When Did It Get So Cold?

I had a most excellent weekend, following the boring week I spent mostly indoors and entirely isolated, out here in Williamsburg, following the storm.  In addition to cooking an array of fantastic delicacies (split pea soup, cheddar and herb biscuits from scratch, herb encrusted chicken bites, more oatmeal, carrot-cake sandwich cookies, etc.), supporting nearly all of the local restaurants with my patronage (I'm surprised I still fit into my clothes... I probably won't be able to if I am unemployed another couple of weeks), and walking a total of probably 12 miles in two days (thanks to the subways still being closed), I attended an awesome concert on Friday night, at the Living Room, on the lower east side.  Randall Shreve and the Sideshow are a pretty talented band that I had forgotten about until I received an invite via facebook for their concert.  I decided to check them out on Youtube, since I hadn't listened to any of their music since the days of Myspace (I know- that was forever ago).  I found this song, and I was hooked:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9feAWWMyLg

I decided going to the concert would be a good choice, considering the fact I loved the first song I listened to.  So on Friday night, Neil and I (yes, we are back together for anyone who cares to know), went to the concert and both of us loved it.  All of the band members were highly enthusiastic and seemed to thoroughly be enjoying themselves on stage (which always makes for a great performance), and the lead singer's vocals are out of this world.  If I were to describe the sound of the band (and I know bands usually hate being compared to other bands) I would say they truly are almost completely original sounding, but the sound would lie somewhere along the lines of Jeff Buckley and/or Silverchair (circa 'Diorama'/'Young Modern' era).  I highly recommend anyone reading this to check them out, you won't be disappointed (unless you like the popular culture shit they play on the radio these days, and if that's the case, we probably aren't friends).

My interview with Anthropologie is finally taking place tomorrow at 3pm.  I really hope that I get this job, because there are about two hundred things I have been wanting to buy and haven't allowed myself to purchase without having a steady source of income (cable, that down coat from Uniqlo, those riding pants from American Apparel, a custom print for my apartment, etc.).  I also made an appointment with the dermatologist tomorrow for the acne I have been experiencing since moving to the city.  I know that it isn't technically 'that bad' or even that noticeable to others, but the fact that I have to worry about covering it up to go out, or that it stresses me out to see my own face in the mirror at night after washing off my makeup is highly disconcerting for me.  I honestly don't know how people with cystic acne do it... not that I have cystic acne, but it is a still a struggle in self-confidence to face the world when one has pimples on their face.  More power to anyone struggling with acne.  I don't think that my acne is bad enough for the dermatologist to prescribe me Acutane, though I have been thinking about that option.  I mean, I don't plan on having kids any time soon, and when I do, I want to adopt, but if I were to ever change my mind about having my own, biological kids, I wouldn't want Accutane screwing me over.  I just don't understand what is causing the acne in the first place... I am blaming it on air pollution, since I didn't have this issue when I was living upstate.  I know I sound like a cry baby right now, and there are far more devastating issues I could be dealing with.  I know that I am lucky to have all of my limbs, good health, a close knit family, and a great group of friends.  I know I am lucky to live in America, to have rights, and freedom.  So, my apologies if I have offended anyone by bitching about my skin.  But honestly, I have a very fragile ego, and acne is killing me softly.   Let's hope I can get to the bottom of this issue tomorrow, because I absolutely refuse to live a dairy-less, sugar-less, spice-less, existence by going on an anti-inflammatory diet (not to mention that without any of the aforementioned food groups, I would probably waste away into nothing).

In other news, I went to the sketchiest video store ever on Saturday night.  Videology, which is the local rental place on Bedford was closed for renovations, so we looked up another nearby video store (remember, I still don't have cable) and walked under the BQE (Brooklyn-Queens Expressway) to get there.  It took us forever to find, because when we finally found the number showing up on google maps, the place didn't even look like a video store.  Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the store at hand, which appeared to be a deli, did have a sign in the window that said "videos." So in we went.  The videos were completely disorganized, and the store had an array of Asian food products and random produce on one side.  It took forever to find a couple decent movies, and when I brought them up to the counter, I noticed that there were some knock-off Air Jordan's on the wall.  In the glass display counter, where the register sat, were all sorts of random knock-off fragrances, along with sex toys, lubricants, and weird Asian viagra.  I was a bit freaked out at that point, especially when I noticed the 'Rubba' Booty Shorts' on the wall behind the counter.  The man working at the store took forever and a day to find the CDs for the videos and charged me $5 for both... I realized that this wasn't even a rental store, but rather a store filled with DVDs that this man had illegally burned himself.  I felt like a bad person walking out of the store with my illegally burned DVD.  Luckily it was excellent quality when I watched it.

I am definitely going upstate this weekend, and I couldn't be more excited to see Bijou, my dogs, and get that full-length mirror.  Life without my animals is rough. 

