Friday, February 24, 2006

aye aye, cap'n


The Manager sits in the downstairs part of The Restaurant after the lunch shift going over the daily paperwork, while Gina comes down the stairs sipping on her shift drink of white wine.

Gina: Hey Manager, try this. It's verdicchio . . . I think it might be, like, a little oxidized or something.
Manager: Yeeeeah, it's kind of okay, but not really. Tell the bartender I said you could have another shift drink.
Gina [already half-way to the stairs]: Okay!
Manager: Well, I mean chug that one first and then go tell the bartender I said you could have another shift drink.
Gina: Now see, this is why I love this job. Oh, uh, well not the only reason of course, but one of many . . . you know . . . [runs up the stairs to procure a glass of pilsner.]


Really, my job still rocks. After many, many, maaaaany different jobs, I've come to learn that if work doesn't suck after the initial excitement or, at least, novelty wears off somewhere around the one month mark, the job is a good one.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

minor bipolarity is fun!

Dick Cheney shot someone? The Danish (or is it the Dutch) made a cartoon? I spent three hours tonight watching the Olympics while eating an Amy's frozen dinner and drinking "Sleepytime" tea and it's the most normal (and sober) I've felt in two months.

Ever since I got back to the city from Christmas vacation and started my job, I have been incapable of focusing on any one thing for more than a few minutes. Even reading blogs (let's not even talk about writing), watching a whole TV show, and emailing friends--my usual go-to ADD activities--have required too much attention. My life has become like the crazy brunch shift at work, minus the cappuccino making and cheese plate explaining. I've become addicted to constant human interaction, and when I'm alone I don't know what to do with myself and usually go into a semi-coma browsing eBay or lying on the futon listening to my February playlist over and over, counting the hours until I can go to work or start drinking with my friends. I've also become a royal idiot, failing to pay any bills, losing my cell phone, constantly forgetting to charge my new cell phone, not looking into health insurance options (sorry, Mom,) and leaving bowls with yogurt residue in the sink (an interesting science experiment--you should try it sometime).

Today, with monumental effort, I managed to hang up my 800 pairs of jeans, start the process of finding a subletter, scrub the very active live yogurt cultures from my bowls, still fail to pay my overdue rent bill, and then just STOP, in the form of a little women's figure skating and thunder-thighed men in tights racing around in a circle. Of course, once my head was clear I started to think about stuff that isn't so fun to think about. Like how I'm still just a lazy brat with no direction or foreseeable accomplishments and a growing dependence on alcohol. The last two months have been nothing but excitement and manic fun and I've felt better than I have in three years (seriously). I certainly don't feel bad about that, but there needs to be some sort of balance, which I hope will come with moving to an apartment I might actually spend some time in. And maybe, like, an internship or a yoga class or a hobby or something. But there's no way I'm giving up my free shift drinks.

Monday, February 20, 2006

tick, tick, tick . . .

I want a goddamn dog! Like this one. Or some other one. I'm giving myself three more years of resistance. Hopefully by then I'll have achieved fame and fortune with my astounding waitressing skills and will have the time and means to take care of it.

Friday, February 17, 2006

at last

Well I'm movin' on down!
Mooovin' on down!
To the East Village!
Mooovin' on down!
To a three bedroom walkup apartment on the fifth floor, I'm movin' on down!
Mooovin' on down!
With a coupla random dudes!
Mooovin' on down!
So I can't walk around my apartment naked, anymore!

Now who wants to help me move?

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

be my valentine

Dearest Blog,

So much has happened that I could tell you about lately, but, you see, I've failed to make it home five nights out of the last six. Fortunately, my friends have big beds and I sleep pretty darn good after a nice beer, wine, and whiskey combo. Let's see . . . there's the continuing non-saga of the Work Buddy, the epic porno sex with the Scruffy Brit, Perplexa's visit from London, my short but promising search for an apartment more conducive to returning to it in the evening, and an unfortunate encounter between my face and the sidewalk on the night of The Great NYC Blizzard of 2006. But for now, it's time to leave the internet cafe that has become one of my many homes and serve wine and regional Italian specialties to happy couples. I miss you and I promise to tell you more soon.


