Friday Fun*

Enjoy the (almost) 1:30 of Muppetastic silliness to get your weekend started with a smile. Bonus Statler & Waldorf appearance at the end!

*with apologies to the late Georges Bizet.

Tougher than I thought...

No, I still haven't said the L word. Gah. I was perplexed by my own reticence until it ("it" being The Obvious--I've even mentioned it in passing and yet the implications avoided me) struck me a few minutes ago....I've never SAID IT FIRST. Now I know why...IT'S SO MUCH SCARIER THAT WAY!!!

Every time I've almost said it, the word has lodged in my throat, blocked by fear, nervousness and more fear. I tell myself in my head that it's no big deal---this is how I feel, and if he doesn't feel the same, it won't be the end of the world. Life will go on. The world, on its axis, blah blah BLAHHH. I'll say it with no expectations of him reciprocating. And yet, none of that spurs me to action. To words. To those THREE words. I'll open my mouth, all set to say IT, those three tiny words fraught with SO MUCH, and nothing will escape my lips. Air hangs in my mouth. His eyebrows raise slowly, expectantly. And I say...nothing. Or "Never mind," or "I forgot what I was going to say (liar liar pants on FIRE)." Kevin might suspect that I'm having a series of mini-strokes.

Where's the risk in returning an "I love you?" There IS NONE! I liked it better that way.

Yours Truly,

Chicken Little

(Insert Excuse Here)

No, I haven’t retired from blogging or fled the country with my new job earnings. I’ve just been so damn tired/busy, and my laptop died again, leaving only my cumbersome PC available, and (fill in the excuse blank here).

Ahem.

The new job has been a roller coaster; mostly fun, sometimes terrifying. I think I am catching on quickly, but there are still days when folks will speak of posting to ftp sites and start using these acronyms I don’t (yet) understand, everyone nodding in agreement and clarity (including bewildered old me). That’s when I feel my heartbeat pick up and the beads of sweat start forming on my forehead...and then I glance surreptitiously around the room to see if anyone else can hear the pounding of my panicked pulse. So far, so good. No one has slammed his fists on a desk and shouted “Why are you still HERE!?”

While the job is crazy and yet fun (people here are SO. FREAKING. NICE), weekends have been even more awesome. I’ve spent the last 2 (or 3?) in Long Island with Kevin and his family. It hasn’t even been overwhelming—it’s just been fun! Last weekend was the best by far; we played tennis for 2 hours (okay, that was less fun by the time the 2 hour mark arrived) with my new tennis racket, we spent a lot of time in the pool, we relaxed, we slept in, and Kevin’s youngest nieces seem to be warming up to me quite a bit (the older nieces have already decided I’m fun ;)

This past Saturday night simply went beyond my expectations, with the most romantic moment being topped off with an ACTUAL fireworks display exploding overhead. It was so perfectly timed it almost felt like a soundstage. Awesome. I'll be reliving that moment for quite a while.

Tonight we’re going to one of my favorite restaurants. I told Kevin I’m taking HIM out, so he should leave his wallet at home and bring his appetite. I have slightly elevated expectations for tonight, but that’s all I’m going to say for now. Except that my boyfriend is adorable and I can’t stop wanting to SQUEEZE HIM!

I apologize--being twitterpated apparently spurs me to write in sentence fragments. ;)

The L Word

So this little but powerful word has almost slipped from my lips SO. MANY. TIMES in the past few months. It actually struck me this one magical night when Kevin and I were with Sara and Mike, making our way through the Taste of New York (a night of wine and food sampling). I remember leading the way through the crowd for Kevin (who HATES crowds, so I know it was a big deal for him to be there). I felt almost like we both gained such a huge amount of trust in each other--I led him through the crowd the first half of the night, with him switching places and leading the way the second half. I just knew that as I held his hand, I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world. As I wrapped my arms around his waist and talked about whatever we were tasting, I didn't want to be sharing it with anyone else. That night just exists in my memory inside some beautiful golden glow. He and I have both talked about how that night was a sort of 'turning point' in our relationship.

Now I find myself pushing that word to the back of my throat. It has almost come out during the most mundane of moments...as we lazed on the beach in Long Island, as we drove together through Brooklyn...and most recently, as I kissed him goodbye in Penn Station last Saturday, me heading off with Sara to NJ (to see her play which she choreographed--my friends are such rock stars) and him heading to LI. I almost chirped "Love you!" after kissing (and hugging) him goodbye.

Yikes! That's not how I want it to happen...is it?

In the three times in my short life that I have said the "L" word (even if now I only think 2 of those really count), I have always let the man say it first. I believe, for the most part, it's best to let the man lead the way (yeah, go to the back of the line, Ms. Steinem). And yet part of me thinks that Kevin is waiting for ME to say it first; that he was so badly burned by the last girlfriend (an aspiring actress--cough) that he's hoping I'LL say it first. Gah. What to do?

Then I start doing what I do best and worst: overanalyzing. Do I tell him now? Do I wait for a perfect moment? Do I wait for a completely ordinary moment? Do I wait???

Dear Readers, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Also, feel free to share YOUR stories of the first "L" word admission in your own love lives.

Mwah.

Forever Friendships

Thanks to my friend Carlota for giving me a heads-up that this video (which made me sniffle at my new job, thank you very much) was on CuteOverload.com. What a cool story--cool clip--and I hope you enjoy it. :) I recommend you have some Kleenex ready if you're as tear-prone as I am. Oh...and here's more info on the true story.

