Day Thanksgiving: my favorite season begins

Virtual Me - because cyberspace is the only place
I'll ever wear skinny jeans

I love Christmas. I love the carols, the decorations, the parties - I even love the cold and snow. Granted, being from California, I mostly have loved the cold and snow from afar. But I'm convinced it will be wonderful. So now that Thanksgiving is here and the Christmas season has officially begun, I couldn't be happier. I can't wait to go shopping to the sounds of "Jingle Bells" and "White Christmas," bake sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles, and curl up on the couch with hot chocolate and watch "Love, Actually" for the millionth time.

Which sort of segues nicely into the Boy Update.
Boy 1:
You may remember from last week's post that this boy was my assassin. Well, last week at the law school ice-skating trip (Short aside: ice skating in Central Park is so much fun! I was a bit disappointed though because forecasted snow never materialized. Oh well.) who should I run into but Boy#1. Had a lot of fun ice skating with him and my friend- let's call her Boy Crazy. Then we all hopped into a cab and went to this law/business/journalism school mixer. Yay! We talked for a while, sparks weren't exactly flying but I think it went well. (Another aside: I also made friends with a cute boy from the business school and an educational rap producer. Neither of whom ever called me.)
And this is the part where it truly gets Junior High School: a couple of days later, I talk to Boy Crazy, and turns out she's been trading messages back and forth with Boy 1!! Now, to be fair, I didn't ever come out and say. "I like this one, hands off!" But I thought it was obvious. It's ok though, frankly I'm cuter.

Boy 2:
Boy 2 is from California (as is Boy 1, actually,) and I invited him to our NYE party. Lest you think this sounds romatic/exciting, let me recreate our conversation:

Me: So what are you doing over break?
Boy 2: You know, relaxing, reading. I was thinking of going off into the Sierras.
Me: Like, Into the Wild style?
Boy 2: Sort of. And maybe to Tahoe. Are you going back to the Bay Area?
Me: Yeah. My friends and I are having a New Year's party. We're getting a hotel room. I gotta figure out what to wear.
Boy 2: Oh, so I'm not invited?
Me: But I thought you just said you'd be be up in the wilderness? Otherwise I would have invited you. You should come.

Yeah.

Meditation for Yuppies
In my attempt to stay sane and relatively stress-free, I've been trying to find a weekly meditation group. I had started going to the Zen Center when I was in San Francisco, and meditating somewhat regularly, and especially with all the high-strung Type As running around the law school, I thought I could really use it here. Except that the first place I went to turned out to have cancelled their service. And the second place I went to had a service, but it was in Amharic. Awkward.

Well, I finally found an ashram down in Chelsea that had a service, in English, and hadn't closed down. The branch of buddhism they pratice, Shambala, sounded really interesting- it's all about trying to pratice Buddhist principles while living out in the world.

I knew something was wrong though when I saw the teacher's bio, and it said he currently worked on Wall Street. Now, most Buddhist teachers are monks or people who have at least devoted some portion of their lives to intensive study. It'd be like having a priest who practiced corporate law on the side. And most of the people there were clearly yuppie Wall Street types - who the fuck wears Dolce and Gabbana to meditation? And they were all very Type A, asking lots of questions and even taking notes. People, it's meditation, not business school, you can't ace an exam to reach Enlightenment. Although I did really enjoy it, up until the question and answer period. And as much as I hate meditating with yuppies, i did see some cute boys in suits. And I love boys in suits.

Special Edition Post for Men: Are you a douchebag?

PLEASE HELP US WITH OUR STUDY

We are in the process of conducting a highly scientific study to determine the National Percentile of American Male Douchebags.

If you are not a douchebag, this is also your opportunity to enter your information into the National Registry of Datable Men.

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=2zam_2biDjeg_2fl2D4CoIEF8A_3d_3d

Thank you for your help.

Day 49: This continues to be just like high school

So I've got a crush on a boy. Two boys, actually.

Boy #1
The first boy asked me to have coffee with him so he could kill me. Ok not really, it was for a game we're playing called Assassins. I'm a little bitter. But he's cute. We've been exchanging messages via Facebook. Maybe he'll aske me to coffee again. But pay this time. I'd have sex with him then.








Boy #2
Boy #2 is my former Law School Crush, who I got over because I realized he's a douchebag, but then I had another moment of clarity wherein I realized he's actually just sensitive and slightly (ok maybe more than slightly) screwed up. And me being me, I am of course totally attracted to this. Also I think we'd have the craziest-looking kids ever. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Because if threre's anything I've learned in the past couple of months, it's that I should never, ever trust my instincts with men. Because I like the screwed-up ones. The ones who will ignore me and tell me they can't handle a relationship, but let's just keep having sex anyway.


Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right? Got that down. Now I've just got to work on Step 2: Not Doing The Stupid Thing.

Speaking of problems, the other day I meant to study, but walked thirty blocks in search of a Starbucks that a)had space and b) didn't look sad and/or shady only to end up in front of Filene's Basement. So I bought a pair of jeans instead. Oops. The week before, I bought a winter coat at Uniqlo. That doesn't count though because it was on sale and only cost $80 - I had expected to spend at least twice that! As a reward for my bargain-hunting skills I bought myself a really warm sweater [dress]. (I put "dress" in brackets because I think it's just supposed to be a really long sweater, but it totally works as a dress.) It's not my fault though, it's the economy - every week some store seems to be having an amazing sale to try and entice poor susceptible souls like myself to buy something. It ought to be illegal. Oooh, maybe it is illegal. I wonder if I can sue...

DAY 48: I'm ready to commit

Dear San Francisco,

I know things have been rough between us lately and it's all my fault; I haven't been around much. I haven't been spending enough time with you, or giving you the attention you need.

But I want you to know, darling, that you're all I think about when I'm away. When I'm in another city, all I can do is compare that city to you, and tell everyone about how much better you are. You don't know how much I've missed you these past three weeks.

So, if I know you're the one for me, why do I keep leaving? I can't explain it. I'm like a rolling stone- but I want you to know that I'm trying to change my ways. I'm sorry that I've been unfaithful, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. And always remember: you're my home; you're the one I come back to; you're the one I want. None of those other cities meant anything to me.

For the forseeable future, my weekends will be all about you: museums, concerts, movies, dance clubs, shooting ranges, happy hours, Circa creme brulee; whatever you have planned, that's what we'll do. You make me feel so good, I can't imagine what life would be like without you.

I promise you, the next time a super-hot male stripper hits on me, it won't be in an airport terminal in Charlotte, North Carolina. It will be in a bar in San Francisco.

San Francisco, I love you.

xoxo

*MJ*

Day 47: Strange Encounters of the Human Kind

Ask a Scientist is completely responsible for making me swoon over the POWER of Osmosis, specifically the forward kind, and for making both S and I remember that although we ogle cute furry animals,shop,dance, and _insert girl activity here___ we still have functioning brains.

Unfortunately while we were getting giddy over the possibly of harnessing the natural elements in urine to block radiation for future life on the moon, while simultaneously filtering it creating a natural power source we moved next to a young scientist named Leaf (names have not been changed to protect the innocent). Although Leaf was not the man of my dreams he did grow up on a goat farm, is inventing a bike would propel you forward using the wind biking creates and oh yeah he's a scientist. So when he asked me for my number I gave it to him - blinded by science/goat farming (I love cheese).

