioned here or not about my vacation in December. no? OK. well, I practically have the entire the month of November and December off. I am heading to South America with the siblings for a week and a few days (all paid for by my wonderful parents) and I when i come back i am doing a little tour of backpacking through Spain (only two weeks).

Even with all the days that i have taken off for my trips I have about 10days left. the worst thing is that they don't carry over for next year, so i either lose them or i have to figure out how i am going to use all 10 days before December 31st.

anyway, yeah. I am going to drink some tea with some lemon now.