Facebook Chat:

A: Alright girl, I'm gonna detox from fb for a bit.
Me: Ok. It's boring today anyway. No good status updates. No crappy weddings.

Boobies!!

I've been stuck in bed with the flu for the past few days. I'm supposed to be brainstorming some ideas for a writing sample but all I can think about is Boobies! What the hell? A friend of mine just recently got hers done. I haven't really seen it yet but I'm looking forward to it. Then I ran into another friend a week ago who had had hers done. I couldn't stop staring at them, they were just so round and big. Don't get me wrong. I have totally come to terms with my little mosquito bites and grown to absolutely love how they look (I will never sag!), but I was having a little boob envy. While my friend talked about....God, I have no idea what she was talking about....I was just staring at her boobs and picturing what I would look like with boobs and how my life might differ. I wonder if this is what all girls with boobs go through; People not looking them in their eye and not hearing one thing they have to say. I imagined all my stories going to waste. I used to long for a boob job in my early teens, wanting to feel like a woman, and wanting to fit into triangle bikini tops. I thought about it again momentarily this weekend, weighing the pros and cons in my head, and remembered all the reasons why I couldn't and wouldn't. Besides the fact that people would always use that as a reason to discredit you i.e. "Yeah, she's pretty but her boobs are fake," I know that I wouldn't be a responsible owner of boobs. What's that saying? With great boobs come great responsibility? I don't trust myself to not have them hanging out all over the place.

Another Dating Don't: Speaking!

Well, that would be the advice for me at least. As I've blogged about before, I tend to reveal waaaaaay too much on the first date covering all the "stay away" topics of religion, politics, and Spring Break tales. One of the bullets from Judy McGuire's article, Dating- what not to say when, was, "When dating someone new, don't share too much personal information." Shit. With so much personal information readily available at the click of a button, is that even possible? McGuire describes:

-- Between the Internet, blogging, and social networking, the concept of courtship can seem pretty antiquated. Depending on how Web-present you are, with the push of a button a guy could potentially access everything from your videotaped colonic to your SAT scores to mortifying details of your most recent heartbreak. All this before you've even met him in real life.

I feel like I'm almost obligated to address the elephant in the room on the first date. "So, what do you do? Where'd you grow up? What'd you major in? By the way, you know how I said I wanted to poo on my ex-boyfriend's front door? I was just joking really. I mean, I wouldn't really do that." Heh. Heh. Heh. *Uncomfortable laugh.

McGuire says on the first date you should "think of yourself as a director... and cast him in the role of aspiring ingénue. He needs to impress you. Ask questions. Listen to his answers." Now that's a novel idea! I tend to get really nervous when I meet new people that I try to sell myself by talking non-stop about...myself. All this time, why have I automatically put myself in the hot seat? From now on I'm gonna be the one asking the questions around here. "What do you think of my new shoes? Do you like my dress? Do you wanna hear a really funny story?"

Textiquette, Got N E?

(Photograph by Devon Steigerwald)

Last week Julia Allison wrote about Textiquette, the Do's and Don'ts of communicating with a potential lay via text. I'm quite certain I've committed many of the don'ts myself from drunk texting ex boyfriends to trying to drunk text ex boyfriend only to find out the next day that I had sent it to my brother. But still, for the most part, I think I've got my textiquette down, and I'm quite surprised by the number of people that don't. Last week I got a text from a guy that I had gone on 2 dates with last summer inviting me to join his threesome. The text read, "We r looking for a 3rd. You wanna join?" Seriously?

About Me:

I was assigned a little project to describe myself in 75 words or less, preferably in a way that would make people want to date me. I wracked my brain for a little bit and realized that I always describe myself in a deprecating way i.e. I'm neurotic, narcissistic, moody... Hmmm. What are the good qualities and facts about me? I asked some friends since I felt like they would have a good objective opinion. My friend, Tim, says, "Well, I think you're smart and beautiful..." OK. I can't really say, "Well I'm smart and beautiful." I decided to make a list of any facts I could think of; things I like to do, things I love, things I hate, etc. Here's what I came up with:

