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Monday, December 29, 2008

Happiness is Three Seasons of the Golden Girls on DVD



Because we all know that Christmas is truly about what you can get, here is what I got for Christmas:
1. Two weeks paid vacation (it's almost CRIMINAL to get paid to lay on the couch in my childhood home and stuff my face with food, but I'll take it)


2. The Golden Girls Seasons 5, 6, 7 on DVD, meaning that I have the whole series on DVD and that I have about 700 hours of quality TV programming to watch


3. Doug Season 1 on DVD (Remember Doug? The 1990's answer to Charlie Brown? And you know what, Mr. Dink actually was that creepy)


4. Dear American Airlines by Jonathan Miles


5. Assorted Ralph Lauren clothing

6. My beloved iPhone
7. Assorted Barnes & Noble and iTunes gift cards


I also got the opportunity to go buy myself some new work clothes since I a.) never have time when I'm in New York, and b.) don't feel like carrying gigantic shopping bags on the subway, and spend quality time with family and friends.

The only damper on this whole vacation is that I have to do interviews for a freelance piece I'm writing, and the runaway teen I interviewed before Christmas is not answering me. After much complaining, my father said, "WHAT DO YOU EXPECT? SHE'S A RUNAWAY TEEN. THEY'RE NOT KNOWN FOR BEING RESPONSIBLE."

Touche, father, touche.

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Wednesday, December 24, 2008

My heart officially belongs to Apple



Like my mother, father, and naggging (non-existent) girlfriend combined, Abi got mad at me when I told her I had impulsively gone out and bought myself a MacBook a few weeks ago.

"WE TALKED ABOUT THIS," she said.

We did, in fact, talk about this.

I've had the same horrible, horrible Dell laptop since my freshman year of college. Just as my body was abused during those four undergrad years, so was my computer. Used as a coaster, a stereo, a power hour timer, and a way to communicate to my friends after I came home from the bar shitfaced that I was "soooooooo rwyruqhejhfdjfhkfjrdsigjsrk," by the time I graduated, I couldn't believe it had even withstood four years of that kind of lifestyle (the exact disbelief was applied in regards to my liver, but that's a completely different story).

So here I am, seven months out of college, and I have this jalopy of a computer, the original Dell laptop that runs at the speed of a drunken tortoise and sounds like a plane taking off. If I wanted to put my LAPtop on my lap, I had to have a blanket on me, because it overheated so much that it would literally burn my legs if the computer touched my bare skin. It's no wonder that I wanted a new computer desperately.

That said, I decided that I was going to run the computer into the ground. Use it until it just stopped working and/or exploded. Cue a few weeks ago. It was a Sunday night, and after a weekend of carousing, I had a bunch of freelance stuff to work on. I power up Old Bess and realize that for some reason, she won't connect to the internet. At all.

Normally, I would get upset. But, I was so resigned to the fact that the computer was dead and gone a long time ago, I threw up my hands, put on my shoes, and headed to the Apple Store on Fifth Avenue. By 9:30pm (it's open 24-hours a day), I had a beautiful, beautiful new MacBook in tow. I walked to the nearest subway station and realized, hey, I have a gigantic Apple bag in my hands. Clearly, I have a $1,500 computer in here. I might as well have a sign around my neck that says "ROB ME, I'M A MORON."

Taxi, please.

I didn't even care about the price tag or my diminished bank account. It's the most beautiful thing I have ever bought myself. I am in love.

Also- an iPhone for Christmas? Give me the internet and email at my fingertips and I will never be able to hold a conversation with anyone in person. Nice knowing you.

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Thursday, December 18, 2008

What do I know about Men's Health?




I told my mother that something I wrote is appearing in the January/February 2009 issue of Men's Health and she blurted out "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MEN'S HEALTH?"

And then she laughed. Laughed and laughed.


Hysterical, Mom.


Of course I don't know anything about men's health, but what is featured is a short blurb about my company's travel guide series. They wanted it to appeal to men–big burly men who read Men's Health.


As I often do in these situations, I pull out a legal pad and start brainstorming.


What do men like?


BBQ

Action

Adventure
Not asking for directions
Boobs

Lifting weights
Secretly saying "I'm the man" into the bathroom mirror
Beer
Fried Food
Sports

...the list went on.

But the headline I came up with to promote the travel guides was "Because we know you hate asking for directions."


Appropriate.

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Saturday, December 13, 2008

What else does the bible say, Jesus?



I'm sure you've all seen this by now, but I can't get enough of it.





See you later, sinners!

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Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Hi, Naima... I'd like a small hot chocolate please



My posts have been infrequent as of late, mainly because the last week or so of my life reverted to the epic partying days of yore (read: college 7 months ago).

Thursday night was another co-worker's goodbye party (we're dropping like flies over here). We went to a new bar near the office and drank for about five hours, while being served by dim-witted bartenders who didn't seem to know that a glass of wine isn't served filled to the brim. Thanks, ladies. I think I drank an entire bottle of wine after 2 "glasses" of Pinot Grigio. Hello, $30 cab ride.


Friday night was a co-worker's 30th birthday party, which involved beer pong in the East Village. The night started out with s
hots of whiskey, and after copious amounts of beer pong and jager shots, a co-worker put me in a cab. The highlight of the night was the 60 year old, obviously shitfaced bartender, who, after I asked him for a pint of Stella, he said, "With a smile like that, how could I refuse?" In my imaginary, more brazen life, I would have rolled my eyes and said, "OH PLEASE, just gimme the drink," but instead, I smiled coyly and said, "What can I say?" What a disappointment I've turned out to be. I blame it on the advertising.

