Y esterday I went to my college’s Spring Fest. It wasn’t as much fun as I expected it to be - even with all the alcohol (only 3 beers and a cocktail- I was driving) I consumed - spring fest turned into a boring underage college dorm orgy.
The Pearl (ex girlfriend ) was there I was obliged to be nice and attempt to talk to her bimbo-ish brain. It was with great effort really. We stopped talking 2 weeks ago because of her ways to make me feel inferior to her. So 2 weeks ago, we were having a conversation about my neighbors’ Bentley which got flooded due to the Nor-Easter and she interrupted me and said “ Don’t you live in the ghetto? How can someone who lives next door to you have a Bentley?“ It really hit me in the heart because I knew that she wasn’t joking and because she thinks my parents are poor. The thing about her is that anyone who is financially below her is poor. Mind you, my parents are doctors - they drive nice cars and my house is nice. But because I live in NJ and I am approximately 10 minutes from the train I am considered poor. I was shocked that someone who supposedly loved me, who considered me one of her best friends and wants me to be part of her life but she treats me like shit - really. You might think the argument may be childish on my part but you really have to know her to understand where I am coming from. She is selfish and wants everyone to bow at her feet and follow her. What she doesn’t know is that no one listens to half the bullshit that comes out of her mouth.
As much as I shouldn’t be upset about it, it really hit home to me and so I decided to cut all ties with her. I have yet received an apology from her.
Back to the Spring Fest. I spent half my time debating whether I should leave or not. One-because the pearl was there and two - she was trying really hard to upset me by whoring herself out to some girl who had no interest in her and the worst thing is, the Pearl would never-in a million years talk to that poor girl. She was an easy target. I wasn’t upset that she was trying to hook up with my friend, I was upset that she was trying to get me to be mad. Well also- because she was whoring herself out to any poor straight girl I knew.
I am absolutely not a horrible ex-girlfriend. I don’t talk trash about them, I don’t treat them like they are nobody and I don’t act like I am better than them. There was a reason I went out with them and there was a reason the relationship ended. I don’t know if it is my personality or that’s the kind of person I am, or the fact that I am matured about situations like these or I am a genuine person.
Unfortunately, the Pearl brings the worst in me. She insults me in front of my friends and her friends and I just stand there - because there is one thing I learned in therapy and that is, controlling how I feel and not projecting hurtful feelings towards other people.
On my drive back home, all I kept thinking was how much I fucking hate the character she portrays to the outside world. I hate the way she talks to me, I hate the way she feels towards me and I hate the way she makes me feel afterwards.
All I really wanted to say to her was - “shut the fuck up, you selfish fucking bitch. No one is paying attention to your drunk ass, go home you slut.” I know it’s mean and this is why I would NEVER say it to her. But that’s how I feel.
She is the same girl who cheated on me three times - possibly more. I am the fucking idiot who runs back to her because she was my best friend before anything happened between us and I didn’t want to lose her.
And so now, she is no longer my friend.
This morning I woke up and noticed that she had called me twice.
Ignoring her and pretending she never existed is better than having to talk to her and hearing how selfish (along with a lot of other words) she really is.
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T here is one thing that I enjoy getting in the mail these days besides coupons for my cigarettes, is my college magazine. It is where I have to read paragraphs after paragraphs about the graduates of the class of 2005 and the years and years below who are off doing spectacularly amazing things. I.e.: X '95 is currently Chief of Neurology at New York Presbyterian Hospital. X is currently engaged to Y (Yale '93) who is a lawyer at “idontgiveafuck”. Or to see who the hell is knocked up or dead.
I always proclaimed out loud, “what a total kiss ass bitch she/he is!!” within the first few pages. It is almost addictive as the New York Times Sunday wedding announcements. Yes – I do read them.
They probably email the alum office and say something like this:
“Good Evening/Morning Madam,
I would like to Announce to the Alumni Committee that I am chief of the neurology dept here at NYPH and I’ve graduated top of my class from Cornell with a quadruple-masters in blah blah blah and I’d like to be featured on your cover. Would you mind printing my name in bold – extra large Trebuchet MS and capitalize all letters in CHIEF OF NEUROLOGY DEPT AT NYPH? If I can be of any help during commencement, please do not hesitate to ring me. Thank you
Best,
Dr. Leslie B. DDS. RN. A.S.S. (Whatever they have after their names to sound smart)”
I’m sure the email is super long and describes whatever they do every day and probably embellish a whole lot to make it sound appealing to the future grads like they give a F**K.I have toyed with the idea of fucking with the editor of the magazine and pulling a sort of Romy and Michelle's by faking something totally outrageous. But since the editor is someone I interned for during my college years AND the school is Nun infested and I sure don’t want to be banished to hell. Well nevermind, since i'm already on my way there.Yet secretly, despite my mockeries of the alumni magazine, I know I’ve yearned to see my name in the spotlight... but not for something lame.
