The irony

I missed my bus this morning by a split second. Like I was at the back of the bus but the guy couldn't hear me pounding on the side so he pulled away. God I hate that. I waited in the cold for 20 minutes for the next bus, and then sat in traffic for an extra 20 minutes, sweating away in my winter get-up, while the girl next to me kept huffing, sighing, and using God's name in vain to show her frustration of being stuck in traffic. I mean, what is the point of that? It's not like the bus is gonna move faster or the traffic's gonna just part for her because she's cursing. It's not like no one else on the bus is late and also frustrated or sweating profusely. Then when we pulled into the bus station, people were getting off one by one, starting from the front, as always. And you're supposed to remain seated until it's your turn to get off. But the girl next to me kept inching closer to me, still huffing, and glaring at me to get up. And I realize the irony as these words were coming out of my mouth when I turned to her and said, "Calm the fuck down bitch. We're all late for work. It doesn't mean that you have to forget your manners!"

I still love you Dani!

I can't believe after that totally kick-ass singing performance by Dani Tila still did not pick her. What is wrong with you? I loved Dani before but after that crunk rap shit she did I loved her even more. Seriously, she makes me question my sexuality. Am I straight, lesbian, or maybe bi like Tila? Maybe I need to go on a similar show to reach my answers? Or maybe Dani would have her own show called Do you Dig My Box? OMG. I'm gonna go make my tryout video right now.

A spinster for life?

With so many people getting married lately I can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with me that I'm not even close to being engaged. Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to get married in the next few years, if ever, but I guess I'm just wondering why the offer has never really been on the table, if say, I did ever want to get married. I'm content right now but I'm worried that say when I am ready in a few years...the offer wouldn't be out there because I'm not "marriage material." I've heard of labels like "not the girl you bring home to mom"...could this be me? I asked my brother, since he recently got married, and knows me better than anyone else, if this was the case. While he claimed to not know what "marriage material" really entailed...he told me that I was a bit "difficult to understand." How could this be? I mean my blog is like an open journal for all to see. What's not to understand? He said perhaps he worded it wrong. You're "complicated" he said. "You not a typical American girl," he further explained,"you're exotic." Exotic girls don't get rings? "You're intimidating," he added as he seemed to be digging a deeper hole. Could this have anything to with my all-black wardrobe and my "go fuck yourself" snarl? I tell him I'm worried that perhaps I'm not girly enough. Or not the Martha Stewart domestic-dumb-flirty-live by The Rules type of girl enough. He tells me being more girly and flirty could help. I can totally do that!- I tell him- Starting today! Like Awesome! He tells me he said be flirty, not blonde. I can picture him sitting at the computer shaking his head with his hand on his forehead as he tells me we need to sit down and have a serious talk. Uh oh.

I love you Dani!

Is it just me or is Dani (the lesbo chick trying to win Tila Tequila's heart on Shot at Love) super hot? I've never had lesbian desires, and to the best of my recollection I've never kissed a girl- but then again I just think Dani looks like a hot guy-so does that count? If she ever had her own show I'd totally go on it to win her heart.

Don't Drink and Speak!

Rat Face Boy with rank breath at the bar told me (while spitting in my ear) that I was the sweetest girl he's ever met. Look at that! Me! The sweetest girl! In fact to quote him verbatim he said, "You are just so cute. You're like a gummi bear wrapped up in a jelly bean. I just want to take you out....for sushi." Apparently this ice queen has thawed out! Who knows. Maybe I'll start talking like Tila Tequila. I could do it. My voice is definitely as deep as hers. I just have to add some cali to it and say things like, "I will not be played for a fool (pronounced with 2 syllables)," and "Your shot of lo-ove, has ended." And I would have to walk around in bikinis and knee highs. Shit, I would need to go tanning. And I would only accept dates after you win a pie eating contest. I could do it. It's Nina Tequila bitch!

My Brother, My Hero

My brother left for Afghanistan on Thursday. I don't tell him this often enough but I am so proud of him for the man he's grown up to be. I mean, he went from a teenage delinquent who chased any of my potential suitors with a butcher knife- to someone who watches over me and my mom, lends me rent money when needed, sends me the most awesome b-day & Xmas gifts, and volunteers to clean up my puke from the backseat of his wife's car. If he's not already your hero he should be.

WE Vote '08 Party

(stalker shot)

I covered WE tv's WE Vote '08 campaign launch party on Wednesday at Tenjune. I can say I've never been starstruck before (unless you count 2 weeks ago when I saw Alicia Keys playing at the 5th Ave Apple Store, and I may have pushed some preteens out of the way to get a picture on my camera phone)- until I interviewed Susan Sarandon at the party. She carried herself as such a strong, independent, and intelligent woman (move over Angelina, I've got a new crush!) while chatting with me about her family values and political views. I also interviewed Kerry Washington (amazing skin), Damien Fahey (surprisingly hot), Chad Doveck from Altar Boyz (so cute but perhaps not so interested in women ?), and my new best friend Malan Breton from Project Runway. Perhaps he pitied me, perhaps he thought I was following him,-whatever the reason- he spent a lot of time chatting with me at the bar and he was the most charming, sweetest person at the party.

