Sunday afternoon, Dara and I are lounging around my apartment, watching football, drinking a lot of wine, and playing Scrabble. I usually go over to her place for Sunday brunch, because let's face it, it's a huge, gorgeous apartment on Central Park West and I enjoy soaking up the environs. But I adopted a little kitten last weekend, and Dara ( Read more... )

In my dream, I'm standing in the middle of a dance floor in a poofy, hideous bridesmaid's dress, and the only other person there with me is the six year old flower girl, because we're the only single females left in the room.
Around the edges of the dance floor among the assembled wedding guests, I recognize a lot of the women from the last several ( Read more... )

The first thing I notice is that my hair hurts. When I open my eyes, the room spins a little, then spins back the other way, so I close my eyes again. I hear a scratching sound coming from my bedroom door, and it's even more irritating than usual. "Fuck off, bitch," I croak in the general direction of my roommate's cat, on the other side of the ( Read more... )

The Sunday closing shift is about as dead as things get around the Pub, and tonight is no exception, so in a way, it should be a perfect time for me to return to work. After I finished sitting shiva, I took a few days to sleep and start to get my father's affairs in order, not that they needed much help with how careful he was. So it's time to ( Read more... )

July 2, 2009
"You were texting him while you were lying in my arms?! You already know how I feel about you texting this guy to begin with, and the fact that you lied about texting him, that you hide it when you're texting him, now you're doing it in my arms?" Jenny is loud, and other people around us on the grass in Union Square turn to look ( Read more... )

Thursday afternoon at the Pub isn't particularly busy, so I spend a few minutes opening the mail I grabbed on my way out of the apartment. One larger envelope catches my eye immediately, since it was originally sent to me at the Bar's address and someone forwarded it. I rip it open, and the tell-tale tissue paper reveals that it's a wedding ( Read more... )

Dara finally comes down to the Pub on Wednesday night, for the first time since I started working here a few months ago, and parks herself at the bar for a chat. We spend a little while catching up - on her wedding plans with Dennis, my Dad and how he's been dating the doctor who treated me in the ER a few years ago, and photos of Jessica's ( Read more... )

It's time for a confession: I hate Starbucks ( Read more... )

With the time difference, Gary and I have no trouble getting up early, and after a light (but free!) breakfast in our hotel, we spend Saturday doing touristy things - riding the streetcar to Fisherman's Wharf, Ghirardelli Square, petting baby sharks at the Aquarium of the Bay, and dinner at a fantastic, inexpensive hole in the wall in Chinatown. ( Read more... )

For the past several days, I haven't been sleeping as late as I usually do. It's definitely not because I haven't been staying up as late, oh, no; I'm still working several shifts a week at the Bar that go until three or four in the morning, occasionally even later for clean-up and closing. Even on the nights I'm not working, I tend to be up ( Read more... )