Later, the same bartender gave me a million dollar bill for some reason. Too bad my African cab driver wouldn't accept it as real currency. I rolled into my apartment and made myself a grilled cheese, a late-night ritual of late, as my roommate has pointed out. My grilled cheese ritual has been happening because I try not to keep junk food around and the only good, solid drunk food I have that I can make while extremely intoxicated is bread, butter, and cheese. If I keep this shit up, I'm goin
g to have to start keeping bulk bags of Totino's Pizza Bites on reserve in the freezer for such inebriated emergencies.

Abi and I had planned for dinner and drinks on Saturday night, so we went to Sette, an awesome restaurant in my neighborhood. Dinner was fabulous, and after splitting the cheapest bottle of white wine they had (Abi selected it from the "Low Brow List" as she called it). The busboy called us "guapas" and the waiter didn't charge us for the wine. Note to self: start wearing your hair down more often. It means free drinks for all.


After dinner, we headed to our favorite bar in the East Village for $15 buckets of beers. At one point, a man walked into the bar with a plush snowman decoration in tow. We spent the entire night slamming beers, singing songs, and hating on everyone.


Sunday morning brought the delivery of bagels from La Bagel Delight (our post-drinking ritual) and a da
y of Christmas shopping in my neighborhood. We kicked the shopping extravaganza off at Cocoa Bar, a coffee and wine bar accross the street from my apartment. Abi insisted that we go there because she heard a rumor that Naima, from America's Next Top Model Season 4 now works there.


Lo and behold, there she was. Serving me my hot chocolate. To quote Abi, "girlfriend looks busteddddd."
Didn't you win $100,000? You're working as a barista next to the Russian laundromat I frequent? Damnnnnn, what a fall from grace. Abi said that she's probably living in this neighborhood and that means she's probably doing pretty well for herself, but I have this to say: I live in the same neighborhood and I didn't win $100,000—I currently work for like $50 more a week than the Assistant Manager of McDonald's. I am NOT impressed.

Thanks for the hot chocolate, though.

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Tuesday, December 09, 2008

Holiday Party Recap



My roommate invited her friend over to our apartment to hang out last night and when said friend arrived, she asked if I was there.

"No, but if you stay long enough, you'll see her come home shitfaced and try to make a grilled cheese," my roommate replied.

These past few days, I have drank like a fucking champion—like the old days in college (you know, like seven months ago). I'll backtrack and write about my glorious weekend soon, but last night was our holiday party and I have to provide a full report.

We had it in Times Square, at a place where you can get drunk and play arcade games (you know where I'm talking about). Everyone grumbled, but in the end, it was open bar for three hours, free food, and I got to play air hockey and shoot at things.

Highlights:

-Losing at air hockey and screaming "I AM NOT A GRACIOUS LOSER" at our CFO
-Playing a particularly violent shooting game where we were being attacked by zombies with our new Marketing Manager and screaming "THIS IS JUST LIKE WORK, EVERYDAY"
-During the raffle, after 10 pairs of gloves were given out to 10 different people (hey, it's a recession), a hot pink suitcase was up for grabs. Earlier in the day, we had a discussion as to whether or not the horrible, ugly suitcase should be included in the raffle and I told my boss that if I won a stupid suitcase after someone else had won free airline tickets, I would flip the air hockey table over.
-Someone won the free round-trip airline tickets, but was not present to claim them, so they had to draw someone else's name. My boss yelled, "WELL, DOESN'T THAT SUCK?" into the microphone.

Terrible Lowlight:

-Our worst, most useless intern won one of the free airline tickets. This is someone who a.) doesn't work here (picture Damian from Mean Girls—"SHE DOESN'T EVEN GO HERE") b.) cannot be trusted to do even the most menial tasks (picture Liz Lemon talking to her stupid assistant—"Uh, okay, well, when done correctly, these page numbers should be sequential"). My boss into the microphone after his name was announced: "I don't make the rules."


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Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Tough Day at the Office



Monday, December 01, 2008

Your Child Will Not Be Having Gym Class Today



The joke, "if homosexuality is a disease, why don't we call in gay to work?" is funny and unfunny all at the same time. Just as sarcastic outcasts in high school used humor to distinguish and defend themselves from and against their peers, the gay community has long used irreverent humor to counter stereotypical and homophobic thinking.

On December 10, "Call in Gay Day," or "Day Without Gays" will occur across the country. An homage to the old joke and also a stunt to show the impact that gays have in the economy, business, etc. In calling in "gay," participants hope to make people aware of the dent in society that would be present if gay people weren't around.

While I understand the psychology behind all of this, if I called in gay to work, it's not very likely that my co-workers would stop to ponder gay rights, their reaction would be more like "Oh, fuck, Amanda's not here to do my work."

Gawker posted a
brilliant article that mused on what a day without gays would look like. My favorite: "Your child will not be having gym class today." Classic.

Personally, I'm going to parlay this whole thing into "Month Without Gays." My roommate texted me and asked me to pull something out of the freezer to defrost for dinner. My text back? "FUCK YOU, IT'S MONTH WITHOUT GAYS, BITCH. THINK ABOUT THAT."

I'm not paying my rent, my bills, going to work, answering emails, buying anything from anywhere- that'll show them all. Hell, I'm not even going to get married... oh fuck. That's what this is all about, huh?

In unrelated news, my computer has a virus. FINISH THE JOKE. FINISH THE JOKE!

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