1) I hate picky eaters. Sometimes, I make exceptions for people with allergies.
2) Addicted to online shopping.
3) I find humor in small things.
4) I dance like a penguin.
5) I like to act tough but am a big marshmallow inside.
6) I do sometimes think I need anger management.
7) I used to steal eggs from my old roommates.
8) I wear the same t-shirt to bed every night.
9) I really like my butt.
10) People make me nervous. Especially on the phone.
11) I have a tendency to say inappropriate things at the dinner table.
12) I never know the words to any songs.
13) I copy people's accents when I'm drunk.
14) I'm drunk alot.
15) I'm always caught in a rainstorm with no umbrella, wearing a white t-shirt.
16) I dance around my apartment in my underwear.
17) My friends' parents used to never let them sleepover my house when I was a kid.
18) I read a lot of books.
19) I'm bad at guessing age. I usually think people are much younger than they are.
20) I think I'm smarter than everyone.
21) I don't like toast.
22) I love eggs and potatoes. Any way you cook 'em.
23) I feel really great after a good swim.
24) I write notes on everything: my hand, receipts, napkins...and you will always find random pieces of paper with my notes on it.
25) I was a spelling bee champ in 5th grade.
26) I like putting my butt on things.
27) Shows I love: THS, First 48, Unsolved Mysteries, Girls Next Door, Dexter, Lost, Greys Anatomy, Oprah, Regis and Kelly.
28) I love stupid mindless comedies.
29) I have a really, really good memory.
30) I'm really great at imitating people.
31) I don't like being touched.
32) I only wash dishes when I need them.

Also, if this says anything about me at all, currently, the clutter on my desk includes: an empty ginger ale bottle, an empty can of Monster Java, a half empty cup of green tea, 7 vitamin bottles, a box of chocolates, a half eaten bag of crackers, a pile of notes and receipts.

With friends like these, Who needs a boyfriend?

I woke up with a fever, sore throat, and chills. Just when I was realizing I was coming down with something my phone rang. It was Brittany asking me if I wanted her to bring me some soup. Confused I asked, "Did I tell you I was sick?"

"No," she answered, "I was just going to the bank near you and wanted to see if you wanted me to bring by some soup and catch up a bit." And she didn't even have to ask which soup I wanted! She brought over my favorite, Broccoli Cheddar Mashed Potato from Hale and Hearty.

Talking to my friend, Tim, later I told him I wasn't feeling well. He asked if I needed soup. I thanked him but declined, I was well fed by then.

My friend, Michele, called me after she got off work to see if I needed her to bring me medicine. Seriously? Why are my friends so friekin' awesome?

I'm free!

I FINALLY moved the last of my belongings out of my ex boyfriend's apt. We had been broken up for over a year but he said I could leave some things in his basement storage and I took him up on the offer because I felt at least he owed me that much. Of course, he didn't let my last day ever of having to deal with him go smoothly. We had agreed on a time to meet at his place and of course when I showed up at said time, he was not there and did not answer his phone for 3 hours. I'm assuming he figured he wasted 3 years of my life, what's another 3 hours? Fucker. I was physically shaking from my anger and thought of all the ways I wanted to cause bodily harm to him. Since, he wasn't there, nor was his car, I had to cross smashing in his face and his car off the list. I thought I'll piss on his door! Dammit, I wish there was a cat around so I could squeeze it for that awful cat piece smell. Better yet, I'll poop on his door! It'll be a symbolic statement of what a piece of shit he is. Or I wanted to remove all the contents of his basement, put it on the sidewalk down the block and write, "FREE STUFF. PLEASE HELP YOURSELF!" I still felt like he still would go on not knowing what a despicable, worthless person he is. I'll settle for writing him a letter detailing all the reasons why he is a horrible person. I'll put anthrax in it....hmmmm.

Now that I don't have to worry about him throwing out my stuff...I don't have to play nice anymore. Which reminded me of this funny story:

A while back, perhaps a year or two into our relationship, he had dumped me, yet again, for like the 14th time. The day he dumped me, I went out drinking away my misery. At the end of the night, of course, I still lived with him and had no place to go so I went back to his place. Drunk as a skunk, having to pee like a racehorse, I was trying to jab my keys into the front door. The key wouldn't fit. I tried all my keys. None of them fit. I thought, that bastard changed his locks already! I had to pee so bad I couldn't think straight. I couldn't drive anywhere. There were no nearby stores. It was way too cold to pop a squat outside. Plus, what if someone saw me? I did the only thing I could think of. I peed in his hallway. His carpeted hallway. It's probably still there!

Afterwards, ahh, sigh, relief, I could think straight again. I tried the key one more time and realized I had been jamming it into the wrong keyhole. Woops!

Weekend Soundbites:

Friday night text:
J: Come out and play.
Me: I can't I'm so drunk
J: Man up! Drink some coffee!
10 minutes later:
Me: Drank some coffee. Threw up. Not gonna make it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Drunk friend said to friend:
Every time I try to kiss you I feel like I'm going to throw up.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'm not used to it being this hard. I can't stop touching it!
(me talking about my thighs to Tim)

Lesson: Always wash your hands.

