Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Blow Pops. Blow Jobs. Connection?

Oh, dear. I have to be awake again in 5 hours. This is why I drink Starbucks. Like the blood of Christ. As in religiously. Today the Starbucks line circled the entire store. And this random ass cop (who cut the entire line, mind you) goes, "Man, I can't believe they're waiting in this long line. They must really be thirsty." Actually, I'm probably mis-quoting him, because I can't remember exactly what he said, but I feel like this is probs pretty close.

P.S. As soon as my Hebrew teacher's daughter has her baby in Israel my teach is peacing out for a week to be with her. She was already due. Last Friday. Still no baby. Still class. I keep having these thoughts that: what if the baby never comes?!!? I mean, is that possible? That the baby could just never be born? Oh, dear baby, you are not even born yet and already you have more control over my happiness than I can ever hope to.

#3. Saying I'm sorry. Jeez. What a strange, strange concept. Today someone said they were sorry when I bumped into them. Then someone else when they bumped into me, then someone who was standing in front of the trash can but NOT blocking me. Then some bizotch who was hogging the mirror in Kimmel didn't say sorry, and I was p'oed. But think about it. How many times a day do we say sorry for things that aren't our fault? Interesting concept. In Ghana, people say sorry to you all the time. Most of the time you're not sure why. Maybe they're just sorry for your misfortunate shape. You don't know. Sorry.

Well adjusted girl in martyrdom class was being all well-adjusted in class again. And she has these really big, pretty, deer-caught-in-headlights kinda eyes. I just don't appreciate her brand of perfection. It bores me.

My martyrdom teacher told me a few weeks ago that he'd found an old assignment of mine. He asked if he could read it. I said sure, but then e-mailed him with a bit of a qualification? for what I was attempting to do. He then e-mailed me back critiques of my project. Without reading it. When I got it back today I read my actual teacher's comments from two years ago. It was verbatim what new teacher had said, hmmmm....New teacher has not blocked his facebook! Nuff said. I like him.

Tonight I made beets AND chickpeas for dinner! And I ate an apple and a bag of sunchips! Basically, I am the shit. There were soooo many dishes tho.

P.P.S. Mariska Hargitay is still hot. I love cuddling my pets. My roommate gave me a Tootsie pop and condoms! (It's like still living in NYU housing!!!!!) and I have a paper due tomorrow and need to be up at 6. It is currently 12:36 and paper is still not done. Nighty night!

Monday, September 28, 2009

Thoughts on Yom Kippur

The very first thing that appeared on my phone's internet's welcoming page thingy yesterday was the astounding and upsetting news that 162 new species of snakes were discovered. 162 new species! For anyone who knows me, snakes are my thing. The thing that makes me want to cry in a corner and curl up in a nice smelling warm blanket. I have to be honest here, folks, the fact that the new snakes appeared on Yom Kippur, and that I've been spending all my waking moments reading the bible for martyrdom class, my first thought was NEW snakes! omg. this must = the end of the world as we know it. and i feel fine. I went on about my day...did laundry, ate a $9 make your own salad at Ray's Pizza on St. Marks, then went to the Reform Services that NYU was having. They were much better than I originally expected. I remember two years ago when I went to the reform Rosh Hashana serivce, that there was a certain disconnect. I wanted so badly to feel something. Some kind of meaningful; transendential (sp?) experience that only sounds bullshit when other people say it but is actually really amazing and beautiful when you're lucky enough to get one yourself. I'm not saying that's what happened last night. But, I was able to connect, to just be in the service in the moment, in the day, even if it was only for a few moments. Afterwards I got to hang out with some friends for a bit, then went home, facebook stalked and reveled in this little momentary bit of peace I was feeling.

Yom Kippur is about asking for forgiveness. Being able to give forgiveness. Admitting your sins, repenting, and praying to be put in the Book of Life for the following year. To experience happiness and joy and peace. Last night I found out that someone I had known just died of a heroin overdose. I didn't know him that well. We'd only hung out a few times, but he was one of those people that made you feel connected to him even if you only knew him briefly. There is nothing I can say to bring peace to his family, or to his close friends, but I included a poem (posted below) that was posted on his facebook wall a few days after he died. I think it expresses my feelings in a way that I never could:

"You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason."- Ernest Hemingway

RIP Matt. And to all those lost this year. May their loved ones who remain find some kind of peace as well. To an easy and meaningful fast everyone. And a sweet, good, New Year.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Chickpeas in Paradise

If my entire life is laid out in the stages of grief (as seen in Grey's Anatomy), I believe that I currently reside in the stage called acceptance. I accept that I am that girl who believes she should quickly down the half full PBR currently in her fridge, because having it spilled is more of a travesty than being that girl who pre-games for coffee with her friend. At Aroma. Which is the most fabulous Israeli Starbucks eva', except for the devastating fact that half a sandwich costs more than my last abortion. I jest. It doesn't cost THAT much.

Last night, I ventured out on this mode of transportation called the "subway" in order to reach the upper west side: or, as I like to call it: Columbia students, Jews, and women who run with jogging strollers full of yoga mats, granola, and nalgenes. I can say this only half-mockingly, because I myself eat granola, and use a nalgene. Yoga, alas, is too far out of my body's reach. I also eat chickpeas. Just chickpeas for multiple meals a day, but I'm not sure if that makes me a hipster or just desperately poor. Anyhoo...the subway was a blast! Between construction, weekend hours and late-night hours I spent more time waiting for the train than I would have if I just walked the distance. First I had to find the A train. Which there were NO signs for because the A train was running on the F track. I wait 20 min for a train. It's an F. Damn my luck. I wait another 15 for an A. Take the A one stop, then find out that because of construction I have to get off. Which I do. And take the F. (perhaps the one I didn't take at my first stop?) Then I take the F one step, then transfer to the 1. Whoo. Was I getting tired!

There was this one girl sitting across from me who didn't understand the concept of eye make-up or something, because she put too much on in an area where it was un-needed and looked perpetually frightened. When we passed one stop, her make-uped eyes grew large and sooo full of fright I nearly yelled out on her behalf. Stop! Dear train, stop! This overly frightened woman needs medical attention! I'm not sure if she was generally worried and the make-up just drew attention to it, or if it was all due to her make-up that she looked like she just shit her pants every time we passed a stop, or someone sat down next to her, or I breathed too loudly.

Speaking of train antics. Remember that Law and Order: SVU where that guy in the subway "rubs up against" / rapes all those women? So, I was sooo convinced that creepazoid numero 4 was going to do that to me last night. He had the perfect angle, and had been STARING me down on the platform. And all I could think was, you do it, I will DROP you. Punk. (I generally use the word punk when I'm feeling all badass...) There was also couple with dog who was crawling around, child who did a pole dance, Asian teen who was voguing, large man with facial hair in a fdora (spelling??) this guy who announced to the car that he was laid off and his wife and child needed money for food. Which was a lot more compelling before he came back and did the same speech with different ages for the children and different hometown. Also, it rained. I ate Italian food, discussed obsessive tendencies with my love, was blown off by mutual aquaintances who had no idea who I was when I ran into them on the street, and (after spending over 2 hours getting home/not going to bed until 3 am) didn't awaken this morning until almost 2 pm! Then I did laundry because I only had one clean pair of panties, ate chickpeas, and am now preparing to go to temple! Raise a glass to Yom Kippur everyone. To an easy fast, and repentance: international edition.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Yesterday (wait, was that a Beatles song?)

Dear yesterday,

You were a shit show. Lucky for you, PBR was there to make me feel all warm, cheap, snuggly, and alcoholic on the inside. YOU made me get up at 6 am in order to go to an 8 am recitation where my t.a thought it was appropriate to have an NYU icebreaker about our favorite movies/books/bands...I do believe I burned a hole in the chalkboard behind her with my scalding look. I gulped down my Starbucks, which began to make me feel a bit more human, but was still appalled when, apparently, I was expected to talk/discuss/and think during said recitation. Then, rec't was over, and it was time for my 9:30 social psych class with a 9:30 social psych quiz. Apparently, the caffeine decided to come at me all at once (something to do with the oatmeal, perhaps...or maybe the 5 sweet-n-lows I used between said oatmeal and coffee consumption?!?) I looked like I was on speed. I couldn't stop shaking and my prof looked semi-concerned about my physical well-being. Well, yesterday, I TOOK that quiz. Then I started to get REALLY hot during class in my tanktop/jacket combo...which I HAD to wear because I didn't shave. Then my stomach started loudly making angry hungry noises, so I satiated it with a package of Starbucks oatmeal mixed-nuts...

