Wednesday, August 27, 2008


K: Her boyfriend bought her diamond earrings. They were $500, on sale from $800.
Me: Wow. That's like a couch.
Brit: That's like my ticket to Thailand.
K: Yeah but your ticket to Thailand doesn't last forever. Can you pass your ticket on to your daughter?
Me: No. But I can make a daughter in Thailand. (insert gyrating motion)

Monday, August 25, 2008

I heart NYC

A husband and wife team, each pushing a stroller with child, plus 2 walking children, were crossing Fifth Ave when a car making a left turn nearly hits them. The father yells, "What the fuck? Watch where you're fucking going! I got fucking kids here!" While the mother flips the driver off. After they safely cross the street the father lights a cigarette and holds it at the stroller's handle, next to the child's face. Oh the irony.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Is it sad?

That I have to call my friend who doesn't work in the same office as me and ask her what I want to eat for lunch?

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

On Dating:

I'm not sure if it would work out. He's a Red Sox fan, I'm a Yankee fan. Our kids would be totally confused.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Would Shawn Johnson eat that?

I'm not sure what's more sad at the moment. The fact that I'm going to admit that I was at the 24 hr McDonald's at 12am getting chicken Mcnuggets by myself, or the fact that on my way in I walked past a man wearing a suit giving a homeless guy money and asking him what he's willing to do.

Or the fact that I'm sitting here at my computer eating my 6 piece chicken Mcnuggets and wishing that I had gotten the 10 piece miel with the fries. Or the fact that I spelled meal, miel.

I've been on a diet lately- just because I felt I could be more toned, but also because I was inspired by the bodies of the US Olympic beach volleyball women. So as I'm sitting here thinking about how undisciplined I am, what a failure I am, what a poor speller I am, the McDonald's bag profiles Shawn Johnson, the US Olympic gymnast. And on the front of the bag it says she "trains seven days a week, staying on the honor roll at school, making sure I get to be sixteen, that's what I'm made of."

You wanna know what I'm made of? Oh shit! A stray Mcnugget left in the bag! Yessss!!!

Sunshine after the monsoon

I've had a rough couple of days lately. I was out till 7am Saturday night/Sunday morning and had to wake up to move all my shit from my Hoboken apartment to my new studio in Manhattan. (Insert little celebratory dance). Though I was very excited to move into my new place I felt like vomiting each time I lifted a box or took a step. I couldn't do much after the move so I laid on the couch, ordered sushi, and watched 10 straight hours of the Olympics. The following morning I had to go to the doctor for the several bug bites on my legs that had spread into a bumpy itchy rash. Mosquitoes? Spiders? The Hep? Doctor told me not to worry, it seemed like an allergic reaction to something. Possibly a new razor or lotion I was using. She completely ignored the little holes in my leg where clearly something had inserted its little stinger or suction nozzle into me. As I walked out of the doctor's office I was once again faced with a monsoon that had started outside. Why is it that I'm always stuck in a rainstorm? I thought perhaps it has just been a rainy summer but my friend Mary argued that I am stuck in rainstorms more than the average person. She thinks maybe God is trying to teach me to laugh at life. I think I laugh plenty and I think I can manage to do it while staying dry. My umbrella was absolutely useless as I walked through waters up to my knees. I looked like I had gone for a swim in all of my clothes. NOT a happy clam.

On top of that for 3 days in my new apartment I have not been able to get cell phone reception. A text may come through every now and then, hours after it had been sent and no longer relevant. I went to the Tmobile store and asked what I could do. They suggested calling Tmobile tech support except how do I do that when I can't make calls? They said I could buy a router but their system was down and so no one can make purchases at their store. They were calling Verizon to come fix the system. How ironic.

Today I was finally able to buy a Tmobile router that's supposed to get me better reception and since my calls would be made over Wi Fi they would be free. I took all the contents out of the box and was immediately discouraged. Wires, things wrapped in plastic, instruction manual, and installation CD. Installation CD? Great. I was going to have to interrupt my gchat conversations to restart my computer. I had to step away. I put the box down and watched TV.

I was mentally recharged and so I attempted to look at the instruction manual. To my surprise it looked rather simple. Pictures, arrows, words, numbered things. Yet still, I managed to be confused. The pictures in the manual didn't look like the pieces in front of me. In true Nina fashion I tossed the manual and began plugging and unplugging things, forcing different wires into various orifices like a challenged 4 year old trying to shove a square block into a triangular hole. And to think, people always tell me I never finish what I start. I was determined to get cell phone reception, dammit, and I got it! And my mysterious rash is beginning to go away. Phone reception, the rash, and the skies are beginning to clear up after all.

