Making schnitzel at 2am... why? Because that's just how we roll in this household. I guess the insomniac lifestyle isn't over yet. Just when I thought my days of staying up until 3am every night to see my boyfriend were over... ;) Nahhh man... I knew life was too good to be true when I thought we were finally going to have conducive schedules. Also, guess who's making a guest appearance at Highline on Saturday night... Yep. This girl. ;) I'll let you take a gander why....
^ My theme song ;) I CAAAANNNTTT GETTT NOOOO SLEEP
The holiday season is upon us.... that means sexy dresses. This is the time of year that the dress that's been hanging unworn in my closet for the past three years finally gets to shine for one night out. Like this little gem from NastyGal... I've owned it for three years and wore it only once in Vegas.
My Morticia Adams look...
And my slutty look, which is of course, the most preferred look of all.
And the look that sums up my daily outlook on life.
It doesn't even feel like the holidays to be honest. I am usually on the Christmas bandwagon as soon as Thanksgiving passes, but this year, I just don't feel Christmassy inside my black soul. I think it's the weather. It's been warmer this month than it was in late September. I feel like I'm still in September actually. I already got my Christmas present though... MY JOB :D :D :D :D which is the only thing I have actually wanted for the last two years of my life. Merry Christmas Kelsey ;)
Other than my plans to go full balls-to-the-walls this impending weekend; my last few weeks have been pretty chill (well, minus the girls night that ended with me sleeping on my carpet). I have been doing a lot of cooking... now that winter is upon us, it's back to rich pastas, rich sauces, and bottles of red wine (or Vodka). You know how I do...
Spaghetti alle volongle.
Truffle Polenta with mushrooms, breaded chicken, and gorgonzola cream sauce
I got a new job!!!!! Yes, at last... I almost thought this day would never come. I was legit at the end of my rope; like suicidal, debating quitting my current job without another job lined up and moving home; losing my apartment and everything I have here in the city seemed like a pretty reasonable option as of late. I still cannot believe that I found a new job- a great fucking job at that. One in an industry that I am excited to work in- in a location I am excited to work in, and with people I am excited to work with/for. I don't think that it will really sink in for me until I start at my new position, but I already put my two weeks notice in and that too was surreal. I thought I would cry tears of happiness when I got the job, but I am still not fully believing that is is my reality. This kind of stuff does not happen to me... this must be some other girl's life... I've spent countless days of my life applying non-stop over the past two years.
Like, an integral part of every day off is me sitting at my computer, scouring Craigslist, Indeed, FindSpark, Linkedin and sending out between 5-20 applications a day. I must have been on at least 40 interviews over the past year of my life... not a single one of them ending in me getting a new job. I have been rejected more times than I can count- some of the rejections hit me harder than others when they were jobs I genuinely wanted and was excited about. Every time I heard back from a job I interviewed for with a rejection email, all I could think is "What is wrong with me?"- I revamped my resume more times than I can count, re-did my cover letter so that it was specific to every job I applied for, and always wrote 'thank you' follow ups after interviews. Everyone in my life kept telling me the same thing every time I was let down: "You didn't get this job because something better is probably coming along in the future." I tried to believe that, but it was hard when I hated my current job so much that I considered everything from nannying full time to going back to serving just so I could GTFO of retail.
Sitting here not applying to jobs on my evening off... how refreshing... I don't even know what to do with myself.
Well, all of my efforts have paid off. I am going to be working for an awesome start-up called 'My Boss Blows Investor Money on Drugs and Burning Man R' Us" - it's basically an interactive site like Pandora is to music but for art and artists. The offices are gorgeous, and the people working there are awesome. I am going to be working as a neglected, unpaid, slave; my job entails finding artists, getting contact info, helping with the social media pages, and eventually helping the artists set up and promote shows. I am so excited to start that it's mind blowing.... work that I actually want to do? That's unheard of! haha. And I get to wear whatever I want ;) Hellllllooooo high heels everyday ;) I am so lucky that I found this job and that I am going to be a part of this team! I'm excited the company is small and I can have a major part in helping them grow since the team is so incredibly small as well. I'm going to be surrounded by creative individuals in a creative environment, using my brain, using my talent, and happier than I have been in a long time.
Considering that almost every fucking blog written in the past two years was generally based around my on-going job hunt, fruitless interviews, uncounted rejections, and my overall discouragement, I'm sure this will come as welcome news to anyone reading this. WTF am I even going to write about now?!
When I came home the other night after receiving the official proposal email, I felt like I should be greeted by news crews outside of my home. Every single person in my life or who knows me knows how much I wanted a new job and how hard I've been trying. I felt like if I walked into Times Square, the TV screens would be announcing that I found a new job: "BREAKING NEWS: Girl who spent the past two years of her life applying and interviewing FINALLY gets new job" lol. I feel like I need to write an acceptance speech- this is legit all I have wanted for the past two years. It's better than receiving an Oscar. Every time my boyfriend or family has asked what I want for Christmas or my Birthday, my response has consistently been "a new job." I am lucky that I even have a family and friends and a boyfriend left after all the stress I've put them through with my job search. I don't know who is happier- me, or them...
I was off work these past two days and I didn't even know what to do with my time since I no longer feel compelled to sit at my desk surfing the internet for new jobs and applying non-stop. This feels unnatural even as I type this right now not to have a looming anxiety in my head that I should be searching for and applying to jobs...
My Job/Oscar Acceptance Speech:
"I would like to thank everyone for all of the support over the last two years. I'd like to thank my family for listening to me sob over the phone every time I thought I couldn't possibly go on and for continually giving me words of encouragement that things would work out and I would find something if I kept trying and didn't give up. I would like to thank every single person who tried to hook me up with a job connection; even though not a single one of them panned out. I would like to thank all of the friends who put up with my incessant bitching over my current job, and the anxiety I would get every time I had an interview and was waiting to hear back. I would like to thank every friend who was there to take care of me and/or save my life when I got completely inebriated due to the stresses of my current life and job situation. I would like to thank all of the people who were rooting for me and helped me out in any way they could- whether it was helping me to revise my resume, putting in a good word with someone they knew at a company I applied for, or giving me other work to do on the side for extra income. I would like to thank my boyfriend who had to hold me through several mental break downs every time I wanted to just give up and didn't know why I kept applying. I would like to thank every single person that I work with who has enjoyed working with me and gave me a reason to look forward to work every day- even though I hated my job, at least I've met some amazing people and life-long friends in that place."