Workplace Whoopee- git it

How to get laid at the office holiday party without incurring a harassment suit.

By Nina Christensen

While it’s a dreaded obligation to many, to the enterprising hookup artist, the office party is the perfect opportunity to chat up an office crush outside of work and perhaps even get frisky. You know the official stance on this: It's a bad idea. But remember, that's also what "experts" once said about sailing across the Atlantic. Or something.

Anyway, if you’ve got your mind set on flirtation, we’re here for you. We asked experts for their best tips on getting laid on company time.

The pregame
Steve Santagati, best-selling author of The Manual, suggests you pick out your object of desire well before the party and “plant seeds” by complimenting the person or stopping by their desk more often to “get in their head.” Show them an edgier side of you, appear a bit naughty and test the waters with comments like, “Would you report me to HR if I said [Insert naughty innuendo here]?” Santagati preaches caution, however, noting that “this sexual harassment bullshit has ruined all the fun at the workplace.”

The wardrobe
The next important step is picking out something to wear. Jessica Rozler and Andrea Lavinthal, authors of The Hookup Handbook: A Single Girl’s Guide to Living it Up, advise, “You want to look attractive and approachable, but not rent by the hour.” Thus, no “chin-high cleavage or exposed chest hair.” For women to get noticed, Rozler suggests some color or a great pair of shoes. Santagati, meanwhile, advises men that girls want to imagine a bad boy who might slap their ass or grab their hair in bed. Go for the “I don’t give a fuck look," he says, "with an AC/DC T-shirt and a pair of jeans.”

The approach
"Redfox," a financial adviser and noted hookup master at Edward Jones, recalls an infamous holiday party a few years ago where he and a coworker had sex on the boss’s desk. The two were griping about how much they hated their boss and agreed that having sex on his desk would be the perfect revenge. “We were two consenting adults united in the hatred for one man,” says Redfox. Look around and try to find a common agenda to unite you with your object of desire.

The gamble
The Sklar brothers, twin comedians who have appeared in Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm, suggest the following: “Take a tray of appetizers into the bathroom with the person. Don't tell them why. Enjoy the appetizers and comment on how delicious and fun this little ‘picnic’ is turning out to be. Then as you’re leaving, explain that you've just illustrated how it can be fun to eat where you shit.” Humor is one of the best ways to a woman’s heart, and food to a man’s, so this advice works for both sexes.

The endgame
Don’t get discouraged if you're striking out like A-Rod in October. “It’s all about endurance,” says Jerron Harris, an NYC bartender who has watched these holiday shindigs go down a million times. “The ‘square’ ones usually leave early and those remaining are the most willing to get rowdy.” Lavinthal encourages, “Stay strong! Wait it out with the stragglers and you’re guaranteed to go home with one of the last (and most intoxicated) people standing.” That's a pep talk you won't get from HR.

Thanksgiving Eve Debauchery

Alicia Keys at the Apple Store

While on assignment to interview tourists on fifth ave (I am so a pee-on) I stumbled upon a large crowd outside the Apple Store on Fifth Ave- and whadyaknow- Alicia Keys was performing live! She started off with that song that's on every station all at the same time and about 100 times a day and I just went nuts. I called everyone I know, grabbed an Alicia Keys poster out of someones hands, and pushed my way to the front to snap some pictures, all while singing along to Miss Keys at the top of my lungs. I may have shed some tears as well.

My love for inanimate objects

I recently got a Blackberry because life was just getting too hectic without one. I just would like to express how much I love my new blackberry. It has changed my life. I have never loved an inanimate object this much since I first professed my love to my rabbit. And then recently I just got a space heater that's noiseless and temperature controlled. I really love that too. So those are the 3 things I can't live without right now. Rabbit, Blackberry, & space heater- Life essentials for all women.

Halloween 2007

Yeah, yeah, yeah. This year I fell into the category of "Girls Who Use Halloween as an Excuse to Dress Up Slutty." I strutted around in nothing but a sparkly bra and underwear and fishnets (and an awesome microphone headpiece! It's all about the details). To my defense I wasn't like all the other girls who went as Sexy this or thats that aren't meant to be sexy like say, Sexy Bee, Sexy Ladybug, or...er...Sexy Candy Corn (WTF?). I got dressed (or undressed) as someone who was meant to look sexy....Britney Spears (at the VMAs). Booo yaaaa.

