Too much to ask?

lilthaichick: all I want is someone who loves me as much as I love myself
alan409: that's not gonna happen- you love yourself way too much

Another day in the life...

I love those moments where you have to take a step back and look at your life and say, "Is this really my life?" I have many of those. Or those moments where you say,"Is this really my job?" I had that moment when I was working in porn ... and when I was teaching dive lessons in Thailand... and when I was selling mangoes on the street... Today, again, I had that moment while I was sitting at my desk researching. A clown stopped by to show me a magic trick. And then we had a competition to see who could make the best funny face. (I won, of course). Last week, while researching pedophiles, I was asked to solve a math equation. This might be normal for some, but I am a writer and have repressed all memories of math- even simple addition and subtraction. It took me 30 minutes to find a pencil sharpener in the office- you can't "do math" without a #2 Pencil! Took me an additional two hours to solve the damn thing but by golly I got it! A few weeks before that, while sitting at my desk, all I could hear were cheers- like from an actual cheerleader. Well, she was a rent-a-cheerleader, but still. I love my job.

Last Friday

Upon waking up at 11am the first voice I heard was a message from yet another ex who decided we can no longer be friends. WTF? - The last voice I heard was at 8am on a train ride home when I sat down next to a man who said, "Excuse me, Miss? Miss? I just wanted to tell you that I smell really bad. I've been out clubbing and dancing all night and that's why I smell so bad. I just wanted to tell you." And he went back to sleep. (Smelling really bad was such an understatement- it was more like nose-hair singeing pungent sour milk glazed feet)

And so, you can just imagine the hours between 11am Friday- 8am Saturday- just the type of day I had. Work was really slow on top of the terrible night I was having. What is the answer to this problem? Alcohol of course! After mystery shots and dirty martinis, Brittany and I headed to PS- where we could continue getting shitfaced on a budget and also still be in our work attire. SDW was just getting off and informed us her boyfriend was at Touch spending 5K on bottles so we cabbed it on over- not without me flashing Park Ave Britney style of course. (Getting out of cabs in a skirt is NOT as easy as it looks!) We got to Touch and were told they weren't letting anymore people in because it was 3am. Seriously? So SDW pulled on of those, "My boyfriend is spending a lot of fucking money here, you better let us in." And it worked. We drank some more- Brittany and SDW got in more arguments with the bouncer (Tiny) who was rather hostile- I was way too drunk to speak- we decided to go to the diner-but not without Brittany making sure they knew it was not the last they would be hearing from us! Got to diner- one of the guys puts a bottle of vodka with a pour on the table. "Vat? I paid a lot of money for zeez! I'm going to fineez drinking zeez!" said SDW's boyfriend's German friend. Rock on. Waiter comes, giggle fits, "Hi can we have 3 large OJ's, 3 large cranberry juices, and 6 glasses of ice? Thanks!" And Brittany proceeds to make us very strong drinks while we dig into our eggs. Mmmm. While the night should have ended there- Ze Germans invited us to "Ze Party After" and while I was plenty liquored up and free alcohol is not that hard to come by, I still could not turn down free alcohol. So off to ze after party ve vent! More drinks, John Travolta dancing on TV, German pop hits in the background-I was reaching my limit and began to drift off. Must sleep- don't worry about me- everyone have a good time- just a few minutes please....zzzzzzz. Before I got too comfortable though, at 8am- Brittany and I decided to leave. We stepped out into the daylight, snow flurries blowing around, street workers just starting their days, as 2 girls clad in black and smeared makeup decided it was time to end theirs.

When Little Boys with Big Egos Met Nina

Ah the ongoing debate: Can men and women be friends? Just friends? I have always been a believer that yes it is possible for a guy and a girl to be just friends as I have many male friends who I've never dated and never will. Do they want to sleep with me? I'm sure if given the opportunity they wouldn't turn it down. But I'm also quite sure that if given the opportunity to sleep with 98% of women, they wouldn't turn that down either. So it's not that they're friends with me, pining away for the day we would fornicate, but just that they would take the chance if it was an option. Boys will be boys.

