All I Want for Christmas...

All I want for Christmas is a new job.   That's all I've wanted for the past three Christmas's that I've spent in New York.  I guess it's a lot to ask for and that's why I am still where I am despite daily online job searches, countless interviews, numerous revisions to my resume, and a number of friends and family stepping in with suggestions or possible job leads.  I'm starting to think I am cursed. Do I have something wrong with me that renders me un-hirable? I must... I really must.  But I don't know what it is.... maybe it's the cystic acne on my chin that has only gotten worse in the past three months that I've been stressed out.  I have taken a very proactive approach to my job search.  I am personable and feel like I look presentable at interviews.  I have a decent amount of experience.  I'm smart, I'm creative, I'm talented... do I have some physical deformity that everyone can see but myself? Maybe that's why I am not getting hired.

Am I going to be 30 years old and still a retail manager?  Not if I can help it.  I will probably end my life before it gets to that point.  I'd rather be a stripper before it gets to that point because at least then I'd have some cash to show for it.  Besides, the company I work for will fire me before I get old and unattractive since I will no longer fit their "look policy." I hope that my next job doesn't make me hire people on a basis of how they look... I feel so immoral and unethical every day of my life.

According to my mother, this blog and my social media presence is the reason I am not getting hired.  That makes absolutely no sense though seeing as how this blog isn't even searchable under my real name and seeing as how the only way anyone can access or even know about it is if I provide a direct link.  Also, aside from some selfies and the occasional F-bomb, I'm not sure why this blog would dissuade anyone from hiring me.  I'm not a racist, I'm not a bigot, I'm not talking about my sex life, I'm not talking about drug use, I'm not posting nude photos, I'm not a prostitute, I'm not a stripper... I'm just me.  I'm not applying for a job in a lawyers office or even a doctor's office.  I'm not running for a political position, applying for a government or military position, or even applying for a job at a stuffy corporate office.  So regardless of whether or not a potential employer ever even did stumble upon this blog, there is no reason evident here as to why I should not be hired or employed.  I even did a google search of myself and like nothing comes up.  No racy photos, no nothing.  My mother's paranoia is rubbing off on me though and I'm starting to doubt everything.

Everyone I know under the age of 30 posts far worse material than me on very public social media sites.  At least I don't post political propaganda, photos of myself in lingerie or pasties (half the women living in the city seem to have photos like this), comments about my sex life, photos of my lover in bed with me, or photos of bongs and weed like half the people I am friends with on facebook do.  My facebook profile is private.  I seriously don't know where my mom gets off saying that.  Furthermore, I would hope anyone reading this blog is more apt to relate to me than anything else.  I'm not a boring, drone with a boring life.  I'm sorry I'm a real person with a real life and a real personality.  If that dissuades people from hiring me than great- they're probably not the people I want to be working with.

I'm a hard worker, punctual, diligent, amicable, I work hard, I don't slack off or call out unless I am truly sick.  I have great references, my co-workers and employees respect me.  I don't get it.  I just don't know anymore.  Maybe I should be a boring person with no life, no color, no personality, just facts on paper.  I'm so frustrated.  Seriously.  Two years I've been looking to get out of retail and I'm still a slave to it.  I would almost rather be a server with no health benefits right now, because If I'm going to continue working at a job that doesn't creatively or intellectually stimulate or challenge me, I might as well be making more money and have more flexible hours doing so.

Maybe I'm ugly.  That must be it.  I must be really ugly.

Oh well, I had a dermatology appointment today and am going back on a brand new medication that not only cures acne, but is also a diuretic so hopefully my chin will clear up and I'll be looking super thin.  Awesome.

My boyfriend and I celebrated Christmas pre-maturely and unwrapped each others gifts the other night. I am the proud owner of some awesome new shoes.  Sigh.  If only I could have unwrapped a new job offer....

My new kicks :) :D :D :D  Yes, I'm that girl posting bragging photos of my new shoes.  Go ahead and talk shit about it. I would do the same... 

Is this photo too sexy? At least I don't have fake boobs or am displaying them in a push up bra like 80% of the other girls I know or walking around in a corset and latex booty shorts and posting the photos on my instagram account...  Sorry if this photo is offending anyone... I know it's super vulgar. 

Cheese... my only salvation in these darkest and most uncertain of days.... also probably one of the main sources of the cystic acne on my chin.  Oh well. 

I had a good title... But now I forget

Writing this blog in bed, because I don't have work until 3pm.  Score.  I think I have finally caught up on sleep from last week (wait, did Thanksgiving even happen? NOT FOR ME!!!!), and my sleepless Saturday spent at Output (jealous? You should be).  I am now fully gearing up for Christmas. I have to do all of my Christmas shopping, but I'm off Friday and next Monday so I am thinking I'll do most of it online from the comfort of my apartment since that seems to be the best way to find what you're actually looking for.  I found my NYE dress but still don't have plans. Either way, and regardless of where I end up or don't end up, at least I'll be looking sexy (or as sexy as a homely bitch such as myself can hope to look... sigh).  I will post some slutty selfies for your viewing pleasure upon my dress's arrival. I can't wait. Nothing makes a shitty work day at the job I LOVE better than coming home to a package :) ;)

I have a new social experiment going on in the form of a personal Instagram account. I avoided getting Instagram literally for the past two year because of my narcissistic ways. I knew an account that's all about posting photos of yourself and your life would not be good for a person such as myself, which is why I use this blog instead (I can post whatever I want here and no one even reads it... it's basically the same as posting to a diary, except I save that shit for my book).  However, after making an Instagram account for the theatre company I'm doing social media for, I quickly discovered how Instagram works. Basically, it's a way for bitches to brag, boast, show off their asses and their fake tits, let the world know they go to the gym every day by posting the same fucking selfie of their goddamn abs on a twice daily basis, and showing off the material splendors and paid for vacations they get by the dudes they're fucking (I'm now fully convinced this girl I know is an escort... like for real).

