reruns

omg I love hulu.com.

Now when I am home alone spending my evening replying to work e-mail and feeling pathetic I can watch episode after episode of The Mary Tyler Moore show!

All without waiting for anything to download or planning my Netflix queue around comfort reruns.

today elaine unwittingly convinced me to try not to be crazy.
not sure if that's what she was going for, per se.
but good thing.

taking the birds out

8pm: Lying on the couch passed out watching episode after episode of 30 Rock on Netflix, debating the merits of going out. I was exhausted from a big night the night before (which included late-night food and cock-blocking this guy who clearly wanted to get in the pants of my friend who has a boyfriend), an early noon haircut appointment and a whole day with Roz in the sun (we went to the top of Buena Vista park - my favorite). I feel compelled to go out, among other reasons, because of this conversation:

5pm: (phone call with my mother while riding home on the 1)
"So what are you doing tonight?" my mother asks.
"I don't know, I'm thinking of maybe going to a Purim party, but I'm so exhausted," I say.
"I don't understand, why would you not go?"
"I'm exhausted, I've been out all day and I had a big night last night, and went out a lot this week."
"Uh, you can sleep tomorrow - why would you miss out on going out tonight?"
"Um, if I'm too tired I might not have that good of a time."
"Then have some coffee."
"I'm tired and I don't want to get the flu."
"Oh, you 'might get the flu.'" (mockingly)
"I'm serious! That's how I get the flu - I go out too much and don't take care of my body."
"I suppose. I just think if you have the opportunity to go out, you go out You can always rest later."
"But I've been out 5 nights this week - it's not the end of the world if I don't go out tonight."
"I guess. But you could meet people!"
"The party's at a loud club - I doubt I'm going to have a heart to heart with anyone or meet the love of my life."
"You never know."
"People don't meet the loves of their life at a loud club."
"You never know."
"I have a better chance of meeting the love of my life at the supermarket."
"Why the supermarket?"
"I don't know, anywhere."
"Ah, okay. Well you do what you want. It just sounds like fun."
This is my mother. Is it any wonder I am so restless?

9:30pm: I recover after ginger tea and decide to attend the party. It's a Purim costume party at Mighty, where I have only gone once, for my work's holiday party the year before last. My roommate isn't answering her phone, so I can't ask to go through her insane stash of costumes, and I have only one to choose from - my crazy Tippi Hedrin from the Birds costume from Halloween. I contemplate not wearing a costume at all, because attaching the ravens to myself is such a production, but that seems lame, and it's such a great costume, I might as well just go for it.

10:20pm: I call my friend to make sure she will be there before I arrive, so that I won't cab over and not know anyone. My friend says they are leaving really soon, so I start heading out to catch a cab, because she lives so close she'll definitely beat me.

10:45pm: I text my friend to see where she is. She responds, "We'll be there in 15." Ugh. Because of my amazing costume, every 5th stranger smiles at me, or approaches me with one of the following comments:
-that's such a great costume!
-are those real birds?
-aaaugh. those are scary.
-that's awesome. wait, what are you?
-omg are you Tippi Hedrin?

11pm: I run into a friend! Whew. Thanks for getting me out of the conversation with the hairy bare-chested man with a turban. What the hell was he supposed to be, anyway?

11:15pm: Watching belly dancers. My friend texts me to tell me she and her entourage have arrived, as a woman from the JCC with a clipboard has me sign the rights of my likeness away for photographs of me that have apparently been taken in the last half hour without my knowledge.

12am: I start talking to this costumeless guy who recently moved back from New York, who told me my costume was his favorite. I didn't know if he was flirting or if he was just being friendly because of the costume and killing time because his friends just left, until he starts touching my elbow.

drink 1: elbow touch, elbow touch, elbow touch.

drink 2: elbow touch, back touch, elbow touch, elbow grab, elbow hold, elbow touch, holding both elbows, waist grab, elbow touch, arm hold, back touch, elbow hold

drink 3: "You should give me your phone number so we can hang out." elbow hold, elbow touch, back touch, elbow touch.

1:30 am: The elbow-enamored gentleman departed, I am dancing hard with my friends to bad jungle/house/techno under a flashing strobe light. I feel like a tourist - this is so not my scene. I take the last of my birds off.

best of text messages

the upgraded Verizon firmware on my phone now gives me only 80 messages of storage. before I delete all, the best of this month:


My college boyfriend, at like 1 am EST:
You know i have to wash my feet before bed cuz of you?