I wish I could say we meet for coffee like he proposed or that I'd called him like a texted I would...butttttt I flaked. Lesson I have already learned, relearned. Just say no initially and don't be a bitch.

Although the scientist, with justification, probably thinks I'm mean a guy named Thomas (*real name) had no justification thinking this about me and successfully engaged me in the strangest conversation(s) I've ever had with a non-homeless person. Thomas approached me an excellent,fun, dancing included hat-themed house party on Saturday after the tall, dark and handsome guy I was talking to left for the bathroom.

A word of word recollection of the conversation is completely impossible thanks to the generosity of the hosts of the party, but I defiantly recall his approach. As I'm standing around waiting contemplating finding my friends curly haired, kind of geeky Thomas rolls up and states that if he were as tall and handsome as the guy I'd been talking to I'd be talking to him instead. However, since he wasn't I wouldn't talk to him even though he was a nice guy. Whooaaaa.

I was insulted but found it assuming and told him he was probably correct and I commended him for his honesty. It's hard to damped your mood after you've been given a rose and hand out the petals to confused party goers. Anyway, he chats away about his inferiority's, tells me he's never actually dated anyone and then calls me out of looking over my shoulder for the mystery man. This "nice guy" tells me I'd probably rather be hanging out with other guy and I leave.

Downstairs I find my friends, more booze and the mystery man. Excellent until Thomas comes up to me, interrupts my conversation and starts asking me if I'm happier now that I'm talking to the handsome guy again, what's so wrong with him etc and gives me his business card. He does this while I'm politely telling him he's crossed the line, our conversation is over and he needs to leave. Lesson learned, eloquently put by a friend, "Guys that say they're nice guys are always ass-holes."

The rest of the night was spent flirting, dancing, and lip locking with tall, dark and handsome and breaking my roommates plumed, roman helmet (it's back in the fireplace and you can't tell). Before leaving, t.d.h. asked me if I'd like to go home with him tonight or have him call me later. Drummmmm Rollllll Pleaseeeeee, I said I'd prefer to have him call me later (aka refused a boy I would have actually liked to hang out with). This is officially the nicest way anyone has ever asked me to leave with them, but apparently it's niceness makes it ineffective? Lesson learned: refusing the offer does not equal a phone call, but that means I probably won't have gotten one if I'd accepted. (Please note: I smelt this no call karma coming from a mile away.)

I have switched from being proud of myself to thinking opportunity for fun lost and convincing myself that if I'd gone home with him I'd have gotten mugged, unknowingly filmed, an std or something of that nature. It's still progress on the being responsible front.

DAY 44: I'm ready to jump

Thanks Maddona!!! This song always lights a fire under my tush!!!

Your 20s are definitely hard. Its the time when you have to grow up, have responsibilities and figure shit out. That's a lot to handle. Back in college everything was already laid out for you. Things were somewhat, for the most part, figured out. Go to class, eat, sleep, party, homework, graduate, apply to grad school. The trip was pretty much googled mapped for you. Then you graduate college, then grad school (law school for me) then you step out into the real world. You realize: "Fuck I am gonna have to do what I just learned for the rest of my life." Then you get sad because you really don't wanna do it. If you're like me, you took the sensible route and opted for degrees that would for sure make money, but would not necessarily make you happy. So you grow some ballz and say "you know what, I am not going to be a lawyer." Then your students loans come in and you start freaking out and realize that if you don't become a lawyer you might be fucked financially for a long time. That's no fun either. You're 20 something you are suppose to be having fun. So for about 2 years I bumbled around, scared to jump from the sensible to what I love. Having always taken the sensible route I didn't really take time to discover what I love. I didn't really have a passion. Something I would do anything for, move anywhere for. Don't fret my pets, there is a light at the end of this tunnel.

So the company I worked for laid off shit tons of people. I was one of the lucky few. Very thankful at this moment to still have a job. I am sure my school loan companies are too. At the time of the layoffs I was really sad for my friends that left, happy to still be there, but sad that others in my department were moving on to something bigger, better and that they wanted to do; something they might even have a passion for. I was still stuck tagging shit. Still there is a light at the end of this tunnel.

First came Science, thank you W for taking me to Science cafe. You reminded me that my brain is not mush, there is a reason why I passed the bar the first time and didn't do too shabby in law school; I still have a brain!!!! That was like my little flashlight.

Then came the news that there might possibly be a TV show related to Fashion/ Style at some point, or an opportunity to be some sort of community liaison for style, and my co-worker - who we will call T who really stuck up for me and pushed me and told me if I want it go for it, and prove it!! Um this would most definitely be the really great lighting in the bathroom at ____ movie theater (to be filled in when I can remember the name).

Next came Yves Saint Laurent cocktail party at the de Young museum. At first it was a snooty crowd - really rich wearing diamond badly dressed but wearing really expensive clothes - and I wanted to go home. Then the tour of the exhibit, and I knew I was home. I didn't care if some of the stuff I would never wear, but I loved it all. I could appreciate it all. The hard work, the artistry, the visions. Seeing how fashion repeated it self, the quality of work. YSL = AWESOME!! The only bad part was that I couldn't touch everything / anything. Definitely an exhibit I want to go see again. Then I met a stylist. Which really in and of itself is not that "woo hoo ish." However, because she does what she loves here in SF and she was willing / is willing to talk to me and connect me with others, it is "woo hoo." "So like you mean I could totally like do fashion and TV together, and I totally might could do them both or fashion by itself here ? Like um saweet!!"

So I'm ready jump. It's gonna be a big jump though. I found my passion. Now I have to go for it. Figure out how to get to where I want to be. Also realize that it might take awhile - it took me 2 years alone to figure it out. I have kinda accepted the fact that I am a bit of a late bloomer. The first big step - I am not renewing my license this year - yep going inactive. I don't need a fall back, I am going to succeed and save $400 (for not paying my license dues) cuz I am gonna need it!! I would move anywhere, go anywhere for the opportunity, just for the chance to see what I could really do. They say 27 is gonna be a big year - well my roommate does at least. 27 - 33 your life apparently changes. I hope so, and for the better.

xoxo * S

Day 43: The secret to inner peace

I realized today that, for the first time possibly since I was 13 or so, I'm truly and completely single. Not single in a "I'm not dating anyone but there's this guy I hook up with" kind of way. No "It's complicated" on my Facebook page. I don't even really have a crush on anyone. And, you know, it's pretty darn cool. Boys take up so much time. And even when they're not physically taking up your time, they're making you so sad/angry/anxious that they haven't called that you can't really get anything done.

Now though, the possibilities are endless. I can study really hard, get good grades, and get an amazing government job after graduation (because now that Obama's in office, I'm actually considering working for the goverment!) Or I can not study and go out instead - and since I'm not worried about trying to flirt with/impress anyone, I can flirt with anyone I want! Or not and just dance and have a good time. Of course what I've actually been doing is planning vacations I probably won't end up taking, and shopping. And sipping wine. (For some reason I thought I'd save money by buying a giant magnum-sized bottle of wine instead of a regular one. At the time I must've been contemplating becoming an alcoholic because that is a lot of fucking wine. Not to mention my juice-box wine...)