Another Halloween (Slutoween) has come and gone... it's hard to believe that this year is almost over. I cannot believe how fast it has flown by and once again, how little I have failed to accomplish in terms of all of the goals I set for myself 11 months ago. I have been in over-drive mode searching for a new job to ring in the New Year- I've been further motivated by my boyfriend getting a new job as well as the fact that all of my friends have succeeded in getting the f*ck out of retail. My boyfriend has left Highline- I never thought the day would come. Highline has been an integral part of our relationship for the past two and a half years now... I mean, it's where we met, so it will always have a very special place in my cold, blackened heart (*cue Rhianna's song "We Found Love In A Hopeless Place"). Highline is where I met my first NYC friends, where I met my boyfriend, the place I go when I feel like raising hell, the place I went to meet my boyfriend and say 'hi' to everyone even after I had quit there.... I know he will certainly be happier, and hopefully I will too, but it's hard to let go of such a huge part of one's life. I honestly thought I would have a new job before he did... lord knows I search way harder and invest way more hours applying and actively interviewing. His new job is much better though, and hopefully will be better for our relationship- he will have a better schedule and weekends off at his new place. I'm also praying there are less sluts and naked dancers, but I went to check his new place out Friday night and saw two hos wearing leotards and masquarade masks so I'm not getting my hopes up ;) You know sluts and nightlife just go hand-in-hand.
It almost scares me that he is going to have weekends off since I have to ask in advance for a weekend and usually end up having to use a personal day or vacation day to get a Saturday off. I guess I better get the f*ck on board, or I'll never see him again, because lord knows there is no such thing as a "weekend" at my current job. I haven't had a proper holiday break in three years, nor have I had a Thanksgiving home with my family in three years. I truly hope something pans out soon. I've sacrificed to many important dates that I should have been with my family and friends these past years I've been sucked into the black hole that is retail. I've had a couple of great interviews in the past week and have been applying non-stop. Something has to give soon... I can feel it. When the day comes that I get a new job, and believe me, it will come soon, I'm going to celebrate within an inch of my life. Like, champagne, drugs, a three day bender in Woodstock.... I want to go all out.
Halloween was pretty awesome this year... I didn't even get too wild, which is always a win for me. I dressed as The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo ( I know, I'm boring... I dressed as the same thing two years ago; but I like to think I did it MUCH better this time around). I went to Highline after work with two of my close friends, my boyfriend was able to get out early and then we went back to BK and went to Verboten where I must have blacked out because I barely remember it. When I awoke November 1st, I had a broken wine glass in the bathroom, my friends asleep on the couch, and half eaten tacos and tostadas scattered throughout the apartment. I'd say it was a very successful night ;)
The partying did not end there though- My bf just celebrated a birthday which basically entailed three straight nights of partying... good thing we were both off of work. I had almost forgotten what it was like to go out on a Friday night for dinner and drinks when the rest of the world is off. It was a nice change.
My Lisbeth Salander (aka "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo") look for Halloween. Note the awesome bleached brows, fake piercings, chopped black wig, and fake tattoo.... I really outdid myself this year.
Black on Black- mostly just an everyday look for me ;) I like my clothes to match my soul.
Naturally, unlike Lisbeth who dresses like a conservative goth-type, I needed to slut it up with painted on leggings, a crop top, and 7 inch platform Jeffrey Campbell Booties... you know how I do.
Other than spending hours every day searching for better jobs, I have been doing a ton of cooking and went to the last two concerts I had planned this year. I went to see Garbage with a girlfriend a few weeks ago. Shirley Manson effing rocks! Not to mention the fact that she is 50 and hot as ever. The venue where we saw her was also amazing. I went to see Chris Cornell (of Soundgarden) play a solo, acoustic show, about a week after that. I saw him play at the Beacon Theater, which is located on the upper West Side. That theater was also beautiful- super old, gorgeous architecture and interior.
Chris Cornell is by far the best concert I have been too this year. His voice and talent are just amazing- he rivals Jeff Buckley for me in terms of best male voice. He also had a very powerful stage presence. Too bad his wifey was watching in the wings... jk ;) lol. He is fucking hot though....
The ceiling of the Beacon Theater... so pretty.
I think my ultimate goal for the future is to have my own restaurant. My brother and I have been discussing the idea a lot recently. We both love cooking, I think I like more labor intensive meals with rich sauces, and touches that take more time to put together. However, he has been foraging a lot for wild mushrooms etc. lately, so we are thinking eventually we can have a restaurant where we combine organic or foraged food and incorporate that into cooking. This is what's for din din tonight:
I just can't quit that red meat....
Monday, October 19, 2015
Currently sitting at Beautique, surrounded by a group of fake ass bitches I don't know complete with fake lips, fake noses, Botox, and daddy's credit card. I can't tell you how many times I've found myself in this situation. In the words of Thom Yorke, "I don't belong here." I currently feel so Fucking uncomfortable and so out of place- hence why I'm on my phone writing this blog. I hate NYC for this reason. Everyone in this club is probably my age or younger but they all look about 38+ because of so much cosmetic surgery. The Fucking 18 year old twink sitting next to me is using his daddy's credit card to buy a bottle of champagne that he tried to fucking barter the price down with the waitress. The fucking fake lipped slut next to me made me take s photo with her despite the fact I met her 10 min ago. I feel so Fucking out of my element. I hate this town sometimes. I hate NYC. Addendum: the "twink" is 15 years old. What kind of polluted life am I living???? I'm never having kids. I'm moving to Maine and I'm going to live a simplistic life a la Martha Stewart.
Starting the day off on a very bad note. Today is technically my "Friday," but it feels more like some sort of twisted, sordid Monday given the way things have gone thus far. It is now day six of my six-day work week. The past two days I've worked 4pm-2am, and today will be my third 4pm-2am shift in a row. I slept about 4 hours (I'm now used to staying up until 5am), and was awoken by a phone call from a New York number I didn't know. I answered, and it was Diesel calling to set up an interview. I submitted my resume a few days ago 'just because'- even though you and I both know I would rather clean elephant shit at the zoo than ever assume another retail job so long as I live.