My friend Vincent, on the party theme:
K. Theyre picking me up at my place. It's king of later. The theme is kilts. If kilts doesnt work it has to be .crotchless. like a skirt.


My friend Natalie, before she sold her car:
Cool. I have a guy coming 2 look at the car and potentially take it tonight at like 11...stas and dima r going 2 help me and if it sells we're drinking w the $

good company

Evidently, meeting gentlemen at the bars whose atmosphere I enjoy results in company that affords the following conversations:

"I think you're totally adorable."
"Aw, thank you."
"Are you into orgasms?"
"Excuse me?"
"Because I'm into giving you orgasms."
"I'm sorry?"
"I could totally give you the craziest orgasms. I could like, blow your mind."
"Um, I'm going to visit the ladies' room."


"You seem like you have a white-collar job."
"I totally do. Um, what do you do?"
"I'm a waiter at Little Star."
"Oh, that's cool."
"I'm totally into the fact that you have like a real job and I'm a rock and roller. I think we would work that way."
"You mean because I could buy you drinks and stuff?"
"I mean, that too, but that's not all of it."


"Um, excuse me, I was wondering."
"Yes?"
"Does wearing long earrings like, bother you? Because they're hitting your neck all the time?"
"No, not really, they're really light. You get used to it. They're fun."
"I want to see what you look like without them."
"Okay."
"You look cute with and without earrings. Do you live in the neighborhood?"
"Yeah, I live about a 15 min walk."
"We work at Whole Foods tomorrow. You should come by and like, buy some asparagus. It's only 39 cents a pound! That's all I've been living on all week!"


Additionally, was walked halfway home by a hairstylist from Marin who referred to me as "pretty girl," and is proud owner of 30 freaky tattoos, that all looked at me simultaneously, saying, "You look like you have a white-collar job."

klutz

So I went with Lindsey to Shabbat services at Emanu-El, which I've probably meant to do since I moved to the City, but never actually have. Even before I moved here I had heard about the young adult after-Shabbat kegger, which I can't say was quite a kegger, but definitely a good place to meet people.

Services were really nice, and by nice I mean like being at an intimate Fleetwood Mac concert, if Fleetwood Mac sang in Hebrew. Wow. I didn't expect them to be that talented. It didn't quite feel like services without the melodies I know, and occasionally spacing out and wondering how many pages we had left, but it was very cool.

Afterwards we're downstairs eating cookies and drinking He-brew from the keg, talking to people, and who do I see but Mr. ADD - who I last saw when he asked for my number outside the bar, and I figured I had nothing to lose by telling him I preferred his friend. Yikes. I am so horrible. I felt kind of bad about that, but figured I should go over and say hello, clear the air. I mean he was a nice guy, just not someone I wanted to date. I go over and we make eye contact as I am on my way up. He frowns and says "hey," and begins turning away, so I look back at Lindsey bewildered. I guess we're not going to have that nice 3-min conversation after all. I couldn't blame the guy, but ouch.

As we're leaving, one of the guys we sat with at dinner asks us if we want to go swing dancing in SOMA, but we are exhausted from work, and me from daylight savings-induced insomnia. He asks if I like to dance, and I tell him about how I used to take dance when I was younger. He says, "Come on, you should come out tonight!"
"Oh, thanks, but I'm too tired."
"Really, you should come dancing, it would be fun," he says.
"Ha, sorry, I'm too sleepy."
"No, seriously, I would really like to take you out dancing sometime. Would you come out dancing with me sometime?"
This seemed to come totally out of left field, and it didn't occur to me that he so quickly transitioned from a friendly invite of all of my friends to asking me out. I looked at him to try it on for size. Just couldn't get past the beard. And we didn't quite click. I realize that I have paused too long and my friends tell me later that apparently the shocked look on my face was "a really bad look."
"I'm really not a good dancer," I say. Really, even if I were into this guy, a first date to go out dancing with someone I hardly know is super awkward.

He says he'll give me his business card, so that I can e-mail him. The business card is in glossy full-color, 1/3 of it taken up by a picture of him wearing a huge grin. The business card says he is a comedy magician, and voted best comedian by an SF Weekly reader's poll or something. I am so floored by this (I guess I'm so corporate-world-centric I assume that everyone else works nine to five, and are not magicians) and I laugh, spitting everywhere, so that he looks at me like he needs a towel. I apologize profusely.