We'll miss you Tomson

I just got the news today that a dear friend of mine was killed in a motorcycle accident in Thailand. There's not much to say that won't sound terribly trite in this situation. Tomson was the biggest free spirit I have ever met (and if you couldn't perceive that upon meeting him he let you know with a tattoo on his arm that said Freedom in Thai) and he always encouraged me to stop being so reserved (and just sleep with him!). When we first met, he flattered me by telling me I was the most beautiful girl he's ever seen (I fall for this every time), and continued to court me in the romantic German way of telling me all the things he would do to me in bed and that he would reserve the most expensive hotel room for us. Sigh. Over 3 years he has never reneged on his offer (a man of his word!). My fondest memories of Tomson are sharing our love for baked potatoes (his with sauerkraut)at the tree top bar, watching him walk the runway at BKK's Fashion week, sharing buckets and dancing wildly at the clubs, and the fact that if I ever wanted to see him I could always find him on Kao San road sitting on the curb or riding his bike. On my last night in Bangkok I finished a bottle of tequila and Tomson rode me back to my guest house in the basket of his bicycle. There we shared our first and last kiss...I don't want to sound terribly cliche but, really, life is short, take the hotel room.

MOCA Benefit Dinner

Last night I went to the Museum of Chinese in America (formerly known as Museum of Chinese in the Americas) media reception and benefit dinner attended by Mayor Bloomberg, Vera Wang, Maya Lin, and various Chinese Americans with deep pockets. I apparently spent too long chatting up a random Korean man at the open bar that I missed the press Q&A and was too buzzed to conduct a decent interview afterwards. While I stood there red cheeked and grinning sheepishly, a security guard asked me if I got what I needed (referring to interviews). "No," I replied, thinking to myself that I totally dropped the ball, "but I do have a good buzz."

Highlights of the night: Mayor Bloomberg claiming he was more Chinese than anyone standing in the room, Open Bar and cheese (obviously), and rich white folks voluntarily dressed up in traditional Chinese clothes.

Dude went postal on me

I have to honestly say I've never had a mailman tell me off before. And I've never really had someone talk to me as if I was an incompetent 16 year old yapping on the phone while working at the Gap, since, well, I was 16 and working at the Gap. The mailman complained about how much mail we had for him (it's your job!) and then yelled at me to get it together and find the 1425 for him (not my job!). Until my mail stops disappearing ("not the post's responsibility"), you can find your goddamn 1425 on your own (not my responsibility bitches!).

Arthur Nercessian at LES Tenement Museum

Last Wednesday, Kristine, Emily, and I went to Arthur Nercessian's reading and book signing at the Tenement Museum. I had a few (4) drinks beforehand and ended up falling asleep in the front row. (So did Emily!) How's that for coming off as an intelligent literary nerd? My contribution to conversation was limited to smiling widely while saying things like "I love to read!" or "Yes, I'm a writer. I write about things," while trying to uncross my eyes. Crappy wine and cheese I might add but I shouldn't complain since it was gratis.

Como se dice?

I had to interview a Mexican-born artist earlier today and his accent was similar to Pedro's from Napoleon Dynamite.

Nina: What are some of the junk food you included in your installation?
Artist: Garritos, Popcorn, M&M's, Cheetos, Cheeps...
Nina: I'm sorry, cheeps? Do you mean Peeps?
Artist: No, cheeps.
Nina: Cheeps?
Artist: Cheeps, cheeps. You know potato cheeps?
Nina: Oh chips! Haha. Um. I'm sorry.

Oh sheet. How embarrassing.

We have toilet paper!

Yay!

Frugal Nina

In attempt to get my finances in order and get ahead of my bills I've had to make some cutbacks from my preferred lifestyle. The following are things that I really miss:

Weekly mani/pedi, eyebrow threading, laundry service, steak, taxis, eating out, new book from B&N, sushi, martinis, gym membership (not that I went but I like the option), new shoes, Starbucks, wine, and TOILET PAPER.

Time Out New York

Check out my first article Common Senses

Where has my free time gone?

I went from spending my workdays wondering if anyone would notice if I didn't show up to being so goddam busy that I just don't have any time for myself. I haven't been eating properly and have been surviving solely on coffee and Monster energy drinks. My bedroom is disastrous, the floor completely hidden under papers,black clothing, and empty Monster cans. I haven't seen my friends or kept up with personal grooming (I'll leave the details out on that). On top of that I had an allergic reaction to a new lip plumping lip gloss and my lips swelled up so I looked like Mandy Lynn on America's Most Smartest Model (you know, the Balls, Cherries, Balloons, Tires girl). My lips looked really awesome but I was in serious discomfort. And then from all the stress I got a cancre sore inside my lip which opened up and pretty much stung everytime it touched my teeth which was all the time. Then I didn't put chapstick on my lips just hoping not to irritate it so I was totally Chapped Lip Girl from your third grade class. So after that they flaked off little by little. Really gross. And that just about sums up my week.