Nasty Neighbor

Kevin dropped me off around midnight last night/this morning, and I waited patiently at my elevator, content from a day of being at the beach, in the pool, and just all-around relaxing. I noticed the elevator was coming all the way down from the 6th floor, and knew it meant about a 20 second wait. No problem. I rocked back and forth on my feet and just waited. As the elevator reached the ground floor, dinging but not yet opening its doors, I heard a 'SPLOOSH.' I knew that wasn't a good sound.

The doors parted, and there was one of my neighbors from F14, propping up his taller, drunker, douchier friend. This 'friend' had just barfed INSIDE THE ELEVATOR. The neighbor just LOOKED at me. No comment, no "I'm sorry" or 'Watch out, there's beer-soaked vomit all over here," and CERTAINLY no "Don't worry, I'll clean that up soon." Uh uh. The other elevator was being held on another floor, so I just shlepped all my stuff up six flights of stairs, cursing that jackass and his drunk friend the whole way up there. After a night's sleep, I'm even MORE pissed, because I stepped on my elevator at 9 this morning and the same vomit was STILL there, just drier and crustier. Yack.

Gentle (and not-so-gentle) readers, I'd love to hear suggestions on what to do. I'm TOTALLY okay with telling the super who and what happened...he loves me and knows I'm trustworthy..and that I keep my apartment clean, dammit, as WELL as public areas. But somehow, that doesn't seem to be enough. Do I knock on his door and ask him what he's going to do about that? Leave a bitchy note? Just call the building managers? Leave cat poop in front of HIS door???? Please share your thoughts. I'm normally not out for blood like this, but the man LET IT HAPPEN RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND THEN DID NOTHING.

Oh, it is ON.

FAIL.

I didn't get anywhere NEAR wrecked last night. It was a fun party, but the room was hot as hell. Ugh. If I'm in a gym, I don't mind sweating buckets. If I'm trying to make small talk with former coworkers, I totally do. I had 3 or 4 margaritas and 2 shots (red-headed slut-ahem-- and grey goose pear--yow) over the course of 4 hours. Oh..and this crazy good vegetable dip and maybe half a pound of sliced peppers, celery, cucumber and carrots..I waited until AFTER I rode the mechanical bull to eat the birthday cake (enjoy the unflattering yet still hilarious shot below of me yee-hawing on the bull last night). I got home around 1130, was snoring by midnight, and then woke up every hour from 5am to 9am, because I was so sure I would oversleep.

I also considered, in a moment of self-censoring on the way home last night, deleting the entire previous post because it just sounded so damn juvenile...but hey, it is what it is. And I'm stone cold sober...despite the shots (such as the one I have in this pic with my friend Ashleigh). My friend (and now coworker) Holly appears to be more wrecked than I am, but that was probably her starter of Jameson's.

Better luck next time. ;)

Premeditated Partying

My friend Beth turns 30 today. We're having a party at Johnny Utah's, and everyone is so. excited. It's really one of the first big deals since we all left the Montel show. I myself need a drink like a hobo needs a shower, and I realized moments ago that I have every intention of getting sh*tfaced at this open bar. Yeah, you heard me. I had no job for almost 2 months, some weird moments in my dating life, some uncertainty in other relationships, and everything seems to have worked out so damn well that I have every intention of driving that bartender nuts. He'll wonder if I'm a twin or a triplet by the time the night's over, and I'll probably think the same of him (but for totally different reasons).

I was always the 'good kid' growing up. What with my father's alcoholism (yeah, one of the few irish who admitted it!) and my mother's 'scared straight' child-rearing tactics, I grew up afraid to do anything wrong, sure that the slightest slip would send me straight to hell or the ICU (or, both). I really never drank in high school.. or college..in fact, the first alcoholic drink I ordered was a green apple martini (yes, I said it) at the Bronx bar in Houston, TX, 2000. We went there all the time because my future roommate and I wanted to live in NYC, and we thought that name was just perfect (even though we ended up being Manhattan and then Brooklyn girls).

I probably shouldn't type this out loud, but I've yet to have a hangover (granted I've only been drinking for about 6 years, but that just sounds braggy. I don't mean it to sound braggy). I've thrown up twice in my life from drinking too much (once after a 2 hour gym session and no food--STUPID STUPID STUPID...barfing like a college coed at a subway station--let's not go there) and once.. well, at Beth's birthday trip last year. Wow. That full circle-ness just hit me. We had all driven up to Matunuck, RI (where Beth and I both spent some of our summers as kids---before we knew each other), and we decided that cold pizza and warm wine was a great idea at 11pm. I excused myself around 1, said I was going up to bed, summoned as much dignity and equilibrium as I could, and spent the next 25 minutes hurling into a bathroom with NO SOUNDPROOFING. Yeah. Everyone downstairs heard me. Every dry heave, every 'Mother of GOD, is it over yet?,' every courtesy flush, every awful second of it. And then I went to bed and woke up the next day, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and apparently having forgotten every horrifying second for almost a whole happy year, until 3 months ago, when our friend Amanda reminded me and it all came hurtling back.

Wow, I'm rambling today. Anyway...I said all that to say this--for the first time in a long time, I am setting out with the purpose to see just how much I can drink before someone pours me in a cab and sends me off to the East Village (where I am catsitting for Carlota this week). Thank Jebus for that...I'm not sure I could even make it up to Kevin's (near Columbia University).

We'll see how brilliant I think this idea is tomorrow.