That, dear yesterday, would have been enough. But no. Nononon. I just had to have a Hebrew quiz, which I found out about the day before. Realistically, I should have done fine. I memorized ALL the words, and even translated the word bank into English! But, yesterday, you ensured that my mind was too sleeps deprived to understand the sentences I had to fill in. You further ensured that I made an ass out of myself. Twice. While simultaneously creating such phrases as "culture" eyed. Instead of "wide" eyed. And Sentences like, "Man-made creation, you were already in Israel?" Which I suppose semi-makes sense. If I were on acid, and talking to my shoes. All while on the verge of shitting my pants (per, usual).

Oh, yesterday. I know you felt bad. Which is why you allowed me to spend time with my dear friend, Fefayefaye. And drink the night away with my roomie and PBR while watching Grey's Anatomy and thinking about sex and death and how hot McSteamy looks in the shower.

Yesterday, I know we have had our differences, but I just wanted you to know, that I forgive you. And that I want us to work through this.

And also, I want to have coffee with D soon. And if you make this happen. And if you make it go well. And if you keep me well stocked with PBR everyday for the rest of my life, maybe, just maybe, we can be friends again.

Love,
Jaclyn

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

The blog post I almost didn't write because I am sleepy, forgetful, and need to awaken in 6 hours.

5 things on my mind right now:
1)I am JUST the sleepiest.
2) I spoke in Hebrew today! And was told I sounded like a Simpson's Character. I'm not entirely sure what that meant. Something about chain smoking...or my coffee...which so cruelly ran out on me again this morning.
3) I would really like chocolate right now.
4.) I re-wear the same pants and jacket a lot of times before I wash them. Both are currently covered in yeast because of a laboratory explosion, but I'm still going to wear them tomorrow.
5.) $1 is too much for a single roll of Scott toilet paper.
6.) I really hope that was tofu in the veggie dumplings and not pork.
7. )I have 2 quizzes tomorrow and haven't studied for either...
8.) I have impure thoughts.
9.) I hope these will lead to impure dreams.
10) I think inappropriate things at inappropriate times.
11) I would hook-up with Christopher Meloni AND Mariska Hargitay.
11.5) At the same time.
12) NCIS is back!
13) My martydom teacher thinks I'm a creeper.
14.) My nalgene smells like pool water.
15) I need to bathe.
16) I REALLY don't want to.
17.) I feel the need to shit my pants/vomit...but it is not all that off-putting anymore...
18.) I wonder if anyone actually reads my blog...
19.) Age I slept in my own vomit.
20.) I NEED TO GO TO BED NOW.
21.) IF YOU READ THIS. PLEASE COMMENT. ALSO, I TURN 21 THIS YEAR. AND THAT'S THE NUMBER I STOPPED AT. COMMENTCOMMENTCOMMENTCOMMENT AND IF I EVER GET TO HOOK UP WITH A LAW AND ORDER SVU DICK (DETECTIVE), I'LL AGREE TO POST THE PICS. (If you comment...:))

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

In lieu of writing a paper about martyrdom...

Again, deep sigh, I have a paper due tomorrow. And instead of doing it, I am here with all (two) of you. Listening to Dashboard Confessional whine on Pandora. Even deeper sigh.

So, first off, I HAVE AN INTERNAL MOUTH COLD SORE. And, no, thank you for silently asking, I do NOT have herpes. I bit the inside of my mouth and because my (and the two of you all... all's, your all's...?) mouths are sess? pools (why I am only using words I can't spell tonight?!?) of germy germs... it got all red, and infected, and swelly. In truth, this is not true. But tiny mouth sores always end up feeling like big throbbing balls of life sucks even when they're absolutely miniscule. Like Dick Cheney's man parts...or so I've been told... Like large pimples on your forehead, the morning of the "big dance." Come on, even I remember what's it like to be young...

So, I lovelovelove my social psych professor. A little because he's funny, but mostly because he reminds me of my rabbi who is one of my favorite people on the planet.

In my haste to tell of the many wonders that I discovered yesterday during martyrdom class, I forgot to mention that on my way home yesterday I was smacked in the face by a small, blue, rubber, ball that fell out of the sky. It bemused me for a second, then I kept walking. I wasn't sure where it came from, if it was intended to hit ME, or if I was a paranoid, self-obsessed a-hole. (or all of the above, naturally.) But, I live in NY, so I kept a walking...

On my way to campus (the first time, not the second time after I had to run home mid-day to vomit/shit-my-pants...I mean, stomach parasites, like small children...gotta love them) I listened to Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Which is one of the most fabulous musicals ever, and makes me think of my besties and transsexuals and Germany all at once! (Also, my A.P. lit teacher. Because of the Berlin Wall reference in the show!--and that be the only reason...heart you tadtad!)

So, I mean, I once heard the Starbucks workers bitch about people not turning off their iPods to order, so I always make a conscious effort not just to turn mine off, but to take out the earbuds as well. Except, my ears are weirdly shaped, and damaged from forcibly shoving earbuds in them all day, so both extraction and re-insertation are quite painful. Today I took out only one earbud. I am happy with this compromise. Also, I get charged for tap water. So, I mean, there's only so much sad I'm gonna feel.

INTERNAL MOUTH SORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyday I put 3 sweet-in-lows in my grande starbucks coffee. Everyday I open them simultaneously. And pour them in simultaneously. Today I did not rip far enough down the package and the sugar substitute took too long to drain into the cup, so I gave up like 1.5 sweet-in-lows strong and peaced. I regreted that decision ALL day. Tomorrow, I'll spend the extra 30 seconds. It' worth it in the long run...

I HATE SLOW WALKERS. THEY WALK TOO SLOW. SPEED UP. AND IF YOU CAN'T SPEED UP FOR SOME REASON, DO NOT WALK ARM IN ARM WITH OTHER SLOW WALKERS SO FAST WALKERS ARE UNABLE TO PASS YOU FOR MULTIPLE BLOCKS. I MEAN IT.

love,
Jaclyn

Monday, September 21, 2009

I'm oft' distracted by shiny things...

Today I would like to start off this blog post with magical insights that came to me during my martyrdom class...

1) omg did teacher paint two of his fingernails on his left hand purple?!? I REALLY need to know. But if I ask him, and the coloring is a result of say, swine flu. or lepercey, that might be a bit more awk than I can handle. Once, I dropped a water bottle on my finger. In Jerusalem. And our guard/medic looked at it gushing blood and said, "I have seen people lose hands!" Uhm, thanks for the visual dude. Eventually nail stopped bleeding. Turned blue. And needed to be forcibly yanked off my finger. Nail bed was bare for a while...then eventually grew back. You can't even tell the difference! But don't worry, I have pictures! :) (p.s. upon hearing this story, my prof, aka ex-mayor of Accra was VERY moved by my bad-ass-ness. He didn't need to say it. I just knew.)

2). FLASH. OMG SOMETHING SHINY. I AM SO EFFING DISTRACTED. MUST FIND THE SHINY! Turns out, it was pretty blond girl's shoe. Not much else I can say about her. She's pretty and blond, with that well-adjusted, loved as a child look. And I mean, that's great. Being well-adjusted. Less fun at parties, perhaps, but, you know...

3.) So, today I was charged $0.50 for my ice water at Starbucks. I decided to order it again from another person to see what would happen. (Like holding a magnifying glass over an ant in the hot sun--just to see what will happen...) It appears that for some reason they need to ring up the ice water as something...so that an order will be patched through to make it, perhaps? Or so they have an accounting of the number of items they make? Still makes them fascists for charging for tap water, though.

4.) F*** I seriously just got pen on my face. What the f*** am I supposed to do? It's erasable pen...should I casually/vigorously rub the eraser end against my pinkish cheek? Or is that too obv? I mean, I'm just gonna ignore it. Then I'll look like an ass...why, oh why, does t.a. keep making eye contact with me when I'm soooooo not paying attention? T.A. is kinda cute...is he israeli? His name could be israeli...HOT.

5.) Blond boy talking. Uses lots of words. Doesn't say anything. He has REALLY NICE teeth though. Large and straight...braces? or au natural? gay? straight? It's nyu...I only jest that he's straight...

6) Cup of coffee. Cup of ice water. On empty desk next to me. Finish coffee. Turn upside down...SUCK. Get sad. Turn upside down. Hope. Hope. SUCK. Get sadder. Repeat 3 more times. STILL EMPTY. Why, oh why, is t.a. still looking at me?