(These aren't my feet. But they could be. Except for the fugly shoes. And my feet are like four shades darker. Point is, my feet = BIG)

Oh, on the non-boy-related front, I have a new nephew!! I am a reeally bad aunt though because I forgot my sister-in-law was scheduled to have him, and only found out he had been born when I called to apologize to my sister for the birthday card that got returned for lack of postage. Hopefully she won't share this with the family. That brings the grand total to 4: 2 nephews, 2 nieces. And still another sister who's dying to start popping out babies. Which means I can live out my life's dream of being a godless, childless whore who lives a fabulous life in the big city. Because really the only thing stopping me is that I actually really like children, but now I can have them around without ruining my figure or feet. (You know about the feet-growing-during pregnancy thing, right? For someone who's already got size 10.5 - 11 feet, this is a serious concern.)

DAY 42: Written a day late because I'm so busy and fabulous

ONE DATE A WEEK, NEW ORLEANS STYLE

So, us girls decided toward the end of October, on the heels of our self-imposed, ridiculously difficult and mildly successful man sabbatical, that what needed to follow was something nearly opposite. No, not a free-for-all-orgy, but a commitment to one date a week.

I wasted no time. On November 1st, while walking back to my hotel in New Orleans after enjoying free mixed drinks and some really amazing artwork at the P1 opening night, a random dude started a conversation with me on the street. Since I was drunk on happiness and rum, I agreed to let him take me out to dinner, even though he was white.

He walked me through the French Quarter to the Marigney District. We ate Lebanese food. He talked about composing music for NPR. He talked about his ex-girlfriend who used to be Madonna's hair dresser and now designs clothing for Chihuahuas. Whether or not he was telling the truth is questionable, but his stories were entertaining. Ibegan to suspect that he was high on cocaine, but everyone around seemed to know his name and, goddamnit it, I was in New Orleans and not about to go back to my hotel room to watch TV if I didn't have to.

We went to a bar where a band was playing music that reminded me of Triplets of Belleville. I was so enchanted by yummy beer and fond cartoon memories that I let him kiss me. We started walking to another bar. He told me another story about rescuing a man from a young hustler who'd been beating the shit out of him. I took a picture of three black kittens on a New Orleans porch. When we arrived at the bar, he excused himself to the restroom.

Just then, a gorgeous young woman caught my attention and told me to be careful. I asked her why. "I know him," she said. "Once, he held me down and threatened to stab me."

At which point I hailed a cab and returned to my hotel room. Strike one for the month-long-date-a-thon.

Incidentally, this is precisely the reason I don't date white men. They're mildly attractive at best, and I only seem to attract the crazy ones.


SOMETIMES IT TAKES A WHILE TO REALIZE THAT YOU'VE LEARNED A LESSON

I'll admit, I came out of the Man Sabbatical thinking that none of us had learned anything (with the exception, possibly, of W, who learned that she should keep her sheets sand-free.) It took me a few days to realize that, perhaps, we really have learned some valuable lessons after all. Evidence:

1) Since the beginning of the month, I have had several conversations with P, in which 50% or more of the conversation is non-boy related.

2) P finally stood up to The Boy and told him exactly what she thought.

3) Tonight, on my list of things to-do, is cleaning up the phone numbers in my cell. On the list to remove: random club boys, former hook-ups and exes.

4) Last night, when I should have been writing my blog, I was on the phone with W, who told me that she's beginning to lose interest in one night stands.

5) S, W and myself are becoming more serious about non-boy related culture. Earlier this week, we purchased season tickets to the ballet.

6) All of us have expressed the sentiment that this whole "one date a week" thing sounds like it would take entirely too much effort, and would in fact, take away from more fun things we could be doing (like beer at SFMOMA, ladies' night at the shooting range, or retail therapy).

7) When I was at Disneyland, a celebrity kissed me and I didn't even give him my number, since I knew he had a girlfriend already. (What up, Minnie?)

*MJ*

DAy 37: Stimulating the Economy

So I can no longer stimulate the economy alone. Maybe Obama will help with that. Therefore, this week has been a little low key, I suspect the weekend will be pretty much more of the same, minus some fun interludes with the ladies. Quite possibly some Burma Superstar. Which I heard was the bomdizzle. I think I am a bit shopped out, partied out. Recovering from the craziness that was last week. Its my hibernating phase, or my broke ass phase. Waiting for my last purchase of the week to come in the mail. Then I think I am grounded from shopping till I find something else I like and must buy.

That's pretty much it. If something incredible happens between now and later I will most definitely update. In the meantime listen to the sweet song I posted :) Thank co-worker (N) for that!

xoxo * S

Day 36: There's a new man in my life

So to echo what MJ said, OMG! I am so excited for President Obama!!!! I spent the last five days campaigning down in Virginia and it was the greatest experience possibly of my life. I've decided that Obama is the only man I need.

But to recap the last moments of Man Sabbatical Month:
Late last week: Rejection. I think?
I talked to The Boy and basically told him that either we have something like a normal relationship or we just stop this whole "we're just friends except not really" thing. And he told me he couldn't give me an answer. Which I decided was my answer. But that was ok, because I went shopping and bought an awesome Theory suit. Someone told me it made me look like one of Charlie's Angels. So that made it better.

Thursday night: Halloween Party
I won't tell you what I went as because it's only funny to law students (and not even realy then) but it involved wearing a slip. and hot silver heels. Best part was that the Boy with Shampoo Commerical Hair and I decided at some point while pre-partying that he should go as White Guilt, and I should carry around a cane to beat him periodically.

Friday thru Wed. morning: Volunteering in VA and the most awesome Election Day ever!!!
I can't even explain how amazing this experience was. I have never been happier to stand out in the rain for 14 hours. Ask me and I'll tell you stories, but there were so many amazing people - grandmothers, immigrant families, thugs in low-riders, the woman who just had her leg amputated - that I met who turned out to vote. Also, we now have the most attractive President and First Lady - suck it, France!!

Wed. Afternoon - Now: This Place Sucks
I'm currently alternating between post-election high and hating law school and 90% of the people here. This place really does suck your soul away if you let it. We pulled up Wed. afternoon in our van covered with Obama signs, honking and cheering, and everyone just stared. And I've really noticed how sad and stressed and uptight most people here are. All anyone talks about is whether or not they'll be able to get a firm job and make a pile of money this summer. But I'm not going to let it break me down!!! And that goes double for boys - I'm not going to let them make me feel bad about myself or neglect the important things in life. Like friends, shopping, and planning my winter vacation!!!

Oh and I just checked my email and The Boy wants to talk. But you know what? I'm already over it. In fact, I just might say I'm not sure we have anything to talk about...

DAY 35: THE GREATEST DAY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD

DUE TO THE GREATEST EVENT THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED IN MY LIFETIME, THIS BLOG WILL BE UPDATED A DAY LATE.

THANK YOU, AMERICA, FOR RESTORING MY FAITH IN YOU.

Day 34: Civic Duties are such a distraction

Last night I had the best intentions of writing my reflection blog on the past month, however local propositions A – V and state propositions 1A – 12 got in my way. Reading ballot measures is about as much fun as reading do-it yourself assembly guides.

They guided right to sleep in the living room as I tried to quell my nervousness with the Presidential special SNL (it didn't help, but some vino did). I’m still nervous/distracted/pessimistic. Case in point: I just put my breakfast on the stove and left it to go take a shower.

Mid –shower I remembered I was “cooking” and ran out to find smoking oatmeal. Luckily my roommate had turned the stove off and written a note “Big Flame = burning breakfast.

