I dated a boy once.
It was fun. For a decent while I was more than satisfied with what our relationship was. And for as much as we all have fun joking about how much I strike a resemblance to Side Show Bob, credit goes to this guy for SSB's lone true appearance to date. Liz was the only witness. One winter morning, after spending the weekend together, my hair was C.R.A.Z.Y. frizzy (you know - from the relations) and she swears that THAT is the only time I've had hair wild enough to look anything like the cartoon character.
But, back to the boy. I'll call him "Special K". For 3 reasons:
1. His name begins with, appropriately, a K.
2. He's special.
3. Just like the cereal, while very tasty and not necessarily bad, you can't live off it it- regardless of what Kellogg's and their "2 week" challenge claim. It's starvation.
This past weekend, my baby brother David came into town for Thanksgiving. He and Daniel, along with an assortment of their cronies, were going to hit Westport. I agreed to meet up with them late in the evening. We ended up at Kelly's (not my idea - just for the record!). There was a band, doing all covers - I think. I know I heard a Weezer and a Tool Song.
I'm jamming out with David when all of a sudden someone felt closer to me than a normal stranger would be. Next thing, he's got me by the nape of my neck***, pulling me towards him and trying to yell something in my ear. I start to freak out because I'm thinking that I'm gonna have to karate chop some random's ass.
But then I see that it's Special K. What. The. Eff?
Then he repeats himself. I still can't make out what he's trying to yell at me, so I do the universal head-shake-while-pointing-to-ears-and-shrug gesture. He then screams in to my ear "What are the odds that that guy" points to David, who is oblivious to this whole exchange thus far "is gonna get lucky with Natasha tonight?" Special K slyly smiles to himself, making a look I could only interpret as "Oh yeah - I totally just called you out and made you feel super awkward. Score!"
I ask "That guy?" and point to the still oblivious David. "Zero." And to emphasize my point, I make a goose egg with my left hand.
Confused and a little startled, Special K pauses. He then asks me "What are my odds?"
"Zero." And to emphasize my point, I make a goose egg with my left hand. "That guy" pointing to David who has finally realized I'm talking to someone else and is looking at us "is my brother."
Harder than bombs over Baghdad, his face exploded in a disgusting realization of what that made his first question (effing gross) and therefore he himself was victim to the super awkwardness. 2 beats later "So wait - I don't even have better odds than your brother?"
No, Special K, you don't.
***At first I thought some random creep was wanting to toussel my tresses, which, that wouldn't have been the first time that happened that night. SERIOUSLY people. Random people touch my hair. MHISOOOOMBTY.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
I dated a boy once.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
While barely finding the motivation to tread water in the unemployed ocean, I had a stroke of brilliance. I decided to have a party on Friday the 13th. It was going to celebrate, mainly, my birthday, but also it was a party for the fact that all I had going for me was the fact that I wasn't dead. And that, folks, is all you need. Fuck Luck.
Invites were sent out, food, booze and music (thank you Steve!!!) were planned. I even knew what I was going to wear 2 weeks before hand. This was huge. I was excited for the entire week leading up to the big night. The night before, I laid out my outfit with an excitement that rivaled even the most giddy moments of my youth.
I had the Best. Time. Ever.
It probably didn't hurt the cause that I started drinking when I got home from work. People weren't going to start trickling in for AT LEAST another 2 hours. So, I swept & Swiffered and finished making my desserts while enjoying an organic Belgium Wheat Stef & Russell brought me from Colorado. Yum. They just brought me back 1 bottle, but, thank goodness it was a liter sized bottle.
Soon after my first drink was polished off (and yes, I'm counting a liter of beer as "a drink"), Whitney came through the front door with bags of food, beer and champagne. She popped the first bottle, the corked ricocheted off of a few things and it ended up under my tea kettle on the stove. She had Russell open the next one. Appropriately enough, she and I drank champagne from my pair of "Bar Natasha" champagne glasses.
After the first champagne bottle popping, I cannot verify the accuracy of the whats and the whens of all that went down. But here is what I remember...
*Steve made me the 4 most righteous (his word, but I must agree) mixed cds. He named them "Do the Na-Cha-Cha," "Slash Show Bob," "Durka Durka" and "Sherpa Sherpa Allah." I'm listening to Durka Durka right now "She's got the look...na na na na naaaaaaa na na na na na naaaaaaaaa YEAH - she's got the look!"
*Lee brought me a brownie cake with cream cheese icing with my name on it. Awesome. It was almost too pretty to eat. Almost.
*Sabrina brought a salad. Like an actual salad. Or at least one of those HUGE tubs of mixed greens. Trust me - this was HILARIOUS.
*Some random neighbor named Curtis invited himself onto my front porch.
*Lindsey showed up drunker than a me and gave me a FABULOUS vintage dress that I put on right then and there (on the front porch) and proceeded to model it. I spent almost the whole night thinking it was black and gold, but around 1AM Sabrina told me it was Brown and Ivory.
"What the EFF???? No wonder Lindsey and I were having a difference of opinion on what accessories to wear with it. I thought it was because we were both pretty sauced."
*Curtis said I was "one step above stunning" or some other BS while I was modeling the dress.
*Mark invited his friend, Meredith, whom he saw walking down the street, in. She was cool. She's a manager at Barnes & Nobel and really wanted to make sure I'd recycle her cup.
*All the Lesbians worked on hooking Curtis and I up.
*Jenni Rea had NO clue who CCB was. It's like she didn't even listen to any of my stories for almost 6 months.
*Carrie Beth made me kiss her on the lips and I almost cried. Nothing against her, just can't get myself to kiss a girl. Lord knows my life would be easier if I was The Gay.
*Tammy & Shea thought Megan & Brooke were a couple. Priceless.
*Matt pimped out his PBR LIGHT to anyone that would try it. Who knew they made PBR Light? Classic.
*Curtis left. But then he came back. :)
All-in-all it was fantastic. I have such awesome, wonderful friends. A girl couldn't be more lucky.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
I'm in the middle of an interview. It's going well, and, though the job would be well outside my degree's purview, I was interested in working there. Shannan knew, through professional networking, the guy I was interviewing with and I knew 2 other people that worked there through my many years at The Law Firm. And then he says... "You're right. Your hair IS better than mine."
3 things happen simultaneously.
1. I turn BRIGHT EFFING RED
2. My heart drops into my large intestine
3. I nervously laugh and say "Oh, well, it's nothing personal - just a fact."
I didn't get the job.
But that's OK because.....drum roll please...... I GOT A JOB! I'm a week in and so far so good! The only thing I can report on is that the toilets flush loudly. VERY LOUDLY. Like, so loudly, it hurts my ear drums. But, I can't be too upset at it; in every stall, there is a toilet plunger. How friggin awesome is that? I work in an office where at some point in time, even with toilets powerful enough they sound like they have a jet engine in the tank, enough people thought plungers in each and every stall were necessary.
So, I'm back, ya'll. Halloween was awesome!!! Slash KILLED at all the parties I went to. I even came in second at a costume contest. I lost to Hitler in drag and I am OK with that.
OH - and... Today is my birthday! Happy birthday to me! I'm 27, which is my lucky number. This is gonna be a GREAT year.