7) Ice water is wet. Water spilling everywhere. On pants. On paper. Cup so wet it slides down desk. Like self-contained slip-n-slide. When will it end?!? Will it fall off the desk?!? Who knows!? Oh, the excitement of it all!

Nat Sci Observations:

1) Damn, I am dumb.
2) Damn, I am dumb.
3) Damn, I am dumb.
4) Damn, I am dumb.
5) Damn, I am dumb.
6) Ha, ex-suitemate just walked in 30 minutes late!
7) Damn, I am dumb.

Bookstore...Immediately after science. Went to aisle to find Lab Manual for said science class. During class, Bookstore had a whole stack. After class...there were two left on the shelf. When I shared this with the check out guy he was all..."Intense..." And I was all..."Yeah..."

Walk home...(far away) THAT GIRL HAS REALLY WHITE TEETH.
(close up). THAT GIRL HAS REALLY LARGE TEETH. THAT I MISTOOK FOR BEING REALLY WHITE.

Dr. Phil Family--highlight of my life.

Din Din: Subway. Me..."This meal is too expensive." Check-out dude/sandwich maker..."Sigh, I'll give you a discount." $1 off. I mean, I didn't even have to sex him up. Of course, when I approached the store he was outside smoking, and I was slightly turned off by the fact that he stopped when he saw me, followed me in, and proceeded directly to the sandwich making, sans hand washing...but $1 off. Score.

Night: martyrdom readings. social psych readings. nat sci readings. not reading for Hebrew. mistake? Cain. (yes.)

KITTY'S DOING BETTER!

Stay tuned tomorrow for another exciting installment of my life. More fun than watching paint dry. Sometimes.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Assed it up once more

So, I misspelled Eldridge. I spelled it Eldrige. In the first line. I could've just fixed it, but I felt my idiocy needed to be brought to light. Also tonight at dinner, I bought a sandwich and soda. And wasn't charged for the soda! So I tipped $1 on a $5.50 sandwich. The drink was $1.50, so I still saved the .50 plus tax! And I got to feel like a good person! I'm not sure if dude did it on purpose, or if he just forgot to ring up the soda. I certainly didn't draw his attention to it. p.s. he GAVE it to me. Out of the cooler. So, it's not like I stole it and shoved it in my lady-bag. Anyhoo, if he keeps this up, I'll keep up the tipping. Double f***ing win!

Slutting it Up For Chocolate Cake

I accidently just erased my entire blog post. Bare with me, I'm in mourning. Mourning the loss of unbridled brillance.

So, today I embarked upon a mission to fulfill a promise I made yesterday in ye ol blog post: going to Eldrige St Synagogue! (Sometimes I accidently spell it syna-gouge. Like gouge out my eyes. Or gouge out my soul. Whoops.) First I had to de-slutify myself. A most difficult task that involved LONG blue dress...past my knees...tank to cover my cleavage (ah, the wonders a push-up bra can do for 8 yr old boy chests) a jacket to cover my shoulders, and shoes that were NOT a made for walkin'. My first thought upon exiting me apartment building was, "Huh, I wonder if this dress is see-through in the sun?" It was gonna be one of those days...

So onward I trekked through the country that is china town to the synagogue of the lower east side Jews. (Actually first I passed it, then had to double back and was all, it's magnificent...I mean, I just walked right by that. And to the dumpling place. ((Not THAT dumpling place.)))

So, Eldridge is an Orthodox temple. I am reform. But, hey, it's like REALLY famous and pretty. Like Angelina Jolie. Who wouldn't want to go inside? Upon entering, I turned to the great ol staircase where I had to walk, in my un-walkable shoes in order to get to the balcony where the women sat and looked down (i'm gonna say it, a bit awkwardly) on the proceedings. When I reached the top the women turned to me in unison. And kept looking. And looking. For probs like 8 full seconds. Which may not seem like a lot, dear reader, but when you're alone in an Orthodox synagogue armed with only your serious doubts about your dress's visual impenetrability, it is an eternity. So, I sat. Alone. And listened. For 2 and a half hours. At the end of which there was chocolate cake! Score! and diet coke! Double score! During the 2 and a half hours. A few words of English were spoken. Many children ran around screaming, I got lost in the abyss of a basement attempting to find the latrine, and shofar man got increasingly red until he could barely blow (his horn) and I had to fight off the urge to hug him. Actually, for anyone who knows me, I don't exactly have the urge to hug strangers. But it felt like the right thing to say to normal readers.

The rest of my day was filled with martyrdom readings. Math that I don't understand at all because I haven't taken it in 5 years and am therefore filled with self-hatred and misery at the thought of... A new restaurant (which was awesome, but also the reason this blog posting has been interrupted by bathroom breaks) tootsie rolls, facebook, pandora, law and order, csi, house, and lots of nappy nap time. And now it is past midnight once more. Classes tomorrow. The dread fills my body already. Like the holy spirit. Except different. Nitey nite!

Saturday, September 19, 2009

69 Reasons to love this New Year

So it is now a new year: 5770! I wish I realized sooner (as in before yesterday) that last year was '69. Including the summer. Which was the summer of '69. Think of the puns I could've tortured people with ALL year.

Morning: awoke. Fought with fan above lofty. Fan won. See swollen---difficult to bend, brusied, bloodied elbow as proof of my suffering. On a related note, I spent the day reading the New Testament for my martyrdom class, and have now decided to call all my flesh wounds: stigmata. Once before I had the ol' stigmata. (Actually a bleeding cut in the shape of a cross on my forearm) which I received when (I believed) I was climbing a mountain to meet monks that made jam. Turns out our guides/restaurant cooks thought we asked to go to the pool, so took us on an hour hike up a mountain to a waterfall instead. With ALL of our belongings. In Kpalime, Togo.

Anyhoo, I did not go to services today, but plan to go tomorrow! To the famed eldridge st synagogue a mere 10 min walk from my abode. I'm going tomorrow instead of today namely because tomorrow the SHOFAR is being blown. My fave thing eva'. Also, cause I made plans with someone for today. But then might have been blown off...or they really were sick and I'm a paranoid loser. Or I'm JUST a loser and people don't want to hang out with me. So they say they're ill. Ouchie my elbow hurts! And my pride! Hard to detect the difference sometimes.

Also, Kitty is sick! Her name is Moo and she's 13 and a big fluffernutter fluff ball. And I was caressing her gently this afternoon--until, that is, she moved her body away in such a manner that the clear message was, "Stop trying to make yourself feel better by stroking my softness; I am a cat; I am therefore aloof; I don't like you; I want a nap." Anyways I REALLY hope kitty gets better soon. I be sooo sad when snuggly things don't snuggle me anymore. (Notice the use of things--not people--because people and I aren't allowed to snuggle, not after last time.)

Also, I went to an Indian restaurant for dinner tonight. I was alone. It was muy romantico. Then I spent the rest of the eve' shitting my pants. Also, muy romantico. Ask the dog, he knows...

Then more Bible, then overcome with the sleepsies.

Also, I had subway for lunch, which is relevant insofar as it happened to me, and this is my blog, and the veggie delite meal is over a dollar more expensive here than in FL. I don't even want to tell you the price of veggie delites in India! boo, New York pricing! Boo.

oh, dear. I hope I shall not throw up!

Dear readers,
I am NOT drunk. With that said, please excuse any typos it is the Jew New Year. Yay for me! I kicked off 5770 with a delightful cupcake from sugar sweet sunshine. Then a banana pudding cup. I mean, banana pudding, where have you been my entire life??? After that, I ventured (avec friend) across the Brooklyn bridge in the hopes of procuring celebratory liquid! These hopes were dashed upon first entering a "Wings" restaurant that tried to card us before we even got a table. Here are our NYU ID's! We told them. Guy #1 and Guy #3 were def gonna let us in. But Guy #2 intervened and was all no ID no entrance, then 3 got said and tried to take control saying, "wait, wait, wait...which one of you are 21?" Then they had a mini-conference and decided we could stay. As long as we sat on chairs RIGHT behind them--sans table--and ate only food. Uhm, no. So we peaced. And my friendy headed into a liquor store to procure vino (for religious, and therefore legal purposes) in her slutty shirt, with breast accenting necklace and 5 inch heels! Score! Next step--getting back to Manhattan--a bit more dificil than one may originally think. Let's just say there was some jumping of constructions barracades--and time in the bike only lane. Once in Manhattan and me apartment building we ran into my roommates bringing the very sick cat home from the vet. :( We then stood--quite awkwardly in the kitchen while my roommate tried to care for the kitty. We didn't know what to do, so we decided to escape to the rooftop--our original plan. I grabbed a knife to open the wine so as to not bother my roommate about the opener. Once on the roof we discovered---wow, pretty. F***! COLD! We tried cutting the cork out piece by piece with the knife, until finally my friendy made head-way in forcing the cork downward into the bottle. Of course, the cork was already worked over, so pieces were def gonna be in the wine. With one last push she shoved the cork in and displaced wine ALL over us and the rooftop. Oops. What followed was laughter, drinking, stories, drinking and new years ringing in funsies!

