Deleted

It is not always easy to make the right decision, but it sure helps to have a bottle of Bailey's and a cup of coffee.

Saturday morning, I caught the 11:11AM train to the Hunt with one minute to spare. The evening prior, I was out too late, drank too much and slept too little. The Halloween party was fun, but in what's fast becoming par of the course, the Producer and I quarled throughout the evening. What were we fighting about, well:

Earlier this week, he mentioned that he's slept with a couple other girls since we've been hanging out. I can't get mad about this because obviously, so have I. However, his admission pissed me off, because I feel he has intentionally been deceitful in hiding it. From our casual sex beginning, we were both open and honest about who we had been with... or were still involved with... I never hid or lied about anything with the Nudist and I guess I expected simliar openness from him.

How wrong I was!

Also, at first, I thought it was endearing that he wanted me to quit smoking cigs and dabbling with drugs. And then he insisted I meet with his financial planner... Cute right? He cares about making me a better person. Well, I'm starting to think that this has a lot more to do with control, and less with accepting me - or tolerating my faults.

I originally found it attractive that he was so self-assured... I'm getting a little tired of the ego. He often teases me for liking guys who are pushovers, or in his opinion "vunerable." He all too often points out that in dating him, I'm playing in the "major leagues" vs. the "minor league" guys that I have surrounded myself with. (Egotistical, huh?)

Honestly, there is something seriously wrong with the whole situation. Avenue Elle pointed out to me, "he brings out all of your insecurities." She's right! Another girlfriend, pulled me aside on Saturday night and said she didn't like the way he was treating me. Sometimes a gal needs to listen to her ladies and reevalute. What's that saying... something about seeing the forest through the trees?

So, after a couple cups of coffee spiked with Bailey's, I flipped open my phone - deleted his number, cleared my call history, sent texts and recieved text cues. In the digital age, removing someone from your life is as easy as that.

______________________

Update: As further affirmation that I've made the right decision, I read a post like this and I thank my lucky stars that I have enough self-respect to walk away.

Disaster Preparedness

Perparedness [pri-pair-id-nis, -paird-nis] –noun 1. the state of being prepared; readiness.

Thank you State of New York for sending me the NYC Hurricane Evacuation Route map. I now know that I live in a Zone which "may experience storn surge flooding from a Moderate (Catergory 2 and higher) hurricane. I also learned, a storm surge may put parts of NYC under 30 feet of water.

I live on the 5th Floor, I feel relatively safe from flood waters. But still, this is a good reminder to renew my renter's insurance. (My policy probably doesn't "acts of nature" -- I should check on that, just in case.)

The World Has Edges!

Did you know trees have leaves...computer screens have crisp, clear font... it's possible to recognize people from across the room?

My biggest surprise since donning glasses three day ago is that the world has edges. Sounds so weird, but it is true... I've been living in fuzzy land.

I knew my vision was awful (-2), but I had no idea the effect blurry vision had on me. In particular my professional life. In the office, around 7pm, my eyes would ache and it was impossible to read anything. Considering that I work in PR and my job is 90% reading/writing -- this is not a good thing. Also, since I procrastinate all day long, 7-8pm is when most of my uber-important emails are sent.

Three days in to having four eyes, and I'm loving it -- No more eye strain. It freaks me out to wonder how many of the ever so slightly visible crow's feet around my eyes were caused by my squinting at a computer screen. It's time for a little Botox, it is preventative you know...

P.S. Aren't my frames adorable?

Saturday night, I found myself walking into the Landmark Loew’s Jersey Theatre in Journal Square to attend a Beck concert. First off, the theatre is the most spectacular, classic venue – which every New Yorker should leave the isle to visit. Think of it as Jersey’s version of Radio City Music Hall (without all the pretension).

Pre-gaming before the show, my friend joked that I couldn’t name five Beck songs. (Loser... Devil’s Haircut… Where It’s At… The New Pollution... uh, uh, uh… Damn! Stuck at four) Despite my lackluster skills at naming Beck tunes – the concert was simply ridiculous.