Augusten Burroughs at BN!

Last night Kristine and I went to see Augusten Burroughs and his brother John Elder Robinson. I felt like a little starstruck teenager at a JT concert. The line was too long to get my book signed even though I really wanted it. And I totally had to hold back the urge to go up to him and tell him that I'm writing a book too and that soon I'll be up there on the BN stage yammering on about how great I am.

Afterwards, I went with Emily and Kristine to Madison's in Hoboken. Bad choice! We thought we'd avoid the stupid 21 year olds that can't carry a good conversation and young slutty stupid girls being slutty and stupid. Instead we just got stupid men who were older and desperate late twenties chicks acting slutty and stupid. Not to mention it was ridiculously hot. Thumbs down to Madison's.

I love NY!

Central Park

Labor Day Weekend at Yankee Stadium

Hey there Johnny! Wink Wink

Mmmm Golden Showers

I've been researching animals for Time Out's animal issue. Last night I dreamt that Trouble Helmsley (the millionaire dog) peed on my face. What do you think that means?

Blast from the past..

Look what my sister sent me! The little fusion kids! Aren't we just darling?

Jen's housewarming BBQ

Congratulations on the new house, Jen! (Of course I didn't take one picture of the actual house-But take my word for it, it's sweet).


Sharon, tired of standing, found herself a chair. The rest of us stood around and bitched about it.

It's Dina! Yes, we now decided to always dress alike.

The boyfriends, all wishing they were watching football instead of the VMA's.

Coors Light anyone?

You better believe I ate every last thing on the table. Major tummy ache this morning.

Labor Day Weekend

My brother came home for a visit and we went to a Yankee game. It seemed his friend Josh loved Jeter more than I do.

We saw the American Idols taping in Time Square. That's Jordin Sparks's back in the middle with her arm around someone. Yes, I ran after them and took pictures. Everyone else was doing it.

Last Day!

Today was my last day at a job that was eating away my soul. Next week I'll be starting at Time Out New York as well as a new bar on 54th and Lex called the Volstead. Very exciting.

Take Your Hits

I was walking through Union Square today and was asked to be interviewed for Jay Leno. Just to warn you I may have said some retarded things. Like, not funny. Just as in "is this girl for real? I wanna punch her in the face!"

So if and when it airs sometime next week, I give you 5 minutes to make fun of me. And then that's it. I don't want to hear anymore about it.

Interview # 5,378

It's already a given that I blew the answers to the standard "So, why should we hire you?" and "What are your best qualities" but this time I managed to fail myself in the small talk category which I typically think I'm pretty great at...

Interviewer: So what'd you have for breakfast?
Me: Well, I STOLE an egg from my roommate and I boiled it and ate it. Oh and a granola bar, but that was mine.

Later question:
Interviewer: So tell me, Nina, what do you hate the most?
Me: Oh god. I HATE slow walkers! Or, like, you know, the sidewalk hoggers? Like 5 people who all walk side by side. Or, oh god, the ones that kinda zigzag, you know? Like you're speeding up to pass them and then they kinda veer to the side so that no matter what you do they are walking in front of you? I HATE THAT!

Do you think I did ok?

My Mom The Fruit Smuggler

Ah Friday. Finally. I thought it would never arrive. No big plans for the weekend. Just want to get some reading done on the beach and perhaps make some time to go see my mom since she just returned safely from Thailand. I know I usually voice my frustrations with my mother, i.e. recently wishing we could only communicate through text messages, although I'm sure once she figured out how to text my inbox would be full of messages such as, "Did you fix car?" "Did you pay bills?" "Are you eating?"... But I always do appreciate that my mom never fails to bring me goodies from Thailand as well as always smuggling a Thai guava in her coat pocket for me. Come on, if that's not love I don't know what is.

"REAL" Half Wits

Last night was the season premier of MTV's latest scourge, Real World: Sydney. Yes, I too, thought I had kicked this quondam brain cell snuffing addiction in college, but like Ms. Lohan and I'm sure half the cast, sometimes we relapse.

Cast members KellyAnne and Trisha are true examples of all things wrong with women. KellyAnne's vainglorious reasoning for why girls tend to hate her and gang up on her is because "she's cute." Since I already would love to put acid in her face cream after 7 minutes of watching her, let me just clear the air by saying, KellyAnne, women don't hate you because you're allegedly 'cute'. You are a bete noire because you are a self-absorbed, churlish, ignorant hick from Texas. Not everyone can be won over by your white panties that say 'Pick me, I'm Hot' in crayola marker. And Trisha, I hope that lady hocked a big one in your McCrunchie. Oh I mean McFlurry.