Oh dear, it is 3:30 in the am and I am sleepsies. And also more than slightly nauseous. Thanks parasites for destroying the alcohol tolerance I soooo covet! Nighty night!

Thursday, September 17, 2009

I like them because it's like a blow job and dessert in one!

Before I launch into the tirade of a shit show that is my life, I must remark upon some personal reflection that just occurred while walking home this eve--before scary man in unmarked white van quickly parallel parked next to me and made me fear he was going to drag me into said un-marked white van and date rape me. Well, actually, we weren't on a date. So, I 'spose it'd just be classified as plain old rape. Not entirely Mariska Hargitay worthy. Man, I wish I was 8 again.

So, topic of the eve-- gyms which have, in lieu of walls, BIG windows that look out onto the street. What do we think of this? Personally, I would never let my bestie see my on a treadmill, let alone strange passers-by. (I can only walk, not run, because my body has never mastered the subtle art of transitioning between the 2. Ask my elementary school P.E. teachers for further confirmation.) All I can think when I see this is, what are these people thinking. "I am so f***ing hot, that lady with the pug totes wants to do me?!?" Who, pray tell is that narcissistic? (I mean, I am, but even I have my standards. By which I mean level of self hatred that keeps me from endulging in such acts. And assuming the owners have this in order to bring people in, they wouldn't want fat or ugly people to rep. So is there a screening process? Does the manager tell ugly people to go hide in the back room?!? Soooooooo many questions...mostly why does everyone on the street when I'm walking alone past 10 look at me like I'm Jeffrey Dommer? Fo' reals. I mean, I appreciate it, I'm just saying. (p.s. GREAT IDEA. ESPECIALLY FOR THE UNDER 21 CROWD. DRINKING GAME. EVERYTIME I TYPE "MEAN" TAKE A SHOT!)

So, today I went to the San Gennero festival. I don't know how to spell it, but I don't particularly see that as relevant, in order to get my CANNOLI. aka. G-d's reproductive organ. Now, I mean, this is a "G" post people, so I'm being as discreet as possible, but cannolis, they do resemble certain aspects of the male anatomy. And eating them does resemble certain actions one might take with said piece of anatomy. My favorite part of the cannoli is the cream in the middle! And I could swallow every last morsel. In fact, I did, then slightly panicked when I was told that cannoli cream is indeed a relative of cheese which makes my stomach implode upon itself (thanks parasites!) and the urge to expel from both ends of the gastrointestinal tract quite overwhelming. But I mean, yum.

After cannolis, I returned to the Broome dorm with J and C to hang. I was almost not allowed in/summarily executed when I attempted to "break in." Realistically there was a change in policy regarding NYU students entering dorms when they're out of NYU housing, and the security guard is a meglomaniac. (Think night manager of women's clothes at Walmart!) The little power he has, he exercises with a vengance. And every time C attempted to coax him into submission with "she goes to NYU." He strangely replied with, "we're all NYU." Which I think is realistically untrue, but metaphorically very true regarding my life, and anything below 23rd st.

Once inside, phew that was hard!, we decided to "sporcle." Which is basically code for random timed quizzes regarding very specialized informational skills. Between the 3 of us. We couldn't finish ANY. Asian countries, USA capitals, European countries, Lord of the Rings Characters, all the words to that Frost poem about two streets. I mean, we couldn't even do one about fast food! And we're AMERICANS it's our soverign right to know everything about being fatasses. We rule the free world on fatasses, WE ARE FATASSES. And yet, no cigar. Finally we found one about the colors of the rainbow that we could finish. Although, and I am ashamed to admit this, if I were alone I wouldn't have finished. I thought the colors were blue and purple--not indigo and violet. This is why I need friends. And to hear stories of people who know less than I do about the world on a regular basis.

Upon leaving the dorm I was petriFIED to see the terrorizing guard-man. He however, was nowhere to be found. NO guard was anywhere to be found, which I find mightily interesting seeing as how I was waterboarded merely 3 hours prior for being a creeper. And though I'm NOT a rapist, if I were--I'd probs wait until after 10 to strike. As opposed to 8:30. Yes. I would also nickname myself "therapist." Because when you break the word up, it spells, "the-rapist." Not that I've given this much though.

p.s. coffee with D sat? Damn, I wish I was less socially awk.
p.p.s will try to post sexually suggestive cannoli pics in separate post. so i don't eff up and erase this whole thing. ! :)

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Small and Cheap

So, it's after midnight, I need to be up in less than 6 hours, and I'm unshowered and blogging...

Important news:

1. I think I ate a blonde eyelash in my Kimmel salad today. (I have brown eye brows).
2. Yesterday when I was cooking chickpeas I noticed approx. 1 tbsp of dirt in the boiling water with said chickies. I guess this is why the package says to be careful of dirt and small stones. Although I feel like dirt and small stones are something you can remove before selling. If you try REALLY hard. And if you're Whole Foods.
3. Whenever I feel wet droplets fall on me as I walk I think: "Is this rain? Posion? Leakage from the apt above?" I choose not to answer.
4. German tourists laughed at my "badass NY street walker" look today. And then spoke. In German.
5. Tonight I met a guy who told me he could "never have a dog/cat because he thought it was the ultimate betrayal to cut off your best friend's genitals and then pretend to still be besties."
6. You know in those Folger's commercials when they say "good to the last drop?" Every morning when I drink the last dregs of my Starbucks coffee, I tilt the cup all the way up in order to get the very last drop. Then I do it again. And again. When I ran out today in Hebrew, I almost cried.
7. I ALSO almost peed my pants twice today when I REALLY had to go before I reached home. I MUST LEARN TO USE THE POTTY BEFORE I LEAVE! I realized tonight, upon speaking with a girl who's traveled to lots of...impovershed nations...that the reason we hold our peepee unconsciously comes from living in places without toilets. It's now second nature to WAIT. (And then almost wet ourselves...) Hmmm...interesting.
8. Today in martyrdom, my teacher let like 5 kids talk. for an hour. Dude, they're NOT interesting. Dude, you're interesting. Dude, please. Make them stop repeating themselves aimlessly in their "inside voices" for 20 minutes. I could be napping!
9. Today in Nat Sci, I felt like a douche bag. At least I got to casually mention that I'd been to the Himalayas. I've decided on the first test, every time I can't answer a question I'm going to write, I was too busy f***ing around in the HIMALAYAS to practice useless math skills. I mean, who wouldn't give me an A?

10. Tonight I was introduced to the Dumpling Place AND Cocoa Bar. Heavy props go out to all involved. Esp. Ray for discounting/microwaving my chocolate chip cookie, Ariel for buying me dinner, and those friendly people eating at Dumpling Place for just being so damn nice. Really. Maybe it's because the food is so cheap, that they're happy?!? Bizarre concept in NY. Cheap food. And Happiness.

Open question:
1. What does one wear on a non-date with someone they like whom the haven't seen in 1.5 years and currently has a girlfriend?
2. How to react when someone asks you to go with them to a party they assume you were invited to (because the thrower is a mutual friend) when you actually weren't?

btw. These are TOTES hypothetical. Yeah. That's the word. Hypothetical.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

My B'.

I just realized my time stamp is wrong. It claims it be only 8:31, and thus my rushing, slacker-eque behavior was a moot point.

p.s. I am making a conscious effort to stem any obsessive tendecies I may, or may not, have towards D. Now it is midnight, and my paper awaits!

Why Jesus would have loved French Toast Made on Challah

So, I'm supposed to be writing a paper due tomorrow, but in my effort to update my blog on a daily basis I am uber-concerned that waiting until said paper is finished would push my blogging efforts past midnight and therefore into another day. Priorities, folks. So, here I am. On a time-clock. Like a McDonald's hamburger flipper. Or Jesus.

