Real Time, Real Talk

Guys, this is a REAL TIME SITUATION. IT JUST HAPPENED. ARE YOU READY? (I am well aware that when I say real time, this will get posted 10-12 hours later. Not at all real time. Thanks for calling me out.) 

(Aww, cahmmm ahhn guys! I promise it's a good story!)

So, after this ridiculous weekend, I realized I needed to cool it Monday/Tuesday before I head to New York. It doesn't hurt that my Monday night schedule usually allows me to go to the gym (blech, gross), make dinner (make an omelet, duh), and watch RuPaul's Drag Race (because I am a flaming homosexual)... all things that allow me to "cool it."

I decided to be a little more productive on this fine Monday than I normally am. Since I am going to NY in two days (Drinking game: Drink every time I mention NY... also for every time I have already mentioned it. Let's get schwasted!) I decided that I needed to do laundry and straighten up my apartment after I went to the gym. I even tweeted about it so the whole world would know I was doing laundry. I'M RESPONSIBLE. 

(I'm clever and realistic.)

In all of these adult-like activities that I was doing, I decided to try and multi-task. (You know, because I have a record of being smooth and adept to situations enough to multi-task -_-) I grabbed the overflowing recycling bin in my apartment and was taking it down to switch my laundry since they are all in the basement. The laundry room is locked with a key that all residents have and the recycling is around the corner. (I promise, this is all important.) As soon as I dragged the recycling out of my apt and closed the door, I realized... I had locked myself out. 

(O-Face or being shocked...or BOTH?)

I wasn't even surprised, to be honest. There was a moment of "What the fahk? REALLY WORLD? Thanks, Obama." Then I had to figure out the next best move, which meant to call the roomie, KG. Being the amazing half-Jew that I am, I forgot that it was Passover. Meaning he was at a Seder. Meaning he wasn't coming home anytime soon. MEANING I WAS FAHKED. 

I decided to call the emergency management company to come and let me into my apartment. The conversation doesn't exactly go the way I planned. 

Me: Hi, so I was an idiot and locked myself out of my apartment.

Responder: We can fix this. We will send a tech over as soon as we can. 

Me: Awesome, do we have a timeframe on this?

Responder: As soon as we call someone, and then however long it takes them to get to you. 

Me: Oh, so, like, no timeframe?

Responder: No, unfortunately, I don't. 

Me: What if I told you there was a baby in the apartment?

Responder: Do you have a child in the apartment?

Me: Would that make them arrive faster?

Responder: I would advise you to call the police to get the fastest response. 

Me: Would you say the same response if I told you I left my stove on with boiling water?

Responder: Yes. 

Me: ... and three candles?

Responder: Are any of these situations real, sir?

Me: No, I will be in the lobby in all my glory. 

Responder: Are you nude? I would tell you to wait in the stairwell then.

Me: NO! I'm not an animal! 

Responder: Okay, I'm going to hang up now and call the tech to get over to you.

I don't do well in situations with indefinite timeframes attached to them. I can honestly tell you that I said all of these things in the hopes that the emergency apartment responder would tell me that someone was coming in 5 minutes. PART of my fear in all of this was that I was dressed in my "giving up clothing." (This entails an oversized sweater, short gym shorts... short, and a gay rights T-shirt. I am constantly winning.)

Face burning red, I grabbed my recycling and brought it down to the lobby. I didn't at any point think that maybe I should take my recycling down and empty it while I waited for an unknown period of time. No, instead, I sat in the lobby in my "giving up clothes" as people traipsed in and out, judging me and my massive pile of recycling. 

(Ashley Olsen wears my giving up clothes out in public. She is worth millions. I think I am doing things wrong.)

I waited for a solid 45 minutes. I met neighbors for the first time, who decided that the homeless looking gay man with all of the recycling obviously looked like he wanted to meet people. They all made a variation of the same joke involving waiting for my "roommate," "significant other," or "special friend," while mentioning that if I waited much longer, I'd have to sleep in the lobby. I fake chuckled at every single one of them, silently rueing the day they were born. 

Finally, when the tech showed up, he had the audacity to discuss his journey to the building.

Tech: Wow, I am surprised I made it here so fast. I definitely thought it would be after 10 p.m. by the time I got here. 

(Biiiitch, please.)

Once I remembered that it wasn't his fault that I was sitting in the lobby, I pulled back the snarky bitch vibe I was giving off and tried to get through the process. After all was said and done, I was out $25, and I am pretty sure that most of my apartment building has an intimate knowledge of how I parade around my apartment. (I also need to get longer shorts to do my laundry in.)

Laundry: Not worth the pain

Responder: Not having it 

Tech: Not as smooth as he thinks he is 

Fabulously Lost: Failed at being a grown-up 

Thoughtful Thoughts

This is going to be a post about a couple shiznat happenings in my life. I do what I waaaant.

Shocking Events

I have to discuss with you guys a major issue that arose today. Last week, whenever anyone asked me to do anything, my immediate response had been yes. Movie? Yes! Trivia? Why not? Random semi-political concert in support of peace between Israel and Palestine? ... Sure!? I was just so enamored with the idea that I could finally do anything after work and go to my apartment and sleep in my own bed. So, it came as a massive surprise to me when I was asked to go to happy hour (my second favorite meal behind brunch) and I responded, "No."

(But. Whaaaat?)

There are only three possibilities for why this could happen:

1. I've just discovered that money doesn't grow on trees.
2. I'm going to Miami in May for work, and I need to start working out instead of eating out.
3. The Apocalypse is upon us.