Posted in:
Magazines,
Random Musings
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Wednesday, April 25, 2007
H i my name is NYC.Lezzie and I am a facebook addict.
I never imagined how much I loved facebook until I “mistakenly” deactivated my account and couldn’t get back on because I changed my email and whatever. It’s a long story. But I have time and I’m sure you do too. So here brace yourself. Since the gym addict (an ex) added me as her “in a relationship with …” I began to receive messages from my boarding school friends. And let me tell ya…they were not good messages. So to avoid all drama, I deactivated my account and now that the Gym Addict and I broke up, I signed back on and to my surprise her name was expunged. I am as out as Ellen D. but there are people from my past (boarding school rich fucks) whom I cannot disclose my sexual orientation to.
My addiction is there and it has resurfaced. I began to scrutinize through my friends to see who is dating whom, who is fucking whom, who is an alkie or who is a slut. To my findings, more people have become preggers and popped out babies like condoms/birth control never existed in America. Seriously, find some food wrap plastic thingy and wrap the ding dong to its fullest.
But anyway, pregnancy is an epidemic. Really. If one friend gets pregnant, all the other girlfriends get preggers. I’ve noticed that in a group of friends, the one person I thought would never get herself in that trouble because she was so smart and pretty and slim and now she’s a mother, not so pretty and she gain major major weight. The gaining weight part when carrying babies is one of the reasons why I do not want to be inseminated. I remember telling my mother– she was devastated, not only because I was 6 or 7 but also because she knew that no grandchildren would be coming out of my vag.
So it has been almost 5 months since I “accidentally” deactivated my account and 4 of my classmates have popped babies. I never noticed any of them were growing. Oh silly me. I should have known when I saw pictures of them.
Since I got my account back up yesterday, I have been stalking my friends’ profiles and sort of update myself on what they are doing with their lives (thus, no entry was written yesterday). Basically – who’s come out of the closet. So far- just one.
Posted in:
Facebook,
Random Musings
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T exting early in the morning is great - espacially when it involves someone I am truly fond of - The BestestMe: We have a date at 6pm.The Bestest: I broke up with you since fridayMe: I was busyThe Bestest: what don't you understand? I don't want youMe: come on stop it, I'm on the transit, I don't want people to see me cry.The Bestest: ok fine - I do feel bad for you. lol
Posted in:
Random Musings
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L ast night I attended a gallery opening of a family friend. Overall rating – 7. Is it so wrong of me to critique his art poorly? It isn’t my style but I like it a little bit. The reason really is not his art per se, but the curator itself. The canvases were not properly positioned and too much direct light affected some of the artwork.
I am always fashionably late at these kinds of events because I want people to see me when I walk in (it might be a Gemini thing) and I want the second rounds of fresh shrimp and cheese and other hors-d’oeuves. I feel as though, the first round is not so fresh because the waiters end up walking aimlessly around the gallery, trying to force feed some of the anorexic ladies and the second rounds means that – YES it is a mouth-watering and people want more.
I walked in, 30 minutes late and NO waiters, no bartenders – self-service. Who are they kidding? The cheap bastard told me that it wasn’t in the budget. Then I suggested next time he should get some of his students (He teaches art history at NYU) to do the work. I saw the entire gallery in less than 20 minutes. I was not impressed with the elephant head and the penises all over the painting. I will admit the cool thing about it was that you really had to look into the picture to see them- it was very graphic design[ish].
I left my parents there and met up with the architect for a quick happy hour. All I have to say is that it was quick. I was in bed 10p.
So this weekend I will be doing the following:
Friday – I want to stay low-key. A beer [or two] and a movie. I absolutely love Fridays because I like staying home and get my sleep on for Saturday nights.
Saturday – I am heading down to Sandy Hook with my dogs…they love going to the beach and in the evening I will be at several bars, no bars are confirmed. A little madness is planned. Trust me.
Sunday – Brunch with the Writer in Soho. Perhaps some window-shopping on 5th because I am too broke to even buy a key holder from Louis Vuitton.
It may not sound so eventful but between shopping and drinking I get tired. Don’t worry, I always make time for my yoga.