Sugar Spells and Hallow-failures

I am happy to say I survived "hurricane" Sandy.  I suppose I am very lucky to be living where I am, because I am about three blocks from the water, 5 stories up, and didn't even lose power where I am located.  Needless to say, I feel terrible for people and businesses that suffered water damage or wind damage or are still living without electricity or even running water.  That is pretty awful.  The subways will probably be down for another few days (if not another week), and life has been pretty uneventful out here in Williamsburg.  My third and (what was hopefully the 'final') interview with Anthropologie was supposed to have been Monday at 3pm, but the lady who had been in correspondence with me shot me an email on Sunday night to cancel, due to the impending storm.  She said she would get back in touch with me to reschedule as soon as things were back to normal after the storm.  I'm assuming Anthropologie's offices aren't currently open or are the victim of water damage/no electricity since it is now Wednesday, and I have yet to hear back.  Clearly I understand (seeing as how parts of the city were severely flooded/torn apart) that there is nothing anyone can do, but I was really looking forward to getting this interview out of the way and finding out whether or not I had the job so I could continue looking for another one if I needed to.  I'm not complaining about the current state of affairs, seeing as how I made it out of this storm with no clean-up to deal with when so many people were less fortunate, but the storm destroyed my plan of doing the interview and then going upstate for the rest of the week.  Sigh.  Hopefully next week I will be able to go home for a few days.  I am seriously dying with no full length mirror in my apartment.  I can't even post a picture of my fabulous, hand-sewn Corpse Bride costume (that I sadly didn't have a chance to wear out, but even more sadly, probs cant fit into after all of the shit I ate).

I have spent the last week of my life baking, and subsequently eating sweets NON stop.  It started when my sister suggested that we bake cookies for a Halloween party she was going to attend for her summer babies mom's group.  I love baking, so I was more than happy to lend a helping hand in making my (well, technically Martha Stewart's) well-received carrot cake-cookie sandwich cookies.  I probably ate half of the dough as I was making them, so by the time they came out of the oven and were assembled with cream cheese frosting, I didn't even want to sample the finished product.  I felt like shit after the sugar rush subsided, and suffered a terrible headache and feeling of nausea, and vowed that I would never eat so much sugar again.  Well, we went back to the grocery store on Sunday to prepare for the impending hurricane, and by prepare I mean purchase more ingredients with which to bake (since we knew we wouldn't be able to do much else while stuck inside).  We made oatmeal cookies with dark chocolate chunks at my sisters (I again, devoured half of the dough), and then I whipped up some rice krispie treat lollipops at my apartment.  BIG MISTAKE.

I am OBSESSED with rice krispie treats in any capacity, which is why I never buy the prepackaged ones or even keep around ingredients to make them.  I do this simply because I have no will power when it comes to resisting the buttery, mallowy goodness, and I WILL eat them all.  I told myself I was going to make them (just to keep myself busy since it's a time consuming project and the weather was crappy) and store them in the freezer for 'guests' (mhmm, we all know how that goes...).  I remember when I was living with one of my best friends in a college apartment in Oneonta, and I had done my best to resist bringing home candy (I'm a fucking animal, what can I say), Halloween rolled around so I bought a bag of those mini, assorted candy bars in the name of the Halloween spirit.  I brought it home and told my friend that it was "for the guests," clearly, I had other ideas.  It was gone within about two days, and I was the sole 'guest' consuming them.  But back to my obsession with rice krispie treats.  I was cat-sitting for my sister one weekend about a year ago, and my boyfriend was spending the weekend with me.  I went to scoop Emma's litter box out (which is kept in a large coat-closet) when I spotted a jumbo sized box of Kellog's Rice Krispie treats.  I tried to resist for about 5 minutes, before I ate one.  Then I had another, and then another, and another.  This was all before 12 noon, mind you.  By 12 o'clock, noon, I had consumed 6 or so rice krispie treats, and felt extremely ill.  Like it always goes, I told myself 'never again.'

Alas, here I am.  Most of the Rice Krispie balls I tucked into the freezer just three days ago, are now coursing through my blood stream or somewhere in my digestive tract.  I fucking love them.  And then, during a search for careers with Martha Stewart Living (I know what some of you are thinking, but that woman is one of my idols),  I saw a recipe online where you can actually dye the rice krispies orange and shape them like pumpkins around a mini candy bar (so it's a chocolately surprise when you get to the middle) and frost the top to make it look like a more authentic pumpkin.  My heart fluttered and my mouth salivated as I entertained the idea for a hot second.  I consider running out to buy ingredients to make these festive, seasonal treats, but then I told myself I was only lying when I said I would give them to others, and deep down I knew where all of the bounty would end up.

Upside down cooling/drying.  Rice Krispie treats, hand-rolled into balls and dipped into melted white and/or milk chocolate.  SO EFFING GOOD!

Seeing as how today is technically Halloween (even though it doesn't feel like it, given the fact most people threw their costume parties on Saturday, and hurricane Sandy threw the entire city into a tailspin), I thought I would like to recount some of my depressing Halloweens (my Halloweens always end up so depressing, I'm cursed).  If you don't like reading about my 'woe is me' life, then stop reading now.  There, I've warned you.