Wednesday, February 08, 2006

the punkification of carrie elizabeth [last name redacted]

The extended weekend with my sister was awesome. Here's the breakdown for anyone who cares. (Probably just me, but it's MY blog now isn't it.)

Since I closed work on Thursday night and Carrie took the red eye flight from LA, we were zombies on Friday. However, there is always energy for shopping, so we put on our finest trucker caps and headed to Williamsburg. I bought a pair of denim tights at Built By Wendy, and Carrie got a turtleneck and somehow manages to make it look hot. We then proceeded to Beacon's Closet, where Carrie found two cute Marc Jacobs items for a combined total of $40, all by herself. I've taught the girl well. We toyed with the idea of doing some East Village drinking, but settled on wine and cheese at my apartment. It was not difficult to polish off almost an entire puck of La Tur, and the two bottles of wine went down just as easily, making two more glasses at Cafe Lux tragically unnecessary...

Except for the part where I got written up for being 40 minutes late, work on Saturday was amazing. I bartended the brunch shift for the first time, and my trepidation quickly wore off when I realized that I would have no double skim cappuccinos to make and the hungry, hungover masses couldn't bother me in my own little enclave of wine glasses. Due to some crappy weather, there was only one person who sat at the bar all day. That person happens to be a singer in this little band I kinda like. Once I deduced who she was based on her unique gorgeousness and the doodle of her name in her notepad, I stuck my head in the wine fridge to turn my face back to a slightly lesser shade of beet red and then we talked. We talked about the Environmental Protection Agency, the craziness of both of her bands' tour schedules, the superior quality of my restaurant's espresso, and Ultragrrrl's apartment. Then she put me on the list for her band's upcoming soldout show and solidified my girlcrush. After work I was pretty tired, so Carrie and I stayed in and I dyed her hair black. My bathroom now looks like an oil tanker crashed in it, but her hair looks pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.

it looks better with the dye washed out

I bartended again for Sunday brunch, and while no stunning well-known musicians came to the restaurant, there was excitement to be had. Just up the street, a Friend of the Waiters was having a Super Bowl party. Carrie came to the restaurant to watch me do my boring closing paperwork and then I proceeded to get shitcanned with my coworkers and a couple of male models. After the game we played Suits, at which point I blacked out for a little bit. When I regained consciousness, I was at an East Village bar with a small portion of the party contingent. Apparently, I did a smoker survey and got a free lighter, which my sister explained to me when I pulled a fancy lighter out of my bag two days later. Anyway, somewhere along the line I decided to sleep with a fellow waiter, a decision that turned out to be both fun and convenient since he lives in the general vicinity of the restaurant and we both had to work the next morning.

I'm not sure if I was still drunk or just hungover at work on Monday, but it wasn't so bad, and there was no post-hookup awkwardness (at least not that I could tell, though my general perception was functioning at about 10%.) I'd ask him to bring rollups to table 4 and then think, "Oh yeah we had sex last night. Huh." He's cute and just the right combo of dork and cool so hopefully things will continue to not be weird. The one time I cursed my impaired state was when the Stunning Singer came in again for a to-go latte. I barely saw her, but she did say hi to me and was wearing a coat very similar to mine, which of course means that we are destined to become lifepartners. After work Carrie and I ate pizza and relived our Nick-at-Nite based childhood watching Dragnet, which is one of the three DVDs that I own.

Tuesday was the last day with Carrie, so we tried to make the most of it. We did a little more shopping, but I was the only one who fell prey to the offerings at the Seventh Street consignment shop. Damn Marc Jacobs and his shiny little shoes, and damn Ellen for making me realize that it's fun to be a girl and possess footwear other than broken-in Frye boots. Now it was Carrie's turn to drop $100, which she did by getting her first tattoo. It's in the same place as mine and also a children's book reference. We held hands the whole time and I wish I'd had my camera with me because it was too sweet for words.

