“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” I thought. “This is too much.”
As we followed the hostess to our table, my gaze moved around the elegant glass domed room that was criss-crossed with large metal piping that ran from the floor to the high ceiling. Oversized art deco chandeliers hung throughout the space, giving off a comforting glow. Our cozy table for two was set off to the side, with a crisp white linen tablecloth and two delicately arranged napkins.
My immediate thought was, “Fuck. I am so underdressed.”
Continue reading Date Seven. Or, Date Six, V. 2.0.
“Okay. So it’ll start like this: ‘You know those movies, those movies you can watch over and over and never get sick of? They might not be particularly good but for whatever reason they strike something in you and they become your go-to movies whenever you can’t figure out what to watch. I have three. In no particular order, they are: ‘Rock Star,’ which I love because the music reminds me of high school and it makes me nostalgic for my hometown’s illicit parties when parents were out of town. We’d lift our beers together and scream out Motley Crue and make out on porches and it honestly felt like life couldn’t get any better. The next is ’17 Again.’ I love this one because Zac Efron is brilliantly hysterical in it. No really, he is – ‘”
“No really, he is.” Marlie said nodding and took a sip of her coffee. We were wrapping up our Sunday-After-New-Year’s-Brunch at Park Avenue Winter and I was telling her about my next post. Continue reading 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, 99 Bottles of Beer. Take One Down, Pass It Around…(Well, you know the rest).
“This trip will change you for the better,” Sheri emailed me the morning of my departure. “I just know it.” Her comforting words were not having the desired effect. My hands still shook as I pulled out the pill bottle from my carry-on and we taxied to the runway at JFK.
My Practice Xanax Session the previous night had gone well. Although, I’d forced my friend Veronica to stay on the phone with me an hour after I’d taken it to make sure I wasn’t having any sort of adverse reaction. This made no sense of course, as she lives in Portland and there wasn’t much she could do if something did occur. But I’d procrastinated until around 10pm my time because I was so scared, so it was too late to call anyone locally.
I had come up with a number of excuses of why I couldn’t make this trip. I was getting sick, The Cat would miss me too much and stop eating, The Fun Committee was hosting their first event without my expertise. But I knew none of these would be accepted by my writing partner. He had spent a lot of money on this trip, we needed to get this work done for the book. I had to go. So after I downed the Xanax, I looked out the window as the tarmac sped by and then fell out from below us, settled into my seat and said to myself, “Let’s do this.”
And then I went to Venice. Continue reading I Went to Venice. And Amsterdam.
“Ah, Venice,” said Dr. Shay in his slow, measured tone. He moved to retrieve his stethoscope. “Beautiful city.” Dr. Shay is in his early-fifties and has been my doctor for many years. I like him because he never makes me feel rushed in my appointments and lets me spout out my various theories on the roots of health problems without becoming annoyed.
“Yes, I know,” I replied, nodding. “I’ve been there.” That was part of the problem with this whole trip. I was being forced to take vacation time for a location that I’d already been to. It pissed me off.
“You don’t sound too thrilled,” he said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm.
“I’m not,” I said. “I couldn’t be less thrilled.”
“And why is that?” Continue reading I Have To Go To Venice. Part Two.
I was a Theater Major in college and reveled in the fierce lifestyle of wearing all black (accented with eccentric hats and scarves), smoking cigarettes at the benches and deconstructing Pedro Calderón de la Barca. But since I was attending U.C.L.A., I also decided to join a sorority. Much to my friends’ and family’s confusion.
I have varied thoughts on the Greek System as a whole, in fact, I even wrote a book about it, but my personal experience was pretty awesome. To this day, if I were to ever meet a girl from my House, no matter what chapter, I would give her our secret handshake and call her ‘My Sister’. It was at my sorority, during our formal Monday night dinner, when events set me on the course to have ‘The White Light’ experience. Continue reading I Have To Go To Venice. Part One.