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*

Day Thirteen: Crime and Punishment

Birthday, sand and cranberry juice. Combine all ingredients, shake vigorously and garnish with antibiotics to highlight the subtle hints of regret.

The man sabbatical get out of jail free card is the birthday loop hole. At the conception of the man sabbatical it was mentioned that on your birthday you can do whatever (whoever) you'd like.

As luck would have it, I had a birthday during man sabbatical. As misfortune would also have it within 24 hours of my birthday my new roommate invites me to go out with her and her coworkers. Specifically her cute, tall and lightly bronzed coworker. He was wearing a black tee shirt, I was wearing a black tee shirt. He had just eaten dinner, I was eating dinner when he arrived. He looked cute in his hat, I looked cuter in his hat. He proceeded to tell me how much better I looked in his hat than he did.

Que shameless flirting and cut to the bar where the shameless flirting gets amped up ever so slightly by several drinks. The coworker consumes just enough drinks so that driving home wouldn't be legal.

To be continued....

After it was determined that the coworker would not be driving home the living room turned into the massage parlor. The coworker is massage therapist, so I got my neck professionally cracked for the first time which could possibly have been the highlight of the evening. Then the massage parlor switched locations to my room.

Unfortunately, like K, The man sabbatical (and my birthday) had made me neglect my laundry. Specifically my sheets, which were covered in sand. I'd been sleeping in sandy sheets for several days and though no one would find out my dirty secret. Enter the coworker. I felt slightly embarrassed when I had to apologize for the sand in my bed as I brushed it off his back.

I was feeling slightly smug about the whole encounter, until several days later when I went to the bathroom and it felt like I was peeing hot, broken glass. Several doses of cranberry pills and not enough water later I was forced to leave work early and head to urgent care.

The wonderful people at the urgent care were friendly, complimentary and laid back. They assured me I indeed had a UTI and that I wasn't fooling anyone as to the cause of my aliment. With a smile the nurse asked, "So does someone have a new boyfriend?". I blushed and mumbled "no".

Moral of the story: Don't break man sabbatical or it will break you.

DAY 10: Guys at the Gym

"The word 'aerobics' came about when the gym instructors got together and said: if we're going to charge $10 and hour we can't call it jumping up and down."

- Rita Rudner


So there was salsa dancing this week, which was fun. I managed to not get groped too bad, scored a free piece of fruity gum, danced with a dude with halitosis, and found the perfect alcoholic drink ("Dark Knight") courtesy of the cool ass bartender at the Glas Kat. It was a fabulous night.

Gym, great place for eye candy

Other than salsa, the week was pretty much the usual. Work, gym, home. Not as dismal as it may sound though. Oh the gym. Lots of eye candy there. Really I go to the gym to work out, be healthy, look fly. That's motivation enough. However, the fact that there are a lot of fine asses at my gym is also great motivation. Noon is the best time to go. I think all the fine asses take lunch breaks at my gym. Then there is Fernando - aye mamacita. He is a gym instructor there. He teaches Ultimate Conditioning. That class will kick your ass. It's worth it though, to see him, and hear his sexy accent: estrech to thee rrrright, estrech to thee lef. All the male trainers there are pretty fly tooo. There is one who is not. The rest though, niiiice. I get to look at them everyday (well like 3 -4 times a week).

Gym, a great place to pick up chicks?

I never have thought of the gym as a place to pick up dudes. I probably would never (I say probably because you never know - I am a woman and it's my prerogative to change my mind). Also, not a big fan of getting picked up at the gym. I prefer them to check me out, me check them out and we go about our merry way. It's kinda gross if you think about it. They are all sweaty and smelly, you are all sweaty and smelly. Definitely not feeling your sexiest, or at least your "let's get up close and personalest." (I just made up a word btw.) Picking up someone at the gym probably is the hardest thing ever, too. A friend asked me once how to approach a girl that is on the machine next to him, while she has her headphones on. I believe I told him that's probably not even gonna happen. Besides touching her to get her attention (which would probably freak her out) or following her around the gym (which would probably freak her out) I couldn't think of any other way. Somebody should write a book or something.

I would like to give a shout out to a particular trainer with the tattoos that always brightens my day with his smile and appropriate compliments (like he did today), and prevents me from killing myself on the various weight machine apparatuses. Thanks dude!!!

Looking forward to the weekend. There may be some seamen in the next posts, it being fleet week an all.

S.

Day Nine: Why drunkenly surfing the internet at 2am is a good thing

So yesterday, after going to a human rights group meeting-turned-party, I came home and did some random internet surfing at 2am and got tickets to see the Daily Show next week! I am super excited! And the only person I drunk dialed was MJ! I really am reformed.