When to drop the B bomb

I was at work a couple days ago when an Asian guy asked me when I was getting off work and what I was doing. I said I didn't know. He said some of his friends were going out. I said where and he said he didn't know yet. I said let me know when you know, meaning walk back to your friends find out and walk back and tell me. It was more of a brush off but if it was a fun party usually I can get my friends to join me. He handed me his iPhone and said, "Here put in your number." I was kind of caught off guard. What could I say? No, I have a boyfriend? But he didn't ask. He just wanted to let me know the plans. No, I don't want to come anymore if I have to put my number in your phone? I didn't know how to get out of it so I put in my number.

I went out with my friends later and saw that I had a missed call from an unknown number. I had no desire to meet up with anyone else and the person didn't leave a message so I just ignored it. The next morning I got a text at 9am from the assumed Asian guy saying, "Who is this." Clearly he was sitting at work the next morning, hungover, and wondering who he made the outgoing call to at 1am. What a retard, I thought, and decided to ignore the text. At noon, probably on his lunch break, he called. I ignored the call figuring he'd hear my name on the voicemail and figure it out. No message. At 2pm he texted me with, "Nevermind, I figured it out." Good job, genius. Now stop texting me. Later that evening I got a call that said, "Hi....uh....oh think this is the girl I met yesterday. Let me know if you want to hang out sometime." Wow, talk about socially dysfunctional. Again, I didn't call back. The next afternoon I got a text from him that said, "Hi, sorry for that awkward voicemail, I forgot your name, but now I figured it out. Let me know if you want to hang out sometime." Talk about persistence and oblivious to the fact that he was digging himself into a hole big enough to fit an H2 Hummer. Again, I ignored the text.

Yesterday, I was talking to a friend and I said, "Hey, remember when you asked me to put my number in your blackberry and I didn't know how to and you looked at me as if I was an idiot?" The point I was making was that he was an intellectual snob. He told me he was aware that people don't generally like having a blakberry shoved in their face but that he had a tendency to forget people's names 10 seconds after meeting them and therefore by asking them to store their number they would also store it under their name as opposed to ABCD. Clearly, Asian guy did not execute this trick as well as my friend did. Whatever happened to the good old name and number on the back of your dry cleaning receipt? My friend, Brittany, always stores her number in people's phones under Your Mom when she doesn't like them and they can never find it. I just figure it's easier to give your number to someone because they typically will get out of your face and stop harrassing you after that and later when they call and you don't answer they typically get the hint.

I got another text from Asian guy this morning inviting me to his birthday party. I texted him back with, "I temporarily forgot that I have a boyfriend. He doesn't want me coming to your party."

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Happy Birthday, Kate!

May your day be filled with unlimited supply of boxed wine. Love you!

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Fight or flight? Or call Andrew?

I had begun to worry about my fight or flight instincts when I realized I do absolutely nothing when faced with danger or at the scene of an accident. I watched a woman trip and have a pretty nasty fall last week and I was so surprised by it that I didn't do anything. I just stood there and looked at her. Three times in the past few weeks I nearly got hit by a car and a bus that was making a right turn. Instead of jumping out of the way I just stopped in my tracks and stared at the oncoming vehicle with my mouth hanging wide open.

Last night I got off the bus at 1:45 am and saw 2 homeless guys on the corner. My street was dark and no one else was out walking and I was a little worried that these homeless guys might think it was an opportune moment to mug or rape me. So I picked up the pace, looking over my shoulder the entire time, making sure they weren't following me. I called my roommate, Andrew, just so that he knew I was on my way home and if I wasn't there in 5 minutes to get out the shotgun. Of course, Andrew didn't answer. I was still looking over my shoulder and when I turned around to face forward I saw a man, standing withing 4 feet of me, in the street between two cars, with his shirt pulled up over his large potbelly and his pants down, and he was just staring at me. I screamed, "JESUS CHRIST!" and booked it. I only realized two blocks later that I was running and thought I must look like a lunatic, but wow, I actually reacted! I got in my apartment, out of breath, my heart racing out of my chest, and I cursed Andrew for not answering the phone and told him about the flasher pervert man. It was the same guy that I had seen late at night in front of my apartment about a month before. Andrew was skeptically ("maybe he's just peeing") and went outside to check out the situation. Fifteen minutes later he walked back in the apartment and anticlimactically told me he didn't see anyone but there were cops parked on the corner patrolling the street. Andrew told me not to worry, he told the cops that I was totally freaked out by some guy on the street who had flashed me. The cops asked Andrew what the guy looked like and Andrew replied, "Well, he's got a big belly and a penis." Thanks, Andrew.

Saturday, August 2, 2008


Guy walks up to me and Brittany at Tonic East:
Guy's opening line: My friend just passed the bar.
Brittany: Who gives a shit?
Me: What? Is that hard?
He walked away.

Biased reporting by Gawker

This is the reason that the Jersey Shore has such a bad rap. But notice, not one person they interviewed was actually from the Jersey Shore. Just guidos that come and pollute it every summer. That is not Jersey Shore.