Lately though, I've been wondering if everyone else is right and I've been wrong all along. That it's just not possible. I had a friend, a so called friend, that I met through work. From the very beginning I made it very clear in numerous casual conversations that I had a boyfriend. And, no, it wasn't those situations where I was like, "I have a boyfriend," wink, wink, giggle, giggle, coy suggestive look, but I'm keeping my options open. No, never, not once. We've hung out a few times- those casual, "Hey, a bunch of us are going out for drinks, you want to join us?" hangouts- and the said friend admitted, after a few Jameson's on the rocks, that he had a little crush on me. I replied, with a sympathetic head tilt, "Listen, I've told you from the beginning I have a boyfriend and frankly I've never given you any reason to think that I was interested in you. If you can get the image of you and me between the sheets out of your head, I'd love to continue to be friends because I think you're wonderful, but only as a friend." While, he distanced himself a bit after this confession, I thought we had squashed it, and after he got over his embarrassment and bruised ego we would resume our friendship.

Over time our friendship deteriorated to the point where he was outright mean to me if he wasn't busy ignoring me, and recently I learned that he was telling mutual friends that the reason he doesn't like me is because I was pursuing him and he wasn't into it. Wow. Really? I'm glad that you're 30 something years old and never picked up some maturity along the way. Seriously? GET OVER YOURSELF! Rejection happens. If I went around whingeing and dwelling over every man who didn't return the feelings I'd be- well- I'd be almost as pathetic as you are.

Catch me on ESPN 2

I'm a pathological liar. Well, no, actually, I'm just a ballbuster. I make deadpan jokes, thinking there's no way anyone's gullible enough to believe me, but then when they actually do I just think this is just way too much fun.

Example: I was having drinks at Whiskey Blue last night. I had come from work so I had a large Puma bowling bag filled with work clothes. A man was trying to get to the bar to get a drink and my bag was on the ground in his way, though I knew he would not see it.
Me: Hey, sorry, watch out for my bowling bag.
Gullible Man: You bowl?
Me: Why yes.
GM: Are you any good?
Me: Yes, I'm professional.
GM: Really?
Me: I mean, I don't want to like name drop my own name and all, but yes, I'm kinda a big deal in the bowling world.
GM: Wow, I've never met a female professional bowler. I mean, no offense, but it's not exactly the most interesting sport to watch on TV.
Me: None taken, I know it's up there with watching cockroach racing.
GM: (laughs) How much do you train for this? (A lot) Are you on tour right now? (Yes)What's the tour schedule like? (Rough)Can you show me your technique? (No) How did you get into bowling? (I like tossing big heavy balls) Would I see you on ESPN 2? (Yes) I don't know much about bowling but is it really that competitive?
Me: (dramatic pause) Well, I wouldn't necessarily say it's that competitive. But in general, whenever you're doing something you absolutely love, as I am, you always want to be your personal best. So I'm just in a constant competition with myself, trying to do better than my best.
GM: Wow- I hear you completely.
Me: Listen, buddy, it's been great chatting with you, but I don't want to neglect my friends. Take down my name- That's Nina, like the boat. Last name Christensen- that's Christ E-N-S-E-N and catch me on TV.

Skipping town!

Booked my flight to LA- a little bit buzzed so hopefully I booked the right airports on the right day- wooops. Gonna drive to Mexico with my homegirl- can only imagine the trouble we could get into...So f-in excited!!!!!!!

Best of Nina 2007

Last year I was at a serious low point in my life; Dissatisfied in my career, finances, and relationship while watching everyone around me get promotions, raises, new homes, and engagement rings. I commuted 2 hours everyday to a job I absolutely despised and where all my coworkers hated me. For eight hours a day no one spoke to me, except to ask me to do ridiculously menial tasks. To release all of my frustrations and anger and pass time I would email my friend Kristine no less than 5 times a day.

