« June 2005 | Main | August 2005 »
Thu, July 28
Midweek
So the update to the roommate story is, my friend called me and said she'd like to do dinner next week before my old roomate's housewarming on the UWS. So maybe it is not the end of our friendship?
In other news, I am insanely jealous of my friend Nadine, who has a book deal (although lost a job) thanks to her blog. Can you guys make me famous without making me lose my job? Hm?
Also, this is completely random, but click below and see the funniest thing EVER. Ok, almost ever. It is especially funny when you type in the link to my blog:
Gizoogle.com
So Tues. night was a little bit too much fun. J and I had dinner with his friend Rahul and Rahul’s new gf (who, by the way is a triple threat: Model looks, a doctor, and she’s Indian!) The boys decided to buy Persecco. But because I didn’t eat my usual trough-load of food, the bubbles went more easily to my head.
We pranced along over to Piano’s, where by coincidence Justin was djing upstairs, and J’s friend had an album release party downstairs. When I got to the door, Dara was waiting there, while Becs and Helena were already inside.
Piano’s, if you read my archives, has been the site of many a drunken night pour Lex. Which might have been why I thought that two vodka sodas on top of the bottle of Persecco I’d already helped finished were not a bad idea. Hey, it was Piano’s, my old stomping ground! Just goes to show that old habits die hard. That, or I’m kind of like Pavlov’s dog (though much better smelling), in the sense that just because I was in a place where I used to get drunk, it meant I should drink the same amount as in the old days. Even though I can’t nearly hold my old amount of liquor these days. (FYI: Current limit equals one vodka soda and glass of wine. Old limit equals….Nevermind. Too embarrassing).
The girls and I went upstairs, while J and his friends were at their party. I ran into this kid Wes who is friends with my friend Jay, by the bathroom. We decided that for the rest of the evening, we would tell everyone that Wes was “my baby’s daddy.” This seemed like a perfectly sound thing to say at the time, hysterical even. My friends told me that Wes’s friends were all abuzz with, “Who is that girl he’s talking to?” Helena, bless her, told them not to worry, “she had a boyfriend.” At one point one of Justin’s friends took a
picture of Wes and I, and afterward, I barreled towards her to tell her, “Thas nuh ma boyfriend, just soh you knoh.” I then proceeded to introduce Jay to all of my brother’s really, really young friends. Which wasn’t really good for either parties involved.
I don’t remember much else about the evening. Oh, there was a gorgeous guy staring at our group. Naturally, I talked really loud about it and when he moved across the room, I kept pointing at him, and then laughing hysterically saying, “he’s beautiful!” Apparently, this is the key move to make, because he came over by himself to talk to us three. I hope one of my friends got his number.
I am grateful that I had J to rescue me (only because I couldn’t walk straight and I am terrible with crossing streets—even when sober) and make sure I got home safely. Who knows how this story would have ended had I been on last year’s path of bad choices and unhealthy mistakes…Oh wait, I think I’ve already told THAT story.
Posted by lexzog at Thu, July 28 | Comments (0)
Mon, July 25
Consequences
So I talked to my would-be roomate tonight about the whole I can't afford to move thing...And halfway through our conversation she reminded me that she "never said she'd live with my cousin." See that's the other thing--I had asked her if my cous. could live with us, right before my friend left for a two week vacation. She never decided yes or no, but I pretty much had told her that no matter what, my cousin was living with me and that would be that. So even then, she'd kind of been in the "Alexis how could you do this to me" mindset.
I feel TERRIBLE about the fact that she moved out of her place (and she says that we once had a talk about how she didn't want to move but was doing it for me, and I have no memory of this. Sometimes I wonder--am I even paying attention?) I feel terrible that she paid for movers to move her into her aunt's apartment (which by the way, is a nice place, so don't worry she isn't in a hellhole).
And I understand that it really sucks when the carpet is swept out from underneath you.
But in the end, I think that the combination of my asking her to live in the east village with me, and to include my cousin, was so unappealing simply because neither of those things were to her liking. And when you feel that nothing is going your way, that can be really, really frustrating.