As I am retelling this on the way out, and my friends are recalling how I made "a really bad face," this really sweet girl from Marin who had sat with us says she is shocked that I say I am awkward and clumsy. "You seem so graceful and elegant!" This was the nicest thing anyone had said to me in a while, yet so oblivious of how my entire life is a series of missteps, wrong words and embarrassing clumsy moves.

the muni-halfway point night

Met up with a friend at the halfway point between our apartments (muni-calibrated halfway, not geographical halfway, meaning a single bus) which we decided was Pacific Heights.

At the bar we are sipping mojitos and discussing the relatively few payoffs of being single and dating. In the course of conversation I incidentally say the word "sex," and when I do I see a guy and his friend overhear, perk up and look up, and check us out. Here it comes, I said, and expected a relatively bad pickup line from a sex-crazed twenty-something, but instead they went back up to the bar, and I just laughed.

Five minutes later they were back, and up come the two guys, with no better line than "What are your names?" Neither of them was good or bad looking, but the guy doing most of the talking was likely insane.

"This is my brother. Who do you think is older? Who do you think is better looking? What are your names, what do you do? Where are you from?" He talked 100 miles an hour and talked himself into twice as much trouble. They are finance guys originally from Marin, and the older brother is visiting from LA. Very Pac Heights.

We're not interested in either of them but the ADD-afflicted speed-talker is so crazy and amusing that I keep the conversation going (my friend clearly bored but not sure if she needs to suck it up because she thinks I might be interested in one or the other). They introduce us to a couple of their friends in passing. Eventually, we reached the first 10-second lull in conversation and Mr. ADD gets distracted by a friend, so my friend and I start our own conversation again and eventually go get another drink.

As we are ordering wine my friend establishes that I am not interested in either of these guys and am merely amused, but says, "Their friend with the beard is cute."

Twenty minutes later, we are drinking Cabarnet in the two empty seats at the other end of the bar, and who should show up but our ADD friend and his brother. It comes up in conversation that Mr. ADD's older brother is married with two children (though said nuptial commitment doesn't deter him from having eye-contact sex with myself and my friend). Mr. ADD is still at it, talking about how my nervous habit of opening and closing the button on my bag is distracting and implies that it reminds him of sex.

"Do you think my friend who looks like Fidel Castro is cute?" he asks. "He is very shy." I haven't gotten a look but I know the answer from my friend is affirmative. They waive him over, and he is in fact attractive, and engaging. And this is coming from a facial hair-hater. Mr. ADD asks him, gesturing at us, "Which one of them do you like better?" Fidel laughs quietly, shellshocked. Fidel says he has been working all day getting a movie out at Pixar and is calling it a night. Another friend we met across the room comes over, he says to save us from his crazy friends.

It takes about five minutes to establish that their friend (who is very nice) not only works in the same group at the 10,000 person company as my last boyfriend, but also works 10 feet away from his desk. This throws me into a mild state of shock. "Did you break up because he worked too much?" He asked. "Because he does work too much." Aaaah! This is way too small of a city. My friend is clearly over it, and I am fine to leave, so we exchange goodbyes before leaving the bar.

After we head out, Mr. ADD follows us outside and asks if he can give me a call. It occurs to me that this was going to happen, and rather than begin to explain that I don't think he is my type, what comes out of my mouth instead is, "I feel weird because I actually kind of liked your friend," referring to Fidel. He proceeds to try to give me his number, which I refuse to take, but hand him my business card. I suspect there will come a point in my career when I will have to change jobs because I have given out too many of my business cards to people I shouldn't give them to when it seems innocent enough.

At the next bar, my friend is telling me about being hit on by guys at our holiday party, and how she doesn't think she can wear heels and a dress at a work function anymore, because they clearly can't handle it. I say, "Did you see me at the holiday party? I was dressed super slutty. I was like this:" I discreetly (I think) squeeze my boobs together, and suddenly realize that while all patrons of the bar have had their backs to us, one casually looked backwards at a perfectly opportune time to see me squeeze my boobs together. He loses it laughing. I tell my friend, and we both lose it laughing, at which point he looks back again at us, laughing his ass off, and I say "I'm sorry," meaning, sorry about the potentially vulgar gesture in your general direction.

He comes over to us, laughing to the point of walking off-balance, and I explain that it was in the context of conversation. He says, "It's like when you hear the word penis and it's in the context of conversation, but all all you hear is the word penis." I say, "I'm sorry if I offended you by squeezing my boobs together in your general direction." My friend says this is the only time she will ever hear the phrase, "I'm sorry if I offended you by squeezing my boobs together in your general direction." Though I'm sure this is not the only time it has ever been said.