So on that note, remember around fifth grade when you got the DARE presentation in the school cafeteria? And they made you make a list of all the fun things you do/could do in the future that drinking and doing drugs would ruin? (Which was such a sham, because drinking actually makes most of those things better - flying a kite while drunk? Awesome. But I digress.) Well I'm going to make a list of all the cool things I've done or plan to do this month instead of spending time and energy on boys.

Things that are better than boys

1. Riding around New York City in an old school bus to look at art
Last weekend I went on this very cool (and free!) art tour. Members of the artist collective that sponsored it convinced friends, other artists or random people to let them create art installations in their living room. We went all over the five boroughs looking at the different installations. Ok well my friends and I actually only made it to three, we skipped out before the bus got to Queens - we had to do some emergency boot shopping.

2. Making some progress on the whole "figuring out what to do with my life" thing
Well, sort of. I've been talking to students and professors and different assorted people who work doing things I'm interested in and have narrowed it down some. Mostly though I'm trying to find excuses to get to cool places I'd like to live and get paid for it.

3. Drinking all the free alcohol I can get my hands on
The best part about being a student is that people are always inviting you to receptions and lunchtime discussions and assorted things. Most of these are boring and tedious, BUT all of these include free food and/or alcohol. This is a beautiful thing.

4. Not shaving or doing laundry
I used to think that a girl should always keep everything groomed and always wear decent underwear because you never know where you'll end up at the end of the night. But since the whole point of this month is that I'm supposed to end up in my own bed every night, it's so not an issue. Seriously, this saves so much time. I don't have to do laundry so much, because when I start running out of nice clean underwear I just break out the granny panties. And it's getting cold here anyway, so when I want to wear a skirt I just throw on some tights and call it a day - who's gonna know what it looks like underneath?

5. Cookies
So I realized that the less I worry about whether or not men find me attractive, the less critical I am of myself. I've stopped forcing myself to work out all the time - if I don't feel like going to the gym, I don't do it. And I don't feel bad about eating cookies instead of, say, spinach (not that I didn't eat plenty of cookies before - I just felt guilty about it.) And strangely enough, I weighed myself the other day and I've lost a few pounds. Of course this might have something to with the fact that I only eat things that are free half the week. But still, the point is, men give you low self-esteem and make you fat.

Obviously, the list could go on and on, but I thought I'd keep it to 5 for now. Lesson here? If women didn't waste so much time and energy trying to figure out/impress men, we could probably solve global warming, end world hunger, and create world peace. In like, six months.

I did kind of sort of do something that may be interpreted as falling slightly outside the rules of the Man Sabbatical - facebook chatting with The Boy. But MJ says it doesn't count as long as it didn't make me sad and I didn't do it on purpose. And I didn't and it didn't and I'm only mentioning it because MJ said it had to go on the blog.

Day Eight: No Sex and Salsa Dancing??

So when a certain birthday was coming up for one of our fellow sexless friends, we all thought, What better way to usher in a quarter-life crisis than some drinks, dresses, and salsa dancing? The only problem with salsa dancing when you're on a self-imposed man sabbatical, is you become very well aware that no one else is on a self-imposed sex sabbatical.

So I want to say thank you to the slightly creepy douchebag that danced with the birthday girl and then me, for rubbing your hands all over my ass (which yes I'm well aware was on prominent display at the club. Just because we're not having sex for a month doesn't mean we can't still wear our favorite booty dresses!) and grinding your not very well hidden erection into my hip bone. In case you hadn't noticed, that look in my eyes was disdain, not passion. I also want to thank you for telling me after your grope-filled dance that I give "great knee."

Great knee?!?! Come on people! What does that even mean?! Whatever it means (and believe me I'm still a little confused given the effort I put into our dance), it's quite a line. Off to get the day started, but happy birthday to a certain someone!!

xoxo

DAY SEVEN: I am going (further) into debt.

Dear Straight Bartender from The Cafe:

I am really flattered that you passed your phone number along to KB and asked her to give it to me not once, but twice! While I did meet you at the end of September, well before the onset of the Man Sabbatical, I unfortunately did not receive your number until a few days ago. Which means I can't call you back. Which is too bad, because you may have had a chance, even though I'm pretty sure that you are white, and even though you didn't hook me up with any free drinks. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're a really cute white guy and all, it's just that white guys aren't really my scene. I tend to go for asians (is that racist?). However, I seem to remember that you had big giant muscles, which counts for a lot. Also, I am feeling a little less picky right now since I haven't gotten any since September 15th, which is a pretty long dry spell for me. Or maybe since September 25th, depending on which sexual acts you think count as "getting some." Going any longer than a week is really difficult, wouldn't you agree? How will I ever last until the end of the month?

