No check bummer

I finally decided to sit down and sort through my 857+ emails. Here's one that piqued my interest: (see right) so OF COURSE I clicked and went to the sale. I may be trying to save money, but I'm no shopping dummy either. Yesterday Amanda and I went shopping and I was very unlucky in my quest to find a cute cardigan that I definitely had in the 90's and should not have thrown out last year when cleaning out my effing closet. Imagine my excitement when this (see left) shows up on the front page. Great googly moogly!

• Marc by Marc Jacobs (my favorite)- check.
  
• Button down cardigan without any extra bells and whistles- check.
  
• Good price ($29 FREAKING DOLLARS)- check.
  
• No wool- check.
  
• My size- NO CHECK.

It's a petite. WHY?! Is this some sort of mean prank from Barneys for no longer giving them loads of my money? I want it. It's not fair. I want to stomp my feet like a petulant child, but something tells me that it may not work in this case. Although honestly, when was the last time it did? Part of me wants to buy it anyways and see if maybe just maybe it runs really really big. I can always return it. Or try to resell it in my Marc Jacobs LJ group. Yep, I'm in one of them. My only regret is that it's not on blogger. I digress. We shall see. I'll have to ponder while I eat my bagel.

Great Googly Moogly!

Eyebrows... waggle waggle

I've reached a conundrum. What should I do with my eyebrows? Not something that one would usually ponder, right? Okay, this actually goes back years and years ago to the high school days. When I first got my eyebrows done it was more about keeping them two separate entities and not entering Bert-land. As I got older they started becoming shaped. Once I reached college I was pretty much a pro, and my eyebrows were not only shaped pretty nicely, but thin. As somebody with stubbornly thick (and dark) eyebrows it took a lot of work to keep them that way.

The way some people stop eating (or start eating too much), or let themselves go in some way or another, when I became depressed my eyebrows were always the first thing to go. This past winter my eyebrows became ridiculously thick. High school thick. And while I was able to keep myself from becoming Bertified, I felt like they were bigger than my eyes.

One day I met my grandmother at the Waldorf for pedicures. It was every bit as glamorous as you'd expect. Her eyebrow lady was passing by to say hello when she spotted the monstrosity on my face. She offered to do my eyebrows FREE OF CHARGE. That's how bad it was. I was a pity case. Kety actually assumed I was in high school and hadn't a clue what I should be doing yet. Oops! She then yelled at me for completely over plucking in the past. Even with thick filled in eyebrows she could still see the damage I had been doing. She said if I had kept up the way I was (before I let them grow) they would be permanently damaged, and the hair would never grow back there. She fixed my shape and told me not to tweeze them AT ALL (except for, you know, the whole Bert area) until the next time I came in.

During my week in the city I ventured uptown to the Waldorf again. I kept waiting for somebody to point me out in the lobby and shout "faker! She doesn't belong here!" Once at the salon, Kety applauded me for not using the tweezers (little did she know I lost mine two weeks earlier), but said I still have a lot of work to do. You can actually see the area where there are gaps in the hair. It's a little creepy.

Now here's the thing. I think my eyebrows look ridiculously thick! I miss having really thin eyebrows. Is this some sort of body dysmorphic disorder, but with my eyebrows? Where I think they're never thin enough but they just look ridiculous? I mean I see other people with eyebrows like that, where I just want to tell them to stop tweezing. Maybe I was always the same, but I just could never see the truth. Somebody once told me I had Brooke Shields-like eyebrows. To me that seemed an insult, because Brooke Shields can pull something like that off, whereas I... cannot. I'm going to keep growing them for now, and I guess when I reach the point where Kety is no longer lecturing me I'll start asking everyone I know under the sun for their opinions. 

And thus concludes my oddest blog entry yet.

Things I Like Here

• Being blocks away from Marc by Marc Jacobs
• Fresh Magnolia's cupcakes (esp with Chocolate Milk)
  
• Traveling all over town (and even to NJ) via subway/train in a matter of minutes
• Happy Hour!
• Socializing with somebody new almost everyday
• Endless inexpensive nail salons
• Anything I need at my fingertips
  

Seems to Me

Seems to me... I've got this song stuck in my head... seems to me... living alone my drive me mad... seems to me... my sanity has just walked away!

If you listen to that song and it doesn't make you want to get up and dance and burrow it's way into your mind to be hummed and sung to yourself at random times (such as in the shower) I just don't think we'll ever understand each other.

It's Day Two of my house sitting gig in the West Village. I'm loving it here, but I don't think I'd do very well living alone permanently. Abner (the cat I'm watching) likes me, but is still a little weary of me, and hasn't snuggled up to me yet. I'm hoping by tomorrow when he realizes that I'm the person who's feeding him routinely he'll start to become more affectionate.