The first Halloween that was truly a bust was my Freshman year at FIT.  I had failed to assimilate and make friends (not that I really wanted to be friends with most of cunty bitches living on my floor anyhow), but Halloween fell in the middle of the week, so I couldn't go home to celebrate.  I had Tai Chi class that night and as per my apres Tai Chi ritual, I hit up the campus cafeteria.  I bought myself a pint of Edy's cookie dough ice cream, and returned to my dorm where I sadly devoured the entirety of its contents alone (I could have been on an episode of Dr. Phil for my closet-binge eating ways, looking back). I'm pretty sure that happened the following year as well.  So sad for a girl in the prime of her life, I know.  

The first year that I transferred to Oneonta, I actually did make friends, however, for some reason, my plans for celebrating fell through, yet again.  I was commuting my first year at Oneonta, so I drove home from class and in my despair, I downed an entire bottle of pink champagne to my face.  I was so utterly depressed to be spending another Halloween alone.  I ended up throwing up, and passing out in bed before my family came home.  How, fucking shameful.  I think that was the last time before I decided it is NEVER acceptable to drink alone.

The next year, is the best story of them all.  I dressed up as a Victoria's secret angel, and had these awesome homemade wings:

I wore a relatively conservative costume, despite the fact I was dressed as a Victoria's secret Angel.  I mean, I saw waaaaayy sluttier girls dressed as bumble bees and beer wenches, with their DD titties exploding from the sausage casings they had climbed into, thinking they were hot shit.  I had on high-waisted panties for God's sake, and a short, silky robe over the entire ensemble.  The night before Halloween, my best friend suggested we go to a costume party at a pub in Greene.  After a few drinks, she persuaded me to take off my robe, and then when I did, some girl called me a slut, and one of my guy friends threatened to beat her up (he was defending my honor, I was still a virgin at the time).  We left shortly after he threatened her, and made our way back to our home town.  We went to this sketchy drug dealer's place (he happened to be "friends" with another one of our guy friends) and I ended up partaking in a white, illegal substance.  I'm not ashamed to admit it.  I was 21 and it hasn't happened since, so whatever.  Live and learn.  Besides, it's not like I spent my money on it.  However, the next day I had a severely depressing come down, and spent the better half of the day moping about my apartment back in Oneonta.  Making matters even more depressing, was the fact that the party that I had planned on attending that night was cancelled for some reason, and then the friend I lived with stayed in to take care of her sick boyfriend (please note, I would have done the same thing if I had a boyfriend at the time, so no hard feelings :) ).  However, I was single, and ready to mingle, so I refused to stay home.  My other friend wanted to go to another costume party somewhere in our hometown, but after being called a 'slut' the prior night, I wasn't about to wear my costume anywhere in the hometown vicinity.  I ended up going out to the bars with a new friend from work, who abandoned me in a crowded bar to go chase down the guy she was interested in.  I was left standing sad and alone, searching desperately for her amongst the crowd.  When I found her, she said she felt ill and I escorted her to the bathroom where she threw up and proceeded to scribble, "____ is a douche" on the bathroom stall while I consoled her.  I don't harbor any ill feelings towards her at all though, because lord only knows how many people have had to track down my drunk ass or take care of me while I cried and puked (I'm sorry everyone who has had to deal with my drunk, emo self).  I had to keep taking my wings off, because they were too big to wear inside the crowded bars, and at the last bar of the night, I walked out to find them missing from the spot where I had tucked them away.  I fucking built these wings out of cardboard, hot glue, sweat and love, feather by fucking feather, and some drunk asshole stole them.  (I've since built another pair, but these were my favorite).  I went home sad and alone that night, and cried myself to sleep.  

I'm sure some of you are thinking, "boo hooo cry me a fucking river, you totally deserved it, "  and perhaps I did. Lol.  I just don't know how my Halloween plans always go to shit when I put so much time into these awesome costumes.  Oh well.  Here's to hoping someday my place is big enough to throw my own Halloween party, and I will be as next-to-naked as I want in the comfort of my own home (granted I don't consume 10 lbs of baked goods the week prior).  

Honey

I'm craving honey for my tea right now, but I am too lazy to walk the single block to the grocery store to procure some.  I have a THIRD interview with Anthropologie on Monday, which is pretty exciting because having no job is driving me insane in the membrane.  Let's hope I get it (if I don't it's back to the ol' grind of staring at my computer screen for 4 hours straight searching for jobs as my eyes burn out of their sockets).  I am pretty sure my skin hates this city, and the breakout I am currently experiencing on my face is the worst of my life.  I'm talking acne on the cheeks, and that has NEVER happened to me before.  It's fucking awful and detrimental to my already fragile self confidence.  I don't know if it is the air, the water, or both, but city living is not at all conducive to my most aesthetically pleasing self.  Two days after I moved down here, I broke out in (yet another) mysterious rash.  Thinking it would go away by itself, I let it slide and attributed it to the new body lotion I had purchased, but when I started spreading to my lower abdomen and across my sides, I freaked and scheduled an appointment with the dermatologist.  It turned out to be pytoriasis rosacea, and non-fungal, non-contagious skin rash that many people get between the ages of 14-35.  The dermatologist gave me a creme and said it could take 4-6 weeks  before it completely disappeared.  Lucky for me, it didn't spread to my face or hands, and it's almost all but gone now.  I really don't know why this shit happens to me.  I like to think I'm a fairly healthy person, I mean, I very rarely get colds.  She said that the stress of the move may have caused the rash.  But now, I'm dealing with a whole new monster- acne.  I've always been prone to get the occasional zit like once a month, but this shit is just out of control.  I'm not even consuming as much sugar as I was at home, and I feel like I'm eating way healthier here, so I don't know what the fuck gives.  I just know that by the time 3pm on Monday rolls around, my face better be looking top fucking notch so my chances of getting hired are high.