The guy asked if it was "a bad time" to call... I wanted to be like "yeah dude, I went to bed at 5:30 after busting my balls and my back for 9 hours straight, and now you just woke me up," but I said 'no' and so he proceeded to ask a few questions. "Why do you want to work retail?" Oh MY GOD. I actually at this point regretted even submitting my resume since I would rather wipe Terry Cruise's butt for a living than work another retail job. I wanted to say "Actually I don't [want to work retail] anymore" and then hang up the phone. That's what I really wanted to say. However, I made up some bullshit excuse just to be polite but then lied and said I wasn't available to interview this week (even though I'm finally off tomorrow). Oh well. I really shouldn't have submitted my resume there in the first place. You see what desperation can do to a person????!!!!!!
I then went to a dermatologist appointment that I scheduled SPECIFICALLY to get a refill on my doxycycline prescription, since it ran out two days ago, and they won't refill unless I do a follow up appointment every three months. So, I woke up after only 5 hours of sleep, and went to the dermatologist, reluctant to shell over $40 for them to tell me what I already know and hand me a piece of paper, but happy that I wouldn't be breaking out anytime soon since I'd be able to pick up my prescription after they called it into my pharmacy today. Or so I thought...
I basically just threw $40 to the fucking wind. The b*tch dermatologist I saw (who is one I've never seen before at that office), told me that she wouldn't renew my prescription and thought I didn't need the antibiotic that I have now been on since April of this year. She said that being on an antibiotic for an extended period of time was bad for my digestive system. B*tch has clearly never fucking suffered from cystic and emotionally crippling acne, otherwise she wouldn't have questioned me and would have just wrote the prescription. I would fuck my digestive system over 100x before neglecting my skin and my mental health (because let me tell you- last year when I had cystic acne, I was suicidal and my mental health was NOT OK). I wanted to scream and cry at the same time. I had a minor panic attack as I exited the office. I am going to try to keep calm and not stress or panic over the fact that I didn't get my prescription renewed, but let's face it- over the past six months that I've been on doxycycline, as soon as I've run out of the pills even for a few days, I start to get cysts on my chin and jawline. Shit, even as I sit here writing this, having been off of the meds for only two days, I can feel the beginning tingling sensation on my chin of the cysts forming, and no, I'm not lying or exaggerating. I am fucking terrified right now. I swear, as soon as I see one forming, I am going to book an appointment with a different dermatology office and demand to go back on doxycycline.
And to all of you critics sitting there reading this who have never experience the type of painful and deforming cysts that I have, changing my diet and sleep regime doesn't help. Neither does drinking a gallon of water a day, washing my face with special products, eating clean, avoiding alcohol, or using just topicals. My acne is hormonal, ok? My cortisol levels are out the roof and that is NOT something I can regulate with diet and sleep alone. Let's just reflect on where I was right before starting the savior drug that is Doxycycline:
FUCK THAT. I will never go back to that dark place in my life again. This isn't some underdeveloped nation where I have to worry about not starving to death or dying of some treatable disease. This is America, where I am allowed to worry about my first-world issues, and I know that I can take care of them. If you're judging from afar and have never had acne, than you just don't know, because the struggle is real. I can tell you that I would take the flu, a massive hangover, falling on cement, or even gaining weight over ever having acne that is so socially, emotionally, and mentally debilitating again. When I was at the point that the above blog was written, I was a mess. I couldn't go out with friends, I didn't feel attractive or sexy enough to go to a club and not worry about my face, I didn't even feel confident when my boyfriend of two years saw me without makeup or got too close when he kissed me.
So to the dermatologist who didn't refill my prescription today, when that is the only blasted reason I made that appointment and spent $40... thanks for nothing. I hope you break out severely some day.
Tomorrow World has come and gone, and was not what I expected. It was fun, and it was good to escape NYC and to be on "vacation" for a few days, however, the inclement weather made for an entirely different environment and vibe than what I had expected and planned for in my mind leading up to the festival. It poured rain for 4 days straight, so naturally the festival grounds were a muddy, swampy, infested mess. Thank God my boyfriend hates camping (as do I) and wanted to get a hotel... having the hotel to return to each night and shower and sleep in a dry bed kept us sane and totally saved us both from killing each other and everyone around us (the first night was by far the rainiest and coldest night, and I threw a BF (bitch fit)). Oh well. Everyone there was very nice and chill and we met up with a friend who also went down for the festival.
I don't know whether I should be patting myself on the back for not getting totally f*cked up on any of the four days we spent there, or if I should be scolding myself for not getting f*cked up at least once. I know, I know... it's hard to believe that an animal like me didn't go ballz to the wall even once, but it was impossible to find any *ahem* "goodies" (if you will... ;) ), and when we did find them I didn't trust the people... a lot of people there seemed like crack/meth heads. LOL... that's the dirty south for you ;p (or Upstate NY.... ) jk... but not really. I think the most inebriated I got was the night I did like 5 shots, however, even that had no effect on me since I ate a chicken tender basket, tacos, and pizza prior to drinking. What a bust. I mean, at least I didn't have a hangover or comedown, you know? I guess it was good to wake up feeling normal and not like shit.
Redemption road... or the back road leading into the festival. Mmmm, look at all that muddy terrain ;) so much for wearing my 6 inch platform boots.
So this is the "do it yourself" tent my boyfriend insisted on purchasing... we set it up at like 10:30pm in the dark, in the pouring rain on Thursday. Luckily it was like a PlayHut pop up tent and required no assembly whatsoever... just pull out of the bag and BAM! Popped right open ;) The tent was not my decision- my boyfriend wanted a tent in case we did end up partying too hard and wanted to just crash at the festival camp grounds instead of waiting for an Uber car and taking a 30 min ride back to the hotel. Needless to say, given these conditions, we only used that little baby to store some Cheetos in and clothes for when it got colder at night (we are Cheeto addicts....). The mud surrounding our tent smelled like raw sewage... Something tells me it may have very well been raw sewage since I saw some black PVC tubing leading from the Port-O-Potties past our tent. YUMMMMM.
Day 4.... Judgement day.
Tomorrow World was an experience for sure. It would have been completely different had the sun been shining and had we been able to find some goodies, however, we made the best of it and still had fun. Since I expected to be fucked up for four days straight, I thought I'd come back emaciated. Instead, since I couldn't seem to get fucked up to save my life, I just ate way too much. They had EVERYTHING there- tacos, pizza, Asian food... I went to freaking town; it's no wonder I couldn't get drunk...