First off, there was the "Team-America-esque" puppet show which mimicked everything the band did. Completely captivating! Especially when band members would interact with “their” respective puppets.

As a sucker for any drum/percussion solo … my favorite part of the show occured mid-way through when Beck took center stage and played a few solo acoustic tunes. Meanwhile, his band mates dined on stage. At first, it appeared an interesting way to add life (or visual distraction) during the slow, mellow set. Unexpectedly, the band started clinking their silverware, glasses and plates, crescendoing into Beck’s “Clap Hands.” Even my guy friends who stand staunch and solid during even the funky James Brown tune were bopping their heads.

Until I learn how to upload UTube Videos, view "Clap Hands" here...
http://youtube.com/watch?v=qVVNwe_d28g

So fun! I would do it again in a heartbeat. It was the best $35 I've spent in a LONG time...

Call the Exterminator

There is a serious mosquito problem in the East Village and Lower East Side. I have no idea where these bugs have come from - but they are everywhere. I seen them in the bedroom, bathroom, at the gym, in the ATM, at the corner hot dog joint.

Honestly, it is cold outside. Shouldn't these little buggers be dead.

After spending a night at the Producer's house, we nuzzled under the blankets with only our heads exposed. In the morning, I awoke to no fewer than 20 mosquito bites - one on my forehead, my palm, most on my back, arms and legs. At this point, I doubt if even bathing in calamine lotion would relieve my discomfort.

I have screens in my window. Short of sleeping with a citranella candle burning or bathing in DEET, I have no idea how to stop this endless biting. Perhaps if I dial 3-1-1 and report the mosquito problem, they will come spray the neighborhood. Anything. This needs to end. I'm itchy and tired.

Steak and Blow Jobs

Sunday is The Producer's 31st birthday. I’m at a serious loss for how to handle this. The facts: We’ve been hanging out for three months and refer to our situation as “dating.” Not exclusive, just dating. Lately, we've been spending about 2-3 night a week together. We email throughout the day. Talk/text each evening. Recently, I attended a wedding as his guest and we embarked upon our first road trip.

How in the world should I acknowledge his birthday?

My guy friends joke that the only gift a man ever wants is a steak and a blow job. Okay, that’s pretty much a given – it being his birthday and all.

It is too soon to be making these decisions... I'm thinking dinner. perhaps a place a tad nicer than the usual Italian fare that we frequent. Or perhaps, I should take him to what's quickly becoming "our restaurant".

Three months and a gal shouldn’t be making decisions like this...

____________________________________

UPDATE:

Genius! I just purchased two tickets to this haunted house as a birthday gift. Next week on date night, I'll treat him to dinner around 8pm, where we will have our fill of wine. Then post dinner, with a good buzz on, we can stop by the haunted house on our way home. Totally fun. Completely casual. Added bonus: Haunted houses give you lots of excuses for "I'm so frightened" touching.

(I sure hope this goes over better than the pedicure I forced him into on our last date.)

Fiscally Responsible

My baby brother is looking to buy a house. I’m in shock! I’m two years older and I’m lucky have maintain $1,000 in my savings account, let alone the tens of thousands needed to purchase a home.

(However, this weekend I did purchase a stunning pair of brushed black boots.)

Alright my priorities are obviously messed up. But I work such long hours all week long… I feel like spending $ is therapy. I just can’t say no to vacations, shopping, drinking and dining… Pathetic, I know.

I have no illusions of marrying into $. It is actually quite the opposite, my dating track record shows a long line of fiscally-challenged individuals.

You know things are bad when the guy you are dating insists you meet a financial planner. Or when your parents consider you their "fiscally irresponsible" child, too flakey to handle their estate in case of their passing.

Okay, okay, I get it. I need to be grow up. I will accept the meeting with the financial planner. I will invest in something other than my 401K. And I will (try to) stop the Saturday shopping binges…

Baby steps…
________________________
After posting this and sulking for a moment, I read the following on The Budgeting Babe's blog:

"The typical first-time home buyer is age 32, according to the National Association of Realtors, based in Chicago. Similarly, surveys by the Investment Company Institute in Washington suggest people typically start investing in mutual funds in their late 20s or early 30s, with their first investments often made through 401(k) or similar employer-sponsored retirement plans."