On another body image related note, I'm convinced the hipster bitches of Williamsburg just don't eat.  Honestly, I'm not sure how people carry out normal social lives in this town, going out to dinner with friends or out for drinks multiple times per week and maintain skeletal figures.  Clearly they don't eat all fucking day so they can afford themselves two glasses of wine or a couple bites of salad.  I don't even know how guys find them attractive.  I know that I'm thin, but Jesus fucking Christ, these girls take it to a whole new level.  Honestly, do guys really want to bang someone that thin?  I can only imagine how nasty they look with clothes off, seeing as how they look like skeletons with clothes on.  I once made out with a guy who was really thin and his hipbone stabbing me the entire time was a pretty big turn off.

My mom came to visit this weekend, so after investing money and approximately 40 hours into the building and sewing of my awesome Corpse Bride costume, I am not attending the party where I had planned to wear it.  See?  I told you that my Halloween plans always go to shit.  Lol.  Maybe I'll just put it on this week and prance around the apartment to get some good wear out of it.  Sigh.  I'm starting to have an entire closet full of hand made costumes that I've never even had the chance to wear out.  So sad.  I still don't have a full-length mirror either, thanks to my Amazon account's 'one click shipping,' I forgot to change my address and the mirror went upstate.  I've probably looked like a complete asshole for the past month since I can never see my full outfit after getting dressed and only seeing how I look from the chest up.  Furthermore, my order from Forever 21 came yesterday, and that shit was all fucked up too.  I'm just having an awful week.  The pleather, pleated skirt I was STOKED to get, was apparently out of stock, and I wasn't even notified until it didn't show up in the box yesterday.  That was a heartbreaker.  And then the awesome sweater I ordered is made for like, a 5'9" big boned Amazonian type, and overwhelms my tea cup poodle frame.  And THEN, the sequined hot shorts I got were all frumpy dumpy and scrunchy when I put them on and made me look like Froto Baggins... can't a girl get a break?!  Good Lawd!


I'm sorry that this entire post has been a bitch fest.  But then again I'm not sorry because you're the one that chose to read it. lol.  I can't wait until this interview is over; I think depending on how well it goes, I will go upstate and spend a few days at home afterward.  And if I do get the job, I'm treating myself to those festive riding pants ASAP.

The Frumpy Dumpster's Guide to Living Alone

I am currently sitting here with a bath robe on over my regular day clothes (the thermostat says it's 75 degrees, but my nails were turning blue from being cold), and I have been contemplating how pathetic my days have been since quitting my job three weeks ago.  I'm not complaining, not by any means.  If I wanted to paint a masterpiece, I have the time now (I just don't want to spend $80 on a canvas).  I've just been thinking that while I look for another job, perhaps I should fill my days with volunteer work at an animal shelter or something more beneficial to others.  Sitting here in a fleecy robe really does make me question how I ever even get hit on... if people only knew this is the girl I turn into when I'm home alone, I'm sure I would never get hit on, a drink bought for me, or offered money for sex ever again (yes, shamefully that happened the other night, and I wasn't even dressed like a slut):

Me:  Frumpy Dumpster l'extrodanaire! 

I figured I would write a brief guide for any other frumpy dumpsters out there who may have recently quit their jobs and now find themselves with some spare time on their hands, or any frumpsters who have recently found themselves living alone.  

Benefits to Finally Living Away from the Family

Now that I am finally out of the house I grew up in (after an extended grace period of apres-graduation living), my family is showing me the type of love I knew I deserved all along and never got.  Instead of calling to bitch at me about the mess I left in the kitchen, or that empty box of orange juice I stuck back in the fridge, my parents call to see how I am doing and check in on almost a daily basis.  My dad told me he loved me for the first time in like, 5 years the other day.  The last time he told me he loved me, I was on Christmas break from FIT and having a mental breakdown and threatening suicide (don't worry, I never meant it... I was just emotionally distraught and needed people to know how shitty I felt inside... it was my final and most extreme tactic to throw out such an offensive threat).  It was nice to hear him say those words, even though I know he loves me regardless of whether or not he tells me.  My mom (who has been my foe since the age of eleven, and to whom I am unjustifiably mean at times), has started calling me "hunny" when she says 'good bye' on the phone.  I find it humorous that the woman who once told me I don't make friends because I'm 'too bitchy,' is now calling me by the terms of endearment she used when I was five.  Just tonight, I was talking with my mom and she told me that I should treat myself to some new clothes.  I'm glad she thinks that even though I am currently unemployed, I am worthy of dropping some of my hard earned savings on to buy clothes.  It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and I may just take her advice.  