Like I said, at least all of the people in attendance were super nice and friendly and chill. The music and the stages were also pretty awesome, although we found ourselves gravitating back to the same two stages because they played the music Output and Verboten play (deep house/trance). The main stage just didn't do it for me... especially the crowd there. It was obviously a very aesthetically pleasing stage with tons of visuals and a moving face, but I found my people in the purple tent that felt like a night club and at the little stage projected out onto the pond. What can I say? I like intimate and dark.... like my soul.
I honestly don't know if I would do a festival again in the future. I've come to terms that I prefer partying at a club, throwing a party at a house, going to an after-hours with friends, or just partying hard in my home with friends. I don't think festivals are really my scene after this experience...
CHANGING THE SUBJECT...
On a more serious note- since this past week was Mental Health Awareness week, I figured I would talk about something slightly more important than the usual bullshit I tend to write about here: The importance of taking care of yourself and knowing when to get help.
I think every person on this Earth has experienced mental health issues at one point or another, but for some it's an on-going battle and a daily struggle, whether it is depression, anxiety, etc. The majority of people experiencing the above issues will most likely experience them for a brief time and work thru or outgrow the issue they're struggling with- but for others, it's a daily fight to stay strong and work around the issue in order to live a fulfilled and happy life.
If you know me, and I assume you most likely do (since you're sitting there reading this piece of shit blog ;) ), you probably know that I am prone to anxiety and have been for most of my adult life. I don't have social anxiety, but when things don't go as planned, or something happens that makes me feel as if I've lost control, I freak the f*ck out. It has gotten increasingly bad in the past couple of years. It's not really a daily thing, although it can be if circumstances present themselves to throw me off multiple days in a row. However, when it happens (and it happens probably once every 10 days or so), it wreaks havoc on me, my relationships, and my already fragile mental state of being.
The thing with mental health is, that even if you take care of yourself and do all of the things you are supposed to, and don't do all of the things that you aren't supposed to to properly take care of yourself, some of us are just prone to brain activity/emotional activity that we really can't regulate. Furthermore, sometimes the circumstances thrown at us are things we can't regulate (at least not right away- I fully believe everyone is in charge of their own lives, but if you hate your job, you can't just wake up and get a new one the very next day... all things take time).
My anxiety has been spiraling out of control for at least a year now, but I finally reached my breaking point last week.... or the point where I finally said "shit, I really need to do something about this before it brings me down even further." When your mental/emotional problems start to interfere with relationships, friendships, and your family starts to show concern, it's probably time to take a step back and admit you might not be able to deal with the issue alone or that it will just go away by itself.
After returning from Tomorrow World to a reality and the job that makes me miserable and the continual search and effort I put into finding a new job, I came crashing down in a bad way. I think I finally just reached a breaking point. My job doesn't allow me a normal sleep pattern, nor do I have the same days off every week, so it's hard to plan things to look forward to or know when I will have a day off that my friends or boyfriend has off too. Aside from the four days we spent in GA, my boyfriend and I have maybe had one day in the past six weeks off together... and I'm not exaggerating. My friends and I seem to also have opposite schedules these days as well: If I am free on a Wednesday and looking to do something, they are working. When they are free on a Sunday and want me to go out, I am working. For me, it's easier to deal with stress and an erratic schedule when I can at least say "OK, if I make it through these next five days, I will have two days off with my Boyfriend," or "OK, I can make it through this crazy weekend of work because I am going to have a girl's night on Monday." When I can't foresee the future, or when I don't have the ability to even know how to plan the following week, it makes everything else that much more stressful and chaotic to deal with when stuff gets thrown at me. I need foreseeable goals and days with others to make it through the week.
I don't consider myself to be clinically depressed, but last week I cried 4 days in a row. I don't even care that I'm sharing this shit with you right now, because maybe you cried four days in a row too and thought you were alone in your struggle. I just think that this is stuff that we shouldn't be so ashamed to discuss or talk openly about with other people. Especially since every person alive goes through it at one time or another in their life. It really helps just to talk about it sometimes, because if you do, you'll find you aren't alone, and you'll often find that people are willing to be more accommodating of your needs and to help you in any way they can if they at least know what you are going through.
I blew up on my boyfriend as the result of not coping with my stress and anxiety and I also tired out my family and group of friends who are endlessly there to support me. When I am alone and anxious and sobbing and calling people at 3am because I just can't stand to be alone at home, it's not really cool anymore. I am putting a strain on friendships, my relationship with my family, and stressing people out because they have to worry about me. I don't want to keep doing this shit. I'm exhausting the people that I love the most, and those are the people who love me the most in this world- I don't want to push them away, scare them away, or make them resent me. I finally decided to talk to a doctor and make an effort to take care of myself.
The doctor that I saw spent an hour with me, which is longer than any doctor has ever spent with me before. It was really helpful just to talk to an outsider (not someone directly involved in my life) and to know that I am not, in fact, crazy- just having a really hard time given all of the circumstances. I walked out of the doctor's office feeling more in control than I have in a year- I can finally get a handle on this anxiety, while I continue to try to get a handle on my career and my future. The fact that I took a pro-active approach to my issue has already made me feel like it won't control me, and that I can control it.
I decided to spend my two, consecutive days off at home (my parent's house Upstate). I think sometimes when I get so stressed and everything is making me so angry and anxious, I really just need a good, couple of days out of this Hell-hole of a city. I did pretty much nothing when I went home, and that is just what I needed and wanted to do. I spent time with my pets, I walked in the woods, I went for a drive in the middle of nowhere with my dad to look at animals and an old cemetery, I went out to dinner with my family, and I visited my grandma. It was good just to chill and be as zen as a person like me can be ;) (in case you haven't caught on, it's pretty hard for me to be zen). Nature is really good for me, and I should make an effort to go home or get out of NYC more often since it helps so much. I think walking alone in the woods, or on a deserted country road really helps to put life back into perspective. I can feel really trapped and stifled in this city at times, and It is important to reflect on how big and open the world is, and how just changing your environment can change your outlook.
Cemetery in the middle of the woods with gravestones dating back to the 1820s... pretty awesome.
My firstborn son- Bijou... the real love of my life. Look at that cute, short, little profile! (certainly doesn't get it from me, lol).
Saudi, the new addition to the family, and Bijou's competition lol
I wish I had the space and time for a pet here in NYC. Having an animal to take care of and to just be there when you need something to hold really helps. This little guy ^^^ is so friendly I wonder how he was ever a feral cat... Unfortunately, after my terrible cat-fostering experience, I vowed NEVER to own an animal unless I have a backyard and a bigger space.