I guess that's why she told me that she "understands my decision, but that I should know that there will be consequences."
Which basically means that I think I've lost a friend.
I've lost a friend over an apartment.
Isn't that insane? I am mad at myself for not thinking things all the way through, for not thinking of possible reasons why I wouldn't be able to move when push came to shove. But how do you plan for things like this to happen? I didn't realize my salary wouldn't really be increasing from my last job to my new one. I didn't expect my cousin to need me as much as she does. That's life.
I hope that this isn't the end of our friendship. Of all my friends, she was the one who always said yes to fun plans, who spent the most time getting to know J, and who always made time for me at the randomest of hours.
We stayed on the phone, not speaking for a couple of minutes, until she said, "Since there isn't really anything left to say I'm just going to hang up and go to bed."
And that was that.
Posted by lexzog at Mon, July 25 | Comments (1)
Take Off Your Shirt
Has everyone joined myspace.com but me? I looked at it today, and it
is GROSS. All these teenages in heavy eyeliner and bleach blonde hair
in suggestive poses. I feel so old, or maybe I feel like I must have
been a dork (oh wait I was) in high school. I never
acted/dressed/talked like that! You have to check it out. The websit
is just SO teen angst.
As for the weekend...I ended up spending most of Saturday morning
driving around Bensonhurst. J and I were meeting his friend Tom to get
a ride from Tom's brother to Rockaway. Somehow it ended up taking
forever. Oh, wait, now I know why: The mission of the morning was to
find a sandwich for Tom. This lead to Tom's brother bringing us to a
famous deli. Jon's Deli, I think. They supposedly
made this amazing roast beef sandwich with a very thick, black gravy.
Of course J couldn't pass up an eating opportunity (keep in mind he'd
already had a whitefish salad bagel on the train, and a slice of pizza
when we got off the train). The three girlfriends waited in the car as
the boys loaded up on chicken cutlet sandwiches and roast beef
subs.Don't get me wrong--I would have been happy to eat for no reason
too, if I didn't have to worry about putting on my brazilian bikini
from Mexico (note: this is the only suit I wear now. All other bikinis
pale in comparison.)
Finally, we arrived on the quiet beach by his cousin's house. We were
supposed to go to his coworker's barbeque, but ended up making one of our
own (any time we had asked the guy if the barbeque was still set for
that night, he'd say "Yeah, let's just wait and see what's up", which
means "No, I do not feel like having a barbeque but can't come out and
admit that right now)."
We had the barbeque to end all barbeques: Corn, chicken, three kinds of chips, dip, hamburgers, hot dogs, salad, Popums, cookies, beer, wine....Yeah, I went to spin class today.
I love Rockaway. Until I met J, I had no idea a beach existed so nearby. All
day, families set up camp with their Radio Flyer wagons filled with
beach toys and food. Kids have cartwheel contests well into sundown as
their parents drink the last sips of their beers before packing up and
wheeling down the road to their homes just a few blocks away.
Friday night was fun. I stayed in the city, and met up with Rebecca
for drinks at the Italian panini and espresso spot on 1st and 10th,
and then Sandobe for dinner and sake. (When you order wine at the panini joint, they
give you a plate of bruschetta and a tiny pizza pastry. So cute!)
Instead of dessert, we opted for Chinese massages between 1st and A. I was giggling the
whole time becausle I think the whole thing is so wacky--you just wander in off the street and then someone
shows you to a dark room with a bed, and for no reason at all, you
trust this person to not molest you. For the first few minutes, Becs
kept on asking me, "Lex, are you taking off your shirt? Should I? I'm
wearing a wierd shirt. Lex, are you going to? I'm not....Ok, I just
took off my shirt."
Oh, comedy.
Posted by lexzog at Mon, July 25 | Comments (0)
Wed, July 20
So Over It...
This whole apartment hunting thing? I'm so over it. I started looking online about a week ago, and by now I feel like I've looked so much I could be a broker.
Just last night I rented BRIDE AND PREJUDICE (from the makers of BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM), because I have seven movie rentals to use up before I move (or not) on Sept. 1st. I spent the entire movie scrolling through craigslist postings. My hand felt like it would fall off.