Whew, my experience is typical. I have 4 years to get my fiscal ass in gear... All is not lost...

$610.60

As someone who generally scorns forwards, when my friend sent me this yesterday, I had to immediately take the test. I’m not sure what my obsession is. Perhaps I like to see how my score ranks compared to that of my friend; perhaps I like to see how much I’ve strayed from my catholic school upbringing. Either way, I can’t stop myself from taking these Purity-type tests.

From the following list, add up the monetary value of what you’ve done… My mother would be so ashamed of me... I hit $610.60.

Smoked pot -- $10
Did acid -- $5
Ever had sex at church -- $25
Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you -- $40
Had sex with someone on MySpace -- $25
Had sex for money -- $100
Ever had sex with a Puerto Rican -- $20
Vandalized something -- $20
Had sex on your parents' bed -- $10
Beat up someone -- $20
Been jumped -- $10
Crossed dressed -- $10
Given money to stripper -- $25
Been in love with a stripper -- $20
Kissed some one who's name you didn't know -- $0.10
Hit on some one of the same sex while at work -- $15
Ever drive drunk -- $20
Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while sti ll drunk -- $50
Used toys while having sex -- $30
Got drunk, passed and don't remember the night before -- $20
Went skinny dipping -- $5
Had sex in a pool -- $20
Kissed someone of the same sex -- $10
Had sex with someone of the same sex -- $20
Cheated on your significant other -- $10
Masturbated -- $10
Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend -- $20
Done oral -- $5
Got oral -- $5
Done / got oral in a car while it was moving -- $25
Stole something -- $10
Had sex with someone in jail -- $25
Made a nasty home video -- $15
Had a threesome -- $50
Had sex in the wild -- $20
Been in the same room while someone was having sex -- $25
Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars -- $20
Had sex with someone 10 years older -- $20
Had sex with someone under 21 and you are over 27 -- $25
Been in love with two people or more at the same time -- $50
Said you love someone but didn't mean it - - $25
Went streaking -- $5
Went streaking in broad daylight -- $15
Been arrested -- $5
Spent time in jail -- $15
Peed in the pool -- $0.50
Played spin the bottle -- $5
Done something you regret -- $20
Had sex with your best friend -- $20
Had sex with someone you work with at work -- $25
Had anal sex -- $80
Lied to your mate -- $5
Lied to your mate about the sex being good -- $25

The Other Woman Speaks

When you are outed, there is always another side to the story. Thankfully, the “other woman” in the saga of the Nudist came forward and posted a comment with her side of story. Now, in Betty’s words:

“I ratted you out but only because I went on the EXACT SAME DATE with him. It was kind of weird, b/c I stumbled on your site by accident and I was shocked to find that you met him exactly 5 days after I met him. I just checked back today because I was curious to see what happened with the guy who thought it was "morally reprehesible" to read about himself on a website. I see it wasn't as bad as to keep on going out with you. I am sure he is still reading the site, as he read most of it when I directed him to it and I think he was flattered. Boys are strange. I didn't mean to out you, so I apologize, it was a kind of a weird situation, how do you accept a date with someone another girl has written about. It sounds like you like he producer. I, myself, am torn between two men. One, I have been courting in my unemployment, and the other I was in love with when I was 18! We just reconnected after 8 years and I feel like that idiot 18 year old again, totally smitten with this older guy. I don't write about it though, I am past that stage. Good luck in all your man ventures and here's hoping we never meet the same guy again!”

When I was outed, blogger friends cautioned me that I’d start self-editing myself and my entries. At the time, I denied that would happen. However, it is true. I often find myself wondering what he would think or say if he read a certain entry. Even worse, is that I don't blog about our what happens when we hang out... (Imagine the salacious details you’ve been missing.)

I do love that the Nudist told Betty being blogged about was "morally reprehensible." When I see him this weekend, I can't wait to use that in conversation. Although he will probably have already read my blog and will know about everything...