The road by my woods... so quiet, so peaceful... lol. I'm like the father from Beetlejuice:
This is me when I finally escape NYC and am back in nature:
Can't beat those good ol' Upstate wine prices... ;)
Fall at its finest... if only this were my backyard in NYC... or at least not a 3.5 hour bus ride away. I think I would be chill without having to try so hard to keep my cool all the time.
I was off today (apparently we can no longer tack our regularly scheduled days off to our vacation days, so instead of being off tomorrow, I had to be off today and then will be doing an 8-5 tomorrow and then leaving Thursday), therefore I spent the day picking out outfits for Tomorrow World:
Yes, I love dressing like a sl*t (but if you know me that's old news...). Tomorrow World is now two days away and I am stoked. I need a break from real life and work and from real clothes.
I haven't had a blog post where I posted a shit ton of selfies in quite some time, so here are some gratuitous selfies... since it's my blog and I do whatever I want here :D
I spent my day off planning outfits for the festival... Here is the shit I came up with.
American Apparel never does me wrong.... even though every sorority biotch in NYC wears this leotard when she hits up the clubs on a Friday night. I'm joining the ranks...
Cheap Jewelry courtesy of Forever 21. I've been wanting a head piece and a body chain for like two years and I finally had the perfect excuse to buy them... $8 a piece... Score! The head piece makes me feel like the princess from the Never Ending Story.... even though the ensemble screams club ho.
Slutty choker... check. Slutty, lense-less glasses from a nightclub... Check. Thigh-highs... check. 90's double buns... check.
A more subdued look... I have been wanting flare jeans for months now that they are back in style and I found the perfect pair. The crop top I found on clearance at Urban... $8.
A close-up of my well crafted buns. Now I just need some pacifier jewelry and candy bracelets... JK.
or am I?
The Jewelry I made... :D More pics of the jewelry to come... I also crafted rings and bracelets.
My life is pretty close to perfect (minus my shitty job, the ongoing job search, and my complete lack of discretionary income), so please take the following blog with a grain of salt. I haven't had one of these blogs in quite some time, so here is a full blown rant about my last couple of festive weeks, because I'm desperately in need of ranting right now and this seems like the safest spot to take my frustrations out :D :D :D #blessed
TomorrowWorld is now only 6 days away and I am sitting here more or less morbidly obese having been sabotaged by my boyfriend who thought it was a good idea to bring home the following items when I was craving chocolate one night: 1 gallon of Edy's chocolate icecream, 1 box of jumbo-sized nutty cones, 1 box of tri flavor popsicles, and 1 box of strawberry popsicles.
I know what you're thinking- most people should be able to exhibit some self control. But when you are me, you're an all or nothing kind of girl. I literally cannot keep certain things in the house because I won't stop until they're gone. I live my life in extremes. Not only am I addicted to nutty cones, but the fact that I woke up on my day off with a f*cked up neck/back meant that I was essentially immobile and housebound all day. I didn't leave my apartment once, and probably didn't burn more than 25 calories all day since I just sat on my couch, worked on my Tomorrow World costume, and shoved my face as I watched "Train Spotting" and other assorted shitty films. You know when you eat a ton of food (ex. Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.), and the next day you wake up absolutely ravenous having expanded your stomach the previous day? Yes... so that's how I woke up the following day- starving. And that is the story of how I haven't stopped shoving my face since Tuesday morning (... so much for looking thin in all of these slutty costumes I anticipated on wearing) :D Also, when I say that my neck/back was jacked up, I don't think you quite understand what exactly I was feeling, so let me elaborate:
Most people experience occasional neck pains due to a night of sleeping in a strange position etc.- you know what I'm talking about- when you wake up the next day and can't turn your head to the left because your neck is so stiff that it hurts. Imagine that feeling, but radiating from the middle of your back, all the way up through your shoulders and neck, and even extending down your left arm. Yep. I woke up knowing my neck was stiff, but it wasn't until I tried to reach over the bed to grab my phone from the floor that I realized just how messed up I was. I started crying from the pain. If you know me, you know that I usually only cry from emotional pain, so if the physical pain was enough to send me to tears, you know that it must have been bad. I couldn't bend over to put on underwear, I couldn't lift my head fully up so my chin was parallel with the floor and I was looking straight ahead, I couldn't move my head back or to the side, and I also couldn't twist my spine. I called my mom in a panic because I thought I might be paralyzed. She then asked if I felt feverish, which I did, and then told me maybe I should go to the doctor. I did the next best thing: Web MD. Sure enough, all symptoms pointed to a case of viral, spinal menengitis. Yes, for the first three or four hours of my day off I thought I might have viral menengitis and kept checking my skin for rashes and worrying a headache would follow suit.
Even as I sit here typing this piece of shit blog three days after the fact, my neck is still sore. Luckily my back and arm are better. Well... mostly better, I now have another ailment: the first sunburn I've had in three years... that I got on the only day of this entire summer I went to the beach- and I applied SPF 50 :D :D :D . I can't believe it. I literally haven't been to the beach ALL summer. It is now September 18th, and I diligently applied SPF 50 and the one spot I accidentally missed on my back got burnt to a crisp- lobster red. It's so sad. I stopped using self tanner about two weeks ago so I have returned to my natural shade of translucent, accented with random bruises. God I am so hot.
I'd love very much to post a picture of this catastrophe so you could all see how horrid the contrast between my albino skin is and the flaming red patch on my back is, but unfortunately, my already shitty iphone 4 has officially shit the bed. Yaayyyyyyy!!!!!!!! I love it ! :D :D :D I'm so so lucky.
ADDENDUM: ( As of 9/19 I am the proud owner of a new phone... so here is a pic )
Awesommmmeeee... am I right? Let's all have a good chuckle together :p YUMMMMMM.
If you know me, you know I am prone to extreme anxiety. If you know me well enough, you know my phone is a prime source of said anxiety... whether it is waiting to hear back from someone, not hearing back from someone, or, God forbid, my phone dies or malfunctions. Well, this time it is the latter. Recall if you will the last time my phone shit the bed: April, 2014- I was home for a few days and out with my friend when my phone literally just died. I couldn't be without a phone, so I abandoned my friend's house at 2am after a night of drinking, called my father to come pick me up, and then proceeded to get into a blow out argument with my mother after I arrived home at 2:30am and she demanded to know why I had to wake my father up to come get me and I told her that it was because my phone died and I was going absolutely ballistic demanding to use hers and panicking. I am ashamed of my actions even to this day. However, I am even now fighting to keep my cool as my phone sits next to me unable to send or receive texts. I can't even take a photo because it keeps logging me out of apps. The phone is done. I am going to Verizon first thing tomorrow morning to get it fixed or get a new phone, but the last two days of not texting have been torturous for me. Not because I'm addicted to texting, but because it's so frustrating that people have been sending texts and my phone hasn't been receiving them, therefore they think I'm being rude or ignoring them when I don't respond. It's infuriating.