Filling One's Time

Since I am currently unemployed, and I can only spend so much of my time job searching and sending out resumes, I find myself with a large chunk of free time on my hands.  I spent pretty much all of last week entertaining various friends who came to visit.  However, this week I have had no real plans to go out and socialize.  I have started to remind myself of Hugh Grant's character in "About a Boy," when he talks about filling up his days in chunks of thirty minute intervals.  I never really have been one to sleep in, but I'm capitalizing on the fact that for the first time in...oh, almost my whole life, I can have a solid eight-hour slumber on a nightly basis.  I spent the last few months of my life either getting home from work at 11:30pm, or waking up at 4am to be there at 6am.  I think I deserve some fucking sleep, no?  I've been setting my alarm for 8:00 am, but hitting snooze and waking up around 9 instead.  I then have two or three leisurely cups of coffee while checking emails and sitting at the computer.  Around 10, I shower and get myself ready for the day.  Usually, a decent chunk of time is spent taking a walk with my sister and niece or running errands.  It's amazing, and you may not believe me, but all of the last two weeks were spent getting my apartment put together.  It's amazing how much time a trip to Ikea can take, or how much time one can spend online comparing table cloths and shopping around for the perfect one.  I probably spent 4 total hours last week shopping around for the perfect floor-mirror.  And building all the new furniture that I've ordered... oh my god!  It took almost 6 total hours to assemble a dresser and 250 lb. wardrobe from Ikea all by myself!  I have also been working on my book.  It's the little things that one wouldn't normally have the luxury of taking the time to do, that I am now able to enjoy.  For example, two days ago, I spent a total of three hours from start to finish, making vegetarian meat(less) balls.  They were fucking delicious and the recipe was from my own head.  I should just start cooking painstakingly slow foods all the time.  

The 'Living Alone' Diet

Sure I have all the time in the world to cook things like butternut squash soup and vegetarian meat(less) balls now, but it's not like I have a family coming home to serve them to on a nightly basis.  I haven't even made a conscious effort to stop eating meat (even though it's been something I have been wanting to do for a while), but in the last three weeks, I haven't eat meat more than once.  I did have sushi and squid, so while my diet isn't vegetarian, it is pescatarian.  That may explain the huge, blue bruise that mysteriously appeared on my thigh, as well as the reason why I have been freezing for the past few days... maybe tomorrow I should invest in some iron pills or a good multi-vitamin.  Perhaps it is time for some red meat... sadly, my dad isn't around to buy, prepare, and grill steaks for me.  Not that I couldn't do it myself, it's just that I don't want to.  Today for lunch I had frozen yogurt from Sixteen Handles.  I could probably eat that twice daily, every day, and never grow tired of it. I justify it by the fact it has protein and calcium... and it's fucking delicious.

Things to Capitalize on While Living Alone and Being Jobless

*Walking around in undies (as long as the blinds are closed)

*Fro Yo for Lunch, or maybe even dinner...

*Peeing with the door open

*playing freaky deaky music (a la 'the Knife') without anyone passing judgement

*Decorating your place to your specifications and not having to compromise because of another person's tastes

*Watching Tim Burton movies non stop (mostly because you don't have cable)

*doing a full face of costume make up during the day, just to see what you would look like as a cartoon

*Sleeping in past the hour where most people crawl out of bed to go to work

*Taking leisurely walks during the day... when the sun is actually out, and the sky is blue

(you don't know what torture is until you've spent the last year of your life working in a dark, dungeon like store where the lights are so dim you may one day go blind, and the music so loud, you're already probably on the way to going deaf)

*The ability to online shop to find that perfect table cloth or coat stand

*Discovering exciting new things- like the website where I can have a photograph printed on a canvas to hang as giant artwork (hello Christmas gifts!)

*Doing the things you never had time to do when you were working 10 hour days, 6 days a week:  Like finishing that book, or making a new painting... all the things you forgot you even liked to do because you were too tired.

*Seeing your precious, baby niece be cute 

*Learning to appreciate your parents, now that you don't have to live with them. 

When You're Lonely at Night

When you have watched all of the Tim Burton you can stomach, or your eyes hurt from staring at monster.com, FB, and urbanoutfitters.com, you may find yourself befuddled as to how to spend your late evening hours.  You could walk off that fro yo you ate, because the neighborhood is always interesting and well lit (unlike that scary corner on your hill upstate).  You could read a book (I need some new reading material), or work on that book you're writing (I am at a depressing part in my time line and I get to sad to write at night), or you could watch the videos you have on your phone of the cat that you had to leave at home and miss beyond belief.  I am not ashamed to admit that before I doze off at night, I like to watch videos of bijou being cute on my phone. hahaha.  I'm pathetic.  You could also call your brother and harass him, because even he misses you now that you're out of the house.  

This bookshelf I just bought...

