I thought I'd try something different for this post and re-post a blog from about 2 years ago, the last time I was a single lady. Sometimes I miss my single days and then I remember that there are guys out there like this one:
Sunday, April 02, 2006
"This Is Why I'm Single"
Friday night Monika, Danielle and I decided to stay in Burlingame. It was nice not to have to go very far, we could walk back home, blah, blah, blah. It was great, we saw a bunch of people from high school, got caught up, had a few beers. Lovely.
Then, I bumped into some dude who works in my building. You all know I'm friendly--I'll talk to anyone. Then he offered to buy me a drink, and I'm not one to turn down free booze, either, so I said, " Sure!"
Drink turned out to be a shot with him and his friend and Monika. Then my new buddy says, "Hey, I'm going to cross a professional boundary with you." Naturally, I took a step or two back because I don't really want to know where this is going.
Sleaze Ball pulls down his lower lip to show me the tattoo that is INSIDE HIS MOUTH! Guess what it says? "Sit Here"
I started laughing and called him a fucking dirt bag. May I remind him that I'm his property manager and I don't want to see that shit. And besides, I'm just not interested.
Now, to all you men with no game out there: Just because I'm a nice girl and will converse with you does not mean I want to see your nasty tattoo, nor partake in what it suggests. Especially not with you. Besides, if you have to tattoo it into your mouth, maybe you aren't that good at it.
Do you know what this guy told me a month ago? He came into my office to tell me about the stitches on his face--the result of a fight that he got in where some guy hit him with a TOILET SEAT!
HELLO!! Why the hell would I be interested in you?!
What I've learned from this is that I probably shouldn't be so nice to people I'm not interested in. I need to take some pointers from my girlfriends and learn to do that stone-faced, I don't want to talk to you expression.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Kitchenally-Challenged.
Have you met Sponge-Char Burned-Pants? I have. Last Wednesday. He lives in the microwave.
Mr. Pants made his appearance when I was sanitizing my dish sponge in the microwave (1 min on high=sanitary sponge). As usual, I popped the sponge into the microwave while I made my lunch for the next day. It is a lovely routine. I end up with a clean sponge to do my dishes and a tuna sandwich.
After my sandwich was done, I was puttering around, putting other groceries away, pre-treating my laundry, and thinking about crawling into bed with my new book (the only thing I'm crawling into bed with lately), when all of a sudden I smelled something burning.
I thought, "Oh my god! The sponge!"
I ran back upstairs to get the sponge out of the microwave. I arrived just in time to see my sponge burst into flames. I hit the cancel button and stepped back. The flames went out, but there was smoke everywhere!
I thought about opening the microwave to throw the sponge in the sink, but I was afraid of backdraft-like consequences in which I would open the door and the smoldering sponge would burst back into flames, thus scarring me for life! So I did what every wary kitchen-fire victim would do. I grabbed the broom.
Broom in hand, I was getting ready to open the microwave door from afar, when the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and my nice neighbor, Lisa, was standing there asking if I was okay! Awwwwww! She had smelled the smoke in the hallway and wanted to make sure everyone was okay inside. Oddly, our smoke detector didn't go off during this whole smoky fiasco. Never mind that it gets set off practically every time someone fries an egg (like every day).
With everything explained to Lisa, I headed back inside, broom still in hand, ready to open the microwave. I poked the button to open the door and nothing happened. No backdraft. It was very anti-climatic.
The good news is, the microwave still works. The bad news is that I spent an hour scraping Sponge-Char Burned-Pants and smoke residue off every surface in the microwave.
I re-heated some leftovers in the microwave tonight, and the ghost of Mr. Pants came out to visit. Nothing like the smell of charred cellulose!
Moral: When sanitizing your kitchen sponge, make sure the microwave is set for 1 minute. Not 10. Cellulose ignites at roughly 9 mins 24 seconds.
Mr. Pants made his appearance when I was sanitizing my dish sponge in the microwave (1 min on high=sanitary sponge). As usual, I popped the sponge into the microwave while I made my lunch for the next day. It is a lovely routine. I end up with a clean sponge to do my dishes and a tuna sandwich.