If you're wondering what triggered this tirade and sent me into this spiral, I can pinpoint the exact catalyst. My bad luck streak started three weeks ago. I had an interview with a company that shall remain nameless (unless you look at the link below ;) ) for an Editor in Chief position. Please now take a moment to read the Glassdoor reviews of this company (you'll be both humoring me, and yourself): The Esteemed Company :)
Ok, now that you have read that, tell me why a talented, hard working, person such as myself would still want to work there? Oh yeah, because it's a paid writing job, in a field that I am enthusiastic about, and it's not my current job that makes me suicidal on the daily. Anyhow, the person who interviewed me loved me, and told me as we wrapped up the first interview to email them my schedule because they wanted to set up a second interview. Extremely exciting! I wanted the job so so so badly. As soon as I got back to my apartment, I emailed them my schedule so we could set a date for the second interview. They asked for some writing samples, which I also speedily emailed them. They responded that the samples were "great!," and told me they would email me early the next week with a date for the second interview. Needless to say, two weeks and several emails on MY behalf later (along the lines of "Hey, I just wanted to keep you posted about my availability for that second interview..." etc. etc.), with no response. I finally heard back two weeks after the first interview, not with a date for the second interview but with this response "we filled the editor in chief position, but would you be interested in a part-time SEO nightlife writer position?". I was so offended and angry that I got the run-around for two weeks only to get this response that I didn't even respond. After coming so close to getting a job so many times and applying and interviewing non stop all summer, it was this job rejection that sent me into a two-week depression where I didn't apply for any jobs at all and ate my feelings. Now I am not only still working at my terrible job, but I have lost all definition in my stomach and my thighs filled out to the point where putting on skinny jeans hurt.
But hey, life could always be worse- at least I'm not my friend who got financially screwed and is momentarily flopping around naked on his carpet having consumed an entire three liter jug of carlo Rossi :)
MORE ADDENDUM PHOTOS... BECAUSE I GOT A NEW PHONE TODAY :D
The wings I made and definitely won't be wearing at Tomorrow World... because, let's be honest...
The floral/butterfly crown I made and also won't be wearing... because, again, let's just be honest... you know I'm gonna be wearing all black. Flower child is not my vibe.
And the Jewelry I am making, which I actually will be wearing because i think it's cool as fuck.
More pics to follow..... :)
Oh, and a brief update since I haven't wrote in a month: The AC/DC concert was awesome... we were right in the front and I'm pretty sure I caught the sloppy spit flying out of Angus's mouth as he jumped around on stage with his guitar. As for the photoshoot I did with my boyfriend, it confirmed what I already know about myself: I am awkward as fuck. :D Therefore, I look pretty fucking hideous in about 99.9% of the photos that were shot that day... as I knew I would. I think next time I have pictures done, I am going to act natural (or the way I would act when someone takes my photo during a party, in my natural habitat)... I will go into the shoot having consumed several gin tonics and some drugs to loosen up and look better in the photos.
I don't even know how long it has been since I last wrote. I've been in a been in my usual summer rut (you know the one- where the days fly by at lightning speed while I do what I always do- seek better jobs, seek fun, let the days pass me by without doing all the things I intend to do at the beginning of the season). Summer is nearly over (but not really, because I'm not in school therefore summer knows no end until the days grow cold and the sun goes down at 6pm). It's been a really uneventful summer punctuated only by fucked up nights of revelry (I think my 9 "cat" lives are running out), concerts, evenings with friends, a few interviews (yes, the never-ending job search is still never ending...) and not much else besides trying to improve my little existence in this world by finding a better job.
I saw U2 July 26th at Madison Square Garden, and the concert was pretty awesome... I've decided I want to marry the Edge... jk (you know I have my heart set on many others of superior musical talent and sexiness... "ahem, cough; Jack White, cough cough"). I even dragged my boyfriend to Hooters after the concert in our drunken and obnoxious state ( how "Delightfully tacky" ;) ). LOL. I hadn't been to a hooters in like 10 years... the fried pickles and boneless BBQ wings were enough to make me want to go again actually, and I'm being 100% serious. If you haven't had fried pickles, you aren't living. Afterward, I treated the fine Sunday night crowd at 1Oak to my white trash get-up of daisy dukes and 6 inch platform boots before we called it a night. Typical Kelsey style :) you know how I do.
"BONO... BONO... BONO....BONO!!!" lol... I must say the song that stands out the most in my mind is "Beautiful Day"- I've loved that song since I bought my first U2 album at age 13. The people next to us hushed us... I guess no one can handle our type of wild... when we go, we f*cking go. PS... Bono is hot with bleached blond hair... Maybe I can marry him after Jack White. JK ;D
The next concert on our Summer Concert Tour was the Deftones and Incubus. I must say, going into the concert, I was actually more excited for the Deftones portion of the show as the lead singer's screamo vocals are extremely sexy and thrilling. I was majorly disappointed by Chino and his band mates when I actually listened to them live at Jones Beach. The venue was very cool- it was my first time there. It was a large ampitheater situated on the beach- it overlooked the bay which was really cool, and Guy Feirri had a burger stand there which had some delectable french fries (yes, I'm fat). Other than that, I was extremely disappointed by the fact that it was a dry venue. There was a beer tent behind the arena, but no drinks were permitted within the actual arena/seating area. To this I say "WTF"?! I've never been to a concert where you can't bring drinks to your seats or where they aren't selling drinks in the theater. It also took FOREVER to get there. We had to take the LIRR and then a bus. Getting home was even worse because then the subways were running slow as it was after 1am when we got back to NYC. I will not make the trek to Jones Beach in the future unless someone like Jack White or Thom Yorke is playing. That being said, Incubus was awesome. They sounded great, the visuals were cool, and I am now striving to get Brandon Boyd's body... yes, I want a man's body. He was so thin and ripped... and beautiful. But, I digress ;)
These poor pants have been worn thread bare and these new Lita's are well on their way to being as loved up as my old Lita's... you just can't beat a stellar platform booty for concerts.