Is so, FUCKING, ugly.  Well, ladies and gents', I guess that's why you don't buy a $35 bookshelf from Wallyworld.  I thought about purchasing a simple bookshelf from Ikea, but it was double the price of the one from walmart.com.  The picture on wally world's website didn't show exactly how fucking ugly and cheap this piece of shit that I ordered was, so you can imagine how taken aback I was when I pulled it's pieces out of the box.  Alas, there is no turning back now that I have assembled it and placed my shoes on it.  Besides, I suppose that with some sprucing up on my behalf it will look fine.  I will throw a drape or paint something on the ugly backside (exposed, ply-wood color CARDBOARD).  Yes, and I thought ikea was poor quality... at least the back of the ikea wardrobe was plywood, this bookshelf's back is fucking cardboard... are you kidding me?!  Oh well.  Live and learn.  I will throw it out when I move again anyhow.  Now I am scared just contemplating the quality of that $25 floor-mirror I ordered from Amazon.com.... yikes!  The older I get the more that saying, "you get what you pay for," rings true.  Think about it... it's kind of like the fun, novelty fashion items from forever21 that fall apart after 3 wears, even though they are super cute when you first get them.  This analogy also applies to food.  There is a time and a place for everything, and if you're not paying a higher price for say, seafood, you should probably question what kind of freshness or quality it will have.  It's like when you're drunk in Oneonta and your friend drags you to Denny's and you order the salmon fillet for only $10. When the fish comes out salty as fuck and still frozen in the middle, just remind yourself that you get what you pay for.  Hopefully you will learn your lesson and order the loaded fries from Denny's next time.  In my case, I've learned my lesson and next time I make any sort of purchase from walmart, it will be for laundry detergent or Maybelline mascara.   Sigh, the older I get the more dis-enchanting this world becomes.

In other news, I walked out on an open interview last week at Cwonder.  I got a call from upper management after submitting my resume, and they invited me to a 'job fair' of sorts in the Time Warner building location.  If you're not familiar with the store, it is like if J-Crew and an old lady from South Beach Florida's house made a baby... bright colors, and classic, American, east-coast prep.  AKA... NOT my style.  I was sitting on a couch and had been waiting patiently for about 45 minutes (we wrote our names on clip boards upon entering the premises, and we had to wait for the the person giving the interviews to call us in groups of three), when yet another Jackson Five song came on.  I started looking at the fake smiles on the associate's faces, and observed that they wore their jeans cuffed, the same way we did at Mollister.  I took in the preppy, pink button up shirts they were wearing, and the rich old ladies shopping.  I started getting very, very bad vibes.  Suddenly, a feeling of empowerment came over me, and I thought 'fuck it.'  I don't need to work yet another dead-end retail job at a store I loathe just to make money.  I have enough funds to take my time in finding another job, and that is exactly what I intend to do.  Don't get me wrong, I do want to find a job ASAP, but I can afford to say 'no' to the wrong jobs at this moment in my life.  We will see what happens though.  I definitely don't want to be kicking myself 3 months from now as I sit rolling change to scrape together rent... been there, done that. hahaha.  I think we have all had a time in our lives where we contemplate jumping off a bridge rather than calling our parents to grovel and beg for money, and I would like to hope those days are far behind me at this stage in my life.

I applied for a few jobs this morning and then spent the afternoon contemplating my Halloween costume and assembling this cheap ass book shelf (now, a semi-awesome shoe display).

The wardrobe along with the book/shoe shelf separate the bedroom area... I am going to put some battery-powered, flameless candles on top of the black shelf to balance out the heights and add some extra ambiance. hahaha.  

Shoes... a thing of beauty. 

So, regarding the Halloween situation this year, I'm still not positive what I am doing.  I feel like this always happens to me.  I haven't had a legitimate Halloween game plan in as long as I can remember.  However, that doesn't stop this costume bitch from coming up with a new and exciting costume each year.  I probably should just recycle last year's Black Swan costume... I really did spend a lot of time making it (yes, I hand sewed my own goddamn tutu) and perfecting the eye makeup.  I was actually in the city for Halloween last year and there was some freak inclement weather that prevented me from going out.  It started snowing and so instead of baring my fine ass for all the world to see, my boyfriend and friends went to Jin and binged on three dollar sushi rolls and glasses of wine.  I'm not complaining. haha.  Seeing as how I have been forced, by lack of cable, to keep watching the same dvds, I had Corpse Bride on the brain.  Just the other night I dreamed I was getting married in a very, Tim Burton-esque wedding and Danny Elfman was playing the music.  So today, as I was sitting here dreaming of owning a full-body length mirror and trying to get my mind off of those expensive riding pants from American Apparel, I decided to fuck around with my make up.  This was the result:

I think I may be the Corpse Bride for Halloween.  I will need some blue, temporary hair mascara, and I need to collect my white costuming make up and liquid latex (for the scars) next time I am home... but I am truly excited for the prospect of becoming my favorite animated character.  It will also give me an excuse to buy a white corset.  If you know me, you know my sick obsession with lingerie... I already own a red corset (used for little red riding hood, two Halloweens ago) and a black one (used last year for the Black Swan), so a white one is a much needed acquisition in my closet!!!!   Also, please ignore the festive, lemon headband I am wearing... haha.  I will make a headband of flowers.  Furthermore, my impromptu veil was created courtesy of the lace, American Apparel dress which I have yet to wear. What's wrong with me?  I just have too much fun dressing up.  I think it is because my mom refused to let me be a princess for Halloween when I was younger.  If I ever have a daughter, or even a gay son, I will never hesitate to indulge their desire to dress up in play heels or tutus every day.  