I decided to make a "mock" Instagram where I will post my own slutty-selfies (kissy-faces and ab shots required), and stupid aspects of daily life that don't mean anything to me I'm reality, but are in fact everything in the fake world of social media.  All of my hashtags (#) are a joke or mocking the shit that people actually tag their photos as because shit is usually ridiculous. I'm trying to see how many random likes and followers I can get just by coming across as one of the masses.  So far, I have gathered the people with the most followers are the people whom photoshop/filter the shit out of their photos, have lip injections and/or breast implants, love posting photos of high-end dinners, places, clubs, and material items, and seem fake as fuck.  I am going to follow through with this experience to see if any personal gratification or benefits come from this.  I am giving myself one year.

I you are interested in following or checking it out, my name is lilywhitedaydream.  Please once again note that my hashtags are obnoxious and self-centered on purpose and do not actually represent my views or my actual state of being and take on what is important in life.

Requisite "kissy" face.  Go kill yourself... #kisskiss #basicbitch #oneofthosegirls

#thighgap #idontworkout #Jeffries #emo #myspaceangle

#DSLs #nofiller #allnatural #kyliejenner #MACcosmetics #fuckyouslutswithlipinjections

I Need a Hot-tub 24/7

I've come back from another glorious, three-day, mini-break Upstate.  This time it was just me and the bf, which may actually have been for the best, since instead of going on a three day bender with friends, I was behaved and relaxed for once (nothing worse than partying on a getaway and then coming back to realize you need a vacation after the "vacation" to catch up on sleep, get the toxins out of your system etc.).  I am once again convinced I gained about 10 lbs (I think I ate almost an entire cow's worth of filet mignon and steak along with a sack of potatoes, a bag of cheetos (you know how I do...) and like 5000 cals worth of icecream and skittles one night.  It was just what I needed.  I am convinced that if I could take a glass of wine into a hot-tub for about an hour every night, I would never experience the elevated stress and anxiety levels that I do when I've been trapped in NYC for a month straight with no respite from the MTA, the job I hate, the crowds of people, the filthy air and terrible scenery, and the inflated prices.  Maybe if I could install a hot-tub on the terrace all of my problems would go away each night.  Maybe they wouldn't be there in the first place. Wait- why do I live here again????

Please excuse the ugly-ass plate... some people aren't very gifted when it comes to picking out plate wear...

Good question.  Sometimes I really do start to wonder.  I was watching House Hunters International the other day, and this couple rented a sick-ass house in Capetown, South Africa, for only $2,000 a month.  The house was located not only amongst a beautiful backdrop of mountains and near the beach, but it was two bedroom, two bathroom, had a swimming pool and it even had it's own artist's studio.  $2,000 a month....  do you even know what $2,000 a month gets you here in filthy, smelly NYC????  Basically a one bedroom, with a backdrop of grey buildings, grey pavement, and nothing additional to really write home about.  You're fortunate if you can even find parking on the street within a 1/2 mile radius of your apartment.  I'm so fortunate that I have the apartment I have right now, in the best neighborhood for the best price and with the benefit of a terrace.  Not one day goes by that I'm not thankful for my living situation, however, sometimes I think about what my money would get me in another part of the world- a part of the world where the air is fresher, the days are warmer, and I can see some actual vegetation outside of my window.  I must live here for a reason though, right? RIGHT????

Some days I wonder why I do live here, and then I remember that it's the best city in the world.  Upstate is relaxing and beautiful and closer to my family, but when the only place open after 9pm is your local gas station, and there is literally nothing to do or no where to go for a drink with friends, life gets pretty fucking boring.  Maybe someday I will want to live that lifestyle again, but now is not the time.  I think after a few nights of going to bed at midnight, or being cooped up inside without a decent bar, restaurant, music venue, or club to go to I would once again be longing to live back in a larger metropolis with more options and more excitement.  Plus, even if I am still not where I want to be with my job, my options here are at least much more broad than any options at home would be.  Even if I hate my full-time job (you know- the one that pays my bills), at least I'm still able to pursue writing, am working with a small theatre company to promote and update their social media pages, and I have all of the resources under my feet for eventually publishing my book (which is still in the process of being coprighted).  Furthermore, the creative opportunities here far outweigh those at home, even if I do drop $50 every time I buy toilet paper and a few groceries.  A lot of times when I'm walking down the crowded street ready to scream "move bitch, get out' the way!" at the hoards of tourists making me late for work, or when I'm forced to wait for the third fucking L train to come by just so I can squeeze on and be level with some nasty dude's smelly armpits, I have to remind myself of why I am dealing with all of this shit.  I start to forget sometimes, and that's when I begin to lose what little sanity I have left.


You know what would really save my sanity though? Not working at my current job.  :D I swear to God it gets worse each and every day... sometimes I wonder why I went back to that company in the first place... oh wait, because I was starving to death and living on a bag of frozen peas and a loaf of bread each week and being able to afford cream for my coffee was a luxury.... that's why! :D

But anyhow, I regress.  I am trying to have a much more active approach now that Winter is in full swing.  I am going to start planning another trip, try to stay current with my untitled-magazine articles (I only just re-submitted my article on that piece of shit app known as Tinder ;) ), and invest my time in the small projects that don't necessarily make me the most money, but are certainly the most rewarding in terms of my creative goals and my mental state.  My next untitled-magazine.com article is going to focus on where all of the good bands have gone.  I have really been putting a lot of thought into it the past couple of days that I have been off and listening to Pandora.  Today's music is true shit.  I feel so sorry for most everyone under the age of 25 that doesn't have the musical guidance they need to acquire decent taste in real bands and ends up listening to the same top 40 shit they're playing on the radio.  It's such a shame that bands like One Direction, artists like Justin Beiber and Arianna Grande, and DJs get all of the fame and fortune these days when they're nothing more than manufactured, auto-tuned, inauthentic pieces of whored-out musical shit.  But hey- that's just my opinion, which counts for very little, except for in this blog where I rule supreme. ;)  Clearly I am going to have to edit myself while writing this article, because as you can see, I feel very strongly about why today's music is mostly shit and all of the wrong artists are getting awards and public praise.  I don't really like to edit myself.  In a perfect world, I would never edit or sensor myself again.  But I guess this world won't let me do that without consequence.