After my sandwich was done, I was puttering around, putting other groceries away, pre-treating my laundry, and thinking about crawling into bed with my new book (the only thing I'm crawling into bed with lately), when all of a sudden I smelled something burning.
I thought, "Oh my god! The sponge!"
I ran back upstairs to get the sponge out of the microwave. I arrived just in time to see my sponge burst into flames. I hit the cancel button and stepped back. The flames went out, but there was smoke everywhere!
I thought about opening the microwave to throw the sponge in the sink, but I was afraid of backdraft-like consequences in which I would open the door and the smoldering sponge would burst back into flames, thus scarring me for life! So I did what every wary kitchen-fire victim would do. I grabbed the broom.
Broom in hand, I was getting ready to open the microwave door from afar, when the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and my nice neighbor, Lisa, was standing there asking if I was okay! Awwwwww! She had smelled the smoke in the hallway and wanted to make sure everyone was okay inside. Oddly, our smoke detector didn't go off during this whole smoky fiasco. Never mind that it gets set off practically every time someone fries an egg (like every day).
With everything explained to Lisa, I headed back inside, broom still in hand, ready to open the microwave. I poked the button to open the door and nothing happened. No backdraft. It was very anti-climatic.
The good news is, the microwave still works. The bad news is that I spent an hour scraping Sponge-Char Burned-Pants and smoke residue off every surface in the microwave.
I re-heated some leftovers in the microwave tonight, and the ghost of Mr. Pants came out to visit. Nothing like the smell of charred cellulose!
Moral: When sanitizing your kitchen sponge, make sure the microwave is set for 1 minute. Not 10. Cellulose ignites at roughly 9 mins 24 seconds.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Six by Ten
You may or may not have heard me use the term 4 x 4. Usually I mean someone equally short as they are fat. I know it's not nice, but it sure is funny!
Well, my home since February has been a 6 x 10 room in Spanish Harlem. It sounds ghetto, and let me tell you, IT IS! I'll post pictures of it at some point. Every time I straighten up the room, I think, "today is the day I'll take a photo to commemorate this time in my life!"
Actually, I'd say I've made the best of it. I have nice things, so even though my room is small, it is not as horrible as it could be.
The apartment we live in is called a railroad-style apartment, and they're all over New York. Railroad apartment means that there are rooms you have to walk through to get to other rooms. Ours is also a floor-through, which means that our unit is the entire floor of the building. Sounds cool, but again, it means the apartment is about 15 feet wide, by 40 feet deep.
I have to say, of all the rooms I looked at that cost less than $700, this one was the best! It was not the biggest, but it was in the nicest neighborhood, and the apartment actually has a living room. So many places I looked at were in huge, once-grand apartments all around Harlem, but the landlords had closed off all the living space and converted the whole thing into bedrooms. You would walk down these long hallways, and the only open doors would be the kitchen and the bathroom. This one was also the cleanest. I was not about to sit on a toilet that my male roommates had peed all over.
Anyway, my room is actually down the hall from the main part of the apartment. I have a separate entrance to my room too. I actually don't mind it because otherwise, I'd have to walk through 2 other bedrooms.
When I first moved here, there was me, Mary (43-year-old 'artist' and high-end photo printer), and Katie (23, psychology student at NYU). We had a really nice dynamic until Katie was about to move out and then Mary flipped! I've never seen anything like it. Nothing Katie did was good enough for Mary. She didn't buy enough TP, she didn't clean enough, she was home too much (never mind we PAY RENT to live here!). Needless to say, I got a little weirded out and started distancing myself from Mary.
After Katie moved out in March, it was just Mary and me for a month. She decided to use the 3rd bedroom (the walk-through room) as a studio and make some art. She did a performance piece, but that's about it. Oh, and we had a party so Mary could show off some of her art. Which is when I got to meet Dana, the woman who moved in this month. We mostly had fun, but I surely was feeling a little tense because of how she treated Katie.