I will leave you with a picture of the sunset from this past weekend when my friend was visiting.  This was the good omen of the wild night on the town we ended having Friday:

Nothing like that afternoon view from the terrace :D   

Tim Burton Season

It's a good thing it is October and therefore 'tis season to watch all things morbid, emo, dark, and whimsically-twisted because half of my dvd collection consists of Tim Burton films, and since I am not allowing myself to purchase cable until I have a job lined up, I have been subsisting on a diet of Tim Burton classics for the past week.  I don't know why, but no matter how many times I have seen certain movies, they never get old to me or lose their initial appeal.  I had a phone interview today and I have an actual interview set up for tomorrow, so at least that is promising... hopefully cable is in my near future.

My apartment is still a work in progress.  I built a 250 pound wardrobe entirely by myself with only a couple minor set backs, built a dresser by myself, and have made 3 trips to the not-so-local ikea in the pursuit of finding apartment furnishings, only to discover each trip, that I have left something important off the shopping list upon returning back to my apartment.  I feel like It will probably be another month before I acquire all of the things I want for comfortable living.  Here are some pics in progress:

View across the way...

View looking over the terrace and down the street

The terrace (technically my sister and brother in law's, but my door opens up onto it ;) )

Desk area... the shelves on the wall will be going up this week and i plan to put coffee table books and candles on them

Kitchen area.  Notice the pops of red. hahaha

Kitchen area... my artwork, yes I know I'm talented. jk

Bedroom area.  I need to purchase a large canvas and make a painting to hang above the bed... it's too white. 

Living room area.  I repainted that coffee table that is currently being used as an entertainment stand (still need one).  The wardrobe separates the bed area, and I plan on getting a tall bookcase to put alongside the wardrobe to seclude the bed area even more.  My couch is coming in December.  Until then I have to make a nest of throw pillows for comfort. 

View from the kitchen, out onto the terrace. 

I miss Bijou so much.  Living alone is lonely... another reason to find a job ASAP.  I am already going crazy from boredom and lack of routine. haha.  I guess my mom was right- "the idol mind is the devil's playground."  sigh.  Never thought I would complain about time off.. and it's only been a couple of weeks. 

I really miss my friends and even my family but mostly I miss my cat. lol.  Sweet little Bijou lost his birth mom, then his sister, and then his adopted mom (that's me)... I feel like a negligent parent; but alas, I thought it would be cruel and unusual to coupe up a cat who spends the majority of day outdoors and put him in a closed apartment.  Oh well.  Bijou is getting plenty of love back home and I'm sure he will be fine.  

Tomorrow I have an appointment at the dermatologist because my skin has freaked out on me yet again and I have a hideous rash covering half my body... why do these weird skin ailments always happen to me?  Probably stress.  Maybe I should drink it away.  While I spend my days working on my apartment and searching for jobs, I should make more of an effort to finish my book.  I don't want to waste precious time off twiddling me thumbs now, do I! 

Egg donors and shoes

Just kidding.  I was thinking about donating my eggs, for a hot second- this has been a recurring, passing thought in moments of desperation since the age of 14 or so.  I mean, $30,000 for doing *basically* nothing seems pretty tempting.  But I heard it's pretty invasive, they pump you full of hormones that could cause cancer, and why the fuck should I share my eggs with greedy people who should just adopt in the first place?  I mean, the world is grossly overpopulated and there are thousands of babies and children that are already here to stay and in need of homes.  Ooops, did I really say that? yeah.  I did.  These eggs are mine, even if I never decide to use them, because I would personally rather adopt a child who is already here and in need of some awesome parenting (that I will hopefully be able to provide by the time I'm like, 35).  Anyhow, I was pondering egg donation because I've been job hunting online all day.  I applied to two places, both of which seem like decent contenders.  My last day at That store which shall not be named is Saturday.  I am both very excited, and a bit sad at the same time.  Mostly excited.  I put down a deposit on a studio apartment in Williamsburg Brooklyn in the same building as my sister, and I can't wait to be out of here and more independent.  I am moving in a week and two days.  It is hard to believe that it's finally happening.  I'm excited, and nervous, and nostalgic, and a bit scared to be on my own, but mostly excited for the new chapter of life about to begin.  Yes, I've saved tons of money over the past 14 months I've been living at home, yes, I didn't have to pay for my rent, heat, cable, or groceries, but the downfalls of living at home have outweighed the minor struggles I may face down the road.  Waking up to parents arguing on the one day off that you have to sleep in sucks.  Having your parents question where you're going, with whom you're going, when you'll be home, and lecturing you on drinking and driving when you grew out of that shit two years ago is pretty fucking annoying.  The most I have been drinking when I go out is one drink as of late because in order to 'go out,' I have to drive 30 minutes to the closest populated watering holes... watering holes populated by a scene of kids I've also grown out of.  Yeah, I never even liked going to the bars of Water Street even when I was still a college student.  The people are obnoxious and gross.  And even though I am a non violent person (for the most part, there have been minor exceptions) I find myself wanting to throw fists at so many douche bags every time I go out, the majority of whom are frat boys.