I've been thinking a lot about that scene from "Pretty Woman" with Julia Roberts lately- the one where she goes shopping on Rodeo Drive and gets turned away by the bitches in one of the fancy shops because she is dressed in her prostitute clothes, and then she comes back and rubs it in their faces that they made a 'Big Mistake' by not helping her.  This scene just about sums up my job search.  Someday, I would like to rub it in the faces of everyone who ever failed to hire me or follow up with me after an interview of just what they missed out on.  I like to think that it would go something like this:

"BIG Mistake, HUGE! I have to go shopping now..." lolololol.  Aaahhh, the satisfaction!!!! 

This is Why I Get in Trouble

Sitting here bored out of my mind on a Friday night.  I was off today and I don't have work until tomorrow at 3pm... that would give me plenty of time to be hungover in a hypothetical situation where I was in fact, not sitting here alone and bored on a Friday night.  My mind is slowly starting to go crazy (as it has a tendency to do when I am bored and alone).  I don't know why my mind does this.  If I sit here without company or some serious hands-on activity that keeps me physically active and busy, my mind goes into dark waters.  Like, I start fabricating and imagining all sorts of fucked up scenarios and shit in my head.  It's not healthy.  In all reality, after last weekend and even this past week, I should really be taking it easy, so maybe sitting here bored is a good thing.  I went hard last weekend, and partied two nights in a row.  The fact that I was working all three weekend days on top of my partying did me pretty dirty.  Saturday wasn't so bad (despite the fact that I slept over at my boyfriends and rolled into work wearing his skinny jeans with my six-inch booties- hey, the only alternative was to go in wearing my Axl Rose costume...), and I didn't even need to vomit (if you know me, you also know that that is a SERIOUS accomplishment for me since I'm the queen of barfing ;-) ).  Saturday night took a turn for the worst though.  I ended up going to Highline (I know, I know... I was/am banned, but Chris Brown was supposed to make an appearance so I felt compelled to go), and as per usual got inebriated.  I ended up safe and sound at home (I'm not sure how, since I blacked out in the cab), but somehow passed out so hard that I didn't hear my phone ringing off the hook or even my door bell ringing when my bf got out of work and came over at 4am.  Yikes.  The next day, I woke up by God's good grace (since I had failed to even set an alarm).  I woke up on my couch, wearing my costume, with no blanket, all of the lights on, and 18 missed phone calls.  I felt like shit, as you can imagine.  I don't know what was worse- the hangover (I may have still been drunk actually), or realizing what an asshole I was for passing out without my phone on volume and near my head.  You know if it was the other way around I would have gone psycho and probably climbed a fire escape into his window if it were me waiting for him to open the door.  I threw up multiple times at work, and even when I left work at 8pm, I still felt like shit.  I really wish that sticking with drugs was acceptable behavior because alcohol does me dirty every time.

Welcome to the Jungle 

shortly before I ate an entire 7eleven sheet pizza...

Friday night I am convinced I almost got kidnapped by a fake Uber driver (don't ask) and Saturday I was ready to kill some girl I was referring to as a "fire monkey," so perhaps it's best that I'm taking it easy this weekend (even though as I already mentioned, I'm sitting here bored out of my mind since my niece has gone to bed and I'm watching her).  I celebrated my boyfriend's birthday on Wednesday night and it was awesome... I wish every day could be like that day ;) Sigh.  But alas, we have work, obligations, and can't possibly party all night every day otherwise we would probably not be long for this world.  I am just so happy when I am not working and am planning fun activities and surprises and making stuff... speaking of making stuff- the costumes I made for my niece and her friends turned out pretty awesome.  I won't post pics of the kids (since I don't want to exploit them or affiliate such innocent children with my raucous blog), but here are some snippets of my niece's princess costume:

The crown... my floor is still covered in glitter.  Hell, I'm still covered in glitter... 

The princess gown. 

And the result of my excessive glitter use... I still have glitter on the couch, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, and randomly in my hair/on my body.  It's a real mood lifter now that the days are shorter and the weather is colder.  

I am already starting to get stoked for the Christmas season- the most wonderful time of the year indeed ;) .  I cannot wait to start buying Christmas presents for everyone.  It's crazy, but the older I get, the more excited I am to give presents as opposed to receiving them.  I really pride myself on being a great gift-giver, so I love making other people happy and surprising them with the perfect present.  I also love decorating and all of the festive accoutrements of the holiday season- the lights, the tree, the stockings, the cookies, the wrapping paper, the magic... someone shoot me now.

Despite the fact that I love buying for other people, I still love buying for myself too.  Mami needed a new pair of 7 inch shoes ;)   Nothing lifts a sour mood like prancing around in a pair of underwear and heels blasting Jane's Addiction and drinking coffee like it's going out of style. 

I am supposed to be writing a new article for untitled-magazine on the disappearance of major rock bands, however, I am also supposed to revise my previous article on Tinder, since they didn't like it.  I don't know what to do.  I am completely uninspired and unmotivated by the Tinder article.  FUCK Tinder, it was created by a sexist pig.   I spent an hour reading about other people's Tinder travel experiences.  I even downloaded the Tinder app for all of 15 minutes to see how it worked.  I was repulsed by the variety of gross men that came across my screen on Tinder- they all looked like nerds, freaks, serial killers, and perverts to me.  But maybe that's just me.  I am pretty particular and I don't believe in online dating to begin with, nor do I believe in hooking up/one night stands/meeting fuck buddies online.  Sorry if that's your cup of tea.   I would just prefer to meet my psychos and freaks the old fashioned way ;). It just seems like a really good way to end up getting raped, getting an STD, or getting decapitated by a socially inept person who can't meet women in the real world.  I don't know.  I understand all of these things I mentioned can easily happen with people you meet in a bar or at work or school too (people even get raped or catch STDs from their shitty significant others all the time), but the likelihood of running into a weirdo seems more probable on an online app people use to hook up.  Call me boring, but I believe in meeting people through people you already know, or just in the real world.  I don't even know anyone who has used Tinder in a foreign country personally.  Shit.  Maybe I should just forget this article and write about the disappearance of decent bands.

Indian Summer

It's so nice outside for being mid-October.  I probably shouldn't be holed up inside my apartment guzzling coffee and listening to Metallica in the dark corner where my computer sits when it's 73 degrees and sunny outside, but that is exactly what I'm doing.  I have had Halloween on the brain for the last two days- It's my favorite time of year (apart from August).   I am building my niece's princess costume from scratch (pictures to follow- I can't wait... I haven't sewn anything since last year's Halloween costume).  I have also had Tim Burton films running on loop on my tv while I've been home the past two days, and have been playing with costuming make up just for fun (and because I was bored).