Hooray for New York, my sister, and financial irresponsibility.

Friday, February 03, 2006

christians are weird

Yesterday I was browsing for cheap, formerly expensive jeans on Ebay and came across a listing for my current favorite brand. The description included something like, "I love these jeans but they don't fit," and the word "love" was hyperlinked. So I clicked on it and was taken here. Nothing like spreading Jesus' love through the resale of "new without tags" designer denim.

And then my sister sent me the link to the Local Paper's coverage of Catholic Schools Week. I went to Catholic school for eight years in that town and I don't recall Catholic Schools Week. Apparently the privilege of trading my plaid jumper for a pair of stirrup pants, slouch socks, and an oversized sweater for a day didn't resonate too much with me. If anyone can figure out what the fuck those "hush buttons" are all about and why 2/3 of the article is about them, I'll bake you some cookies or something.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

self love

Tonight I'm having a nice little date with myself. No, not THAT kind of date. Well actually . . . err, nevermind. Anyway, so far I've drunk four beers, ate an unnecessary amount of granola, exposed my loved ones to internet scrutiny, and downloaded a buttload of new music. Even though music is my favorite thing in the whole wide world aside from the essentials--that would be air, food, sex, friends, and alcohol (am I missing anything?)--I often get lazy and just listen to the same stuff over and over until I get sick of it, and then I keep listening to it until I can barely even hear it anymore. Then I either go to the record store and buy ten albums at once or spend half a day stealing songs on the internet. Today was the latter, and tomorrow might have to be the former since I actually like a good portion of the downloads, and there's something about having the whole shebang even if you only ever repeat the same few songs. Here are the bands/artists that will be keeping me company on my daily commute between Siberia and the Lower East Side, followed by the particular newish song I've heard twenty times today. I believe not a single one on this list hails from Canada, and 2/3 of them make me want to jump around, not cry. You can pick your jaw up off the floor now.

For all your electronic-y, dance-y, more-addictive-than-crack and catchier-than-herpes needs.
LCD Soundsystem - "Tribulations"
Ladytron - "Destroy Everything You Touch"
Go! Team - "Ladyflash"

I wish I had a boyfriend so we could break up and I could listen to these songs and feel better.
Okkervil River - "For Real"
Jens Lekman - "Maple Leaves"
The Clientele - "Since K Got Over Me"

These songs make me want to get drunk in a dark bar and wake up with mysterious bruises.
Art Brut - "Good Weekend"
Arctic Monkeys - "Mardy Bum"
White Rose Movement - "Love is a Number" (Pitchfork hasn't even reviewed them yet! And in high school I wrote a 17-page research paper about the White Rose Movement--a World War II era student rebellion in Germany. I am so cool it hurts.)

And we have now moved on to the film portion of the evening. Netflix has recently provided me with Sid and Nancy, a classic date movie if ever there was one.


*Today I went to the Pixar exhibit at MoMA. It was pretty darn great. I particularly liked the pencil sketches and grey resin character molds, and the Toy Story zoetrope (which I had to ask several guards how to find...2nd floor, as in TWO floors above the basement level, Media Gallery) was ridiculously cool. You can, and should, read all about it here.

*It pays to be out drinking at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday night. After our fifth "just one last drink," Ellen and I found ourselves stuck listening to some dude wearing gold studded glasses and a beret, for the simple reason that we had good seats at the bar and were not about to give them up. He insisted on buying us a rum and coke and two Coronas, just as the lights came on. After his credit card was declined, he offered the bartender his PayPal card. Needless to say, the drinks were removed and he disappeared, hopefully with much shame.

*For the Gina Is a Tool When Meeting the Marginally Famous files, upon shaking the hand of a member of Interpol (who had been blatantly checking out Ellen through several rounds of drinks) in the wee hours last night, I said, "Wow your hand is warm." His friend said, "Pockets." Interpol said, "Pockets." And then they left and we went home.

*My little sis is coming to visit this weekend!!! I am so glad that I've passed on to her my penchant for impromptu, impractical vacations.