I’m off to vote and then after work dilute my fears with MJ. EKKKKK

NOVEMBER CHALLENGE

So, we've decided to present ourselves with a new challenge every month. Following the (mildly) successful man sabbatical (we tried and that's what counts!), we've decided we need to do something sort of opposite. No, not sleep with every man we meet on the subway (there's too many ugly ones)- but something terrifying nonetheless.

For the month of November, we are challenged to ask a boy out every week. Well, not quite ask them out, they should do the asking, we are presenting them with a fabulous opportunity :)

Scary.

Wish us luck!

Day 31 (sort of) and then some

So this was a pretty crazy, busy week. It was also sooo much fun, culminating in the event of a life time!!




SALSA TUESDAY!!

Salsa Tuesday was fun. Co-worker and friend (we will call N) finally came out!! We met at new friend Fernando, who became our personal private teacher for salsa and all of our facebook friends. I have decided that we all need to become salsa masters. You never know when you are going to end of at a Mos Def concert, listening to the opening bands, and really needing to salsa. It will come in handy!!


FRIDAY HALLOWEEN

Okay so we didn't get in to L's (that's what we will call her) exclusive Halloween party at 330 Rich. Which is fine. We ended up at Le Colonial which was great (and cheaper than 330 Rich's $60 cover) !! Okay, so there weren't that many cute boys with which to properly break the man sabbatical, but the music was awesome, the cover was fairly cheap and I was with my ladies who were looking flyass. We went as a sexy Sharpie, paperclips and paper. I must say interactive costumes are awesome, and a must from now on on Halloween. I had the greatest excuse to touch up on mens, I was a sharpie I had to draw on them because that is what sharpies do. There were a lot of men that woke up the next morning with hearts drawn on them in various places. I would like to thank a certain paper clip for meeting a frier and getting me a drink. YAY free drinks. YAY 7 and 7s.

I managed to get my butt groped by Gilligan, and someone wearing a Wild Thing / Vaughn costume. You know who you are. I danced with a hairy Uncle Sam (who was Canadian - I never knew). I sexy danced with a Mambo dancer who was Indian but was speaking to me in Spanish, and whom I had my first drunken "I don't know you" kiss on the dance floor. Then he bought me a free water and asked where my friends were and if we could find them - apparently that first kiss was not so great :) He also wasn't THAT cute. Had my next sexy dance and kiss on the dance floor with a Colonial man. That one sucked for me (I think I prefer men with lips) but not that bad I guess because we did it again. Then a very sexy paper clip pulled me away - THANK YOU - apparently I was wearing my beer goggles.

.... and the Shenanigans continued ...

Thinking it was a Lincoln town car driver (professionals driver) but it was not , paper clip and I got in to a car - that was not a Lincoln town car - with some random doods. I threatened to kill them with my umbrella if they tried anything (probably knowing that one probably should not get into cars with strange men). Not too long into the scary drive home the driver and his passenger began arguing about how they should/not make a move on us. Prompting me to ask them to let us out of the car some place in Russian hill, where we came upon a really nice cow, with a very delicious hot dog. This cow was so nice he let me have a bite of his hot dog, offered to call us a cab, and pull on his tit. I love cows. Then three, I think, cute guys pulled up in a Hybrid ( people who drive hybrids are safe and I think it's okay to get in their cars, especially if they are cute). Some how, not sure how it happened they offered us a ride. SAWEET. Hearing that one of the guys had an accent I preceded to do show off my British accent ( thinking he was British). However, he was Australian and imitating British accents to an Australian apparently is offensive, but not that offensive because he still asked for my number. Hope he calls :) They asked us a few times to go to a party with them, but paper clip and I were tired from our Halloween Shenanigans, so they dropped us off SAFELY at home where we crawled in to bed for a short nights sleep - I had to get up the next morning to head to NAPA.

WEDDING DAY SATURDAY

Very cute. My old roomie (J) and his fiance got married. They are by far t he cutest couple ever. It was a Jewishesque wedding. Though there was no Rabbi. My roomies' best friend married them, his brother and another friend did the Jewish blessings. The bride looked radiant. Very small, very cute. The guests were all older white people in their late 30s or 4os. We (me and my guest /friend / DA ) sat at the "singles" table - aka the table with the only 3 single men in the room. One of which I thought had cancer because he was so frail and pale. The other had an earring - white guys with earrings so 90s, so not cute. He wasn't bad looking, he was just kinda boring and lame. The other single guy was gay. He was fabulous. Well he would have been but for him thinking that Meredith and Cristina, on Greys Anatomy, were hot. Um no! Yet again, me and DA were the lesbians at the wedding. We always are. NO on Prop 8! Slow dancing on the floor together, making up dances, cuz we are kinda lame and didn't really socialize with all the old people at the wedding. Kinda tried to dance with the white dood with the earring but he couldn't really dance - white man's over bite city. DA and I were probably the youngest and most "colorful" people there, and the only pole dancers - that's how J introduced us. "These are my old roommates - they are pole dancers." Thanks J for the sweet intro!!

MADONNA

Hell yes. It was by far the coolest concert ever in the history of time, and I got to share it with my BFF. WOOP WOOP. No one opened for her. She was so entertaining. Now I truly understand why she is an icon. Could not take my eyes of the stage. Yeah the tickets were pricey but soooo worth it. She sang live - which was awesome. She sang oldies but goodies, new stuff mashed with old stuff, latin stuff, her song from the musical she did (Eva?), danced on a piano, booty shaking, cussing, Obama campaigning, called us bitches and muther fuckers, rocked out on her guitar. I so did not want it to end. She played for almost two hours. OMG. Entertaining from top to bottom. I would have gladly paid shit tons for closer seats. I have to see Madonna again. WOOO!!

Okay so that's my weekend.

xoxo -
*S

Day 30: So exactly how much does it cost to buy happiness?

So I got rejected. Which sucks. But, the upside is, heartbreak is a wonderful excuse to shop, vacation and just generally spend money like it's going out of style. And it totally works. Money does in fact buy happiness!

I bought:
Theory suit

It cost:
$250 (good deal, right?)

It made me feel:
happy-ish. Suit is kind of a boring item but necessary. And it is totally a hot lawyer suit (I already have a hot secretary dress, now I need like a hot boss outfit.) And it was like 60% cheaper than if I bought it in Neiman Marcus or some place.


I bought:
Cute Tahari sweater with patent leather belt

It cost:
$70

It made me feel:
Happy! And since it came with a belt it's kind of like I got two items for the price of one.

See how easy that was? I would have bought more but had to come back so I can go get free margaritas and then head off to a Halloween party. Tonight I plan to buy online: black pumps, J Crew coat, and possibly a plane ticket to somewhere cool for winter break. Oh and I need a sweater dress. Combined with the other major source of happiness, alcohol, I think this just might be the happiest day ever :).

Day 29: Love Your Bat Boy, Touch Your Bat Boy

So as our one month man sabbatical slowly draws to an end, a certain colorful BART ride over the weekend reminded W and I why we originally thought sabbatical was necessary for our lives. Friday night began amazingly. W and I headed out to the East Bay to visit MJ and see Bat Boy: The Musical, which comes highly recommended by all parties involved. I'm serious; it's hilarious, touching, sarcastic, strange, quirky, and a musical... what more could you ask for in a $20 evening?! So anyway, Bat Boy ends, and W and I realize that we've gotta motor if we're gonna make it back to the big, bad city before the last train strands us in the East Bay. So we pop by the BART station, run up to the platform, discuss how W just worked out more in climbing those stairs than she has in the past year, and laugh about Bat Boy while waiting for our train. As the train approaches, the driver leans her head out the window and stares W and I down for a few seconds. She then very deliberately tells us how to get on the train, all while seeming to think "These girls clearly do not belong here." W and I were confused, but whatever, we're smart city girls... we can handle the BART.