What's wrong with me???...  A LOT.

 I am still not 100% sure what I'm doing for Halloween.  I imagine since I did not specifically request the day off or even the proceeding day off (Nov. 1st), I'm sure I'll get shafted and stuck with the shittiest shifts for both days.  I can 100% guarantee I will be closing on Halloween and at work until 10pm, and I can also 100% guarantee I will be opening the next morning at 8am.  You think that's going to stop me from having fun?  You think working shitty hours has even stopped me from having fun before?  FUCK NO.  If anything, it angers me to the point where I will party just to spite everyone else.  This is the girl who stays out until 5am when she has to be back to work and sober in 4 hours.  It's totally doable as long as you keep the drinking to a minimum and guzzle coconut water like it's oxygen.  That being said, maybe this Halloween will be like every other Halloween and I'll end up having this sick costume and not going anywhere just like the previous 5 years of my life.  The last 5 Halloween were ruined due to snow, more snow, friends bailing, and working until 4am.   NOT THIS YEAR.  I'm also determined to make this New Year's Eve better than every other New Years eve that ever sucked ballz.  I've never actually had a good New Year's Eve (I know- cry me a river bitch).  Last year was supposed to be good- I bought tickets to an after hours party at Output since my bf and I were both working, but I ended up getting almost crushed to death at work, and subsequently also getting tanked to deal with the shit-show that was NYE at Highline.  I'm going big or going home this year ( I don't think I'm actually going home for New Years, but you know, maybe I actually will go home if I can't go big here in the city).

I did a full on test-run for my Axl Rose costume.  I think I really need the tattoos to complete it and make it legit ( I mean, it's not exactly legit to begin with I suppose, since Axl definitely didn't have his entire stomach on display).  I also don't think Axl wore 5" booties, but hey, when you're the size of a teacup poodle, you do whatever it takes to look taller.

You know where you are? You're in the jungle baby, you're gonna diiiiieeeee!!!! 

Please excuse my beat up knee caps... I had a most unfortunate accident one night after a few glasses of rose at Extra Fancy when I decided it was a good idea to practice running in six-inch wedges.  Today I ripped the scab off when I hit my knee on the desk so it's even worse now. 

In addition to the tattoos I will be requiring on both arms, perhaps I should carry around a bottle of liquor for added effect.  Hmm.. maybe not. I forgot that open container laws still apply on Halloween ;) 

As usual, I've spent my last couple of days off writing, and consuming massive quantities of cheese.  I've also been consuming massive quantities of Cheetos, which I've repeatedly asked my bf not to bring into my apartment because I LITERALLY can NOT control myself.  I am like a crackhead is to a crack-rock when it comes to a bag of Cheetos.  I can not resist.  And I can not stop once I get a taste.  I will eat the whole bag over the course of a day.  It's a wonder that I haven't turned orange yet from the food dye.

Gorgonzola Dolce... heaven.  Better than heaven actually.  And this is the result of my gorgonzola consumption:

You see how the cleft of my chin is distorted?  I look like fucking Jay Leno.  That my friends is a blemish so large that it's distorted my entire face.  Hot, I know ;)

My knee is now bleeding profusely where the scab ripped off.  I am such a mess.  Seriously.  I wonder if I will ever be a polished woman.  Maybe part of the fun in life is not being a polished woman.  I just wish I wasn't so prone to accidents and clumsiness and I wish my nails weren't always bitten and chipped and my hair wasn't always a nappy mess with split ends and tangles.  I also wish I didn't have a break out happening around my chin making me look like Jay Leno.  But hey, I don't have Ebola or a terminal illness and I have clean drinking water and food. So I can't complain.  I am also not a heroin addict like half of my home town is now.  What the fuck happened to innocent, sleepy little Bainbridge????  It grew up and turned into a devious drug addict.  Legit.  I keep hearing stories about people robbing houses and stores to support their addiction.  Every week I hear about someone else I knew by name going to rehab.  Seriously.  WTF?!  Good thing I got out when I did... I'd either be an addict or have three different kids by three different dads right now.  

Even though I am poor as fuck most days, at least I am living on my own, pursuing my dream (even if it doesn't seem to be going anywhere most days), and not shooting heroin and robbing houses back home.   At least I'm not sitting home living on welfare and not working for a living.  I'd rather be busting my ass at a job I hate every day for the rest of my life than be like half of the people living in Chenango County.  It's really so sad in one way.  I know that all of the business that used to be in the area moved out and the place is pretty impoverished, but it's just so pathetic that people turn to drugs and turn to a life of crime as a result.  When I was younger, I remember mostly everyone being wholesome and good in my area.  Now I go home to visit and get depressed.  All of the little main streets are desolate, the business shut down and replaced with shit diners and even shittier tattoo parlors run by deviants.  Everyone I see on the street is morbidly obese and living on Wonderbread and ground beef that's been dunked in clorox at the local Great American.  It makes me want to cry.  I see moms pushing grocery carts with kids that aren't dressed for the weather and the mom is smoking a cigarette and looks like a crack whore.  And most likely is.  What happened to the Bainbridge of my childhood????   My mind is blown.  Literally. blown. 

I'm happy Fall is here so I can wear velvet though.   

Banned for Life

You know you've reached a new low when you get banned from the venue your boyfriend manages.   I am pretty sure I accomplished a nearly impossible feat in doing so.  Awesome (but not really).  I am never allowed to go back to highline after my actions a couple of weeks ago.  It all started off fine and dandy enough... I was just going to stop by with a friend and say 'hi' to everyone I know that works there and not drink.  Needless to say, since I know everyone that works there, I was given free drinks, got completely obliterated, and then decided that I didn't want to leave with my friend but instead decided that it was a good idea to wait for my bf to close down the joint.  In retrospect, I'm not sure why I thought waiting around for my bf to close was a good decision since the place gives me anxiety and is generally the catalyst of almost every fight I start.  I was tanked when the place closed it's doors at 4am, and my happiness and dancing took a very dark turn.