Looking like solid muscle... gross. My summer-party uniform. The hipster frames add a certain level of, je ne sais quoi... "intelligence"? ahahaha... right.
I am now gearing up for AC/DC this coming Wednesday. Let's pray that I make it to Wednesday since I am doing three nights of updates in a row, off Wednesday for the concert (which doesn't really mean 'off' since I'm traveling to dirty Jerz for it and will be intoxicated, I'm sure), and then doing another update on Thursday :D :D :D #blessed #ilovemyjob. For those of you who aren't familiar, an update shift means I go in at 4pm and get out of work around 2am. Yayyyyy!!!!! SO SO SO fun :D I'm sure by the time Friday rolls around I'll be malnourished, have bags under my eyes, and be an inch or two from death. Just another day in the life ;)
In addition to gearing up for AC/DC, I've also started thinking about what I want to wear to TomorrowWorld. I'm not sure if I mentioned it in my last blog (I can't even remember writing my last blog...), but I'm going to TomorrowWorld in Georgia at the end of September. It's going to be my FIRST festival (:D) so I hope that it lives up to all of my hopes and dreams and expectations. I am pretty stoked, and want to have the perfect wardrobe. I am insistent that I will be able to wear platforms, although there are many naysayers in my life saying I should stick with something comfier like chucks. Um, no. Comfort for me is not about how my toes feel ok? Comfort for me is knowing my little, stumpy legs look good in a pair of shorts, and that means elevating myself a good 5-6 inches in platforms that turn my stumpy, little legs into some amazingly long looking gams. Thank you very much. Maybe I will invest in some Doc Martins or platform creepers. We will see. The end of August is right around the corner, but September seems so far right now.
The home made pasta- a true labor of love.
As per usual, I've been outdoing myself in the kitchen meal after meal, pasta dish after pasta dish. I love cooking so much I sometimes consider how I could do it for a living. Although if I were cooking for a career, I may no longer find pleasure in it. There is just something so satisfying about chopping, saute-ing, making fatty sauces from scratch, and rolling meatballs even after a long day at work. I cook even when I don't get home until 11pm/midnight sometimes just because it is such a relaxing activity for me and relaxes me in a way that no glass of wine can (although, having a glass of wine while cooking is an even better combination of relaxation ;) ).
My boyfriend came up with the brilliant idea of me doing a professional photo-shoot for fun the other day, just so we have some professional, nice photos of me in the future. Maybe it's so he can look back one day when I'm old and wrinkled and remember how I looked once upon a time... if we are still together when I'm old and wrinkled that is... ;) While the idea of this is lovely, the last time I had professional photos done were my senior portraits in high school :x. I don't really photograph well unless I'm partying (ei. drunk/fucked up), or unless I'm taking a selfie, because I think this is the only time I'm relaxed. Something about my sober, composed self is just so awkward in photos. Not to mention that I'm one of the homeliest people I know. ;) You know I just have like, a few good angles... nothing more, nothing less. I'm like Jenna Marbles in that one video "How to trick people into thinking you're good looking" : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYpwAtnywTk
In my head, this is who I am on the inside and what I will always look like:
I will leave you with the following photo (it might as well be me):
No one ever tells you that self-esteem issues don't disappear into oblivion once you hit a certain age; most would assume those plagued by low self esteem usually leave it behind once they graduate their teen years, or at the very latest, their early twenties. I know that a lot of people in today's world struggle from self esteem issues, including myself. How can you not? Especially if you are a woman. Everywhere you look, you're surrounded by media idolizing beautiful people, some born with their good looks as a result of genetics, and others who have made themselves "beautiful" with the help of cosmetic surgery (ex. Kim Kardashian, Lana Del Ray, Kylie Jenner, Megan Fox (I mean, she was pretty beautiful before... but come on now.. those lips are not hers). It's hard to feel confident when you're constantly told by society what constitutes beauty and what defines beauty and you find you may not have those specific qualifications. We are raised with parents, care-givers, teachers, and mentors stressing to us time and time again "it's what is on the inside that counts," but once we hit the real world, we know that is bullshit. I mean, what is on the inside is what actually matters, and it is what truly defines who we actually are, but to say that looks can be overlooked, is a lie.
Living in NYC for the past few years, it has become only more concrete that looks can get you anywhere in this life (granted you have half a brain cell and aren't completely abhorrent to be around). Models and attractive women get the most sought after jobs... you can be a bottle server at 1oak making bank every night if you are tall, thin, and have a good face. You may be very personable and fun, but if you are short, chubby, and/or don't have perfect features, you won't be getting a job as a bottle server at 1oak making $600+ a night. With the influx of social media monopolizing more and more of our free time, it is also apparent what the rest of society and more specifically, if you are a straight woman, what men find desirable.
The ideal woman is thin, with curves in the right places (tiny waist, hips, nice butt, and maybe boobs... although here in NYC, men like skeletal types with aa cups because that signifies model status). We see girls who are "instagram models" or insta-famous... they have thousands of followers and post selfies featuring their tight bodies on the beach, their pouty lips that may or may not be a result of injectible fillers, and their sculpted abs and Brazilian beach bums. We can't help but take a hit in the good ol' self esteem every time the man we like or our boyfriend starts following such a perfect (possibly photo=shopped) creature or likes one of her photos. We can't help but measure ourselves against the rest of the photo-shopped masses of women on social media, in magazine, on tv, on the radio, or the real life beauties at the club every time our boyfriend takes a second glance at one of them or every time you see a dude you think is attractive sidling up next to a woman who seems cosmetically perfect on the outside.
We tell ourselves that it's ok, because we are so much more than just our exterior appearance. We are smart, we are fun, we are funny, we know how to cook and will actually eat the food we cook with you (because unlike those anorexic model types we actually do eat), we have talents, and we are attractive in our own, unique ways. No matter how much we tell ourselves though, we all have underlying insecurity about parts of ourselves.. guys and girls alike. We may or may not talk about it, but you best believe that in certain moments, we feel more insecure than others about said parts.
We live in a country that tells us to "love ourselves" and to "accept and embrace beauty of all forms," yet we are constantly fed images of photo-shopped, genetically perfect people. We fear getting older, getting wrinkles, gaining weight, losing our youth and beauty, because despite the Dove "love yourself" campaigns, we all know the girls being featured on billboards and being idolized by men and women are alike are all tall, thin, and beautiful.