From even before Dana moved in Mary didn't like her. Dana is 35, has a cat (Mary has 2 cats), is not a vegetarian (neither am I), is financially successful, etc. The problem started when I was back home for Easter. I guess they decided to have dinner together, and during dinner, they started to talk about how they are both Hillary Clinton supporters (yeah! Go Hil!). Well, Dana has strong feelings, and statistics to back them up. Mary also has strong feelings, and hates nothing more than a statistician!
Then, at Mary's party, Dana and Mary's friend were debating the merits of Hillary v. Barack. I'll admit, it was a little awkward. Dana isn't always articulate, and she has this weird twitch when she's nervous where her jaw wobbles. That's the best I can describe it. You'd have to see it. Anyway, Mary flipped out, Dana went home.
The next day Mary wouldn't stop about how much she didn't want Dana to be here, blah, blah, blah. Everything is wrong with her, and she's a freak with her statistics. So, the day Dana moved in, Mary gave her 30 days notice to move out. OUCH!
It has been incredibly awkward since then. Mary has been hiding in her room, Dana has been on the verge of tears, and I've been in the middle. Initially, I thought Dana was a little weird too, but she didn't bother me at all. We've become friends over the last few weeks and gone for long walks to vent about the craziness here. She invited me to her friend's house to watch the Democratic debate. I am so glad I went. I met several major Hillary supporters, including Trudy Mason, who is the NY Democratic Committeewoman.
I guess in Mary's defense, the day before Dana moved in, I told her that I, too, am moving out. I found a great place on the Upper West Side. I love the Upper West Side, and I am stoked to be moving there. My future roommmates are both professionals and in their 20's. I won't be supplementing their way of life, like I am here, and it will be a partnership. Moving there helps me feel better about staying here in NY. There is so much more drama involved with living here, I'm just over it, and I haven't even told you the half of it!
Well, my home since February has been a 6 x 10 room in Spanish Harlem. It sounds ghetto, and let me tell you, IT IS! I'll post pictures of it at some point. Every time I straighten up the room, I think, "today is the day I'll take a photo to commemorate this time in my life!"
Actually, I'd say I've made the best of it. I have nice things, so even though my room is small, it is not as horrible as it could be.
The apartment we live in is called a railroad-style apartment, and they're all over New York. Railroad apartment means that there are rooms you have to walk through to get to other rooms. Ours is also a floor-through, which means that our unit is the entire floor of the building. Sounds cool, but again, it means the apartment is about 15 feet wide, by 40 feet deep.
I have to say, of all the rooms I looked at that cost less than $700, this one was the best! It was not the biggest, but it was in the nicest neighborhood, and the apartment actually has a living room. So many places I looked at were in huge, once-grand apartments all around Harlem, but the landlords had closed off all the living space and converted the whole thing into bedrooms. You would walk down these long hallways, and the only open doors would be the kitchen and the bathroom. This one was also the cleanest. I was not about to sit on a toilet that my male roommates had peed all over.
Anyway, my room is actually down the hall from the main part of the apartment. I have a separate entrance to my room too. I actually don't mind it because otherwise, I'd have to walk through 2 other bedrooms.
When I first moved here, there was me, Mary (43-year-old 'artist' and high-end photo printer), and Katie (23, psychology student at NYU). We had a really nice dynamic until Katie was about to move out and then Mary flipped! I've never seen anything like it. Nothing Katie did was good enough for Mary. She didn't buy enough TP, she didn't clean enough, she was home too much (never mind we PAY RENT to live here!). Needless to say, I got a little weirded out and started distancing myself from Mary.
After Katie moved out in March, it was just Mary and me for a month. She decided to use the 3rd bedroom (the walk-through room) as a studio and make some art. She did a performance piece, but that's about it. Oh, and we had a party so Mary could show off some of her art. Which is when I got to meet Dana, the woman who moved in this month. We mostly had fun, but I surely was feeling a little tense because of how she treated Katie.