I won't go into detail for the sake of saving whatever dignity I have left (not much, I know), but I harassed and heckled nearly everyone working there.  For about a week after that night, I kept having terrible flashbacks of all of the crazy and terrible shit I did.... I am truly a psycho when I am drunk and feel neglected.   Oh well.  It's for the best.   Out of sight, out of mind- right?!

RIGHT.  Well, anyhow, I suppose I most certainly won't be spending Halloween or New Years Eve with my boyfriend this year as I not only no long work there, but furthermore am banned.  What to do... what to do.... ;)  The only good thing that came from this night was the fact that it allowed me to create an awesome comic book based around all of my various faux-pas, "derailments," insanity, and melt-downs.  It will also be a great story for my grandchildren to hear someday... Just Kidding!  I'm never having kids :D  Anyhow, I am 100% positive the ongoing stress over my job situation is what has been causing me to have anxiety and anger issues in my outside life.  I find myself wanting to snap over the dumbest things these days... It's not healthy.  Furthermore, the lack of consistency in my current work schedule is NOT working for me.  I have to decline babysitting gigs that used to at least provide me with some extra spending money since I never know if I will be available in the morning now.  My sleep schedule is all over the place as well since I might be opening at 8am or working until midnight.

Not much has been happening in my life lately other than the usual.  I had an interview for a full-time nannying position which I desperately want as it would allow me to take on a weekend job (and keep myself out of trouble) as well as to have a consistent schedule and one that is conducive to my lifestyle.  I would be able to work weekends again (which I actually really miss), and I would have mornings free again to take on other babysitting gigs.  However, I would have to pay my own insurance (terrifying and expensive as f*ck) and I would no longer have the benefit of paid sick days and vacation days (that could be compensated for though by a secondary weekend job).  I would also have plenty of time to pursue writing!!  Speaking of writing, I finally submitted my book to be copyrighted (you know- so know one steals the tales of my crazy life), and I also completed another article for Untitled-Magazine.  You can check it out below:

http://untitled-magazine.com/the-pros-and-cons-of-airbnb-com/

I suppose since I won't be spending this Halloween hostessing at Highline, I will be partying rock star style elsewhere.  My costume is finally complete, minus the tattoos.  I found exact replicas of Axl Rose's tats on Etsy, but I refuse to waste $50 for temporary tattoos I will wear for only one night.  I may just employ a friend to draw the tats on with permanent marker.

No, this isn't me.  I will look ten times hotter ;) JK... but not really ;) 

I know that you've all been dying for some slutty selfies of my Halloween costume, but it will just have to wait.  I need the tats to make it perfect.  Maybe I should just get some real ones... 

I've been thinking some very mean thoughts all day, so I should probably exercise the demons in my soul with some therapeutic writing and cooking this evening.  Maybe a glass of red wine too... that always seems to help mellow out the violent thoughts.  I don't know what has got into me.   I think I need elephant tranquilizers or maybe just a decent vacation.  Something has to give some time soon though.  I can't go on like this (said with dramatic flair).   Stay tuned for my next article on Untitled though- I'll be covering Tinder travel (vomit... ugh.... tinder, blaaaaaachhhh). ;)  

Endless Summer

The days are cool and the nights are getting cold... where did summer go?  It feels like it was just June... I hardly even remember July.  August is a blur (a fun blur), and now September is more than half-way through.  I must be getting old if time is flying by at this rate.  I remember being a child and every week seemed like an eternity.  The months felt like years back then.  I don't want summer to end... I don't know if I can survive another brutal NYC winter.  They're so depressing.  I love the holidays, and the first couple of snowfalls, but by the time January rolls around I want to either run away to an exotic island or kill myself because of how depressing and ugly this city is.  Don't get me wrong.. I love Fall, but it lasts about a month and then the leaves are gone and the nights are 30 degrees.  I am already gearing up for Halloween- I purchased my replica of the t-shirt that Axl Rose wore when he played Wembley from Ebay.  I can't fucking wait... it's going to be great.  I was supposed to be starting my Halloween diet in preparation for wearing nothing more than a pair of white, boxer-briefs and t-shirt, but a little trip upstate this weekend sabotaged my efforts.  Oh well, It's a new dawn, it's a new day, and I'm feeling goooooooddddd..... lol.  Not really, I feel emo as fuck today.

My job search is futile.  I'm starting to think my best bet would be to make my way to the local witch craft-voodoo store and purchase some black magic candles and a book of incantations.  Perhaps I would have better luck securing a job if I sold my soul to the Devil....

Will I ever be able to buy myself anything nice ever again?  My poor Jeffrey Campbells have seen better days.... and I need a new winter coat.  Oh, and a new Fall wardrobe.  Sigh.   I suppose I'll keep dreaming.

The only good thing about my job (apart from all of the great people I work with- and no, that is NOT sarcasm, I really do love the people I work with), was the fact that my schedule was fairly consistent from week to week and also conducive to my boyfriend's work schedule.  Now that my schedule has been completely changed, I really have more motivation to find another job.  Seriously though- I haven't worked an opening shift since the beginning of January.  I'm so used to working 1-10pm or 3pm-12am (during floor updates) that my sleeping habits consist of staying up until 3am and sleeping in until 11am.  I am being forced to open and work mid-day shifts now, which means waking up at 6am to be there by 8am.  Good luck with that- I'm quite positive no one is going to want to work with me since I'll be half-asleep and a cunty bitch at that hour.  Maybe I just won't go to sleep at all and I will stay up all night... that actually seems like the best option.  I should probably work on procuring an adderall prescription to help fuel me.

Seriously though- my boyfriend works all weekend... basically 48 hours straight.  The only day we generally have off together is Sunday.  The time we spend during the work week is usually when we are both out of work between like 11pm or 12am for a few hours before passing out.  If I have to start regularly waking up at 6am, I will never see my boyfriend.  I already hate my job, so having my relationship go to shit as a result of my job is not even an option for me.   I might just have to run away with a Colombian drug lord.. I don't know.  In a moment of pure, unadulterated insanity and frustration yesterday afternoon, I briefly considered donating my eggs.  Well, I ruled out egg donation today after I read that one woman who donated her eggs gained 17 lbs in three days as a result of ovarian hyperstimulation.  Ummm... If I gained 17 lbs in three days, I'm pretty sure I'd jump from the balcony.  If I gained 5 lbs in three days I'd probably freak out. Jk.  But seriously... what the fuck?!  Plus I read that some other woman's artery burst during the egg harvesting procedure and she died.  Yikes.  Plus, thinking about it, I don't want some bastard children of mine running amok in this world.  I don't really think the world needs any Kelsey offspring.  One of me is quite enough ;)  I also ruled out prostitution and stripping after considering STDs, losing my boyfriend, and having my friends and family disown me.  Sigh...