Today I was cleaning my room and going through my shoes... I have a couple new pairs and my closet and my shoe rack are getting pretty full so I was considering tossing some of the extra-worn pairs out.  Going through each pair of shoes started making me nostalgic.  I always get nostalgic in the fall as it is.  So many of my fondest memories were created in falls of yore.  The crisp air, the starry night skies, the smell of wood burning in people's fireplaces, the smell of dried leaves on the cold earth, all makes me very emo and sentimental.  I started thinking of Fall 2009, the year my life changed the most.  The fall at Cliff Street was the most momentous of them all... I was living in an apartment with one of my best friends, I was running free and wild, throwing costume parties on a monthly basis, drinking four nights out of seven, making out with boys, breaking hearts, getting my heart broken.  It was the fall I made all of my Oneonta friends, the fall I met my boyfriend, the fall I learned how confusing and hard life can really be.  I was careless and free and covering up all of my insecurities and anxieties with alcohol and the affections of various boys.  Always looking for the next excuse to throw an awesome party and dress up.  Today, alone in my room,  I picked up what were once my favorite pair of booties.  Now, they are nothing more than a pair of studded boots that have been loved and worn beyond repair.  I thought about throwing them out, what with their missing studs, busted up stiletto heels, and the leather has been torn on the front toes from wild nights spent running down Oneonta sidewalks, smashing wine glasses in other people's basement parties, and sashaying all about my apartment complex drunk as a skunkasaurous.   They were covered in dust from sitting on my shoe rack, and even though I haven't worn them in about two years and have no plans to ever again, I couldn't bare to throw them out.  Silly, considering they are an inanimate object, and whatever memories I have attached to them are in my head now.  Don't get me wrong, I am by no means a hoarder, nor do I ever intend to be one, but I get very sentimental with my shoes and clothes.  I can remember what I was wearing on every important or significant day of my life dating back to preschool.  It's strange really.  I remember what I was wearing on my first day of every grade dating back to kindergarten; I remember every halloween costume, what I wore to every party, every school dance, what I was wearing on September 11th, 2001-  I even remember what other people are wearing.   I sound like a creep saying this, but I remember what my best friend was wearing the first day of ninth grade, what the new girl in our class was wearing on the first day of ninth grade, what my boyfriend was wearing when I first met him... I guess my obsession with clothes is legit.

Anyhow, I digress.  I was looking at my broken down, studded booties, and I remembered the time I got rip-roaring drunk on electric lemonades that I made for another one of my best friends and a friend that I had just only met that night.  I ended up going to a basement/dance party at the next door neighbor's house and ran into this kid who had previously wronged me in the worst way.  He grabbed my ass and tried to dance with me, and I was so offended that I told him off and pushed him away.  I was wearing my studded booties at the time.  I ended up breaking a wine glass on the dance floor later that night, had some fugly bitch tell her friends that "someone needs to take that girl's [referencing me] drink away," and later ended up crying on my kitchen floor after eating a microwaved frozen pizza and being tucked into bed by my two friends.  Some might say this was a terrible night... and it probably was.  But in retrospect, it was a glorious night and I wouldn't trade it for anything.  My booties from that night made me feel like a sexy bitch, even if I was acting the sloppy fool.  haha... and for that reason, I won't part with them anytime soon.

I am now the proud owner of some sick Jeffrey Campbell Lita's (yes, I finally gave in and bought them for myself- hey, we all deserve nice things sometimes).  They make my legs look extra long and make me feel like one bad ass, sexy mofo when I wear them.  I think they are my new faves and I can't wait to break them in.

Shoes:  The busted up studded booties sit on the top.  Then we have my favorite pair of two-tone heels on the far right, a present from my sister- they tore my feet apart when I wore them for a class presentation at FIT, but have since redeemed themselves as I was wore them to many a fabulous party, including 'Cliff Warming' when I told the guy I was seeing that someone fed me Valium and he needed to come over straight away... he did.   Then there are the shoes I wore to my sister's wedding which happen to be the same shoes that I wore when I was dared to run down the street in my underwear, the boots I wore to paint almost every set when I was at school, the sandals I loved for two years running, and various others... including the thigh-high, suede steve madden's that I was wearing one particularly fateful night in march 2.5 years ago when all hell broke lose.  Good times.

I'm confidant that I will find a job soon.  If not there is always stripping (JK, obviously).  I should have enough money to live comfortably for a while if (God forbid) I don't find a job right away.  I'm trying not to let that happen though.  It's called my 'savings' for a reason.