Last night Jordana and I went out and sampled a few different places. We started with sushi (for her), I skipped lunch so I went for the bigger chicken teriyaki dinner. I had another few hours of drinking ahead of me, so it was important to get something a little more substantial in my tum. After a fantastic dinner we wandered around Hudson and eventually Bleecker for a bit. We ended up in a bar 1856 or 64 or something like that, which I'm convinced I saw a blurb of in New York Magazine or maybe Time Out. Either way, it was a western themed bar with a wonderful wall of confiscated fake IDs. The bouncer looked at my own ID five or six times, they must be pretty tough there.

After a few minutes of deciding should we stay or should we go, and if we do stay how to get to the very crowded bar, a dude offered to buy us drinks. Lovely. He was a nice guy, from Morristown actually, but kind of boring to talk to. If he wasn't so persistent about getting Jordana's number before he left (he wants to take her for dinner) I'd think he was uninterested in talking to us. After he left, and we were debating how long to stay for another guy offered us drinks. Vodka pineapples for us all night. Well, actually, I had a Malibu pineapple as my third drink, which was much better, but the vodka pineapples were a better choice for going the drunken path. Packs a bit more of a punch. The second guy (whose name I know starts with an "A" but I can't remember the rest) succeeded where Keith failed. He got us to take shots. It actually wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I haven't taken a sober shot in a VERY long time. And I did not make a fool out of myself. WHOO HOO! While "A" was friendly, Jordana and I were starting to get bored and decided to tell him that Adelle (who was home watching the Olympics with the fam) was texting us from Gasoline and was waiting for us for over an hour. While Jordana was in the bathroom "A" became super touchy and I knew we made the right choice. Ew.

Three free drinks, two shots, and not a penny spent later we started making our way up to meatpacking. Funny story, last week while having dinner with my grandmother she asked where I've been going out at night and when I told her meatpacking she had a horror filled look on her face and said "WHY?!" not realizing there was any nightlife and thinking I was hanging out by butcher shops. Anyways, after walking for what felt like forever Jordana needed to use the bathroom so we decided to stop at the next place we came across. We decided to stop at the place with the velvet rope, because doesn't a velvet rope make everything seem more appealing?

I don't know the place of where we were, but it was a small place with tables and couches everywhere, one of those bottle service places. Jordana was shocked to hear I've never had bottle service before. A guy named Orman or Omran, something like that, offered to get us drinks at his table. Unfortch, his table was empty of drinks, so we started dancing for a minute while he waited for the waiter to come back over. That's when he made a shocking relevation- he went to camp (and spoke very highly of) a ditzy jappy idiot we went to high school with. Our respect for him dropped very quickly. While he and J started dancing a foreign guy walked over to me and said "I'd like to buy you a drink from my table". He poured me a VERY strong seabreeze and we started dancing. Five minutes in I realized I needed to get away from this dude. People complain about girls who use guys for free drinks, but seriously it's just not cool when they start groping you and being very inappropriate while dancing. I'm not a prude, but I'm not going to let you touch my boobs because you gave me a drink. That doesn't make me a tease, I think it makes me not a tramp! If these guys just turned down the skeeze level a bit they'd probably get the girls to stick around a little longer, and not just until the drinks run out (or until their skeeziness scares us away). Jordana was dancing next to me and I started blinking the morse code, SOS. She didn't catch on. Eventually I got my point across with other body language and we escaped to the back of the bar. A cute guy from Holland tried to talk to me, but I couldn't understand half of what he was saying and his shouting in my ear was painful, so we parted ways. I sat down and drunk texted while Jordana danced, pretty bored. Around 2ish we left in search of a better time.

Next up was the Hotel Gansevoort. Jordana and I were talking to these two guys on the roof. It was beautiful up there! My guy, Colin, recognized some blonde girl walking by and swore he would be right back. After about five minutes, which felt more like ten, this hot guy I had been making eyes at all night swooped in and sat down. We started talking and it turns out he was German. I couldn't remember his name (I kept thinking Claus, but it was actually Cristian). Just when the German sat down, of course Colin returned. He saw his seat was occupied and walked away. I was a little bummed. The German was way hotter than Colin, but I actually though Colin was fun to talk to. Oh well. The German and I went inside to get a drink, but ended up making out instead. I was kinda creeped out. I have a weird thing with Germans, I don't know if it's their accent or too much history class, but they scare me a bit. I'm still not entirely sure why I gave him my number. When he called on Sunday my gut told me not to call him back. Sorry Claus- er Cristian. C'mon, he was a tourist anyways.

BoneheadedEST moment of the night- I walked back to the apt by myself at 4am. I pretended to be on my cell phone the whole time (it was too late to actually call anybody, Jordana was the only person awake and she was on the subway). It was actually a little fun, I got to basically converse with myself out loud, like a crazy person :) And since I'm able to post this, I obviously made it home in one piece.