From even before Dana moved in Mary didn't like her. Dana is 35, has a cat (Mary has 2 cats), is not a vegetarian (neither am I), is financially successful, etc. The problem started when I was back home for Easter. I guess they decided to have dinner together, and during dinner, they started to talk about how they are both Hillary Clinton supporters (yeah! Go Hil!). Well, Dana has strong feelings, and statistics to back them up. Mary also has strong feelings, and hates nothing more than a statistician!
Then, at Mary's party, Dana and Mary's friend were debating the merits of Hillary v. Barack. I'll admit, it was a little awkward. Dana isn't always articulate, and she has this weird twitch when she's nervous where her jaw wobbles. That's the best I can describe it. You'd have to see it. Anyway, Mary flipped out, Dana went home.
The next day Mary wouldn't stop about how much she didn't want Dana to be here, blah, blah, blah. Everything is wrong with her, and she's a freak with her statistics. So, the day Dana moved in, Mary gave her 30 days notice to move out. OUCH!
It has been incredibly awkward since then. Mary has been hiding in her room, Dana has been on the verge of tears, and I've been in the middle. Initially, I thought Dana was a little weird too, but she didn't bother me at all. We've become friends over the last few weeks and gone for long walks to vent about the craziness here. She invited me to her friend's house to watch the Democratic debate. I am so glad I went. I met several major Hillary supporters, including Trudy Mason, who is the NY Democratic Committeewoman.
I guess in Mary's defense, the day before Dana moved in, I told her that I, too, am moving out. I found a great place on the Upper West Side. I love the Upper West Side, and I am stoked to be moving there. My future roommmates are both professionals and in their 20's. I won't be supplementing their way of life, like I am here, and it will be a partnership. Moving there helps me feel better about staying here in NY. There is so much more drama involved with living here, I'm just over it, and I haven't even told you the half of it!
Friday, April 4, 2008
Absentee Blogger
Sorry, I've been a bad blogger. But I'm back now.
So a bunch has happened in the last month and a half! I got a job, moved into my small room in NYC, visited home for Easter, and decided to move again!
Let's go through those one at a time.
JOB
Can I just say, "yay!"? I can't tell you how good it feels to be working again. I'm learning all sorts of new things, getting paid more than I was in SF, AND I have less responsibility.
I'm not sure if I mentioned it in my one and only other entry, but I was really adamant about not going back into property management. I was going to be an event planner! Well, I'm over it for now.
At the end of February, I started working at a really high profile building kitty-corner to Central Park. I'm the senior Administrative Assistant, so for all you gals I worked with at CB, that means I'm a Property Administrator again. Except this time, I have an assistant! Who also happens to be a temp who thinks he's my boss.
Apparently, he's a little bitter because I'm the one filling the permanent role here, and he thought he would be awarded the position. Whatever, you snooze you lose, buddy.
There have, however, been some pretty funny interactions--I just wish the building managers had been listening to his rants.
The first time I realized D hated me was when I asked one of the managers here how to order cups for the kitchen (This admin thing is new to me!).
Apparently, D overheard this and took great offense to it. Because (now envision a very petite, gay, African-American twenty-something talking with his arms--not hands--arms) he monologues to me, "Adriana, I'm noticing a lack of communication here, a major concern of mine is that we don't communicate. You don't know what J (the other temp) and I have done for the last several months, you don't know ANYTHING! You really need to ask us when you have a question because we probably have the answer for you. You don't need to go ask the managers, just ask us. And just so you know, we ordered cups before you started working here."
During this whole exchange I stood there with a shit-eating grin on my face, stunned that he was saying this. So I said back to him, super-professionally, "D, I am trying to build relationships with my managers. I'm sorry if you feel that I'm not coming to you with enough questions, but I don't want to burden with my lack of knowledge. And besides, I asked you earlier how to order the cups, and you told me you didn't know. It's also been two weeks since I started working here, and we haven't recieved that cup order that you made before my time. Do you think maybe it was lost? Oh, and I'll be sure to come to you with ALL of my questions from now on."