It's a paper for my martyrdom class, where my teacher asked us to "be intelligent." I considered prayer for a good paper/grade, then decided that might be a bit too sac-religious.

So, Hebrew. Okay I didn't talk. BUT I totes sat in the front row and appeared muy attentivo. Then we had a quiz and a girl cried. And I didn't cry, so maybe I didn't do as badly as one person in the class? After the quizlet was grammar review time, and while conjugating one group of verbs into the future tense, our teacher said you had to look out for the "groniyot." Which, in Hebrew comes from the word for throat, garon and means guttural, but in English sounds like groin, so everytime she commented like, "You need to be careful of the groniot" I heard "You need to be careful of the groin!" Hilarity ensued, because I am an 8 yr old boy. (See my massive love of dinosaurs as further proof.)

So, Nat Sci 1 Lab: uhm, remember when I haven't taken math in fo'eva. Yeah, about that...I need a kindly brilliant freshman to take me under their wing. I remember nothing. Granted there are many things I'm not good at (or so people tell me) but I've never been given the "You are a f***ing dumbass, why am I in your group?" stare before. Also, I attempted to buy a lab manual but the 6 copies the bookstore had were "missing" or, as I was informed, probs stolen. Oops. Too be fair the bookstore is muy expensivo, and apparently there's some kind of economic issue.

omg. Biggest Loser season premiere tonight! 2 hours! And just another reason why my paper is not yet done. So as I sit, watching the episode all I can think is, man, I NEED to go to the gym. (Actually that's the same thing I think everytime I climb into lofty and hear shakeshake.) I mean, let's be honest, it doesn't take a gal currently enrolled in social psychology (which I am!) to understand the phenonoma that we judge ourselves on the basis of other people, and thus feel comforted by those worse, uhm, off than we are. Side note--I was eating a tootsie roll during the "last chance workout." My roommate was snacking on challah french toast. And let's be honest, I am sooo not getting my cute ass to the gym.

Ok. So. I used to be a freshman. I understand what it was like. But I am a creepy loner girl. When I eat lunch by myself it is because I choose to (or because none of my friends have a meal plan) NOT because I have no friends. If one more person tries to befriend me while I'm wolfishly gulping down my Kimmel glory I WILL SNAP. It was cute at first, but now it just makes me feel kinda pathetic.

p.s. I am so not completely eyebrow plucked. Nay, in the fierce light of morning, I discovered some strays. but I am too le tired to do anything about it just now...

p.p.s. I ran into my former foundations t.a. in the bookstore today. Her name is Paula, and paula if you're reading this, holla. Our class had a kind of Jesus like relationship with her as a matter of fact. We were massively in love with her and she was midly indifferent to us. Which just made us love her all the more.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Urban Dictionary Frames My Outlook On Daily Interactions

Omg. I just spent an hour plucking my eyebrows. They are painful, swollen, and UNEVEN.

I am also staring wistfully at a can of diet sunkist on my desk that's been empty for days. I wish I was Harry Potter and could make it magically fill...

Today. Highlights. Lowlights.

1). I couldn't decide between iced and hot coffee this morning at Starbucks (iced: more expensive, higher caloric content...thanks for the info large, legally mandated calorie signs Starbucks!) versus (Hot: i mean, it's hot out. and takes longer to drink...but you do generally get more coffee...) Then suddenly I came up with a BRILLIANT idea. I'll order hot coffee AND iced water. Because then it will still be cheap (hot coffee price) AND i'll have the cooling powers of the ice water! Oh, how dasterdly wrong I was. I was charged $0.55 for a glass of ice water. Fascists. I mean, it's not like I wasn't buying anything! Brilliance shut down.

2). In natural science we were measuring breath and air or something and first we split into pairs and one person had to see how many breaths it took to fill a plastic bag that we'd placed over our mouth. Making sure no air got out. I mean, I feel like, as a child, I was told to avoid things like this. Apparenly a good portion of the class was dead because they reported needing to take 15-26 breaths...
I did not do this task. I failed at life doing part numero deux where I had to count how many breaths I took in a minute. Upon answering 6, my teacher said "Uhm, were you holding your breath?" To which I responded with the kind of laughter generally preceeded by green leaves. (This was NOT the reason for my inappropriate reaction, I was le tired. and double le confused at life.)

3.) On my walk home I saw a guy had attempted to bandage his own bleeding arm with some see through, white, gauze esque material and scotch tape. I then immediately thought of shivs (think sharpened toothbrushes in prison movies) and maybe that guy was shivved and attempted to hide it from the authorities by cleaning it himself. Then I thought, dumbass we're not in prison.

4.) For some unknown reason, the last few times I've come home, about half way into my 25 min walk, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming desire to urinate. The kind of run down the street, shove down pedestrians, nearly piss your pants desire. I'm not sure why this keeps occurring, or how to stop it. I'm considering now ALWAYS making sure to go before I leave campus. And lessening up on the caffeine...

5.) I made (warmed) lentil (canned) soup for dinner. My stomach felt like it was shivved as soon as I finished the second bowl. NO MORE LENTIL SOUP EVER. EVEN IF IT'S THE LAST FOOD ON EARTH. EVEN IF ANGELINA JOLIE SAYS EAT LENTIL SOUP AND I WILL ADOPT YOU. Okay, maybe then...

p.s. Hebrew class tom! I am going to speak. Even if I sound like an idiot. I'm getting nervous just typing this... :(

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Beets and Beats

So, I have still not received a facebook message back from D. Granted I only sent mine yesterday, and when I did so it was with the ultimately satisying notion that I was now in complete control of the situation. I held all the cards. D had to figure out how to respond to me. Of course, after about 12 hours of this self-affirming thought, I realized that I was actually the one NOT in control because now, despite how much I tried to lie to myself, I was obssessively awaiting the perfect response...What to do for a distraction? Pinkberry for starters! Also watching the Good Shepherd snuggled in lofty with my laptop on my lady parts, studying Hebrew on the roof (much better idea in theory where bugs and too much suniness aren't issues...) and then some additional martyrdom research (thanks teach for emailing us those uplifting links!) One was a youtube video dedicated to Columbine "martyr" Cassie Bernall with the song "Time of My Life" playing in the background. Not too shabby for the Christian Rock genre...The other video was of a musician by the name of John Day singing his song, "Would you Say Yes." Now, aside from the fact that the second song was just, kind of, awful, there was some semblance of a black box void thingy over one of Mr. Day's teeth that made it look like it was missing. It wasn't on my computer, and it seemed to hover over just that tooth, but it didn't look like the mouth was actually sans tooth....weird...here's the link if you're as bored as I am!

http://www.tangle.com/view_video?viewkey=46d6c400a152fa91cee4

Also, I made 2 things of chickpeas and PASTA for the first time in my young life. Then I attempted to watch TV, but as I've seen every episode of every show known to man, took refuge back in lofty for the evening.

p.s. my roommate made BEETS which are one of my favorite foods in the world. and i soooooo want some. and this is sooooooo not sarcasm, i am just a strange lady.

omg. back to classes tom. Please can I get a message back? That would make my life. And yes, I realize needing someone else to validate my self-worth isn't exactly "healthy," but I'm 20, it's my job to be self-centered and needy.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Who has a stocked shelf in a cupboard?!? Uhm. That'd be me.

So today I woke up at 11:08. I consider this a small victory because I am still able to say I did blahblahblah this morning...

I also got to work on one of my major life goals, being nicer to foreigners, when one such Panama-ian chap sitting next to me at McDonalds (where I brought my Maumoun's falafal and diet 7-Up to drink because it was just the wettest outside!) said, and I quote, "Can I ask you some questions?" Uhm...was my intensely awkward reply. Is this guy a journalist, a rapist, something in between? "Just, three" he continued. Uhm...I continued to stammer. I suppose at some point he took my continued stammering for actual acquiesence because he then breathed an awkward not fully relieved sigh and said, "Okay where is a Best Buy and internet access?" (Which, in retrospect was only 2 questions...) He then continued, explaining that he had just arrived from Panama. His apartment that was supposed to have internet apparently did not, and he wanted to "buy internet time." I think there was some kind of cultural barrier here, but I agreed to google best buy for him on my KICK ASS new phone, and gave him a little of my city slicking advice. Mostly I just agreed to do it because it made me feel like a better person and when his mommy called him on the phone and talked to him in Spanish I could nearly understand some of his replies...which made me feel REALLLLY smarts. Also, because of the solemn promise I made to be nicer to foreigners after an uncomfortable incident in a bathroom in Tel Aviv where there was a sign above the toilet. In Hebrew. And the only words I could understand were..."Please do NOT...thank you." I was like, dear lord, if this says "Please do not flush the toilet or the world will explode" I am going to feel like such an ass. Luckily nothing (to my knowledge) occurred. Mostly because I ran out of the restaurant like woah fast and never returned.