We start off with all of the self confidence in the world- we are born narcissistic and loving ourselves; we think we are the greatest and the center of the universe. As we get older and more aware and start listening to the world around us, we lose faith in ourselves, comparing and contrasting ourselves to our peers, taking note of what the world around us says and defines as good-looking. Unless you're really fricking cute or genetically bless, the adolescent stage chips away at the ol' self esteem block once you enter puberty and start looking awkward as fuck. I've posted this pic before, and I'll post it again... but this was me as a child:
Did I think of myself as being hideous? No... because I had a lot of friends and teachers loved me because I was an exemplary student. I was smart, I was good at art, and I was nice, so I never really thought about my looks when I was 7 or 8. I started self-hating when I hit middle school and everyone else had straight, silky hair and button noses, I still hadn't grown into my nose and had a wild fro of red hair that could never be tamed. Other girls got tan, and I got freckled and bruised. I was really into fashion and the style channel and wanted to be tall and thin so I could be a model. You can imagine the disappointment I felt when I stopped growing at 14 and developed hips and boobs while some of the girls that I used to dance with had legs that were as thin and long as a gazelle's and no boobs at all up until they hit like 20 or stopped dancing. I know we always want what we don't have, but you eventually learn to make the best of it. It took a long time to accept myself, and to make the best of what I was given.
I learned to accept my body shape- I have a tiny waist and an ass. No matter how thin I am, I'll always have a butt and meatier thighs, but you know, I learned to appreciate it especially after realizing a lot of girls would kill for curves and a flat stomach. I struggled a lot in college with my self esteem. I didn't have a boyfriend until I was 22 and I was convinced it was because I wasn't pretty enough or thin enough; in reality, I'm quite sure it's because I wasn't outgoing and inhibited due to being so painfully self-conscious and having almost no confidence in myself. It almost hurts to think back to a time when I hated myself so much because I felt like I didn't measure up to society's standard of what pretty is.
I'm 27 now and have learned to make the best of what I have. After college, when I was no longer drinking 6 nights out of 7 nights of the week and living on processed and frozen foods and being peer pressured into eating pizza at 2am, I lost a lot of weight. I still think I could be thinner some days, but that's just how I'm programmed to think. I know that I'm pretty fortunate to have a body I don't even work for and abuse to hell and back. I'm not trying to brag right now, I'm just trying to prove a point- as much as I can recognize how fortunate I am not to have to work out and to still have abs, I still have moments where I think I'm not good enough because I am not tall enough or thin enough or have nice enough facial features to be enviable levels of pretty. It doesn't matter how many compliments a week I might get, because of my history and fragile self-esteem, it only takes one misinterpreted comment or back-handed compliment to cause me to come crashing back down to that 19 year old girl I was at FIT. I go straight back to that girl that went to Vegas with her family and refused to put on a swimsuit or wear shorts in the 103 degree desert heat because she thought she was too fat to get half naked in public (I was about 20 lbs heavier than because I consumed upwards of 3000 calories a day (not even lying) and didn't live an active lifestyle at all).
It doesn't matter that I wake up and actually like what I see in the mirror most days. It doesn't matter how many good compliments or catcalls I might elicit every week, because of years of programming in thinking that I'm not good enough comes back to haunt me with the littlest misdemeanor. I've slowly learned to love my face, it photographs pretty fucking well, I have a smile most people have to pay for in the form of years of braces, and my muscles are well defined without doing a lick of work. However, last night, despite feeling pretty hot and confident, all it took was a comment from a homeless man, Yes, A FUCKING HOMELESS MAN, to make me feel like turning around and going home and drinking myself to death. I don't know why I let other people bring me down or build me up. But I am still that very impressionable and easily influenced 16 year old under it all, and other people's opinions can still make or break me.
Yes, ladies and gentleman, I let a homeless man begging me for money influence my self-worth last night after I walked past him and he screamed after me "come back Lady Gaga." That's all it took to ruin my night, and it's so, so fucked up that a comment like that would ruin my night. Some might think Lady Gaga is hot, but the majority do not agree. In fact, when you read comments on articles written about her online, the vast majority bash her looks and say awful fucking things about her face and body. So to have a guy tell me that I look like her was a real, low, blow. I don't think I look like her at all to be honest... but I wasn't thinking that last night. I was convinced that I was fat, should not have been wearing the crop top that I was wearing as a result, felt like the walk of self confidence I had was unwarranted given the fact that I must, in fact, be hideous, and felt my entire inner being shrivel up in mortification. I seriously wanted to go home. As I approached the line to get into Le Bain, I suddenly felt like I was a joke and wanted to die. Everyone in line seemed infinitely better looking than me and I felt ashamed of my appearance. I felt ashamed that I was wearing a crop top, I felt ashamed that I had my hair pulled back and wasn't hiding my face underneath of it the way that I did for years of my life. I felt short, and inadequate. Because of a stupid fucking comment from a HOMELESS man.
Then my despair turned into anger. I suddenly wanted to rip apart every fucking person before me. "Oh look at that fucking anorexic Russian model doing the slow, staggered slut walk to the Dream hotel, looking like she hasn't had a meal in months. Once she hit 6ft tall at the age of 12, her cold-hearted, money-hungry, Russian mother (because this is how all Russian women are...) probably said to the father, 'let's stop feeding her... this way, she go to America and make us lots of money as model or escort.'" Walking down W 16th Street, everything became so evident and obvious. The entire fucking nightlife scene is bullshit. NYC is bullshit.
-Next we went to Gilded Lily where the jacked door dude said he was jealous of my six pack... it wasn't enough to eradicate the Lady Gaga comment though. As we entered the downstairs club, my thoughts turned even more evil. "Look at these fucking disgusting, ghetto people at Gilded Lily. They're so fucking gross grinding on each other like fucking animals... I want to leave." Next we went to the box, where again, there was a line waiting to enter and an incompetent door man on his phone who only let in a *get this* a group of FIVE (5) jersey trash looking MEN (yes, all MEN). I was disgusted. He apparently let them in because at that time, the club was only taking tables getting bottle service. My disgust and hatred of humanity grew 10x. I hated every last normal looking mother fucker waiting around the door. I hated the women wearing heels less than 4 inches tall with frumpy shirts on. I hated the men in their tees and jeans looking like they came from Jersey. I hated the fucking doorman. I hated the entire city. I couldn't believe this was what my life had come down to.