I was at the bar on Friday and took a little loo break. I was wearing a pink polka-dot string thong (I don't like how G-string sounds), nothing I purposely picked out, just grabbed it off the top of the underwear pile. I usually prefer a thicker band, like hip-hugging thongs, because string ones tend to be less easy to control. It's so thin, and stretchy, sometimes it can be pulled up too high without you realizing it and you're looking like a little McSlut with your thong poking out, cutting into your muffin top. So anyway, I went to the bathroon, pulled up my thong and my pants, and went to wash my hands. I looked in the mirror and realized that not only had I hiked my thong up way too high, poking out of my pants, but that the string had been pulled over my cardigan, latching on to a button. Just picture that.

Does your nephew kick ass like Logan does?

I don't think so!

Sunday's To Do List

1) Sober up.
2) Buy toilet paper, ginger ale, Monster Mean Bean energy drink.
3) Shower.
4) Clean apartment.
5) Start drinking.
6) Work on book.
7) Set up new blog.

Later: Things accomplished today.
1) Drank a Monster.
2) Laid in bed, reading A Thousand Splendid Suns.
3) Slept till 8P.M.
4) Bought & ate $10 mac n cheese.
5) Stared blankly at the TV. No idea what was on.
6) Blog about doing nothing.

Sometimes having a doorman sucks: Part 2

2 am:
Me: Ssssorry I forgot my I.D.
Doorman: That's OK. Just sign in here.
Pause
Doorman: What do you drink? Vodka?
Me: Yessshhh. Why?
Doorman: I can smell it.

(Correction: It was only 10:30pm, Friday night).

Feeling the economic crunch

It appears, after my 2 day stint as a dog-walker, that I have been laid off. Was the nudity a problem?

The Sucky Sig-O Clause

I think most people would agree that living with a significant other kinda sucks. You feel trapped when you're fighting and don't want to sleep in the same bed. You can't bitch about him on the phone with your girlfriends because he can hear you. He has more opportunities to disappoint you when trying to keep up with your sex drive. I think most would agree that moving out of said shared apartment after a split with the significant other sucks even more. I am a strong supporter of the notion that if the significant other sucked so badly forcing you to break up with them and move out then the person who sucked so badly should be courteous enough to arrange and pay for all moving expenses. They should also move to a remote island to spare you from the nausea induced by a run-in.


Hours later, a goodnight message from my girlfriend who rocks:
g night bunwin....happy thoughts and drinks
tom. to forget lame exes and time wasted!!
cheers to new beginnings, men,
adventure and much success...and...im out!! Love..

Cheers!

On Being Nina

Me: All I want is an apartment where I can walk around naked and the good chance that all my neighbors can see me.
Brit: You so belong in New York.

Facebook Status:

Nina Christensen thinks dropping an entire box of (40) tampons into her toilet and having to fish them all out because the toilet would clog is not funny.

26, Responsible, Naked Dog Walker

First day of puppy sitting went very well. There is something a bit odd about hanging out in a perfect stranger's house without him being there. The puppy, Dylan Thomas, was the so cute and stupid and so full of energy. He wouldn't stop chewing on my lace up boots, so I took those off and put in a spot he couldn't reach. Then he started biting my socks so I took those off. Then he tried to bite the buttons off my cardigan so I took that off. Would anyone find it odd if I was puppy sitting in the nude? What if the guy walked in and thought I was into beastiality? All in all I had a pleasant afternoon playing with the little bugger and picking up his poop. I almost felt like I was 16 again and baby sitting. Except I didn't invite my boyfriend over or try to smother the puppy with a pillow.

Add dog walker to the resume!

I was walking home today and just thinking to myself how I'd love to make extra money but that I don't want to get another job nor do I want the extra hours. And then I was like it would be great if I can just walk dogs for an hour a day, since I'm free during the days, and then get back to my writing. So I got home and looked on craigslist to see what the dogwalking scene was like and I saw a post from someone who just got a new puppy and works 12 hour days and just wants someone to pop by during the day to spend a little time with the puppy. Being that I love dogs way more than I do people, I think this is the perfect way to make sure I can eat during the week. Yay eating! Woh that didn't sound right. I meant so that I'd have money for groceries. Not eating the dog.

All the guy asked of me was to please not rob him and be nice to his dog. I think I can handle that.

NYSC, I don't heart you today!