Last week, while sitting at my desk at Time Out and reminiscing with Kristine over gchat about how miserable and angry I was last year in comparison to this year where I've never been happier, Kristine decided to forward me some of my emails from last year. Here are a few highlights:

Me: You know what I really hate?
KC: What? Besides everything in your life?
Me: no seriously...
KC: ok, what?
Me: I really hate the fact..and I feel like this is just soooo ironic...the fact that when you try to call your credit card company (no matter which one) your call is routed to a call center in New Delhi, India and your visa representative is this stupid friekin Indian man with a goddamn thick as hell accent that you cant understand, who only has a general speaking knowledge of English and can only comprehend commands such as "What is my balance?" or "I need to pay my bill" , but cannot understand any other questions that is a hypothetical situation or takes any type of analytical thinking. So you are left on the phone with this stupid idiot who you can't understand and who can't understand you and it is really goddamn frustrating when the call is in regards to $3000 that you don't have to fuck around with! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!


(Giving KC a pep talk)
Soon enough you will be done and you will be a college graduate and you will not have to do that crap (papers) and you will still be miserable. : ) Uplifting wasn't that ?

(Miserable morning after email)
Soooooooo I am feeling crappy on my end as well. I went to the work cocktail event last night. It was rather boring so I thought I'd get my time's worth by finishing off all their crappy white wine. (I had planned on staying for a half hour and getting home early to get some sleep). My friends came to the thing and had about four glasses of wine at a time. So since we were already out and drunk we headed over to the bar next door. Drank some more and now I am convinced to just crash in Hoboken. I got no sleep. I did not brush my teeth last night or this morning. My face is dry and peeling. I only have black eyeliner on. AND ahem, I am wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday to work! I put on a pink sweater of Miira's over my black dress. I figure since I never wear anything other than black this might look totally different to my coworkers. I feel stupid in pink. How anyone wears this color and takes themselves seriously is beyond me. I am hungover. I feel sick. I taste like a bacon egg and cheese and wine.


I hate my life. (All my subject lines started like this). And I hate that I didn't just stop talking to the corny Thai man, cold turkey. I felt like that was too mean. So I reply with curt and cordial emails. Ugh..and now I've reopened the lines of communications! He is the worst! The worlds biggest loser. There is no way he's ever dated anyone. I would never date a Thai man based solely on this guy. And he says these things to try to sound young and cool and hip, except I have no idea what it means! Email example:
"So much for snow sports this year...on the bright side it's midway in January and giant rodent day will determine the rest of the winter."
"My weekends could be better, but it keeps p*ssing in the NY area so I end up being a narcoleptic. I might just "damn the torpedoes, and full steam ahead" this weekend though (supposed to rain again.) How about you, do or go anywhere worth mentioning?"
The emails make me completely irritable! On top of that he writes me emails in Thai but sounded out and spelled in English! Oh my god, could he be any more gay?But that is not why I hate my life. I hate my life because after being sick for 3 months straight, and then getting a stinging chancre sore on my upper and lower lip for 2 weeks, gone for 4 days and now back again, I also now have some form of rash or hives on my face and neck which is itchy, blotchy, and burns. What the fuck? Can I just not feel like a healthy normal human being?

(Another morning after email)
I'm sorry i was drunk and could not get over P's homosexual-esque qualities! And then I proceeded to make fun of that girl that was there because everything that was coming out of her mouth was so stupid. (So much for my resolution of being nice). Whatever though. People like mean nina. not nice nina. nice nina doesn't get good tips but mean nina does. so explain that one. I am totally wishing I had off today like everyone else in this country! I got so drunk last night due to my misery and of course could not wake up today and got to work an hour late. (So much for my work harder resolution).

My how far I've come. What? You see no difference?!

Valentine's 2008

Going from experience of Valentine's Day pasts, I knew not to get my hopes up this year. No, no best male friend of mine was going to suddenly tell me he's been in love with me for years. No ex boyfriend was going to return and say what a big misstake he's made for leaving me and that he's been beating himself up ever since. No secret crush was going to send me flowers to my place of work (yeah, I called to check: Um, hi, this is Nina, I freelance there a few days a week. Yeah...um, by any chance are there any flowers on my desk? No? Are you sure? Oh, ok then. Thanks).

