I shot the pilot, I'm begging you to fly this for me
So, last night I went up to White Plains for Deepa's birthday. I was on the phone and so was Rich, and this woman ( I use the term woman loosely) comes out and gives me the death stare. I'm a little weirded out but I keep talking on my phone. Rich got off his phone and she approaches him. She lights a cigarette and goes "like your boots" (he was wearing his Swiss boots, tight Diesel jeans, and a white V-Neck with his scruffy beard and sexy hair), and he (uncomfortably) says "thanks." She goes on bullshitting for a good twenty minutes (I am on the phone still watching him and being amused by this) and then invites him in for a drink. About twenty times he drops both the "f" word (not the four letter one) and the "g" word, and she still doesn't care. She leaves and I come over. She comes back and is like "oh, nice to meet you." But I didn't tell you the best part. Rich goes "that's my fiance" and she goes "oh, I thought you were gay". Nice save, crazy lady.
Anyways dinner was great and we all seemed to have a fun time. It was nice seeing people, because I haven't seen guys like Joe or Danny since early April. After dinner, Rich and I took the 12:05 a.m. back to Grand Central and took a cab back to the apartment. And that's where Rich lost his iPhone.
When we got back to the apartment, there was a note on the door from the girl below saying that she wants to sleep and giving us precise directions on where to lay carpet and how much padding to have (very nice, dear - do you want to pay for it?) We got back around 1:30 a.m., checked our mail, and went to bed. As were were lying in bed, she decides to take the broom to the ceiling because we woke her up. Now Rich and I are fairly quiet people, and if a 98-pound girl shuffling across 10 feet to get a glass of water at 2:00 a.m. wakes you out of a deep sleep like you claim, you are either complaining for the sake of complaining, or you have a serious sleep disorder. Honestly, Rich is a more patient person than me. I could not deal with someone leaving me notes on what "she wants" and then yelling at ME for forcing her to live by MY sleep schedule. Honestly, if you're 25 and getting up at 5:00 a.m. and going to sleep by 10:00 p.m., you're life is pretty much done. Have a little fun. I also think she has a complex that dictates that just because SHE can't sleep, everyone else has to be woken up.
This morning, I got up at 11:00 a.m. before the cable guys came. I got dressed, and picked up a phone and a laundry bag. Then lunch. Then shower. Then Duane Reade. Then nap. I also talked to Dr. O and it looks like the surgery is becoming imminent (since I am not pregnant and this pain won't go away).
In other news, my fascination with the 1880s is growing. I really wish there was a war to reenact that took place then (minus Zulu, which hurts my sensibilities) because these gowns are orgasmic. Really:
I just don't like the wig they put on the mannequin. It's more 18th century man than 19th century woman. I would have at least chosen a nice, tight bun to place under the hat.
It's only you, beautiful
Or I don't want anyone
If I can choose,
It's only you...
Anyways dinner was great and we all seemed to have a fun time. It was nice seeing people, because I haven't seen guys like Joe or Danny since early April. After dinner, Rich and I took the 12:05 a.m. back to Grand Central and took a cab back to the apartment. And that's where Rich lost his iPhone.
When we got back to the apartment, there was a note on the door from the girl below saying that she wants to sleep and giving us precise directions on where to lay carpet and how much padding to have (very nice, dear - do you want to pay for it?) We got back around 1:30 a.m., checked our mail, and went to bed. As were were lying in bed, she decides to take the broom to the ceiling because we woke her up. Now Rich and I are fairly quiet people, and if a 98-pound girl shuffling across 10 feet to get a glass of water at 2:00 a.m. wakes you out of a deep sleep like you claim, you are either complaining for the sake of complaining, or you have a serious sleep disorder. Honestly, Rich is a more patient person than me. I could not deal with someone leaving me notes on what "she wants" and then yelling at ME for forcing her to live by MY sleep schedule. Honestly, if you're 25 and getting up at 5:00 a.m. and going to sleep by 10:00 p.m., you're life is pretty much done. Have a little fun. I also think she has a complex that dictates that just because SHE can't sleep, everyone else has to be woken up.
This morning, I got up at 11:00 a.m. before the cable guys came. I got dressed, and picked up a phone and a laundry bag. Then lunch. Then shower. Then Duane Reade. Then nap. I also talked to Dr. O and it looks like the surgery is becoming imminent (since I am not pregnant and this pain won't go away).
In other news, my fascination with the 1880s is growing. I really wish there was a war to reenact that took place then (minus Zulu, which hurts my sensibilities) because these gowns are orgasmic. Really:
I just don't like the wig they put on the mannequin. It's more 18th century man than 19th century woman. I would have at least chosen a nice, tight bun to place under the hat.
It's only you, beautiful
Or I don't want anyone
If I can choose,
It's only you...