He gave me the cold shoulder for the rest of the afternoon, and finally I asked him, "D, Did I do something to you?"
In return I got another monologue, this time about how I am terse. Damn straigt I'm terse! Things were ok since then. A lot of uber-politeness between the two of us. Then there was this week!
Here's what happened on Wednesday: Derek, the guy from the mailroom upstairs, comes into the office and hands D two interoffice envelopes. D immediately shoots back at Derek, super sarcastically, "Now Derek, you know darn well I'm not the only Administrative Assistant here! Walk these over there!"
My big comeback is, "That's Tenant Administrator to you! Ha Ha Ha"
So Derek gives me the two envelopes, we make introductions, Derek goes on his way. I take the two envelopes, and drop one on each manager's desk. When I come back out, D is laughing and looking at me (I swear I don't have a complex about this!). I'm like, "what?"
"Adriana, you are Something Else, Hahahaha!" he says.
I replied, "I'd rather be 'Something Else' than 'More of the Same'. What did I do this time?"
"I can't believe you just put those envelopes on Paul and Jean's desks!"
"What? That's who they were addressed to."
"Haha. No, no, no, we're supposed to open the envelopes for the managers!"
"Well, we're all big kids here, they can open their own. I have other stuff to do."
"Ha ha ha. Something Else."
5 mins later
"You know, Adriana, we may all be big kids around here, but there ARE procedures that you need to follow."
WHAT? WHAT? DID THAT REALLY JUST COME OUT OF HIS MOUTH? Oh. My. God. You uneducated little shit. This is war now. I'm the boss.
So I did what all warriors do. I tattled on him to my boss! Ha ha. Guess what?! He's out. Per my command! It turns out all I had to do was mention this to a manager, and we're done with him! Justice is served. However, he's still an uneducated, passive-agressive little temp, and I have to put up with him until (if) we find a permanent person. Yay!
I'm sure I'll have lots more good work stories, but for now, that's it. I'll tell you about my current home next time.
So a bunch has happened in the last month and a half! I got a job, moved into my small room in NYC, visited home for Easter, and decided to move again!
Let's go through those one at a time.
JOB
Can I just say, "yay!"? I can't tell you how good it feels to be working again. I'm learning all sorts of new things, getting paid more than I was in SF, AND I have less responsibility.
I'm not sure if I mentioned it in my one and only other entry, but I was really adamant about not going back into property management. I was going to be an event planner! Well, I'm over it for now.
At the end of February, I started working at a really high profile building kitty-corner to Central Park. I'm the senior Administrative Assistant, so for all you gals I worked with at CB, that means I'm a Property Administrator again. Except this time, I have an assistant! Who also happens to be a temp who thinks he's my boss.
Apparently, he's a little bitter because I'm the one filling the permanent role here, and he thought he would be awarded the position. Whatever, you snooze you lose, buddy.
There have, however, been some pretty funny interactions--I just wish the building managers had been listening to his rants.
The first time I realized D hated me was when I asked one of the managers here how to order cups for the kitchen (This admin thing is new to me!).
Apparently, D overheard this and took great offense to it. Because (now envision a very petite, gay, African-American twenty-something talking with his arms--not hands--arms) he monologues to me, "Adriana, I'm noticing a lack of communication here, a major concern of mine is that we don't communicate. You don't know what J (the other temp) and I have done for the last several months, you don't know ANYTHING! You really need to ask us when you have a question because we probably have the answer for you. You don't need to go ask the managers, just ask us. And just so you know, we ordered cups before you started working here."
During this whole exchange I stood there with a shit-eating grin on my face, stunned that he was saying this. So I said back to him, super-professionally, "D, I am trying to build relationships with my managers. I'm sorry if you feel that I'm not coming to you with enough questions, but I don't want to burden with my lack of knowledge. And besides, I asked you earlier how to order the cups, and you told me you didn't know. It's also been two weeks since I started working here, and we haven't recieved that cup order that you made before my time. Do you think maybe it was lost? Oh, and I'll be sure to come to you with ALL of my questions from now on."
