The morning after...

It’s time for the walk of shame.

Slowly my eyes open to let in some light. I know something’s different—the feeling in the pit of my stomach signals something is amiss. I swing my legs around, rubbing my eyes and willing my mind to recall last night’s horrors. What could I have done to warrant this barrage of shame?

And then I remember.

I glance down at my bed. There he is. Asleep.

Crap.

I reach over and pick up his thin frame. He’s cold. It’s a 180-degree change from last night. We were up all night. And he was burning me up…

“Clive—wake up,” I command. Nothing. Frantically, I punch his buttons. “Wake up!”

Finally the little apple lights up and the Macintosh song begins—usually something I love to hear. Now something I just want to shut up.

I open my Internet browser—nervously hit my facebook short cut and wait for the inevitable. I can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe I actually did it. Did I really do it?

And there it is. The most awkward facebook message I have ever received. The fruit of my folly. The consequence of my self-perceived invincibility. Why, oh, why did I feel the need to face my past like this?

The message: “Hi…um…I think I remember you…didn’t you follow me into the men’s bathroom once? You were so weird!”

Why I felt compelled to facebook friend my middle school crush I will never know. Maybe I wanted him to know that while he was flipping burgers—I was in NYC. And while he was probably still the cutest boy on the planet—I wasn’t too bad myself. And after years of following him (sometimes into the men’s restroom) I was now a sophisticated woman who didn’t need to follow anyone, anywhere. Well…not usually anyway.

I hate facebook. I hate Alfredo. And right now, I hate my laptop, that my college friends affectionately (or not so affectionately) named Clive.

I close my laptop with a bang. I don’t need some creepy restaurant manager wanna-be messing with my already fragile psyche. The last thing I need right now is to relive middle school.
And then I realize I haven’t had my coffee. Something tells me this will be a lot less of an issue with a skinny vanilla latte in my hands. After all—his name is Alfredo. He’s had it rough too. Maybe I should cut him some slack?

A Whole New World

I think I just died and went to heaven.

A very fashionable heaven.

A chat with my mom last night left me with a concept I didn’t even know existed: New York Sample sales.

Me: “Everyone is so stylish here…I have no idea how they do it with the cost of living! It’s so intimidating.”

Mom (who lives in Florida): Well, do you go to the sample sales?

Me: The what sales?

Mom: The sample sales. I read about it in the newspaper. Let me go get it…(rummaging)…oh yes…here it is. Designer clothes for 60-80 percent off. They even have…Chanel.

Me: *Gasp*

Mom: Yes, it’s true. They also have….

But I hear no more. I begin to envision myself walking down the street head to toe in double Cs. It was magical.

Then when I got to work today I looked up “nyc sample sales” in google and a myriad of links yielded breathless wonder after breathless wonder. What have I been missing all my life? How could I live anywhere else after this life changing discovery? Chanel…you are now within my grasp…

Thank God for New York City. Thank God for sample sales. And most of all—thank God for Chanel.

I was randomly talking to a girl on the subway yesterday and she said something to me that took me by surprise.

She said, "Brooklyn is the new Manhattan!"

Really? I thought. Now I don't have excessive experience in Brooklyn, but in the time I have spent there (a week when I first got to New York and few nights here and there hanging out with friends) I have never got that impression. Don't get me wrong. I like Brooklyn. I think it has a character and a laissez-faire attitude not found in Manhattan. People in Brooklyn give off this "I just don't give a shit" aura that people in Manhattan normally just can't pull off. They're wearing too many labels. It's a fun, bohemian experience that is a refreshing respite from the Manhattan bustle and intense energy. That's why I was so taken aback by what I heard in the subway. Why would anyone want Brooklyn to turn into Manhattan? It's great the way it is. I guess the point of this post--don't mess with a good thing. Brooklyn in Brooklyn. Manhattan is Manhattan. And I like it that way.

The funniest thing...EVER

Everyone...if you have cable you HAVE to watch Flipping Out. I'm laughing so hard I can't move right now. It's amazing. I can't...I just don't have words. Watch it. You'll know what I'm talking about.

Bravo--TONIGHT--New episode at 10pm.