Posted in:
Drinking,
Outings
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Wednesday, April 18, 2007
T his past Saturday I decided to venture out to some wine and beer spots in the west village with the publicist. I know I know…she’s a crazy lady but there is something about her that just drives me crazy. It might be the italian in her. I don’t know.Well, last night we were drinking wine and making out (somehow, wine and make-out sessions are steamy) and for some unknown, unconscious, uncontrollable, unfortunate reason, she blurted out "I love you." I flinched, but pretended not to hear. we finished the wine. The vibe was weird. She wanted to disappear. Well more like, I wanted to disappear. What a crazy fuck? What? I’ve gone out with her maybe 4 times…the lesbian joke with the uhaul truck holds some truth to it.I mean, I've had passionate moments like that, where I'm like "don't say I love you, don't say I love you." But usually that means you don't say I love you. It just means that you are drunk off your ass and you are thinking with your lips rather than your brain. And so last night, I decided to meet up with the Model. I was disappointed – he is a fun guy to hang with, but he only attracts men and whats the use? I thought hey…pretty model guy + pretty model ladies = me having lots and lots of fun. Then an hour after the model and I got there, some broad brushed up against me and asked if she can buy me a drink. First it is always –always no possible way that some random blonde would just buy me a drink at a straight bar when she obviously has no idea that I like pretty little things. Unless she wanted a threesome. Hey she did make out with the Model. Since the Model was busy, I looked around for my own prey. I stumbled upon this actress (UNEMPLOYED) who happened to be jobless but was at the bar with a couple of her friends (lezzies) and I quickly said buh bye to the Model and made myself available. I am like a Lezzie Magnet I tell ya.Later on my evening, the one girl that I thought was the carbon copy of a young J. Biel dissapointed me with some heartbreaking news. Wait, I am NOT a snob and can say from the heart that a woman’s job, wallet size or social status does not impress me (ok sometimes). But I'm also a girl who knows that there's nothing worse than being with a lazy woman....or a mooch! And she unashamedly admitted that she was both! That was a stab in the heart – I kid you not. She is under "mooch" on my Bberry.
But I feel like I'm being shallow. My philosophy has always been Live and let live. So why am I not giving this girl a chance, right? I always admire those who live on just nothing and they always seem happier without the hectic New Yorker life. I know it sounds like my life is a little girl crazy, but isn't that what being single is all about? Taste a little of this, a little of that? Sometimes though, I wonder if my mind is not all over the New York City with this one and that one maybe I’m not built to be in a relationship or maybe I just need to focus and stay focused.
Posted in:
Dates,
Drinking,
Ladies,
Outings,
Relationships
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A bout a month ago I went to see a therapist. Don’t judge me. Now, I don’t mock people who seek help or the session itself. I haven’t gone to see a therapist since College – long story short, someone made me go, she thought I needed to let things air out. These days, therapy is a la mode. Everyone sees one – at least once. Don’t deny. But I thought, after college I didn’t think I needed professional help to analyze my drama. Usually I am pretty self-aware and usually work out my own shit on my own. Any therapist would say that is the worst thing you can possibly do.
But Lately, I started to suspect that things in my past might be affecting me in a calculated field of my life. AND since I had recently done my benefits for the new year and noticed that I am covered for X amount of visits at a therapist or psychologist ( I wouldn’t go there- it would really mean I have issues) I jumped on the therapist wagon and opt for a session with an Upper West Side therapist. I’ll call her D.Dr. D's office seemed like any good ole apartment in Manhattan…a little crowded, a little stuffy; book shelves everywhere and no pictures. As soon as I sat down, she said to talk. So I go on and tell her about my concern and that it may affect my daily routines. I talked and analyzed my own shit, I basically did her work, but I am sure all therapy sessions are like that. More like… “Hey, talk, you are the idiot for sitting here and spending 500 bucks an hour when you obviously know where your problems are coming from”.
The hour went by rather quickly. She fired lots of questions and I utterly responded with pure honesty. There were moments though where we would stare at each other. Awkward moments.
As soon as our chitchat time was up she asked if I wanted to come back and I said, “should I come back? Are you telling me something here?” and she replied “no no no” and so I got up and said, “ok then, I think I am done here”.
The good thing about this little therapy trip is that I found out that I am not a crazy fuck and trust me it was a big load off my shoulders. So I should take the time and thank Dr. D. Thank you, Dr. D.
Posted in:
New Start,
Outings,
Random Musings
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