Wowzers--today was just so darn productive. Firstly, I did ALL my reading for Monday's Martyrdom class while snuggling myself in my loft bed. SELF LOVE. I also drank 2 diet sunkists and one diet dr. pepper. I also bought real kid groceries from this new conveniance store because it was the grand opening and everything was half off from a very nice bloke, possibly named John (see store name for inference) who had a delightful smile which made up for any communication gaps that may have occurred. Because it was half-off Mr. Needs No Name could only take cash. So I went to my apt a few blocks away to pick up some, and decided, well, since I'm here, might as well visit the little girls room. Upon my triumphant return to the store (cash in hand) "John" looked happy and surprised to see me as he stated "I thought you'd never come back!" At this point I just mumbled something about 5 flights of stairs, not wanting to ruin the mood of our new relationship by telling him I use the bathroom, at times.

Also I realized that the place that sells yogurt for $0.35 an ounce isn't really a good deal because there are 16 ounces in a normal sized cup.

Also after waiting for my friend for 30 minutes at Whole Foods and "looking" for her for 15, I impressively deduced that she had in fact gone to another Whole Foods, and that we were both dumbasses.

I also made and broke plans, skipped out on 2 parties because it was wet and chilly and unfortunate, and realized I don't know how to work my DVD player...

Messaged D an extremely flattering/self-deprecating facebook message!!!!!!!!!!

Watched a bit of Christopher Meloni...Pined for Rachel Maddow...and googled "is cornbread bad for dogs?!?" after Roman got into my crumbs...

Last but not least I was informed today that NYU WILL NO LONGER HAVE UNLIMITED FREE PRINTING. In other words, NYU IS TRYING TO DESTROY MY SPIRIT. I have, on average about 300 pages to print (and read!!!!) a week. Tell me NYU, is this really what $54,000 a year and a lifetime of debt pays for? I think I might've handled the situation a bit better if the girl at the front desk looked like she gave a shit about my plight. Now, I don't mean to generalize here but, WHY DO THE WORK-STUDY KIDS AT 3RD NORTH NEVER CARE ABOUT MY PERSONAL PROBLEMS?!? I mean, I'm sure 5 million people bitch about this to you. A day. But at least I attempted to manufacture sympathy for people in my work study job. And let me tell you, it was much more self-deprecating and painful than yours.

P.s. I've been reading articles off my computer instead of printing them out (see above), while in the normal positioning of lying flat on my back in lofty with laptop propped on my lap. Now, the excessive and prolonged warmth in said area is making me a bit nervous with regards to my future reproductive activities...I mean, I don't want kids now...but someday I don't want the reason I can't have them to be because I was reading about martyrs while snuggling myself inappropriately. How awkward would that be at cocktail parties...?!

Friday, September 11, 2009

Friday-ness.

There are a lot of things I could write about today. Walking 30 minutes in the ick, windy, slant rain to go to Spice for their $7 lunch special. Nearly shit**** my pants on the walk back while simultaneously realizing that 9 months and multiple parasites might have made said delight a bit more difficult to digest. An awkward conversation at the career center in which I may (or may not) have been made to look like a crazy stalker chick. (Which I may, or may not, be). Demanding to speak to the supervisor of a tele-marketer whose called me over 50 times in 3 days, promised to take me off her list 4 of those times (it's always the same lady!!!!!!) then proceeded to keep calling. over and over and over. Eating mini 3 Musteteers bars in order to boost my self-esteem, drinking wine with my roommate, her mother, and her mother's identical twin sister. (Incidently, I am now profoundly thankful of the fact that my mother did not have an identical twin sister. ) Boiled and ate 1/2 cup of chick peas for din din, because I'm too cheap for real food, stalked D and D's women on facebook and napped excessively in proportion to my actual waking hours.

But, truth be told, writing about this on the 8th anniversary of 9/11 seems even more self-obsessed than I actually am. Truth be told I am extremely grateful to everyone who has/is/will be serving our country---protecting my very right to blog aimlessly about myself. I wish I could say something eloquent here. Thought-provoking. Hopeful. Insightful. Intense. But for now all I can say is thank-you. I can't even begin to imagine the kind of courage and dedication it takes to be in your position. So, for now, just thanks. And maybe, for today at least, that's enough.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

I want my life to be a deodorant commercial

I would like to start this blogpost with an open letter:

Dear yesterday's mascara,
Thank you for sticking with me today. Sure, I was gross, and hadn't showered, but you didn't mind. And when I wandered aimlessly into that job fair looking sketch as f*&^ in jeans, a t and sneaks, you were there. When my self-esteemed plummeted in not one, not two, but three classes starting at 8am, you were there. Even now, 11:14pm, almost the next day, you are still with me. Like a cold sore. Except nice. Thank you.

Love,
Jaclyn

Dear today,
You sapped me of my will to live.

Love,
Jaclyn

The day started out innocent enough, minus the heinous taunt of an 8am recitation. An 8am recitation where the T.A. insisted upon taking pictures of us. To help the professor remember what we look like. In a class of 300. And when I said "this is soooooooo awkward" in a kind of cute, sultry, coffee-laden whisper...T.A. heard me! I mean, who really cares that I'm incredibly in tune with social situations, she has weird super hearing powers! Good thing I found this out early.

Rec't was followed by a 9:30 lecture...something, someone, ethics, evil, someone, people, did stuff. The spotlight effect: you always think everyone is looking at you...
And an interesting little tangent on like/love, which we only touched on but sparked memories of when I was in India, and my traveling boo kept saying "I love you." And I would laugh. And then I said I "liked" another traveling companion (as a friend) who ended up getting all pissy when I wouldn't get biblical with him (even though he was married with a kid!)-- took lots of my money, and abandoned my cute, white, female ass in Dehli. I later found out, however, that in India, like meant love and love meant like. So when I "liked" douche bag, I wanted to do him. I tried to explain the American English definitions in terms of my boo's cell phones. You like this one (random, lame phone) but you LOVE this one (his most favoritest possession--other than me). I like apples. I love raw cookie dough. I like She Didn't Know She was Pregnant. I love the l-word. I really love eating raw cookie dough while watching the l-word. Alone. So, perhaps this was why douchey mc doucherson thought I would get down with him. This is also why I am alone. Watching the l-word. And self-soothing.

Then my Intermediate Hebrew 2 class. Or, as I like to call it. A lesson in humility. I don't speak Hebrew, and I'm semi-curious as to why this JUST became an issue for me. Like all of the sudden. Like I can't do the hw even if I want to, because the directions are in Hebrew and everyone else is jotting away in their agenda books (cough...losers...cough) so I feel like an ass for being uhm, ma?????? (aka: what????????) Finally, I thought my prayers were being answered, someone else was going to confess to me (like, in confessional booths with priesties) that they didn't understand. Cue: boy I've never actually noticed before coming up to me after class..."did you understand that?" No!!!!! I shout! No! We didn't learn any of that when I took the last class two semesters ago. We didn't learn blah and blah and blahblahblah (ok, so this is real shit I was talking about here, but makes no sense if you're not cool enough to not really sorta speak hebrew. like me). "Oh," random boy responded. "I mean, I understand everything. That's the problem. This class is sooooo boring. I did Jewish Day school for 8 yrs. And was in Israel..."

And here, class, is when I really just wanted to cry, or punch someone, or drink heavily and pass out in my own bodily fluids. Alas, I just went to Kimmel, filled up my salad container to the brim, and agreed to pay the extra $0.29 because it weighed over a pound. I deserved it.

Later, I did a psych experiment. Where I literally hurt my hand from pounding on the table in anger. Multiple times. f***ing the experiment up so much that I wasn't allowed to finish. Although to be honest, I'm not sure exactly what went wrong, because the experimenter wasn't very good. At English. No judgment on her experimenting skillz.

Then I freaked out when I suddenly had a zillion things to do. Yelled at Rome, my beloved pitbull, for not being supportive of me in my panic. Walked to and from campus (30 min each way) in the hurricane force WIND AND COLD in a SHORT, BLACK DRESS in order to look professional, and was spared the shame associated with showing all of Manhattan my Hanes granny panties by enthusiastically singing along to Alanis Morisette's "Jagged Little Pill" all the way.