Last year, my boyfriend had broken up with me just days before Vday. K, my wonderful partner in crime since grade school, came to my rescue since she was in a long-distance relationship and her man was on another coast. We got silly wine drunkey at 10th and Willow- a bar on the corner- then graduated to being shit-faced spinsters on Vday. Yup- we were those typical girls who sat next to 3 empty bottles of wine, alternating between laughing and crying- over a candlelit dinner. At least I wasn't wearing black, for once.

The year before that I was waitressing at a Thai Restaurant. At the time it looked like the job was going to turn into a career (yes, it was a very sad time)- and the other waitress, the daughter of the owner, was screwing up the table rotation, leaving me with fewer tables, and therefore fewer tips- my sole income. I unleashed on her. It went as so: "What the fuck do you think I'm working on Valentine's Day for? Just because I like serving shitty food to nauseatingly happy couples?! I just have this stupid fucking soft spot for this day and love cleaning up stupid wrapping paper, card envelopes, and rose petals from the tables?! I came here to make some goddman money you stupid whore! If you had any brains at all, which it doesn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out how to rotate tables between 3 waitresses, you'd realize that you're absolutely fucking me over!" You would think that got all my aggression out but it didn't so I went home and unleashed on my at the time boyfriend and then sobbed for the rest of the night. Obviously, blaming her for ruining my Vday.

The year before that I thought I'd be a good daughter for once. My mom was throwing her annual Valentine's party where all the guests have to wear red and since I could not come up with any alternate plans (i.e. no one asked me out) I decided to attend her party, knowing it would mean a lot to her. I wore black because I couldn't fully let her think I was going to follow all the rules- I needed the upper hand. To make a long story short, the night consisted of many Thai ladies, a disco ball, strobe lights, karaoke, bad dancing, lots of cackling, everyone asking me where my boyfriend was, and me sitting next to the senile husband of a mail order bride who was spitting up on himself. No amount of red wine could make me find the humor in that night. Read: total fucking nightmare.

The year before that I was a senior at Rutgers, single and rebounding (not a good combination), still absolutely heartbroken over a boyfriend who dumped me 5 months earlier, on the first day of classes (I didn't go- for 2 weeks). The girls at 65 Easton Ave a.k.a. the Female Frat House a.k.a Swine Pen decided to throw our first ever Singles Party with kegs and cupcakes. A sign on our door read, "Here's to being single, seeing double, and sleeping triple." Another, tacked on later by a smug guest, read "Welcome to the Gang Bang." We made kitchy nametags for everyone with names like "Meet me upstairs" and "Your bed or mine?" etc etc. Those pesty stickers could still be found on our walls and ceilings the day we moved out. One day, months later, someone sitting behind me in class had to pull a name tag stuck to the butt of my sweatpants that read "I love it in the ass." Classy moment. All in all, beer was drank, furniture was danced on, cupcake frosting was smeared all over, and we lived up to our reputation for throwing the best parties, even if some people still refer to us by the name on our tags.