So a few giggling minutes pass and suddenly we hear "Next stop, Hayward Station," and W and I pause, look at one another, and think, "Oh shit... we are so headed the wrong way." We can't make it to the doors in time, so we wound up getting off the train in South Hayward, thinking, "OK, we're in the ghetto and we might miss the last train back to the city, but we'll be fine. MJ can always pick us up. South Hayward can't be all that bad." Then the BART driver happens to look out the window and see us laughing our asses off because we were the retards who boarded BART from the wrong platform. She, however, did not see the humor. She craned her head out the window and said. "You girls headed back to the city?!?! Oh no!! The last train's comin'... I'm-a hold it for you!! RUN!!!!!"

W and I were now officially freaked out. We charged the BART station, took the stairs up to the next platform two at a time, and then waited patiently for two minutes before our train arrived. As W and I boarded the correct train, we thought this was going to be a fun evening. We had made plans for a pub crawl from her neighborhood to mine, hitting all the local, cheap dive bars that color that lovely fifteen block walk. But then, as we realized we were now a solid hour, possibly hour and a half from home, the pub crawl was pushed to the back burner. On the train, W and I were desperately examining the map to figure out at which station we needed to transfer, when a seemingly nice guy asked if we were trying to get back to the city. He was too and said we could just follow him. It seemed innocent enough...

So the nice guy, while we were waiting for the transfer train, revealed he was from Long Island, and because of this we'll now call him Larry. Long Island Larry seemed cool in the beginning. W and I were willing to ignore the fact that he was wearing all black, but his clothing was splattered with strange white and grey splotches. We were also willing to ignore his shaved head (complete with ingrown hairs) which proved why white men should never shave their heads. But then he revealed his obsession with weather. He had spent a few weeks in Boston years ago where he was so cold that his "skin felt like it was being peeled off of his face." Also, Larry had been in Boston visiting a girlfriend, his fourth serious girlfriend, and has had three girlfriends since that trip. I don't know about anyone else, but to W and I, revealing information about all of your ex-girlfriends within the first five minutes of meeting two new girls proved to be taking the term "TMI" to epic new levels.

In addition to Long Island Larry, W and I met one of the greasiest and strung out people we've ever encountered. From this point on, we'll call him Chad; he loved the website Cha Cha and had a child. He saw his child three times a year, on Christmas, New Years Eve, and summer. W and I were confused as to how much time "summer" actually encompassed, mostly out of fear for the child, considering Chad revealed that he came out to the Bay Area in August for a week-long visit and simply has not left yet. He was headed into the city by himself to go to a house party on Broadway. It was located 0.82 miles from the BART station at 16th and Mission, and Chad was petitioning hard to either have W and I invite him out with us, or to have us ask to go with him.

Chad entered our lives by bonding with Larry over their mutual love of jazz, which also brought the third and most incredible man of the evening around. Man number three, who broke in to our conversation with the clever line, "You guys said jazz," had a lip ring that looked like he had pierced it himself from a home kit, was wearing a white bandana, and had short, sculpted hair that he used Short, Sexy Hair products to style. He was from Michigan, just like W, so we thought, maybe, we'd have something to talk about. But no, nothing to talk with him about, but he had plenty to say to us. Michigan man, from this point on, will be called Mitch. When W tried to talk about Michigan with Mitch, he very aggressively revealed that there was no highway 64, like she thought, in Michigan; there was a highway 94, on which exit 69 was for Big Beaver Road. (This statement made me realize that, no matter what, before I die, I need to visit Michigan with W.)

Back in August, just like Chad, Mitch got on a plane to Oakland with everything he owned. He decided one day that because he "ain't got no kids and no law troubles," moving across the country was a good idea. But when he landed in Oakland, he went to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror saying, "Get your shit together, get your shit together, get your shit together" for a half an hour. He found a place in Hayward (which he hates) and began working as a roofer where he "makes a G a week," but he's looking to change jobs and eventually "make a G a day." Mitch is trying to save money right now so he can move to Hollywood. He decided he wanted to be an actor "after meeting a cool woman an BART who knew Dr. Phil's head writer," so he and the "cool woman" went to LA together and all did mushrooms for an entire weekend with the writer.

Mitch also revealed that he had bought a bike for $10 after moving here and had even splurged for a lock, but the lock had been broken and the bike was stolen a few weeks ago. He was very sad about his bike. Not having a bike made it harder to go places, such as goth clubs. He asked Larry, Chad, W and I if we knew of any goth clubs in the city, but we were clueless. At this point, Chad and Larry were immersed in jazz conversation, so W and I suggested Yelping "goth clubs" to see what came up, but Mitch scoffed at this idea. His exact quote, said quite egotistically was, "Goth clubs are usually underground, like in people's basements, ya know?" And he couldn't Yelp even if he wanted to because he didn't have a computer and refused to use the library's free internet because he simply didn't like it. Five seconds later, he stood up and moved to the second car without a word, leaving W and I to wonder if Mitch thought there may be a computer somewhere on the train where he could find a possible goth club location.

W and I luckily managed to get off BART without a hitch and without being raped or assaulted by our new friends from the East Bay. Once on our friendly neighborhood N Line, we laughed for approximately ten minutes about the men we had just met, and then went on an epic bar tour of the cheapest drinks in SF (yay $10 for two martinis!!!). See, being on sabbatical had numbed us to the neanderthals that populate our fair city and have a tendency to pollute our lives. But as the month draws to a close, W and I were initially very excited to get back out there and actively meet people once again. However, meeting Mitch, Chad, and Larry reinforced the need for sabbatical in the first place and proved that there are many, many men in the area who are not worth our time.

But W and I have decided, after not so much consulting with our girls, that a month is a long-ass time, and regardless of Mitch, Chad, and Larry proving the dregs of society exist to pester and annoy us in various situations, we need and love men. Two more days ladies, and gentlemen, until we are open to sex in the city once again!!

xoxo

J

Day 28: Breaking the rules causes neurosis.

Observe the phone: my mortal enemy

So, here's the thing. I am having some significant difficulty with this whole "No Men for a Month" thing. Sure, I'm learning valuable lessons about myself, growing as a person, and all that jazz. But by Saturday night, I was over it. I just wanted to find a cute boy and get all up in his business.

Lucky for me, I found one. He was cute. And tall. And sexy. And Filipino. And sober. And friendly. And polite. So OF COURSE I gave him my number. And then, less than 24 hours later, I remembered why I started this man sabbatical in the first place. Let me share with you the pointless, boy crazy neurosis that followed after giving my phone number out to the ultra hot guy:

SUNDAY: In the morning, I spend way too much time discussing with S whether or not he will actually call me. At lunchtime, I spend way too much time discussing with S and W about whether or not he'll call me. On my way home that afternoon, I spend way too much time wondering about whether or not he'll call me. In the evening, I am distracted for several hours while I am at a symphony performance. Following the performance, on my way home, I wonder about whether or not he will call me and decide that he probably won't. It occurs to me that this is exactly the type of situation I was trying to avoid with the Man Sabbatical.