One more thing. I have decided to send D a facebook message. To ask for a meet. Coffee? This uncertainty is driving me mad. D has updated D's facebook. D is happy. D has a girlfriend. I'm not sure if the two are related. I hope D is happy because there are recession sales on alcohol.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

You know you're supposed to have that burning sensation for your Lord, Jesus, and NOT a MAN. -- ANTM GIRL

Sometimes I surprise myself. Like now. Sitting on the couch watching Tyra Banks: short people (5'7'') edition, while eating a possibly vegan and therefore not all that tasty oatmealy, chocolately chippy giant cookie while my stomach is screaming in pain and agony. Stop! Stop! Damn you... I mean, my tum tum hurts soooooooooo much, and I'm still eating the cookie. You is full. Still. eating. cookie!

Also on the theme of surprises (and compulsive eating), this afternoon while dining on an amazing Kimmel (dining hall) salad, I noticed a bug nestled in a piece of fresh, leafy, lettuce in my plastic container/salad cradle. What did I do? Quickly removed the offending piece of shrubbery and shoved the rest in my mouth. Then had a serious debate with myself about whether to brush off the bug and eat the piece cause it looked so darn fresh. Was it Ghana? Togo? Cote D'ivoire? India that had turned me into a she-Rambo? I have to think it was something else: my newly awakened Spidy senses. Let me explain...

Last night: post 25 minute midnight solo walk home doing my Tyra "fierce" face all the way to scare of any mother f'ers stupid enough to jack my shit... shower, email and jammie time, I could NOT fall asleep. 12:30 in my bed. 1:30, 2, 2:30...time clicking by, why, oh why, couldn't I go to sleep? Could it be the re-emergence of my oft New York insomnia? Or something, perhaps, deeper? Indigestion? Well, I mean, sure... (my lady friend and her boy made me a delish shakshua last night for din din...google it, fools, it be good.) But indigestion is as familiar to me as a cold, slightly unwanted hand against mine, a stomach post-dairy products. Could it be first day anxiety? Perhaps. But that was not it, either. 4:30 in the morning...beep. beep. What be that? My phone (and thus, alarm!) was dying. I would have been late for class! I rushed down off my loft bed, plugged it in, and saved my non-tardied ass from tardiness, or not getting pre-class caffeine, or both.

(my stomach hurtsssssssss)

so, I plugged in my phone, climbed back up the heinous ladder into my bed. And lay awake for the next 2 hours secure in the fact that if I were to go to sleep, I'd be woken up by my alarm. And also, of course, that my Spidey sense had once again saved the day.

ONE. MORE. BITE. Hurttttttttts. :(

p.s. psych majors are very different from religion majors. I feel 900 years old in my MAP class with all zee freshies, and I CAN'T SPEAK HEBREW. HOW AM I IN HEBREW 4?

UNTIL TOM. SHALOM.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Dear NYU, take good care of my soul. I expect it back in one piece at the end of the semester!

So, it begins again. 1st day of classes. 1st day at the NY campus since December. 1st stop? The always enchanting Starbucks on West 4th (because Dining Dollars are accepted--Woot!--and I'm the only loser junior ((sans R.A's who get it for freesies)) that still has a meal plan.) I have decided this year to forgo the milk in my grande coffee in a half-assed attempt to protect my fragile, post-parasitic system from having to digest dairy without allowing it the decency of a bathroom for over 4 hours. Unfortunately, however, I believe my siphon of non-fat milk helped to distract the coffee + 3 sweet-and-lows alone from devouring my intestines. And now that said milk is gone, the remaining elixer feels fully confident and free to do as much damage as humanly possible. Cue the immediately uncomfortable social psych class (where said beverage was ingested) and the later uncomfortable Hebrew intermediate 2 class where a little voice kept screaming, "PEEEEEEEEEE!" and I could only reply meekly with..."but the one on this floor is out of order, I'd have to walk downstairs..."

On a related note. I LOVE my bathroom in my new apartment: with it's western toilet, dry floor, toilet paper! For reals...I would give up my first born (if it's a girl) for this set-up. (Second born if boy.)

Classes: Immediate thoughts.
Social Psych: sophomore. straight. female. girls. lame.
teacher: slightly bitter. terrificly cynical. i'm gonna like him.
Hebrew Intermediate 2: Now, since I haven't been in Intermediate 1 since December my self esteem was already pathetically low. 1st day back. Speaking ALL Hebrew. Sentence goes up on the board. "Who wants to read???" Omg. Omfg. I don't know a single word. Avert Eyes, damn you! Avert eyes! It worked. Someone volunteered to read. "Does anyone not understand this?" I don't!!!!!!!!!!!! I screamed! (internally). Externally: silence. Turns out no one understood (which I didn't know at the time.) Because, and here's the real kicker...they weren't real words. Ouch. Burn. Terrific lesson in grammar (for reals Adina, if you ever read this Ani ohevet otach!) but my already fragile intestinal system cannot handle this kind of drama post: coffee/sweet-and-low pre:bathroom/food.

Other highlights of the day. My ears are swollen and bleeding from attempting to fit earbuds in them. Aren't they supposed to be one size fits all?!? And I'm too cheap to buy another kind. And too socially awkward to walk down the street sans iPod. And sunglasses. Even when it's getting dark.

Constantly terrified D would be some where around the corner. Some how I need to facilitate a reunion, quickly, on my terms (controlled, clean, mascara.) I am going insane.

Also, 8 am. Brushing teeth. I believe I see someone's reflection in the faucet as they slowly move towards me with a knife. I didn't turn around. Mostly because I didn't hear anyone come in and therefore would have felt bad about going deaf. Not because if I didn't hear anyone, then no one was probably there. Self esteem/paranoia. Turns out, it was just a drop of water. Phew, I was concerned.

Also, roommate has a dog. I love dog. Dog loves bones. When no bone (or roommate) is in sight, dog loves...ME! Highlight of my life.

Monday, September 7, 2009

omg. Were avenues ALWAYS this long?

So apparently I'm disgusting. I should know. I've been told. By a stranger at the "green"/farmer's market in Union Sq. Now I've never actually purchased anything at the aforementioned "market," but I do enjoy roaming around eating an entire plate of sliced up peaches/apples/cucumbers samples. Today one booth had an assortment of tofu esque dishes, along with vegetables I wouldn't automatically associate with eating. One man was using his toothpick and sampling from each tray. Only dirty toothpicks were left (worry not, this isn't where the disgusting part comes in!) I casually asked if he'd brought his own (awesome idea, btw), but alas, he'd just taken the last one. I left, head hung low, like that song with the dog. Then I sampled a cumcumber and stole an extra toothpick. Score! Later on I returned to tofu booth (which was now fully stocked with toothpicks! I used one of theirs since I questioned the cleanliness of my jeans pocket where cuc tooths had been hiding. I used one toothpick also (duh, conservation) and tried multiple items. Now perhaps I should mention that unlike separate fruit pieces where this is FULLY acceptable, the tofu was all smushy together. Like brains. Or embryos. So perchance my germs might spread. During my third sampling my friend goes, "uhm, you're getting your germs in that." To which I replied. "oh, I thought everyone did it this way." To which random guy with a too hot for him girlfriend who's totes cheating with the Trader Joes delivery boy goes, "No, actually that's really disgusting." So ends the tale of the Green Market. Until next time, judgmental man, my germs are anxiously awaiting a reunion.

Along with disgusting, I am also a junior at NYU. A junior who does not cook and therefore got a small meal plan. Unfortunately I am also a junior whose friends do cook and thus don't have a meal plan, so when 2 girls came over to sit with me today at Upstein saying "It looks like you don't have any friends, we don't really either" (freshmen), I merely laughed knowingly. I then spent the next two hours attempting to stem their fears, without really giving them an adequate response to anything. "So you really like NYU now?!?" (them) Uhm....(me) When one of the girls got up, the other quickly whispered to me, "I don't like going to clubs. I'm a geek. Really, I just want friends to hang out with." All I could do was nod my head and say, TRUST ME. GIVE IT TIME. YOU WILL MAKE FRIENDS. She was just the saddest girl, though. And it is with deepest regret that I didn't give her my facebook or something to contact me. I know what you're thinking, I suck at life. And I do. But it was an awkward situation? Ahhhhh. If you're somehow reading this random girl. It will get better. You can contact me. Sorry.