I don't hate Shauvon as much but come on, covering the nipples of your topless breasts as a method of not revealing too much?

The world could do without such terrible representations of women and Americans.

My New York Age is 43

"This New York age puts you-generally speaking-into the old-age category. Don't worry-this isn't a bad NYC age to be. Your tastes are more refined and developed, and people have always told you that you're mature for your age anyway, right? Still, you may want to see more live music (check out Studio B) and should probably visit Superdeluxe.com. Olde English is funny at any age."

In other words, "You need to get out more, you crotchety old bag."

The Lux Life of a Photo Assistant: Did you say loop or lube?

The summer after I graduated college in 2004 I thought I would spend a few weeks sending out resumes, go on a couple of interviews, and then I'd start living in "the real world" as a working photographer. I didn't realize how hard it would be just to get an interview. Then, I didn't realize all the ways I could blow an interview.

I spent 3 months sending out resumes in between my drinking binges, 4 months in Thailand, Malaysia, and Singapore, 2 weeks in London, and 1 month of mass resume faxing and over $100 at Kinkos before I got my first offer to be a photo assistant for fashion photographer, Justin Santos. I had no prior professional experience as a photo assistant and had very little knowledge of cameras and flashes from lack of training from Rutgers. (Rutgers is a wonderful school but they focused more on fine art study than technical training). To say that I had embellished my resume would be a major understatement. The only truths on my resume were my name and phone number. I had lied about all prior experiences, making up names of photographers I had previously shot for, and made up clients that the made up photographers had shot for. I listed names of lights and cameras and techniques that I was supposed to know but didn't. Even my home address was made up since I wasn’t living in New York at the time. If I had received my resume I would have hired me too.

After interviewing with Justin, and for once acing that, he said he'd give me a trial day at a shoot with the lead singer of Scissor Sisters for Out Magazine the following week. If I did well, he would hire me. On the shoot day, I got there early and Justin and crew (Agent and 2 assistants) were late. The lighting rental came with $5000 worth of equipment rentals and dropped everything off on the sidewalk. I, by myself, carried 800 pounds of equipment up to the second floor studio. I believe that was what impressed Justin. I was reliable and I could probably bench more than him.

During the shoot I had no idea what trouble my resume fabrication would cause me. The photo editors of Out, Scissor Sisters' manager, Justin's agent, hair, makeup, and creative directors, were all there shouting different orders all at once. Justin was yelling for equipment that I had never heard of, let alone know what they looked like. His first assistant, Georgi Georgiev (yes that is his real name), was asking me to hand him films I did not know. Editors were telling me to adjust the lights in techniques I never learned. I scurried around for 8 hours, tripping over lights, and exposing film. The fact that Justin still hired me should tell you something about him. He's an idiot.

Since Justin caught on quick that I clearly had no experience and had no idea what I was doing, he decided to use me for unpaid "intern" days which were spent in the studio "learning the ropes" in between shoot days and dark room days. I was paid $100 for shoot days and dark room days which is $150 less than what I should have been paid, experience or no experience. I would leave my house at 6am to catch the 6:24 am train into NYC to get to the studio by 8am. I would spend a few hours getting familiar with his cameras and filing his negatives and making calls to potential clients. Then I would head off to the darkroom in Brooklyn and print until midnight, when they closed. Then, I would catch the 12:37 train and arrive home at 1:54 am only to get up at 5:30am again for work the next day. I did this 7 days a week.

Somewhere in between all this hustling around, I could only blame my fatigue for not hearing when Justin mentioned his "side project" to me. Justin told me that on the days that we weren't shooting for editorial clients we will be shooting for his "side project," LuxPorn, a company that he co-owns. Ok sure. More shooting meant more training for me. I loved shoot days. As I rode home on the 12:37 train I thought to myself, "LuxPorn, Luxporn...Could I be shooting porn?" Thinking and pondering for 2 minutes. "No way.”

The next day I showed up for the shoot early and set up the lights and backdrop. Georgi Georgiev helped me. We did not speak much. Justin showed up when we were done setting up, a diva always. The model was late so Justin decided to use this time to brief me on the shoot. "Ok Nina, whatever you do, do not look at his penis." (Penis was pronounced Pe-nith). I think I would have been fine had he not told me this. Since he gave me specific orders to not look at his penis, I felt I was going to have an Austin Powers outburst moment (Molee, Molee, Molee, Molee!) and just ogle at his penis shouting, "Penis! Penis! Penis! Penis!" Not looking was even more difficult when I had to lint brush his black t-shirt (his sole article of clothing) that hung loosely over his penis. I had to be careful not to look but to also not blush when rolling the lint brush over his t-shirt, over his penis. This was the moment I realized I was working in porn.