MONDAY: He calls. While I am at work. He does not leave a message. I decide to send him a friendly text message in response. Immediately after I send the text message, I remember that the screen on his phone is jacked up and there is only a 50/50 chance that he actually received the message. I call S in a panic. She suggests that I leave a voicemail on Tuesday. We spend entirely too long discussing whether this would seem like a stalker type move. P calls. She insists that if he does not leave a message, I should not call at all. I remain generally distressed and uncertain about what I should do. It occurs to me again that this is exactly the type of situation I was trying to avoid with the Man Sabbatical.

TUESDAY: I decide to wait until Wednesday to leave another voicemail. At this point, I am completely irritated with myself for this pointless display of neurosis. WTF??? Why do I do this sort of thing? It occurs to me that if I am obsessing this much about a stupid phone call, then it is possible that I have learned nothing at all from the Man Sabbatical.

On to less distressing topics...


I Freakin' Love Salsa.

The dancing kind of salsa, I mean. Consider:

Pros:

As long as you are pretty, men will continue to dance with you, even if you keep stepping on their feet and smacking them in the face with your elbow. And maybe once in a while jabbing them in the eye with your finger or kneeing them in the groin accidentally. It is the perfect dance for a clumsy white girl.

As long as your partner is a good, you'll never look all that bad out on the dance floor.

You don't have to make any decisions.

Cons:

You come home smelling like really cheap cologne.

You might get home too late to update your blog on the day you were actually supposed to update it.

I'd say the pros far outweigh the cons. Verdict: I heart salsa!!!

Also

Circa has the most amazing brule I've ever experienced in my life. It's like an orgasm in your mouth. I want to take it behind the bleachers and get it pregnant.

*MJ*

PS I am too tired to figure out why the font is all jacked up and will fax it at a later, yet to be determined, date.

Day 27: Facebook is the root of all good and evil

I had a glorious weekend filled with culture, fine dining, good friends, drinks and dancing. This has also carried on into today and right now I have a belly full of Burma Superstar (thanks for having a birthday Cara). However, tonight I will be writing about how I have slightly broken man sabbatical again.

Although breaking the sabbatical is now all my fault, I'd like to scapegoat facebook. Last week Wednesday the guy who I happened to share my birthday with (see day 13) was once again at my house for pumpkin carving, seed roasting, wine and flirting. As he left we mentioned befriending each other of facebook.This then morphed into a 12 message thread over the past 5 days which included talk of singing pumpkins, genies, beaches, wish granting and mind reading. The mind reading pinnacled in the last message with him writing "But I think it might look a little suspicious if I just randomly show up to your house with a vat of chocolate frosting and a paddle." and me responding with "Anyway chocolate frosting and a paddle always sounds like a good idea until you have to wash the bedding. Maybe it would be less suspicious if you just randomly showed up at my house? But then again maybe not..."

My response has received no response. Leading me to believe that I have embarrassed myself slightly too much by posting this. Perhaps it's for the best as apparently my roommate isn't supposed to find out we've "hung out" or are messaging for reasons I don't understand because I cant ask.

I should have prefaced this posted by saying that I don't enjoy having a crush of any sort and hate that a few facebook message threads even made me think stupid girl thoughts. Like assuming I'd come home to a ridiculous, possibly insulting, but humorous response/message. ::shurg:: Nothing like a little dose of rejection to get that ego in check - a night in the marina might have padded it too much anyway. Time to dream of more soup from Burma Superstar or maybe that I have mad dancing skils - tomorrow is salsa.

Day 24: Things I've learned

"I could really use one of these right now!!" - S

I was talking with MJ on the phone the other day, boy problems, life problems, shopping problems. The usual. She was most definitely dropping some mad knowledge bombs on me. It got me to thinking about something I always tell people / or think about when I learn new stuff, why don't they have a class for this stuff? You know like a Boys 101, or Job 101, or Misc. Relationships 101. I mean that would really help when you step out in to the adult world, so you aren't all, "WTF, what the H-E double hockey sticks is going on, I feel like and idiot, why didn't someone tell me this sooner I promise I would have listened." I kinda wanted to lay out 30 things I think you should know (got the idea from the 30 things you must know/ do/ have from thefrisky.com) before you turn 30 (mostly things I have learned and would like to learn). So here goes:

You should know

1. How to change a tire, pump gas etc.
   
2. Make a fabulous meal for one or two
3. Take care of yourself when you are sick
4. Clean: dust, vacuum, mop, dishes, etc ( I have met people who don't and it's sad)
5. Get drunk or really really buzzed without throwing up (this one can be a struggle - helps to have someone watching your back on this one)
6. That sexy doesn't mean more skin - it's and inside thing - sometimes your favorite pair of jeans and a tank top is "sexy" enough.
7. How to dress for your body type: all trends aren't for everyone
8. How to ay your bills on time
   
9. How to ask for help
10. The difference between Friends and Acquaintances
    
11. That friends = Family too - and ones that you can choose yourself
12. How to say no
13. That whether he calls or doesn't call doesn't change how fabulous you are
14. Guys chase. Women decide. Period.
    
15. If he's not interested, he is not interested aka no means no
    
16. When to let go of all relationships in general but most importantly the romantic ones because they can be the hardest
17. How to enjoy being by yourself
    
18. That no matter what, there is always a reason to smile - so find it!
    
19. That just because everyone is doing it doesn't mean you have to
20. That you being you is fabulous
21. How to ask for help
22. How to give hugs
23. How to bargain shop
24. That sometimes if only the creepy, old, homeless doods are trying to pick you up it's because all the normal cute ones are pussys and too scared to - so man up and let him know your interested - then back off - see rule #14 - thanks MJ
    
25. That if he is interested it doesn't matter what you do, you won't chase him away (with in reason - don't stalk the poor boy) on the other side if he's not interested everything you do is probably the wrong thing - see #14
    
26. How to paint your own toe and fingernails
    
27. How to rock an interview
    
28. How to carve a turkey (who wouldn't like to learn that)
    
29. How to travel alone - like at least to NY or something
    
30. How to love yourself
    

YAY all done. This weekend is sure to be fun. Stuffwhitepeoplelike.com, costumes, tango or classical music, dancing, and my girls!!

xoxo

S*

Day 22 1/2: I fall off the wagon

So technically it's not tomorrow but I'm writing my blog post now because I've had just enough wine tonight to achieve a moment of clarity and still write more or less coherently. Here, with no particular order or sense of reason, are my thoughts for the week:

I managed to break man sabbatical and not even get any sex out of it.
At least S. got some AND it was her birthday. Mine just consisted of a bunch of confusing conversations (and sadly "conversations" includes some Facebook messages.) If that makes no sense, it's because it doesn't make any sense.

On a completely unrelated note...
If you text a boy you've sort of been involved with for a couple of years, and he texts back "who is this, why don't I have your number in my phone?" that's not a good sign, is it?

I have an Obama action figure.
Seriously. It's pretty badass. I bought him what I think was a hipster Obama fundraising party in an art gallery in the Village on Friday night. Besides selling regular action figures, they auctioned off action figures that had been modified by artists. I wanted to get the Obama on a cross but it was really racist the way they painted him white. Also, that one was $300.