I don't know.  I'm at the end of my rope here.  I'm going to look into copyrighting my book today and then I guess I will spend the rest of my day applying to more jobs.  The cycle is truly endless.  Maybe I should start going to church and praying as my grandma suggested ;)

I spent last Sunday upstate with my boyfriend- it was a great micro-escape from the city.  I think I need a permanent vacation though.  I'm a different person when I don't have to go into the job I hate.  It's like Jekyll and Hyde.  I am so much more relaxed, sweet to those around me, happy, smiley, motivated, and fun.

Having spent my entire childhood and young adult like growing up in  Upstate NY, I am no stranger to the beauty of small town living and communities.  However, I have a new appreciation for it now that I live in a rat-infested, garbage/piss scented city filled with insane homeless vagrants and the scum of the earth.  This past Sunday we spent in Narrowsburg was so relaxing.  The woman we airbnb-ed the house from was great.  The little cabin we rented was fucking awesome- it was in the middle of nowhere, and it was beautiful.  I didn't even give a shit that the two local restaurants were closed by the time we decided to get dinner at 7pm.  We drove to another small town, Callicoon, and had an awesome dinner at this restaurant called Peppinos.  Seriously though- you don't appreciate the upstate price of dining out until you've spent way too many nights dropping $16 for one cocktail and $30 for an entree in the city.

$12 for this chicken parm... salad included.  God Bless Upstate.  Upstate lover 4Lyfe.

The cabin had a claw-foot bathtub.  I was in heaven.  If I owned a claw foot tub, I'd never come out.  I'd have coffee in there, champagne in there, and sleep in there too. 

This was the view outside of the cabin.  You never quite appreciate the nature you grew up in until it is no longer part of your daily life.  There is nothing like breathing in fresh air and seeing wild flowers and open fields after months of breathing in the scent of hobo excrement on the subways and the rotting heaps of garbage lining the streets on a hot day...  I only hope that some day I can afford a place in the country where I can go whenever I need a break. 

Fuzzy bumble bee... it's the simple things people. 

Sadly for us, I had work at 1pm Monday, so we were forced to leave the next morning.  Nothing beats diner prices upstate.  Seriously though.  I love walking in and seeing all of the older, local regulars having coffee and chatting with each other, and the waitress knows them all by name.  It reminds me of the S&S cafe in Bainbridge.  I love that sense of community you have in a small town.  Plus you really can't beat a lumberjack sized breakfast for only $6.75. 

The stretch of highway 97 along the Delaware River Valley was like a scene straight out of a movie.  It was so scenic we had to stop for some photos.  I want to go back for another couple solid weeks of no cell service, campfires at night, and $7 chicken tender baskets for breakfast (yep, that's right.. chicken tenders and fries for breakfast). 

I am so desperate for another job I have even been looking at serving jobs.  I know I said when I quit Highline I would never serve again, since it is such a degrading job at times, but at this rate, I'd probably be making better money and have better hours than I have now.  I just can't leave the benefits and comp days I have at my current position.   Why doesn't anyone prepare you for this when you're young?  If I ever have kids (which I don't think I will ;p ), I will make sure to tell them that life isn't about how hard you work or what a good person you are and sugar-coat shit by telling them they 'can be whatever they want to be as long as they work hard.'  I'll tell them it's who you know, who your parents are, what connections you have, how hot you are and which private school you get your degree from.  God I'm so cynical today.  I guess I should just have some more coffee, keep listening to this soothing French music on Pandora, and apply to about 50 more jobs in the hopes that I hear back from at least one.  Imagine what will become of this blog when I actually find a job someday???? I'll have no more material to even write about! LOL.   Unfortunately, I have no slutty selfies to share today either.  I'm sure I'll be posting some when I get my sick "kill your idols" Guns n' Roses tee in the mail... so stay tuned.  I know my slutty selfies make this piece of shit blog everything it is. jk. hahahahaha.  ugh.  I'm insane. 

Candid Candidness

I didn't know "candidness" was actually a word... Must be the combination of antibiotics and tylenol PM.

I'm sitting here alone, having applied to about 8 different jobs today- all of which required various tweaks to my cover letter and resume... do you have any fucking idea how time consuming it is to change your resume and cover letter that many times?!  I didn't work today, because I woke up more of a mess than usual.  In addition to the ten bug bites I have on just one foot alone,  I also have pink eye and a UTI... typical.  My immune system fucking hates me.  Probably because all I ate today was chips and salsa and two meatballs.  My mother would NOT approve.  "Kelsey, you need to take better care of yourself.  Kelsey, you really should be taking vitamin-C supplements...."

If I don't get a paid writing job soon (or any other job for that matter) my soul will surely die.  I can't go on.  I literally can NOT go on.  My only consolation right now is Thom Yorke.   I think he must be my favorite lyricist of all time... I feel like he gets me in my lowest moments of despair, loneliness, and desperation.  Then again, he's a musician, and as I've said before, musicians are better actors than actors are.  So who knows if Thom Yorke has ever actually felt the words he sings.  Whatever- I'd still marry him.  Even with his wonky eye.   ;)  I love me some misfits ;)

Seriously though.  It's been a rough week and it's Thursday.  Lately, my weeks seem to have no beginning and no end.  I had planned a three day weekend (of sorts- technically Sunday, Monday, Tuesday) off with my boyfriend.  We originally intended to go away... that plan was ruined when he had to work Sunday.  Oh well.  Maybe next time....

I think my job is taking a real tole on me.  My stress levels are out of the roof (hence my non-existent immune system), I find myself crying almost daily because of my job... although the triggers are absurd little things.  Like last Friday, I started balling over a national geographic documentary that showed a starving penguin chick who was abandoned by his parents and isolated by the rest of the colony.  Tonight, an article about a special needs child who had no friends to sit with at the lunch table was enough to make me cry.  Dude.... I need to get out of this fucking rut....