My friend Alan was the first person I called on the train home. Conversation went as so:
Me: Dude, I think I'm working in porn.
Alan: HAHAHAHA. What do you mean you think you are working in porn?
Me: I mean, I dunno. I started assisting this fashion photographer and today we shot porn.
Alan: HAHAHA. How does one not realize they've gotten into porn?

The next few months were a blur between intern days, shoot days, dark room days, and porn days. I worked 14 hour days, 7 days a week. I ate a breakfast bar on the morning train, packed a king size bag of peanut M&M's which I split between lunch and dinner. Justin never ate. There was no place near his studio to buy food. He never asked if I wanted to take a lunch. So I didn't.

Some days I would be at the dark room from 8am until 12am. I would be printing 16x20 images of penises of all sizes and "poses". Color printing is rather tricky. You have to get the perfect ratio of Cyan, Magenta, and Yellow for the penis to not be too blue, too pink, or too yellow. I would tack up these larger than life size penises on the natural light wall, step back a few feet and stare at the penises through the color correctors. "Do you think that's too pink? Or too yellow?" I would ask the other assistants in the dark room, forgetting that I had a 20 inch picture of a penis tacked up to the wall. "Wow, I want your job," gushed a gay printer, drooling over my work.

On my way home I called Alan again.
Me: Dude, guess what I did all day.
Alan: What?
Me: Looked at pictures of penises all day through a magnifying lens to see if the focus is sharp.
Alan: You do realize you can’t even put this on your resume right?

On another printing day Justin came with me. We had a deadline and needed 4 printing hands instead of 2. Standing with our backs to each other in the darkroom, Justin nonchalantly asked me if I did drugs. "No," I answered. "Are you like against it?" He asked. "No," I said," I just never got into it, you know?" "Oh good," he says, "Don't do it." I turned around and saw him doing lines off of a print of a penis. That was when I realized why we never breaked for lunch.

Post Note: I no longer work for Justin. He has since left for California without paying me the last $500 that he owes me. That bastard.

I am Beautiful: For just a Penny a Day

This is a panegyric to the people I encounter daily who can make my day or at least manage to unfurl my snarl for just a few minutes…

1) The NJ Transit Bus Driver who lets me ride for free every morning.

2) The Parking Attendant Guy next to my work who smiles and waves and says, "I love you," with his hand over his heart as I walk by 10 times a day.

3) The Guys at the Corner Café where I get my coffee every morning and my lunch every day at 1pm. They always have my small coffee with skim ready or add avocado to my sandwich, no extra charge.

4) The Guy Who Stands With the Empty Water Cooler Bottle outside of Barnes and Noble asking for just one penny a day to help the homeless. I drop in a penny everyday and he says "Thanks, beautiful" everyday.

It is small and it is simple but for a few minutes a day (and a penny) my mood is lifted and I am genuinely happy.

I despise Bar-Leftovers!

Man, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. There was another late night/early morning Beer and Bimbos After Party hosted by my roommates. Bar-Leftover Biatch mistaked my bedroom for the bathroom no less than 5 times. I finally fell asleep around 5am by counting the number of bones I wanted to break on her body.

On the brighter side, I got paid today which means I can eat again. Yay!

Urban Cows

n. People who otherwise seem like respectable, civilized professionals yet feel the need to chomp at their gum with their mouths open, making a smack, smack, smacking sound.

Did your mother teach you nothing? Chew with your mouths closed! Like, ew.

Kira turns 2 today!

All grown up with her little diaper pad on.

Weekend

Friday night we went out for Kate's birthday. Had dinner at Siam. Went to Red after. That's about all I can remember.

Spent Saturday puking up what I assume I drank and ate the night before.

Rainy Sunday...Got some Thai take-out. Watched Zodiac. Thought the movie was going to be gory like Seven but it wasn't. And Jake Gyllenhaal playing a "retard" is still hot. Thumbs up movie.

Oh Jeeezus!

Walking down Washington street today I noticed a woman in her 60's holding a dry erase board up as a sign. It read:

"You have to be Roman Catholic to get into Heaven."

Oh shit. I guess the suicide bombers didn't get the memo.

What, No cake?

Today was my 1 year anniversary at my current place of employment. Woo.
"Congratulations, you haven't killed yourself yet."

Things I wondered about today

Upon waking up:
1) If you've been doing something every single day of your entire life, wouldn't it somehow get easier? I just can't understand why it is so fucking difficult to wake up every morning when I've done it 9,131 times before.

While at work:
2) Would anyone actually notice if I didn't show up for a week?

During lunch:
3) How many consecutive days can I eat only french fries for breakfast, lunch, and dinner before I don't crave them anymore.

During what I thought would be a quick phone call to my mom, wishing her a safe flight to Thailand:
4) How much easier my life would be if I could communicate with my mom solely through text messages.