On the plus side, I haven't had sex with anyone.
I am so getting good at this having guy friends thing. I don't even want to have sex with any of the men I know in NYC anymore. Ok well except maybe one or two. But I haven't actually done it. I haven't done laundry in three weeks because I can just wear granny panties when I run out of clean decent-looking underwear. It's great.

On the minus side, did I mention I am having zero sex?

Day 22: Sleepless nights are never fun

So I came home from work Monday night excited to have a little bit of my homemade guacamole and watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia before heading to bed. I had plans for Tuesday: laundry, vote early, work out, eat lunch, and get ready for work. This may not sound like a lot to get done in one morning, but the time flies and I wanted to leave early for work because the damn train kept me delayed for almost half an hour Monday afternoon, making me late. But I digress. Monday night was shaping up quite nicely for about fifteen minutes. I was watching my show and drinking some water, contemplating a nice glass of wine, when all of a sudden I heard the cab.

You see, my roommate (let's call him B) has a lady friend (let's call her L) who he has been hanging out with for a few weeks. Now I love B and I like L, but I knew when I heard the cab on Monday that my night was about to take quite a drastic turn. After almost breaking his key to unlock our door, B & L stumbled into our apartment and L proclaimed that we all needed to drink a glass of wine. This seemed an odd request because I was trying to think of a way to gracefully exit the situation, but she tackled me in my kitchen and declared that no, I was not going to bed, we were all having wine. Being the only one sober enough to operate our wine key, I thought, "Well maybe if I drink a huge glass of red, it will put me to sleep." Oh if only.

B, L, and I hung out for a while, laughing and drinking, and then L swayed just a little to far to the left, dumping half the glass of red on the couch. At this point, I officially knew I was in for a loooooooooooooooong night. B and I tried to get the stain out, more me than B as he was trying to comfort L as well and I was thinking "Why the fuck did I drink all of my sparkling water on Saturday night?" After I did what I could with the stain, I decided to go to bed. I thought, maybe, they would hang out for a while and give me a grace period to actually fall asleep, but alas, I was mistaken.

Five minutes after I closed my door, I heard B's door close and L's giggle and the evening was off and running my friends. We've all experienced the next few hours that I'm about to describe: you, alone in your room, and your roommate on the other side of the wall having crazy fun sex while you lay awake in a combination of envy and anger. This has happened before (with a certain blogger who shall remain nameless). But on this particular evening, I was not drunk as well and thus not able to rely on a drunken coma to ease the pain, and I learned a few things about L that I simply did not need to know.

I don't know if anyone else out there has ever lived with a guy in a completely platonic, but super close relationship. If you have, you may be aware of the fact that guys like to talk. They share details. They have "bro moments" even when you're not technically a bro. So there were things about L that I was prepped for going in to the evening. But hearing about the ways L likes to come is one thing. Being able to imitate the patterns of her moaning is quite another.

After a few minutes of trying in vain to watch Gilmore Girls and sleep, L kicked in to high gear. I lay there, stuffing pillows over my head, turning over, meditating in vain, and then was jolted out of whatever zen state I was trying to achieve by what sounded like a crate full of cinderblocks being dropped on B's bed frame. One thought ran through my head at the crash: "I'm so not going in there, but God I hope L is okay." A few minutes later, L eased my worries with a few quick moans and a crazy scream. So let's all be grateful that L only missed the bed and cracked her skull on its side, but no worries, she was up and ready for action just a few short minutes later.

So about an hour and a half goes by, slapping and moaning acting as the soundtrack to my life, when snack time arrives. As I realize I can no longer put off the fact that my bladder is about to explode, I hear the microwave ding and B say, "I think I just broke the salad spinner." Trying to sneak back into my room after finally using the bathroom, L calls my name and wants to hang out for a bit. She asks if B can be trusted. Did he really just whip together the bruschetta and caeser salad she is eating? Did he truly grind the anchovies to make the paste to put in the dressing? As a good bro, I of course corroborate his story and assure L that yes, B can be trusted. Snack time proved a bit difficult for L as she kept dropping salad on her shirt and asking over and over again if B was a con man. Eventually, I was able to gracefully bow out of the situation and go back to bed.

Around 3:45, B and L were having giggle time in bed, and I took full advantage. I conjured every meditative technique I learned during yoga and acupuncture and fell asleep before round two kicked in to action. Yes, there are flashes through the rest of the night, but I did actually get to sleep for a few hours. That is, until 6:30 when I was woken up with one thought running through my head: Again?

So my friends, the moral of this very long story is that, while having that night is never fun, it's especially not fun during week three of a man sabbatical. Oh and B... you owe me something very pretty my love.

Day 21: I'm wearing matching underwear and it doesn't matter

...since no one except for me is going to see said underwear. Except for maybe my rats. Which is depressing. So let's move on to the next topic, shall we?

Two simple ways to avoid having sex

Rule 1) Remain in an upbeat mood, despite the self-imposed challenge you have set up.

Rule 2) Don't spend time with anyone you would seriously consider having sex with.

I think these are fairly simple, easy to follow guidelines. And you don't even really need to follow both; as long as you've got one of those rules down, you're set! Unfortunately, I completely failed Rule 1 this weekend by switching over to a new birth control pill which turned me, temporarily, into a raging hormonal bitch/sobbing hormonal lunatic. *Insider's tip: If you ever want to commit murder, get a perscription for Lybrel first. If you are taking Lybrel when you commit the murder, this should work as an air-tight temporary insanity defense.

Thank God for me, I am still capable of following Rule 2. Unfortunately, following Rule 2 has had a bit of an impact on my social life. Let's review what my last 5 days have looked like:

FRIDAY: Go to work. Movie with dad.*

SATURDAY: Sleep in really late. Get lunch down the street with friends. Run errands. Sleep. Call up dad late at night sobbing about the divorce papers I received in the mail last week, until my father drives out to my apartment, picks me up, takes me back to his house and watches movies with me until 1 am.

SUNDAY: Go to pet store with mom and play with pugs. Sleep a lot. Cancel movie plans with male friend (see Rule 2)**. Write. Sleep some more.

MONDAY: Go to work. Go to Jazz/Blues benefit concert at Yoshi's for Oakland Youth Chorus.*** Write.

TUESDAY: Go to work. Movie with dad. Write.

*I loved this movie almost as much as the book. Everyone has to go see it.
**I still have to see this movie because Takishi Miike is a genius 60% of the time.
***I still don't like blues or jazz. The fact that I sat through the concert anyway makes the act even more philanthropic on my part, I think.

Somehow, that's not quite the way I'd envisioned my weekend. Which is depressing. So let's move on to the next topic, shall we?

The Hit List

The girls and I, for some reason, decided to list the professions of every boy we'd ever slept with. I am not sure whether blow jobs count or not, so I'm going to be conservative and include it on the list. Sometimes it's fun to take a walk down memory lane. Other times, it makes you wonder what the hell you were thinking. Case in point:

Comic book store employee
Welding student (I believe he is now a roadie for heavy metal bands)
Fast Food Employee
Title Insurance Manager
Fast Food Employee
Tech Support
Environmental Lawyer
Student/Aspiring amateur kickboxer

Something is clearly amiss when fast food workers outnumber lawyers 2:1. And yes, the number of guys I've slept with is still in the single digits. Bet none of y'all were expecting that.

Closing advice

Be careful when you switch your birth control.

Go see Choke.

Jazz is not very entertaining.