This year, I find myself single yet again. Oh no big deal. Really. I was going to be making money at the bar, an underground hole where I don't have to see delivery men walking by with flowers for everyone but me, and I could still wear black without looking like those girls who are protesting the Hallmark Holiday by brooding or sending flowers to themselves. I got off work at 6pm, and my friend K who's home from LA came to see me at the bar. She's still with her man, and though they're no longer long distance, he was working last night. So lucky me, once again, I get to spend Vday, catching up with my best friend. Lots of talking and catching up, and 3 glasses (not bottles)of wine later, we get on the topic of past boyfriends, and go into giggle fits about some of the embarrassingly awful ones, reminding each other of the ones we've repressed in our memories. This got me to get up and get paper feed from the bar printer, borrow a pen from the bartender, and make a long (double sided) list of all the guys I've ever dated. We got so into this, scribbling away and cracking up, that were didn't even notice all the curious stares from all around as we wracked our brains tallying up these names. The lady next to us (a fellow spinster) finally had to ask what we were doing and when were told her she laughed, wrinkled her forehead, and then she too declared she was going to make a list. Finally, when we were slowing down a bit, the names no longer flying out of our mouths and onto the paper, we stopped, completely stumped. The number was high in the double digits but K was certain there were more. And then the bright idea dawned on us. Our friend C, whom we tormented the summer after we graduated college, because we found ourselves unemployed with no responsibilites and free to binge drink 7 days a week while she began a full time job at a big finance firm the day after she graduated, and we felt the dire need to call her every night, typically in the am hours, to tell her how much we love her, or to tell her a funny story, or to belt songs to her that the band was playing. Well it dawned on us, since she's also a wonderful friend who keeps tabs on all of us, "C would know!" And so, on Valentine's day, around 9pm- prime romantic dinner time- the message went as so:

(shouting) "Oh hey C! You're probably having a nice wonderful romantic dinner with your man. Hope you're having fun! (yelled in the background) But we were just wondering- do you remember all the people Nina has dated and/or slept with? We're making a list....a looooooooong list, at the bar, and we just wanted to make sure we didn't miss anyone. Happy Valentines day! Love you!!!!"

Looking at this list, 20 inches long (front and back) and full of memories, good and bad, I can't think of how lucky I am- to have lived, to be single, and most importantly to have amazing friends like K to share laughs with over multiple glasses of wine.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I remember my senior year of college where my friend K had 3 different guys show up to our singles party in hopes of finally telling her how they feel about her. One guy wrote her a love letter (we all read it and laughed), one guy sent flowers, and I think the last guy sang her a song or something along those lines. She spent the party dodging these guys and hoping they don't end up talking to each other. And it wasn't just that year- it seems every year someone chooses Valentine's Day to come out of the woodworks and profess their secret love for her. Me on the other hand- well, for example, this year my brother sent me a card that says, "Hope you're not sitting on the couch with a tub of ice cream." Oh and I did get chocolates, a regift from my mom. Yeeeeeah.

From a 1-10.....

Why am I single you ask? Perhaps I'm too picky. Or too intimidating (read: F*in Scary). Or the guys I meet are all tools. Or maybe because on a scale of 1-10 I'm just a goddamn 7 according to my roommates' poll at the bar last night. Oh yes, we were out for Andrew's birthday- and oh yes, if you thought it was going to be a slopfest- multiply that by a bajillion- and that's how sloppy it was. I recall a moment when beer rained down on our heads coming from the fountain that was Andrew's mouth. Nice. The boys took a moment at the bar to take a poll on my hotness level. Some were generous with the rating, others, well- I got a 7 from Jake because I "ignore him"- which brought my average down to 8.3. 8.3's not bad I know, and I was told the only way to be a 10 is if I sleep with them, but still....I wanna be a certified 20.


(Andrew's beer shower)

What's new?

Haven't blogged in ages. Yes, once in a while I do leave the confines of my little itty bitty room- it needed to be quarantined actually- it was contaminated with a serious trash pile up and latent germs from the plague I had- still waiting on test results to determine whether it was the bird flu or scarlett fever. What else is new? Hmmm...totally green with envy that Julia Allison is on this week's issue of TONY. Seriously, aren't you guys sick of her by now?

I'm helping Rich and Semi plan a wedding in Thailand- woo hoo I can now add wedding planner to my already perfect resume. This is where I'm looking at. www.kohtaoromance.com If there ever were a chance in hell I was getting married I'd totally do it here. Until then... I do need a date ; ) wink wink...Can't be the spinster dateless sister infront of all my Thai relatives...

Tonight's my roommate Andrew's birthday. I just have this funny feeling inside of me- You know that feeling you get when you just know you're sick dog isn't gonna make it through the night? Or that an earthquake is about to hit? Or like someone is standing behind you in your dark bedroom and is about to clobber you over the head with a bat? Yeah, like that kind of funny feeling.