I find myself taking my frustrations about my job out in other areas of my life.  I find that when my job situation gets bad, I push my body to the limit.  I really should take better care of myself I suppose.  I start going berserk over every little thing that upsets me.  I blew a fuse the other day because my boyfriend is hiring yet another bottle server that is already employed as a model (legit model- signed with legit agency).  I don't know why.  I don't know if it's my own insecurities, or the fact that I bust my ass working 40 hours a week at a job I hate and making hardly enough money to get by, while these girls get hired solely on a basis of how hot they are and walk away with $800-$1000 for two nights of work.  I just can't.  I can't.  The feminist in me blows up every fucking time.  It's been increasingly hard trying to tell myself that it's just his job and doesn't effect me.

I need a vacation... like, a legit vacation... somewhere warm. with a beach. and no telephone.

My Week in a Nutshell: The Average life of the Average 20-something New York Girl

Friday and Saturday nights are spent scrubbing my apartment, making fabulous and painstakingly long meals, and hanging out solo on the terrace contemplating the meaning of my existence.  They are also reserved for writing blogs, working on my book, or being emo and listening to Bush/Radiohead while having a good cry over the fact that I hate my job and am alone on a Saturday night. 

During my work week, I try to keep my chin up by savoring each lunch break and the few hours of free time I have after I get out of hell.  Breaks at work are usually spent phoning half the people in my contacts list to talk to, despite the fact that 3/4 of the people I call don't pick up.  I usually resort to begging my mother to send me pictures of my son.  Whenever I get a picture of Bijou, my day is instantaneously made better no matter how much I would like to get clipped by a taxi than return to work.  How could that little, pink nose and those green eyes not make anyone day's better?! 

During the work week, my daily uniform consists of boyfriend jeans and some juvenile shirt.  This one reads "Dibs on the drummer"- Goddamn I am a sophisticated woman!!!! Not.... I look like a sloppy 15 year old (with fine lines and wrinkles), courtesy of the clothes I am required to buy for the job that I hate.  I try to make my daily uniform as sexy and 'me' as possible by wearing the lowest, crotch-grazing pants I can find and tiniest tops possible.  I mean, if I can't wear eyeliner or heels, I'm going to have to sex it up somehow... I'm no child afterall.  FML.  I need a new job.  I can't bear the agony any longer...

I will randomly visit my boyfriend at his place of work if I get out of my job early enough...I think I was already intoxicated before leaving the premises, hence the photo I snapped in the back hallway while waiting for my friend to be cut.  I love this place even when I hate it.  Visiting always makes me feel like I'm home... even though I hate it.  Did I mention how much I love/hate this place? 

Days off that that are not spent hanging with other people are generally spent in the solitary confinement of my apartment. These rare days off and alone are usually spent searching for better jobs for hours at a clip, babysitting my niece for a couple of hours, and usually end with me playing dress up to make myself feel better about my life after I find I'm still wearing my sweats at 4pm and have no makeup on.  Nothing makes me more prone to binge eating all day than wearing some oversize sweats.  In fact, I sometimes like to walk around in underwear and heels when I'm home alone just so I wont devour an entire bag of Cheetos at my computer.   After spending about two hours on Craigslist, I like to faux-tan myself and put on a huge hat and heels to cheer up.  It always works. 

Random weeknights are the best time of the week to go out and get tanked. And believe me, I need to get drunk at least once a week to forget how much I loathe my job.   This here bar stool is covered in genuine cowhide, and last summer it gave me the biggest health scare of my life when I developed a rash all over my thighs and ass cheeks after wearing a pair of culotte shorts and sitting on it all evening.   

When you can't go to Electric Room because you came straight form work and are wearing converse, the next best place to go is Bar Bar with your girlfriends... many, many fond memories here (getting roofied, sharing secrets, etc) ... this was my Thursday night. 

After spending the majority of my week in ripped jeans and sneakers with no make up and a white-girl afro, I start to feel really unappealing... especially if I walk by the  Dream Hotel on my way to Highline, where there are approximately 40 model-like escorts wearing their pumps and herve leger dresses on any given night.  When everyone you pass is infinitely thinner, prettier, and taller than you and you're sweaty, sporting a fro, and wearing beat up keds, your self confidence can really start to wane.  

When you find yourself feeling like a frumpy dumpster, and you start to feel less than adequate in the looks department, or if you're having flashbacks of your ugly past, it's good to throw on some booty shorts and take a couple of selfies to remind yourself that you aren't as ugly or as socially awkward as you used to be, and even if you have to dress like a frumpy dumpster 5 days out of 7, remind yourself you can be just as hot as any prostitute standing outside of Tao... 

Whenever I'm drunk, I find beauty and inspiration in bathroom wall graffiti and random stickers on sidewalks.  Dive Bars never fail to disappoint in this arena.  Some of the truest words of wisdom are often scrolled on the back doors of bathroom stalls and on the sidewalks of Williamsburg.  They are always way more touching and speak to your drunken soul in a way they would never speak to your sober soul.  

If I do go out on a Friday or Saturday night, I usually have to be extremely careful because I'm far more inclined to get out of control and/or angry if something little sets me off.  This little doodle should have been an omen and was most certainly a forewarning as to the disaster that was about to become of my night.  

I like to take photos that remind me of people, places, and things to keep in my phone for a rainy day.  In order to snap this beauty, I had to pile two milk-crates, one on top of the other, and climb up to be more level with this advertisement.  New York is also great for collectors.  One night, I took home a chunk of sidewalk for example... it's fun to wake up and wonder how a huge chunk of concrete made it's way into your purse, or 5 packets of bar matches, or a weird drawing on a napkin.  

Sundays are ***hopefully** spent off from work and getting fat on $70 worth of imported cheeses or making some extravagant five-star like meal at home with my boyfriend.  I also like to drink wine on Sundays. Sundays are notoriously the best day of the week to go out too- you don't have to deal with the bridge and tunnel types that are only in for Friday and Saturday nights and all of the boring, business types with normal weekends-off scheduling.  There is nothing better than a $17 gin and tonic on the much-overrated Wythe Hotel rooftop, or $22 cocktail in the Meatpacking district (jk- obviously).  When Sunday rolls around, and you've seen yet another person on your FB feed is engaged, bought a house, newly married, pregnant, or just had another child, it is nice to relish the fact that I have none of the above going on, and thusly I can go out, get wild, and generally act irresponsible and make childish and irrational decisions and celebrate my lack of obligations and responsibilities, and commitments like the average NYC 20-something.    