When making decisions about who to sleep with, always err on the side of sleeping with the person who has the better profession. Because you might need to make a list later, and you don't want to be revealed as the loser who keeps having sex with fast food employees.

*MJ*

Day Twenty: In with the Young and Hip

Mos Def - 30 minutes to an anticlimax

Although I had been looking forward to getting hyped up on Red Bull and watching people eat pavement at the soap box races Saturday, I could not pass up a free Mos Def concert in Golden Gate Park. I found out that the reason I was excited for the concert was not because I cannot resist free things, but because I'm white.

Side Note: I have been putting off going to stuffwhitepeoplelike.com for fear that I would truly like everything on the list. My fear was completely founded ::sigh::

The concert format was as follows: good - good - bad - worse - terrible - bad - great and finally unexpectedly over.

Let's focus on a little positive first. It should also be mentioned that the first 2 acts very good and made both S and myself upset that we did not become expert salsa dancers after DAY SEVEN. The Inner Sunset was also actually sunny and we got front row bench seats next to high schoolers that told us we were pretty.

Our high school bench neighbors were young and hip because, as we would learn though out the day, they followed several cutting edge trends: skinny jeans, grunge lite, trendy tennis shoes or boots and intoxication. Throughout the afternoon the high schoolers held it together well and none of them were falling over, out of their minds. Another sign that they are young and hip - they know their limits because they've been partying since they were 9.

I was most jealous of their carefree intoxication during the "local acts" segment of the concert. The act referenced above as terrible was an women in her mid 40's (automatically not young or hip) who "knows everyone in the bay area music scene". She could not sing or dance, but did both. The dancing consisted of her shaking various appendages, independently of each other, to the "beat". We quickly turned from being amusing to feeling genuinely embarrassed. At least I know how people feel when they go dancing with me.

After this spectacle, there was another act and finally the moment everyone had been waiting for....Mos Def. Mos Def was everything an entertainer should be and did not let a little thing like falling off the stage interrupt his performance.

Performance challenge #2 proved too difficult for Mos Def to overcome. About 4 songs into his set, he started rapping quieter and everyone quieted down in anticipation of a frenzy inducing crescendo. Except that never happened and instead a park ranger came onto the stage and had the mic turned completely off. Mos Def's plea for just one more song didn't elicit a response. To his credit he tried to finish the set without a mic, but being outdoors no one could hear him and the concert was free so everyone gave up and headed for the exits.

S and I were disappointed, but we comforted ourselves at the death anniversary dinner party of our friend with much food and wine.

Day 17: Love my girls!!

So I heart my gurls. Yes you guys!! I am kinda having an "I love you bro" moment. I am not even drunk. How lucky am I to have yall in my life. MWA MWA MWA!!!


FRENCH FILMS

So we went to see "Tell No One" last night. I was expecting 3 things. Something really artsy/ profound, french language, and nudity. I got french language and nudity. 2 out of 3 I suppose is not bad. Really, if that movie was in English it would have sucked ballz. However the french language, the sweet bathroom lighting, and my ladies made up for it.

Candy for Dinner

I don't recommend it. It seemed like a good idea at the time, Airheads, Whoppers, Pumpkin seeds, etc. Didn't feel so good this morning. I think my stomach tried to eat itself this morning. It also made for a really hard work out. I have two more airheads left, I plan on eating them today - but not for dinner - to entertain myself while I work the sweet late shift :)


Yah I broke the rules tooo

When I found out that the Italian thought I was too young to date. I decided then to be his friend. Everyone could use an Italian friend right? So I emailed him and asked him where he took his tango lessons. He told me and said "let me know if you decide to go." So in a text message today I did, and I may have invited him to the block party. So my normal state would be - is he gonna come is he gonna text back. Then I thought to myself, "who cares." Not in a mean way but like a whatever way. I like to think of myself as the S train. I have a great group of friends who are incredible people. Each one of them I admire. You would be lucky enough to board the S train and get to meet all these wonderful people. So if I give you a ticket, and you choose not to take it. Your loss, no? Not because your life will be worth less. No, because you don't get to meet all these incredible people (including myself) because you were all weird boy style. Which is a stupid reason not to meet people. Plus the S train only has limited space, we only wanna make room for people who truly deserve a seat:) Anywho, I love my friends!! They make life even more fun than it already is.

Enough of the mush. See yall next Friday :)

S*

Day 16: This is harder than it looks

My true loves

First, the good news.
Absolutely no sex was had by me this week. Not even any making out. Or any flirting even. It was a very PG week. Also I'm like thisclose to fitting into my skinny jeans (which I bought a year ago and have never worn, the tag is still on) and I saw a Daily Show taping and I drank beer and watched debates and read way too many law books and bought some really cute boots online in class the other day while one of the annoying overachiever types was going on about something and discovered a really neat coffee shop up in Harlem that I'm going to make my second home come finals and I'm going to hang out with an old (and crazy) friend from San Francisco this weekend AND there's no chance of me having sex with anyone while doing it because I'm on my period.
(Please excuse my run-on sentences, I've had way too much coffee.)

Now, the not-so-good news.
So I was doing so well the last couple of weeks and not talking to the Boy at all and even decided I couldn't go to France because he's on the same continent. Then he emailed me and said we should talk soon and I said yes (because there's probably only a slight chance we'll end up actually having said scheduled convo anyway, right?) Only somehow that's turned into exchanging lots of emails over the past couple of days which say things like "Would be nice to see you more," "too bad you weren't there," and "miss talking to you." Which really means absolutely nothing beyond a) he's bored and so remembered I exist and/or b) he wants to whine about something and needs a sympathetic ear, but me being such a goddamn sappy GIRL I start to think that it actually means something even though men don't usually mean things like that, or at least don't mean them for long, and MJ and S and I have spent way too many hours looking over He's Just Not That Into You and determined he's just not that into me. So I decided the cure for this is to just have as much random sex as possible. Or a relationship or something. But that's hard.

I think I might have messed up this whole man sabbatical thing.

Day 14: It's good to want things.

The man sabbatical has provided some well needed time for reflection about my needs and wants. Since wants are always more interesting than needs, I'll stick with that.

I want a teddy bear that hugs back.
Is a napping partner out of the question? Because I want to cuddle. I want to nap with someone. Quick and easy application process, for those interested. No hassles. Also, no sex, although this part of the contract can be renegotiated at the end of the month. I thought I would miss the sex the most, but I actually miss cuddles more.

I want to dance underneath a shower of money more often.
I tried it for the first time today and I really, highly recommend it.

I want a nice, comfortable life with minimal chaos.
Is that asking for too much?

I want my maiden name back.
I'll take care of that at the DMV next week.

I want everyone to take note that I was not the first girl to break the man sabbatical.
Okay, technically, I guess W is in the clear since it was within 24 hours of her birthday, but still. And also, P chatted with The Boy when he was clearly off limits two times already during No Man Month. So I just want to point out that everyone thought I would be the first to fall off the wagon, and I'm not. That being said, I feel like I have to confess:

A) I texted my ex husband a few nights ago to tell him that I missed talking to him. He didn't respond, and I knew he wouldn't, but I needed to be rejected one more time before the final divorce papers arrived. They arrived today, so there you go. Rejection complete.

B) I have a long distance internet crush. But I feel like I'm well within the guidelines of man sabbatical since there has been no dirty talk or naked pictures exchanged or anything like that. Good, clean fun. I'm in the clear!


*MJ*