In D news: STILL NO FACEBOOK CHANGES. So, I'm insanely paranoid. In my native land of Florida, I do a full, standing 360 (degree sign) turn before I'm willing to sit and converse. It's like I have this unearthy power to attract the one person I'm talking/thinking about. For reals. Scary. Ask my friends. They do the fear turn too now. So, knowing that D frequents Yoga to the Peeps, I was somewhat reluctant to go to the Red Mango directly across, for fear of running into D while looking like shit. I seriously couldn't take my eyes off the door the whole time, and even convinced my friend to take her yogurt to go (because she'd appreciate a treat later too) because I was so afraid of seeing D. I am that lame.

p.s. instead of too above I accidently typed tool. I feel the latter is more appropriate.

Chick Flicks as a tool for evil

Last year, I was involved in a mighty kick-ass fellowship, if I do say so myself, through the Bronfman Center at NYU. Every week we met to discuss Judaism. and eat. and listen to speakers. and eat. and facilitate dialogue between Jews and non-Jews. and eat. I mean the food was delish. esp from Murray's Falafal. Holla. (p.s. I in no way work for either the Bronfman Center or Murray's, but if either would like to send me a healthy monetary "donation" for endorsing them on my hugely popular blog, they may do so...)

During one special weekend we all took a trip to the Catskills mountains for food and subsequent bonding--highlighted by a very talky speaker whose name I can no longer remember. This is not important. What is, was his overriding message that as Jews it was/is our duty to get married and multiply. youngly and verily. This is in itself not unusual. Many, many people have shared this belief with me in the past: drew my biological clock on a napkin and told me at age 19 I was on my way to becoming barren and alone (you know who you are...and I LOVE you anyways :) lamented the fact that I watch Xena, Jackie Warner, and Rachel Maddow religiously, while living in a city with only 12 straight men. However, this speech took a slightly different tact when our lecturererer dude told us a long-winded story of a woman with mental and physical disabilities who got married-- ending with the subliminal message "if she can do it, so can you. NO EXCUSES." and the actual statement, "every lid has it's pot." Now most of us, at this moment were feeling completely devoid of self-worth, self-pitying, fat, ugly, non-witty, and the like. Lid and Pot became our mantra. We repeated it with scorn, mocking it as stupid and unworthy of our attention while at the same time feeling like little pieces of shit....

I tell you now. Sitting at my computer in all earnestness...last night while watching "Runaway Bride" (no judgment) I was struck to hear Elliot Stabler (or whoever the f he was in that) say to the woman next to him at Jules' 4th failed wedding, "Every Lid Has it's Pot." Ladies and gentlemen, our collective self-worth was shattered over a year ago by a cliched, Runaway Bride quote. Does this make me feel better? Worse? I'm still in my jammies at 12:06. You may decide.

In other news. I ate cheese last night. Ghanaian parasites + Indian parasites + cheese = floor writhing.

In other, other news. I shall from now forward call object of my affections, "D," you know, for personalization purposes. D has not updated D's facebook since last Thursday. I know. I check. Multiple times an hour. If they ever do invent a way to see how many times an individual views their facebook page, I'd have myself arrested for creepiness.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Is this what's called posterity?

So, this time last year, I awoke in a pool of my own vomit and liquified self-esteem. Granted, it was my own vomit, in my own bed, so I felt like I gained some major dignity points there. I quickly got up, ran into the shower, gathered my clothes, jammies, sheets, comforter, and mattess pad, and rushed down to the basement washer/dryer. There in all my hung-over glory I ran into some guy I kinda, sorta, knew, and while averting my eyes the entire time managed a brief, "hey...whats's up?" Score! I thought to myself. He shall never know! The rest of the day was filled with drunky nap time, the cancellation of a China Town lunch date, awkward encounters with my roomie's fam, during which I tried to explain, without fully opening my eyes, that I was "sick." And ended with a realization that still vomiting a full 24 hours after alcohol consumption had ceased might be a sign of danger to my future well being. This all started the night before at my friend's 19th birthday party. Last night was her 20th, and I did not go. Not because, as you may rightly assume, I was ashamed of the shit show that had taken place last year, but rather because my lovely partner in crime was hold-up in the mid-west with her Israeli boyfriend and I am too socially awkward to attend things alone...

So, last night, as I lay curled in the fetal position in my delightful lower east side loft bed, bored and alone, I was forced to do what any girl (sans cable, and friends) would do in such a situation. BROOD. So I brooded. I brooded about how in spite of my hopes that I had somehow grown during the past year, I was still the same girl. The girl who tells someone they "like them" over facebook chat the day before they flee the country for 6 months. The girl who is then somehow SHOCKED that said person is in a facebook relationship 9 months later. In which they are just soooo happy that they spend hours on end at work making paper clips into heart shaped paperclips. And that's just GREAT. Happiness is just GREAT. I haven't seen said person in over a year, we were barely friends, and yet I am just soo shocked that they don't think about me. Ever. While lying on lofty at 6:47 pm (having only arisen at noon) I noticed a slight crease in the comforter that was shrouding my body, that made a sort of heart shape in the distance. You, I thought to myself. Need to get a life.

So, life it is. Goals it is. I have begun to work on my life goals (nanny and sugar daddy). So far my major nanny obstacle is a resume (which would seemingly highlight my lack of experience and marketable skills). As for sugar daddy, I am still trying to find the most legit website for my search...

12:03: Still in my jammies. If I can manage to shave my legs today, I will have enough pride to last me all week.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Tyra Banks: My Idol/ Or my moral Failings

So here it goes. I have 2 full days until the semester starts at glorious NYU, and am at a loss at what to do with this bizarre free time in the NYC. Shop aimlessly at the overpriced Whole Foods and lament that the dehumanization of employees Wal-Mart uses to lower it's prices is not in effect here? Check. Drink 2 Buck Chuck wine from Trader Joe's that had to be purchased by a mother of a friend because they'll card my adorable 20 yr old ass? Check. Check. It's time, my friends, for some goal a-setting to commence. So here it goes, goes:

Goal numero one: Find job as a nanny! Specifically as one of those nannies for the rich couples in the upper east/west side who take the chillens to those "nanny-parks" where strange men make balloon animals--as seen on Law and Order: SVU with the delicious Mariska Hargitay and Christopher Meloni. Do I like kids? I mean, I'm just not sure that's relevant. Actually, my maternal instincts have begun to rear their ugly little heads post international travel and time spent in homes with little babies in India. (Sometimes I sound creepier than intended, I do hope you'll excuse me.) For a while I considered finding and punching holes into my older sister's contraceptive of choice in order to facilitate my aunt aspirations...but I believe this is a much more mature and legal way to funnel the mommy jeans. So, yes, I do believe I could handle...NAY be extraordinary at being a small child's adoring nanny (for the elite, uptown, crowd.)

Goal numero dos: Find myself a Sugar Daddy! Now, I know what you're thinking. Just because Ms. Tyra Banks spotlights Sugar Daddies/Babies on her show, does NOT necessarily mean she would approve of my pursuits. However, I recently calculated that post NYU I must make a starting salary of 50 K a year in order to afford my monthly rent, student loan payments, and food! (Heating/Cooling, doctors visits, and fun are already off the table). Therefore, becoming a "Sugar Baby," and having a random older male/female (who am I to discriminate?) pay my bills for me seems like the appropriate solution. After this realization of personal debt hit me like a hard on in a strip club, I was wrought by grief and sadness. Until suddenly, the golden idea occurred (while at lunch with my father)... get a Sugar Daddy! Since then, I have found an inner Nirvana-like peace that just seems to whisper..."Jaclyn, this is what you are supposed to do..."

I'll admit, I am seemingly a little concerned about my moral disintegration...but I'm hoping I'll get extra good people points by being a super nanny! Also, my Sugar Daddy will definitely NOT have children, especially my pseudo nanny children. In other words, I ain't no homewrecker...! And that, dear friends, is a sentiment, I am sure Ms. Banks would be super proud of. :)

Inagural Post

Much like President Obama's Inaguration into office, my first blog post also marks an immensely important step forward for mankind. The title of the blog refers to its purpose. This is a blog about me. Written by me. Read, I'm sure, only by me. My triumphs. My heartaches. My pathetic attempts to make the object of my affections affect towards me. If I can in any way better your life, I will attempt to do just that. Helping you, dear reader, to become just as entangled in your own web of self-indulging hypocrisy and boredom as I.

While writing this, I dropped 3 Cherrios. 1 landed in my crotch. The other 2 on the floor. I ate all 3. I value honesty.