My weekend

This weekend, my brother came home to attend his 10 year high school reunion. I really loved that he brought his laundry all the way from North Carolina because he doesn't have a washer/dryer in his house. Aside from that, he really did look grown up with his shiny new wedding band.



Meanwhile, instead of my usual weekends spent eating, drinking, and sleeping, Caroline and I decided to try something new and go to an all day rock show in Asbury.

There would be nothing out of the ordinary about this except that Caroline and I don't actually like rock music. We had no idea what one wears to rock shows so we raided her little sister's closet and pilfered any article of clothing with skulls, holes, or graphics. But then we realized we looked like Avril Levine going to a Black Sabbath show...so I just opted to keep on the black liner.

Overall the night was a pretty good laugh...like Carrie Bradshaw and Samantha going to CBGB. Needless to say, I will be sticking to places that serve martinis.

Sifting through women's panties..

Last night I had the exciting task of driving down to Red Bank Police Station to look through over 100 pages of pictures of recovered stolen goods. Some items were stolen out of my car in November, and then, oh silly me for not learning my lesson, once again in December. The lowlife took my jacket I bought in Italy, $400 cash, all my change, even under the seats, my lucky Buddha, my makeup bag incuding makeup in it, and my October 06 issue of Glamour. And then in December he/she stole my Nike running sneakers that were 6 years old.

Apparently they caught someone who had been burglarizing homes in the Red Bank area who confessed to a bunch of car thefts as well. The thief was Mexican though I'm not implying anything by adding that. This man apparently stalked his targets, women in their 20s, before breaking into their homes or cars. Apparently he stole only female items that he kept for his own personal pleasure. I looked through pictures of pink ipods, purses, shoes, jewelry, makeup, razors, and photos of the women that he stole from which he had hanging in his own room.

Unfortunately I was not able to identify anything as mine which means there's another fucker still out there wearing my jacket and Nike's, stroking my lucky Buddha. All I left with was the detective's number.

How to get a woman in the sack:

I went to the Park Ave South CVS today near the W Hotel. On line in front of me stood a Spanish man, 5'2, medium build, frosted hair, and not very attractive. I looked over his shoulder to see what he was buying. In his hands were:

1) A card
2) A bag of atomic fireballs
3) A pack of magnum condoms

Nothing like a romantic card and some fireballs to get you in the mood!

My Roommate's Birthday

Of course when I tell these guys that I'm going out for one drink, and only because Sergio's finally a real man, it really means 2 margheritas, 1 car bomb, 1 yager bomb, 1 red drink, and 2 bottles of wine. I'm really glad I drew the line when Andrew tried to make me drink Sergio's MamaJuana from the Dominican. And I'm also really glad that someone came home and forgot the difference between a toilet and a bath mat. Oh and I'm also really glad I stepped in it.

Happy Birthday Sergio!

Appropriate VS. Not

I went to the Union Square A&P today to pick up some turkey meatballs to add to my dinner tonight. The express lane took long as hell because no one, including me, would tell the couple in front of me that just because you split up your 47 grocery items in half it still does not equal 15 or less items. Instead, I thought glaring at the cashier girl would make the line move faster. While mentally causing harm to her with my eyes, I did find another reason to hate her and that was her offensive hot pink thong with diamond heart ornaments hanging out of the back of her too tight black A&P store clerk pants. I mean, who wears thongs with diamond dangly things on them besides porn stars and middle school sluts? And maybe girls who work at Wet Seal. And Bar-A bartenders. And the people who have their bellies pierced with dangly butterflies and playboy bunnies. And...oh whatever.

While I'm on the topic of offensive attire I just want to comment on all of the inappropriateness that comes with summer. There are some things that just don't go together like white pants and black thongs, or booty shorts and cellulite, or size 9 feet and size 7 platform heels. I have a lot of feet pet peeves since I avoid eye contact on the path by staring at people's feet and I only look down when I walk in the city to avoid stepping in dog poo or on a homeless person. I hate long toenails, or chipped polish. I hate dirty white flip flops, or just dirty feet in general. Unrelated to feet, I hate sweaty hair on sweaty foreheads.

But what I must say I think is appropriate are short hemlines and I may just be applying this to myself. I've been having difficulty lately, while shopping, trying to figure out whether what I'm trying on is meant to be worn as a shirt or a dress. I mean, long shirts have been the trend, and I'm a short person, and I just can't tell if it's longer because it's a dress or because I have a shorter torso than the average person. I've had a few instances where I wore something out as a dress and saw another girl wearing it out as a shirt. I worry that I look a tad slutty but then I figure when else am I going to be allowed to wear minis again? In a few years it will be deemed inappropriate solely due to my age. And if that's not justification enough to wear a shirt out as a dress I think of Nora Ephron's comment about wishing she wore bikinis more when she was in her twenties. I would hate to look back on my twenties and think, "God, I wish I wore shorter skirts."