Normally NYSC rocks my world. I love the pool, endless supply of shampoo, and the fat cleaner guy whose crack is always out reminding me that I never want my ass to look like that. Today, however, I'm really bitter about all those New Years Resolution Makers who all decide they wanted to lose weight this year, all at the same time, all at my pool. I called this morning to reserve a lane. There's always one open. Not today. All lanes reserved for the rest of the day. But, the lifeguard on the phone told me, just come in, the walk-in lane is always free. So I take my time, do 30 minutes of cardio and 30 minutes of weights. I'm pretty tired and almost want to skip the swim but then there would have been no point in going to the gym on 49th when there were closer ones on 23rd. Stop being lazy, I tell myself. I'm already here and am already wearing a bathing suit under my clothes. I rinse off in the shower and head to the pool. All four lanes had 2 people swimming in them and there were 3 people on the sides waiting. What the F?! I swear these people better get over their resolutions real fast.

I debated showering, since I usually only shower at the gym after a swim, but I was already partially wet, I might as well just shower there. I was happily scrubbing away with my head full of shampoo when all of a sudden the water pressure slows to 3 measly little drips. Oh come on! I walk into the next stall. Same pressure. Arg! I try to wash out the rest of the shampoo with the scrimpy pressure (what else could I do?) but the water was scalding hot. I turn the knob to the coldest and it was still skin melting hot. I bend over hoping to just get my hair under the water but it totally burned my scalp. Just friekin' great. I had no choice but to dry off and soak up the suds with a towel and would just have to finish at home.

I went and told the swiper girl at the front desk about the water. This is absolutely ridiculous. What if I had to get back to work for a really important meeting? I mean, all I had planned for the rest of the day was to do laundry and watch Oprah. But they don't know that. The shower is my favorite part of going to the gym. Unacceptable, NYSC!

Sometimes having a doorman sucks

I know I really shouldn't care what people think about me, especially my doorman, but I can't help it. They're judging. I just know it. Woke up with a really painful hangover after last night's festivities. The score- Nina: 0. Hangover: 2,597. Was starving. Nothing to eat in apartment. Could barely get up to pee. Boiled 2 eggs. Ate a breakfast bar. Chugged gatorade. Still starving. Want to order pizza but was too embarrassed that the doorman would think I was a fat, lazy piece of shit for ordering a large pizza for one at 3 in the afternoon on a Monday. Tried to sleep off the hunger and headache. Woke up again at 6:30pm. Walked next door to get mac n cheese. Doorman said good morning.

Holiday Party

I don't remember much. I'm assuming it was a good time.

Happy New Year!

My New Years started off a bit rocky. Not really going to get into it. Long story short, too much double vodka induced tears. Le Sigh.

A stranger witnessed my public weeping and asked what have I got to cry about. While I should have a agreed and gone on to realize how lucky I am and be grateful for all that I have, that insightful reflection didn't reach me till quite a ways later...after replying with "WHAT HAVE I GOT TO CRY ABOUT?! EVERYTHING! WAAHHHHHHH!"...followed by a myriad of reasons that made no sense.

And here we are, quite a ways later...Things that I am grateful for in '08:

My amazing rent stabilized studio apartment in Manhattan. The place down the street that does $7 manicures and $6 eyebrow threading. My ridiculous good looks. My really hard ass, even when not clenched. My awesome siblings that I've grown to love including their partners and cute spawn. That I'm able to pay my bills working 3 days a week. My great boyfriend who hasn't agreed to wash my hair for me yet. My kick ass friends that are always there for me and inspire me everyday. The fact that a handful of them still like being friends with me. And last but not least- I am grateful for the fact that I have clear goals, know what I want in life, and will take down anyone who gets in my way. Just kidding. Kind of.

Which leads to my goals for '09: Blah. Blah. Blah. They're the same every year but I'm gonna keep making them every year until I accomplish all of them. First is continuing my December resolution to lose 10 pounds. I haven't weighed myself lately but I'm pretty sure I'm not close though I have been seeing results. So I'm gonna estimate that I have about 8 more pounds to go. See ya later mash potato-dirty martini- stomach! Second biggest goal, actually it's my first biggest goal, is to finish my book. I had a little set back in October when the great computer crash decided it would delete 137 pages of my almost complete book. I cried alot- but I took it as a sign. My computer must have thought the original was a piece of shit and I needed to rewrite. I would have preferred a few red marks on paper but fine whatever. When life deletes a years worth of work....you beg your doctor for a prescription of aderol and start writing again. I guess that's all really for goals. Others are just small ones. Work harder. Stop watching reruns of stupid reality shows. Stop buying things I don't need. Be nicer to people who aren't as smart as me. '09 is gonna top '08. I got a good feeling. : )