I called every "no fee" ad only to find that a broker lurks behind each one.
I saw an apartment that is more expensive than mine, with a broker fee, in a worse location, and not even as nice as mine!
I heard my very own apartment is renting at a price I couldn't even dream of affording--but if I stay here, I only have to pay like, 3 percent more than I am paying now (due to standard yearly increases).
Here's my dilemma: I told my good friend that I would move in with her. This was before I realized that I can't afford to really move, unless I downgrade apartments. She lives in friggin Windsor Court--so I doubt that downgrading is an option. My friend needs to live in the West 20's or 30's to commute to her job, but there seems to be NOTHING in that area available. Sure, we could live really far west in a walk up, but that wouldn't help me in my commute or my quality of life.
Meanwhile, my cousin is ready and willing to take one of the rooms in my apartment, leaving us to just find a third roomate. Which can't be too hard, seeing as that people are literally knocking down the doors at my building to move in.
Unfortunately, my friend cannot even think of moving into my apartment because it would double her commute time to work.
So what do I do? If I stay here, it makes sense. I can sort of afford it (more than any new apartment, if you factor in broker fees, putting up a wall, etc.) If I move in with her, it will really hurt my bank account and my quality of living.
If I don't live with her I am screwing her over.
But unless both of us make some major sacrifices, it wouldnt' work. I just wish I had thought of all this before I agreed, before I made a big deal about getting her to agree to let my cousin move with us, and before she left for CHINA for two weeks.
Oy.
Posted by lexzog at Wed, July 20 | Comments (4)
Help Shari
I know this is a downer, but please read and see if you know any possible donors...
Posted by lexzog at Wed, July 20 | Comments (0)
Tue, July 12
News Update: Suicide Attack in Israel
Suicide Bomber Kills Two at Israeli Shopping Mall
To quote my friend Mike:
"This attack is a terrible tragedy, because of the loss of life, the potential impact on the peace process, and the threat to the sense of normalcy that had seemed to be reemerging in Israel. For me, this incident triggered a more
deeply personal reaction as well - it was only three weeks ago that we had wandered, nearly carefree, through that playful resort city, sipping beers and posing for pictures. Before our trip, I think many of us had felt a meaningful connection to Israel and a special pain upon hearing of these sorts of calamities; now, that feeling is much more emotional, much more intimate.
Mike"
Posted by lexzog at Tue, July 12 | Comments (1)
Sun, July 10
While I Was Sleeping
I was just walking from the subway to my apartment, when I realized that last night I had dreamed that I'd come up with a great idea for "my book". I stopped in my tracks and searchced my brain for some trace of the memory. Damn! Lost it. Paul, my neighber, was walking back from a bagel run and saw me standing there like an elderly person who'd left her retirement home. "Alexis, you OK?"
It is possible that it is impossible to have such a revelation in a dream--the same way that you can't really read in dreams even though you wake up swearing you read the clue that would lead to Jimmy Hoffa's body.
Well, its a start anyway. Doesn't every great work start with a dream?
Posted by lexzog at Sun, July 10 | Comments (1)
Sat, July 2
Finallly, I blog.
I still haven't written about Israel. Partly because with my new job, and trying to stay on top of all the emails from my 40 new friends from the trip, and partly because it is so difficult to describe it.
Before this trip, Israel was just a concept. A picture on the map. When I read headlines, they were just words. Now, as I read "Haaretz", it is as if I am reading about news in my own neighborhood. My heart breaks when I read that Sharon got choked up the other day when talking about the right-wing extremists in the Gaza strip.
Until this trip, I had never me an Israeli soldier. In Israel we were accompanied by six. They weren't dressed in their uniforms--they just did all the same things we did, assimilating perfectly with the group.Katia is only nineteen, and works as a tank instructor. I cannot picture her operating such a machine--or ever having to use one in combat. She is tall, startlingly beautiful, but with the goofy innocence of a young teen. We learned so much from these soldiers, especially because the Birthright program tries hard not to indoctrinate us with any specific political or religious point of view. The soldiers explained how some soldiers see the Arabs as the enemy, almost inhuman--because that is what the army tries to teach them. Others, like themselves, are pained when they have to point a gun at an Arab child. Lately, there has been an uprise in suicides in the army. Katia's friend killed himself just a week before our trip. I asked her if there were any psychological services set up for the army and she said there is not enough money.