My New Friend Zach Braff

I don't consider myself a total loser or anything but out of agonizing boredom at work today I was reading actor Zach Braff's blog and I found it to be rather amusing. Then I saw a link on his blog that said "click HERE if you want to be my myspace friend" and I was like sure why not? And as I clicked on the "add as friend" button after the question "Are you sure you want to add Zach Braff as a friend?" I was like wow I might be a total loser. But then I was like wouldn't it be cool if he added me and maybe even wrote to me? Maybe I could introduce him to my friend Angie and all 3 of us could hang out sometime.

Overheard

Last night on 1st and Allen:

Man (in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice): Ya, like, I used to be really active. I played everything..I played lacrosse and...
Girl (in a loud drunken voice): Oh my God! Like you totally suck dick!
Man: Ya, like, I totally wore skirts and had teammates shove sticks up my ahss.

The F*ck Up

"I came to New York for the roaches, the filth, the sense of intimidation, the foul odors, the violence and...oh yeah, the sky rocket rents and the overpopulation, not to forget the freezing winters or the insanely hot summers." Arthur Nersesian

What Happens in Vegas...Goes on my Blog!

What originally was supposed to be a trip to celebrate mine, Caroline, and Shavaun’s birthdays turned into an awesome 4 day vacation celebrating friendships of over 10 years between 6 women. Our lives are so busy and we don’t see each other as often as we’d like but spending the weekend with these girls reminded me why we have remained friends all of these years. These are the girls that inspire me everyday. Despite our current struggles with the Quarter Life Crisis, I have watched these girls grow into beautiful, intelligent, independent, and hard-working women. Jen is a Team Leader at Goldman Sachs, Shavaun recently was the first in her entire family to graduate from college, Kate had just moved out to LA on her own, Annie followed her heart and quit a job that was eating her soul, and Caroline got a call during the trip to interview for her dream job as an Event Planner. We had quite a lot to celebrate. We saw Cirque de Soleil at the Bellagio, danced on tables at Tao, Tryst, and Tabu, indulged on Strawberries and Champagne, whipped a bachelor with his own belt, floated around the lazy river with our frozen daiquiris, and swapped stories and laughs over breakfast at the House of Blues. Basically to ensure that these stories never leave Vegas we have no choice but to remain friends.

In one weekend, I’ve never danced so much, slept so little, eaten so many French fries, drank so much Grey Goose, talked so much about sex, weddings, and poops, and laughed so hard.

It’s VEGAS BITCHES!!!

Just Another Tuesday

I got home from a Wheaton Networking Event last night at 10pm overheated and exhausted. I was looking forward to a quiet night of writing and getting to bed early.

Around 11pm, outside my bedroom door, I hear hammering, clinking, and my roommate saying, "Does Nina know what you're doing?" I didn't even want to know but I had to come out of my room to use the bathroom.

My roommate, Sergio, has set up a makeshift bar with various liquors and mixers in our living room. They had a salad bowl filled with ice on the table and lined up all of our mismatched glasses. My other roommate, Andrew, was hammering a Jack Daniel's banner to the doorway to keep the AC in the living room. They both looked up at me as if I've caught them shaving each other's legs. I thought they were planning on having people over for a party but to my relief and amusement, Andrew was giving Sergio bartending lessons for his first shift on Friday. I went back into my room to try to finish up my work but they kept bringing me drinks to my room to "taste". After tasting no less than 3 of each Cosmopolitan, Metro, Margherita, Appletini, Lemon Drop, and other mysterious concoctions, I was pretty drunk and Andrew was wasted, so I had no choice really but to put away my laptop and join the drink tasting party.

Not only was Sergio trying to memorize liquor to mixer ratios but he was practicing his bartender charm on his instructor, winking at Andrew as he handed over the drinks. Nothing gives me more pleasure than watching my male roommates pinching each other's nipples and giggling.

While making small talk over these drinks the boys proceeded to try to diminish any previous impressions I've had of the other one being a "sweetie" by telling me incriminating stories of each other and challenging "Oh who's the sweetie now?" after each virgin ear hurting story. My ignorance was bliss in this case.

Andrew also comes up with his best ideas when he's inebriated and this time was no exception. "I know! Lets all get matching tattoos!" We shot that down so he suggested, "Lets all get naked!" Then he disappeared for 10 minutes and returned with people he recruited off the street to come test Sergio's elixirs. They left shortly after witnessing the shit show that we were but we managed to hold one girl hostage and force her to eat our pasta and scrambled eggs combination (the only ingredients we had) while she protested that she wasn't hungry, didn't like pasta and eggs, and had to get to bed.

Sigh. Just another tuesday night at our apartment.