Vacation- I need more of you

I'm sitting here alone on the last night of vacation- my entire family, including my younger brother, are completely passed out... it is 10:30pm and it is Saturday.  What the FUCK....

How is it that my twenty-two year old brother is so tired, that he would rather pass out at 10pm on a Saturday night than go grab a drink down town or at the hotel bar???  I know he parties on any other given Saturday night.  This is so sad.  I did just as much physical activity as him today- kayaking, biking, etc.   Jesus, I am going to have to make up for lost time when I get back to the city tomorrow... I need a bottle of rose to my face right now.

I can't even sleep right now.  I have terrible anxiety and anger issues at the moment.  I'm not sure why I feel so anxious and angry since I've been sitting in solitary confinement in Booth Bay Harbor, ME for the past four days.  One would think that spending some days away from the stresses and daily grind of city living would be a relaxing break for a person, and calm them down internally.   Oh no... not me.  I'm feeling like a wild beast inside, just looking for a target to lash out at with all of my pent up anger and aggression and frustration right now.  Literally all I have done is bike, kayak in the ocean, explore the little town, and eat massive quantities of lobster and chowder.  I am basically morbidly obese at this point and might have to subsist on water, coffee, and wine for the next few weeks to get back to normal.

The food here was great, and it was great spending time with my family and enjoying some fresh air and nature, however, I wish my brother wasn't sleeping right now, because I am not at all tired and wish I had someone to hang out with as opposed to sitting here and writing this piece of shit blog.

Drive to Linekin Point...  This is the kind of place I would hole up if I were writing a novel.  I would write all day and then entertain friends at night, and then gaze at the ocean, sipping wine as the sun went down each night with my lover.  What a romantic thought.... ;)

The bikes I used each day.  One speed and no hand-brakes, only the good ol' backwards-pedal brake.  My thighs look like the goddamn hulk right now, and my shoulders look like a frickin' linebackers from all of the paddling I did in the kayak.

Sunset from the Lobster Dock.... YUM. 

I had fully planned on devoting some of my vacation to finding/applying to another job, seeing as how everyone I actually liked working with is momentarily leaving my current company to work elsewhere.  Unfortunately for me, the service here at the resort has been pretty shotty, not to mention who-the-fuck actually wants to spend their vacation applying to jobs.  So here I am- alone in the dark on my busted up laptop writing a blog that no one will ever read- I'm just a complete lost cause tonight.  And very dramatic (in case you couldn't already tell).

I am so bored.  I can't be alone and unstimulated like this- this is when my mind starts to go crazy.  I'm going into some dark waters mentally right now.  This is not how I want to spend my last night here in Maine.

An assortment of buoys hanging on the pool house... how festive.  I always start to feel very nautical when I start seeing buoys and have to fight the desire to buy them since I know I have no where to display them in my apartment.  Maybe someday I'll have a real house.... 

I can't be alone on a Saturday night unless I have something to keep me busy, or someone to entertain me.  I'm going insane...

I partially want to go back to the city just because there is nothing to do here and I have no friends here, but at the same time I never want to leave here because there is nothing to do here and I have no obligations while I'm here.  The way of life is just so relaxed and chill here... the people are so friendly and down-to-earth and generally good people.  Oh God... please someone save me.  I can't go back to the stench of the garbage heaps lining the streets and the hot hell that is the subway in NYC.  I can't go back to the daily grind of the commute and the construction on the subway tunnels that makes my daily ride home take forever.  I can't take spending all of my money on rent and student loans and groceries and subway fare.  I can't take having to q-tip swab my nose every night to get rid of the black, city boogers that are the direct result of breathing in the dirty, smelly, city air.  I can't fucking take the pretentious, collagen injected, fake lipped, fake titted, fake haired bitches inhabiting the NYC nightlife circuit.  I can't take the anorexic, bottle blonde upper east side women with the doctor-bought DSLs (<---dick sucking lips:  You know- trout pout.  The kind of lips that look like two silicon worms) and the Chanel bags and the Laboutins.   Sometimes it's so nice to be surrounded by women and men wearing sneakers and boat shoes, with hair pulled back into pony tails and no makeup, who don't care if they eat lobster rolls and who's form of working out doesn't involved 2 hours at Equinox with a personal trainer, but instead biking around town.  Sometimes it's nice to walk around L.L. Bean instead of walking around Soho.  I need to get out of the city I think....

I need a vacation that lasts forever.

Do you hear that- hot, old rich men looking for a girlfriend?  COME TAKE ME!!!!!!

Just when I got excited about my new writing gig, Untitled went and completely altered my first article.  They said that they felt my original piece was 'promoting drug use.'  Um, excuse me, but I wrote about EDM concerts/festivals... the drugs sort of go hand in hand with that scene.  I didn't mind that they edited the piece, however, the last sentence they changed completely.  I forget how my original piece ended, but they inserted some lame-ass sentence like, 'have fun but leave the drugs out,' and then they slapped my name on it.   Excuse me, but that is NOT something that I would ever write.  I look like a goddamn pussy now.

My next article is going to be focused on airbnb.com though, so hopefully that should be playing it safe enough to appease them.  Jesus.  I thought I was writing for a cool publication that caters to a younger, more artistic, avant-garde crowd and the next thing I know I am being made to look like some sort of boring-ass, vanilla preppy asshole.

Can you tell I am feeling savage tonight?  ;)  Maybe it's time to run away to Colombia.  Do you hear that anyone reading who might possibly know a rich, drug lord looking for a nice girlfriend???? Hook me up and save me from my life right now.  I need a permanent vacation somewhere scenic where all I do is cook elaborate meals, entertain guests and friends, and sip champagne while wearing heals.  I would also plan the gardens, take long bike rides to the local farmers market and fish market, and write another book.  I guess I will keep dreaming....

This was the view from the front of the cabin!!!!  How can I make this a permanent staple in my life... ??? Hmm.....

And a slutty selfie I took before leaving.  You know how I do.