Going without sex is really, really expensive

Since the beginning of the month, I have purchased: 2 pairs of shoes, 2 blazers, 2 dresses, 1 shirt, 1 belt, 1 necklace and 8 pairs of panties. Three of those items were designer brand. The longer I go without sex, the more money I spend. I believe I could prove this scientifically, or chart it out, the direct correlation between the amount of money I spend on clothes and the amount of sex that I'm getting and it would create a pretty interesting line graph or parabala or whatever it would be called. But I'm a) too bad at math and b) too lazy to do something like that. So you'll just have to trust me. I'm going to be living out of a box by the end of the month because I won't be able to pay my rent, but I'll have lots of really, really cute shoes. Speaking of cute shoes, I am unreasonably excited about breaking in my new pair of Marc by Marc Jacobs oxfords at the Chrisopher Collins fashion show tonight. Which I will be blogging about later in Part Two.

PART TWO

The sexiest girls at the fashion show. With the exception (possibly) of the girls from the Ford Modeling Agency.

"One minute your straps are all in place and the next minute your boobs are hanging out like a $5 whore."

Note to self: when someone tells you that they need a few girls to volunteer their time at a fashion show by "looking young and fabulous and pouring wine," what that person actually means is "I need a couple girls to do hard manual labor and completely run the food services portion of the evening." What you do when this happens is take matters into your own hands by paying yourself with a left over bottle of Grey Goose.

Note to Michael and other really drunk guy in a blue shirt: you guys were really, really drunk.

Addendum to note to Michael and other really drunk guy in a blue shirt: "How can I get to know you better?" is a silly question to ask me when you're already that drunk.

Highlight of the evening: when the designer told me he loved my dress and wanted to "do something like that." For clarification, I never said the dress was Betsey Johnson, I only kind of implied it. It actually only cost $30. Score!

And by the way, the show was FABULOUS and the clothes were to die for. Now I want to shop even more. This is the list of things I need to buy before the end of the week: sailor themed pants, purse, Theory patent leather pumps.

I Heart Salsa

Dear John from the Glas Kat: You are a really, really good dance teacher. Thanks for giving me your number, although I'm not going to call you. And to my girls: did you really think I was going to kiss him? Seriously??? I wasn't even drunk!

*MJ*

Day Six: Mondays and such

To state the blatantly obvious - it's Monday. Ahh the joy of returning to work and being a contributing member of society. Yeah, that's it.

This particular Monday would have been virtually painless had I not been missing out on wine tasting trip to Napa/Sonoma. While several of my friends were off frolicking in vineyards and imbibing I was jealously staring at the cases of wine in my office wishing I could conduct my own tasting. I was comforted by my extra remaining vacation day and the rich, cognac filled chocolates that keep finding their way onto my desk.

Thankfully my boss, as usual, announced "I think it's time for chocolate." Had it not been for those little morsels keeping my blood sugar up the 30 minute wait for and then ride on the packed muni with broken air conditioning could have gotten ugly. Public transportation is awkward.

Seeing the guy who scoured your face with his Brillo pad beard during a game of intoxicated tonsil hockey on the muni is awkwardly, humours. When I walked on the train yesterday, I did a double take and restrained myself from saying, "Hi! I haven't seen you since the night you shouted in my face "I'm not going to "F*** you tonight." But, since that was the funniest and bluntest rejection I've personally experienced, I sat down next to him and small talked until Powell. If I'm ever presumptuously rejected again I can only hope it's half as funny.

*W

DAYS FOUR AND FIVE

We don't post updates on the weekends, silly! We're too busy out having fun. Check back on Monday!

xoxo

the gurls

DAY THREE: Way to crush my dreams cabbie

PART 1

That picture is kinda what it felt like sitting at the DMV for 1.5 hours. As it relates to the challenge, no temptation there. I know I was surrounded by San Francisco's finest but I was able to maintain control and not make out with the homeless guy in the front row. Phew! I almost blew it. Ladies you will be glad to know I am fully re-licensed so we don't have to be scared to go to the club anymore. YAY!

The cab ride home was much more interesting. My cabbie was the talking sort - depends on my mood if that's a good thing or not. He opened the conversation with, "you are beautiful." AWWW!! Then he asked where I was from - I usually get that, people can't seem to figure out I am black. I said from the Bay, he said "oh you're not from Africa." I said "no." I mean I suppose I am but I usually claim Cali first. Agreeing with me he says, "yes you are not very black." Hmmm, oh okay (confused face).