He gave me the cold shoulder for the rest of the afternoon, and finally I asked him, "D, Did I do something to you?"
In return I got another monologue, this time about how I am terse. Damn straigt I'm terse! Things were ok since then. A lot of uber-politeness between the two of us. Then there was this week!
Here's what happened on Wednesday: Derek, the guy from the mailroom upstairs, comes into the office and hands D two interoffice envelopes. D immediately shoots back at Derek, super sarcastically, "Now Derek, you know darn well I'm not the only Administrative Assistant here! Walk these over there!"
My big comeback is, "That's Tenant Administrator to you! Ha Ha Ha"
So Derek gives me the two envelopes, we make introductions, Derek goes on his way. I take the two envelopes, and drop one on each manager's desk. When I come back out, D is laughing and looking at me (I swear I don't have a complex about this!). I'm like, "what?"
"Adriana, you are Something Else, Hahahaha!" he says.
I replied, "I'd rather be 'Something Else' than 'More of the Same'. What did I do this time?"
"I can't believe you just put those envelopes on Paul and Jean's desks!"
"What? That's who they were addressed to."
"Haha. No, no, no, we're supposed to open the envelopes for the managers!"
"Well, we're all big kids here, they can open their own. I have other stuff to do."
"Ha ha ha. Something Else."
5 mins later
"You know, Adriana, we may all be big kids around here, but there ARE procedures that you need to follow."
WHAT? WHAT? DID THAT REALLY JUST COME OUT OF HIS MOUTH? Oh. My. God. You uneducated little shit. This is war now. I'm the boss.
So I did what all warriors do. I tattled on him to my boss! Ha ha. Guess what?! He's out. Per my command! It turns out all I had to do was mention this to a manager, and we're done with him! Justice is served. However, he's still an uneducated, passive-agressive little temp, and I have to put up with him until (if) we find a permanent person. Yay!
I'm sure I'll have lots more good work stories, but for now, that's it. I'll tell you about my current home next time.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Mama's Got A Brand New Blog!
Je suis ici. I am here. I've broken down and convinced myself that my life and my thoughts are interesting enough that people around the world may want to read them. That is a very big jump for me.
I used to think that bloggers were dumb. Who would want to read about my personal life or anyone else's? Really, is it necessary to put every detail of your life on the internet for anyone to read? I have one long-time blogger friend who started getting harassed by her readers! That is some serious baloney! I didn't want to get myself into it.
Yet, here I am. Newly relocated to New York City via New Providence, NJ via Burlingame, CA. I have a lot to say. My opinions are all over the place, and I'm not sure where I'm going with this. Maybe it'll be like free therapy. We'll see who reads and makes comments (can you do that? I'm very green.). BUT, if you harass me, or offer mean advice, I'm done. No more blogging!
I'm also going to post some old things I wrote to see what kind of a response they get. Some stuff is funny, some is just dumb, and I'm going to make fun of it. I'll also tell you about my new life here in New York.
Looking forward to getting this show on the road! Happy reading!
I used to think that bloggers were dumb. Who would want to read about my personal life or anyone else's? Really, is it necessary to put every detail of your life on the internet for anyone to read? I have one long-time blogger friend who started getting harassed by her readers! That is some serious baloney! I didn't want to get myself into it.
Yet, here I am. Newly relocated to New York City via New Providence, NJ via Burlingame, CA. I have a lot to say. My opinions are all over the place, and I'm not sure where I'm going with this. Maybe it'll be like free therapy. We'll see who reads and makes comments (can you do that? I'm very green.). BUT, if you harass me, or offer mean advice, I'm done. No more blogging!
I'm also going to post some old things I wrote to see what kind of a response they get. Some stuff is funny, some is just dumb, and I'm going to make fun of it. I'll also tell you about my new life here in New York.
Looking forward to getting this show on the road! Happy reading!
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