Winner 2006 Chili Cook-Off

Who would have guessed this Downtown girl could cook? Especially since my idea of cooking dinner is pulling back the plastic wrap of a Lean Cuisine and placing it in the microwave for three minutes.

This weekend, I traveled to Boston to take part in the newlywed’s annual chili cook-off. The previous year’s winner used bacon in his recipe and won in a landslide victory. There is no monetary prize tied to this contest - just bragging rights.

I dubbed my winning recipe – Tatanka Organic. I didn’t follow a recipe; I just added lots of crazy meat, mainly buffalo, as well as ground sirloin and cubed chicken andoullie sausage. Special thanks to The Nudist for recommending we roast the jalapeno peppers and add red wine vinegar and pickle juice (no joke) as final ingredients.

For the next year, the winning engraved silver spoon is predominantly displayed in my kitchen, appropriately enough -- right next to my microwave.

Killington 2006-2007

For the first time - I’ve signed up for a seasonal share. One weekend every month, I’ll be swooshing down the slopes in Killington, Vermont and boozing it up at the Pickle Barrel Nightclub.

Last year, I crashed my friend’s share and had two of the greatest weekends of the winter. I kissed boys, was caught man-fishing by my ex’s friend, and invented "avant discoteque" a whole new reason to drink wine.

The house I am renting is totally sweet. Located right off the main drag we’ll have the entire house to ourselves. With real bedrooms vs. bunk beds and a fireplace in the living room, this is a real grown up share… Another perk, we are within walking distance to the bar, so we won’t have to risk drinking and driving. The crowning glory, which thrills any ski bunny…. A HOT TUB.

I met the guy organizing the house, one drunken night in Jersey City. I was showing my friends the greatest bar game of all time, when he and his friends seated next to us, badgered us to get a game started. Next thing you know, we are the best of friends (silly pranks have a way of bringing people closer).

As the bar was closing, the night quickly became a party at Ski Boy’s house, drinking magnums of champagne while listening to the cheesiest of I-Tunes. I ended up leaving around 5:30 AM, when the PR gal straddled my friend’s boyfriend on the couch and planted a kiss on him. My girlfriend had us out the door before anyone registered what had just happened.

True, this was not my night of wise decisions. However – I did give Ski Boy my number for the sole reason to getting into his ski house for the 06-07 ski season. Who knows what I’m getting myself into, but I’m sure a couple interesting posts will come of it.

Four Eyes

I finally went to the ophthalmologist last week to get my eyes checked. It’s been a long time coming.

After putting me through the battery of tests, the doctor sat back in her chair and looked at me and seriously asked, “Have you been driving?” Being a Manhattan gal, I don’t drive often. So I replied, “Yes. Every couple of months I find myself behind the wheel.” She then gave me a look of great concern and said, “Until you get your glasses – Do NOT drive.”

I obviously knew I was leaving the appointment with glasses, but to think that my vision is so bad it warranted a stern warning from my doctor. I had no idea… Either way, my blurry road is coming to an end. I pick up my new frames tomorrow. I’m hoping they make me appear more as a sexy librarian vs. square pegs cast off.

30 Days to Halloween

It is never too early to start planning what I’ll be wearing to my second favorite holiday. (My favorite holiday is the 4th of July – beers, bbq and bathing suits. What’s not to love?) Since I’m already invited to a fantastic party, I started stressing this weekend about what to wear. It must be unique… memorable… But not slutty.

On Saturday, inspiration hit while I was shopping at Sephora with Elle.... feather faux-eyelashes. Combined with my Project Runway obsession, I began brainstorming costumes which can be built around this accessory. It is as simple (and chic) as creating a bird costume.…

This concept posed one final issue – wings. Aside from slut-o-ween, wings are the #2 Halloween no-no. In college my girlfriend’s costume involved wings, as I recall she spent the entire party in the corner, as her wings made maneuvering around the packed room impossible. I refuse to be that girl.

In need of a solution, my fashion forward roommate quickly suggested a dolman shirt/dress. (Dolman = Ridiculously big sleeved shirts) Once I’m armed with a glue gun and a batch of feathers, I have a serious arts and crafts project ahead of me. My finishing touches will be citrus shade tights with black shoes.