We had a Holocaust seminar, and a survivor told us her story. She sounded like my grandmother. I couldn't believe her strength. I cried so much that afterward, she said to me, "Why do you cry so much child? You cry too much," while placing gentle hand on my cheek. She told us that after seeing all she has seen, she does not believe in God. "I do not believe in God, but I believe in people, in the human power." She urged us never to say "Holocaust", because that means |a sacrifice to God. Instead we should use the word "Shoa", which means "great catastrophe." God is not involved in that meaning.
We rode camels and donkeys and camped in Bedouin tents in the desert. We played "I Never" and laughed against the backdrop of quiet desert mountains and the occasional noisy grunts of sleeping camels.
We hiked and hiked in a nature preserve (Ein Geddy) and came upon a natural oasis--a waterfall crashing down into a quiet cove, surrounded by large boulders. The girls took turns having their "Swimsuit Edition" moment, posing under the waterfall and trying to keep their bikini tops from falling.
We rolled our eyes when we were told we would have an "evening discussion activity." Then we'd start talking about our grandparents' histories, or what it means to us to be Jewish and our group leaders would have to cut us off because we had been talking so long, and it would be getting late.
We visited an archaological site and dug into earth that revealed pottery from the time of Hannuka. To hold a piece of history...
Bus rides were too short, because we would get carried away singing songs from the '80's and annoying some people with Disney songs.
We'd pause at war-time memorials, honoring those killed in the Six Day War or the Yom Kippur War, and we'd picture our brothers. We'd look at the soldiers by our sides.
We visited Yav Hashem only long enough to walk through the Children's Memorial. When we came out of the memorial there were no words. We shed quiet tears and hugged. Nearby, an Asian tour group had gathered. The guide asked of them, "How did this make you feel?" and we thought to ourselves how unnecessary the question was for us--we just looked at each other and knew.
We stayed up late in our Hotel rooms talking about life at home, and how different everything would be now.
We had a Shabbat service while looking at the sun setting over a Tel Aviv beach. We thought it was corny at first, but everyone was smiling at recognizing the songs they'd been singing in temple since childhood.
We went to Independance Hall and listened to a recording of David Ben Gurion declare Israel a state. I had tears in my eyes when "Hatikva" started playing.
I finally understand what it means when they say that Israel is my home. I miss it unlike any other country I've ever fallen in love with. I feel like I owe it something. I am so grateful for the shelter its land gave my grandparents when they left Vienna in 1937. Without it I may not be here today.
So anyway, I'm back in New York. I'm trying to wrap my head around a new job while at the same time trying to unwind from this life-changing experience I just had. I'm trying to look at everyone's online pictures, and trying to read everyone's emails. We all feel in a state of mourning in a way. My boyfriend tells me to "get over it" (playfully, not in a mean way, but I see his point.)I had dinner with my two very close friends from the trip, Julia and Dara, and everything felt so much better. I saw Dan yesterday (with whom I went on the trip) and we thought it was so odd to be having lunch together, on 6th Avenue, all dressed in our work clothes and not carrying backpacks and water bottles.
Last night was a nice introduction back to my regular city life. A bunch of friends gathered at J's for cocktails, then we went to a fun Tapas place on 19th street. I was ecstatic over the dates wrapped in bacon (which I hadn't eaten in way too long!) and chorizo (Israel uses goose as a bacon substitute. Not my bag.) We had a heated debate over what constitutes "third base" and tried to teach Thomas the difference between the french "base system" and the American one. In France, they skip over "second" because of the whole topless thing.
And so I end my whistful essay about Israel by bringing it back to what I love best about New York: Eating bacon, considering three people dancing in an apartment a "dance party, drinking sangria in the summer, and talking like teenage boys.
"Next Year, in Jerusalem!"
Posted by lexzog at Sat, July 2 | Comments (0)