Him: So do you have a boyfriend, are you married?
Me: Nope.
Him: Why not?
Me: I dunno (If I did know I would totally fix the issue and have one or at least be getting some.)
Him Maybe some guy likes you but you don't want him?
Me: None that I know of.
Him: No guy is in love with you?
Me: If one is they didn't tell me
Him: What kinda guy you like
Me: Tall, Nice, Funny, Handsome, Smart
Him: Tall you maybe get, 2-3 inches, 62 - 82% (where he was pulling these percentages from I don't know but I need to find his sources)
Me: That sounds good
Him: Nice maybe to 60 - 80%
Me: Sounds good
Him: Handsome yes 60 - 80 %
Me: Still sounds good
Him: Smart is much harder. Handsome and smart you will not get.
Me: Oh okay (followed by a sad face)
Him: Too many ladies want them
Me: oh, what about smart and ugly?

So after crushing my dreams of having it all, cabbie tried to sell me some Amway. Gave me his card and everything. Sources tell me Amway has really good Laundry detergent. Well if I can't have a smart and handsome guy maybe I will at least get some great laundry detergent.

Part 2 to be continued after tonight's events - which means probably in the morning.

S.

PART 2

Technically it is already tomorrow. However, I must finish writing about today's events. So we started the night a bit early, 7 pm, that's when I left my flat. Note to self: 7 pm is too early to start a night of debauchery and fun, you end up sleepy at 11:30. We headed over to the Eastbay , Oakland to the "Art Murmur." My understanding of the event was you go from gallery to gallery not really looking at the art and trying to find free booze. So... we looked at some art. WOO!! not really though. Had some red wine. WOO!. We were forced to stay in a gallery until we finished our beers. Held captive really, surrounded by hipsters galore. Nooooo! It was pretty uneventful but really eventful night.

The best part of the evening, as cheesey as it was, was just hanging out with my gurls being stupid. That was fun. We didn't really talk about boys and how they wronged us - which was nice. We just were our silly gurly selves. Photo shoot on the BART, the BART lady that was gonna kill us, yummy food at Straits, then home. Oh and the rain. YES! It's raining in SF can you believe it.

Anywho I am pooped, I started my evening at 7 pm! Night.

S.

Day Two

Look at all the work I'm getting done now that I'm not focusing on boys!

"This is for old white people anyway."

So Day One went well. I went down to Bryant Park to see Opera in the Park with The Kid. Which was really great for the first two minutes or so, at which point it started pouring rain. But all turned out well because we ended up playing Mario Kart at Dave and Busters instead, and I got my mocha fix at Pret a Manger. (Best mocha ever. One of these days I'll get around to trying the food...) I realized that I've never really had straight guy friends - either they're gay, or I have sex with them/someone in their group, or I don't have sex with them and then it's awkward and we don't talk. So maybe no-sex month will help me finally get some straight guy friends.

"But I just wanted to ask him about Tropic Thunder!"

Day Two is off to a good start. I only have one class on Thursdays, and no class this Friday, so my weekend officially started at noon! Well technically 12:05, because I had to do a short audition speech for a moot court team I'm applying to. In true San Francisco liberal hippie style, I did mine about how I think New York City should institute a citywide composting system.

L. says though that I was flirting with The Kid and Johnny Danger when we went to go steal free food from this lunchtime speaking event. (note: this is not San Francisco Johnny Danger. This is someone else who is way more of a Johnny Danger than the original Johnny Danger.) I didn't even mean to! But maybe subconsciously I was.

Going to write part two of this post later - I'm going to a Korean Thanksgiving celebration, then watching the debates, then off to Bar Review (which is basically just drinking at a bar, but with everyone else at the law school.) So lots of challenges. Wish me luck!

Part Two - I almost have to cut a bitch

Yay, made it through the night without focusing on boys and actually managed to have some fun. I went to this great Korean dinner thing with free food and karaoke - we did an amazing performance of Don't Stop Believing. In fact, we were so into that we almost missed the Biden-Palin debate. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your view) we made it in time to catch every painful minute. I'll spare you my opinion on that. Bar Review was fine but unremarkable, I think the ridiculous amounts of sugar, alcohol and coffee I had today finally caught up with me.

One thing did happen that really annoyed me. It's got nothing to do with men or sex but you get to hear about it anyway. I was walking with a friend through the law school and noticed a reception was going on, and they had Grey Goose. Now, there's always receptions and things going on around the school and we (ok, fine I) consider it my right to go in and get free food/booze whenever possible. And as it turns out, this was one I legitimately could have gone to. I wanted to catch up with my friend though so I took the glass out into the hallway with her so we can talk. Well not two seconds pass and this blond woman sees me and starts going on about something. I'm not really paying attention, so she starts talking to me like she doesn't think I understand English, telling me to make sure she gets the glass back. What? Since when is wine glass theft such a problem? It was so condescending and rude. Some of the workers explained that she was the catering manager, and talked down to them all the time. Grr. My pet peeve is people who think they're important enough to treat other people like crap but really aren't. If you're going to be condescending, make sure you've got the status to back it up.

Ok, it's technically Friday now in my time zone so I guess this concludes Day Two.