Well, if you guessed ALL three of these, then you are right. (But mainly, you should probably start preparing for number 3, because that shit is real and not okay.) As I mentioned above, I have been going out on a regular basis since I moved to the city and pretending that I have unlimited funds for these things. I def needed to take a week off from spending money and what better way to spend my time than going to the gym? (I COULD THINK OF A MILLION THINGS I'D LIKE TO DO THAT DON'T INVOLVE A GYM. Sorry. I just. It's. Ughh.)

Remember that time I slipped in there that I am going to Miami in May and pretended like I wasn't going to talk about it? HAHA! I'm a sneaky mothatrucka. Real talk: My company is sending everyone to Miami in May for our company meeting. 

(Oh deary me!)

We have these amazing trips every year for our company meetings out on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Everyone just assumed that when we got too big we would end up stopping these events. INSTEAD, THEY ARE TAKING US TO MIAMI. (I'm prone to outbursts, sorry I'm not sorry) We are going for three days the week after Memorial Day. I have never been to Miami before, so I decided that I was going to stay an extra few days with a couple of gals, a couple of gays, and a straightee thrown in there.  In order to get my shit together for those buff, tan gays down in Miami, I have decided that going to the gym is actually going to be worth it. I am also going to be sucking up enough UV rays to power a solar-powered car for a cross-country trip. You know, 'cause that's healthy. 

(Basically, what I wanna be. Sans the boobs... and the sex tape.)

Barista Boyfriend

Since I moved in a little over a month ago, I have put my love life on the back burner. (I like pretending that I have a love life that can be placed somewhere other than in front of me.) I decided that it was important for me to get myself established in the city and set up my home for any possible suitors to see. (After AT least the third date. I'm classy like that. Also, #celibacy2013.) This hasn't stopped me from the occasional sloppy makeout at the local gay hangouts, I've just been more picky about who gets to see me sober. 'Cause that's a healthy way to date.

There has been one consistant man in my life since I moved to DC and he, my friends, happens to be the local Starbucks barista. 

(Oh, I wish I was that latte.)

The issue I am running into here is that I have created a fictional relationship with him. He is very, very nice and always has a gregarious greeting for me... just like he does with everyone else. I have also been there frequently enough for him to remember my drink — sorta.

Me: I would like a...

Barista: Don't tell me, I got this! You want a venti caramel macchiato, right papi? (Did I mention he is Hispanic? OH, I didn't? Welp, he's Hispanic.)

Me: So close! I would like an iced venti skinny vanilla latte!

Barista: Ahh, I was close. I'll get it next time! 

Me: No worries, you're so good at drinks making of them and such. (Remember how awkward I am?)

Barista: And your name is Steven, right?

Me: Close again! Its Mm...

Barista: I got this! It's Milo!!! 

Me: Close enough for today...

It's not Milo. Due to these brief interactions and the consistency with which I see him, I have decided he is currently my boyfriend. 

(Insane in the membrane!!!!!!) 

Concerts and the City That Never Sleeps

Next week, I am going to New York to see Taylor Swift! 

(Imma let you finish, but SUCK IT I'M GOING TO SEE HER.)

The concert is on Wednesday, and I'm going to be there for a few days of debauchery and other fun activities. We know how aggressive NY can be, so, hopefully, we will find ourselves in a game of Russian Roulette with a bottle of vodka and prowl the town for boys.

Until next week...

Bush: Puzzled about everything 

Miami: Heyyyy gurl

Kim Kardashian: I think I need to make a sex tape to get famous

Fabulously Lost: Workin for da man and livin an abbreviated dream

High Anxiety

I am an anxious person. This may be news to the people who consider me to be their closest friend, but the people who are actually my closest friends, this is very accurate. Basically I get really awkward and weird (more than normal, obvs) when I get into a situation where I feel really anxious. I have decided that you are all worthy recipients of the list of things that make me weirder than I am on a normal basis.

(What is this baby looking at? WHAT is so concerning? I am forever in awe of weirdo babies)

~List of reasons why I'm an anxious freak-a-do~

Silence

What does this mean? How does silence make someone anxious? Shouldn't silence make you zen and calm?

ZEN? ZEN? DOES THIS SOUND ZEN? UGHHH YOU'RE THE WORST...and by that I mean I am the worst.

I have no idea why this affects me so much, but I cannot handle silence. I don't just mean when people meditate and it happens to be silent. I mean that if there is no noise whatsoever, I begin to have an irrational breakdown. My ears begin to feel like they are going to fall off and I need some sort of noise. I usually have music playing constantly. When I say constantly, I actually mean every moment of my day up until I fall asleep. I panic when I sleep over friends places because it is weird to turn on music as you are trying to fall asleep. Because I'm a freak.

(This is what happens when you are silent. People. Die.)

Dark Clouds

This one is hard for me to admit to. I really love a good thunderstorm and I like being in doors watching them from the comfort of my own home. This doesn't change the fact that for the first 5-10min of me watching ominous clouds descend upon the land, I am convincing myself that it is a tornado. (Yup, you read that right. No need to second guess yourself) 

(OUT OF NOWHERE? HOW IS THIS NOT SCARY? This photo has set me into an anxious state)

I am not a fan of scary movies. I hate them more than life itself. I don't find it entertaining to have the living shit scared out of me for 2hrs. I don't like walking into a movie knowing that I won't be able to sleep later that night, no matter how much music I have playing. (See above random excuse for anxiety) So you may find yourself pondering, much like I do, why I would agree to sit down and watch the hit '90's movie titled Twister. They aren't hiding it in the title, they weren't trying to pretend like it was anything other than what it was, a movie about a tornado. I took one thing from the entire movie (mostly because I was watching the entire thing through the cracks of my fingers, judge me not people) and that was that you can tell when a tornado is about to hit because the clouds are green. Green. The color green. 

IS THIS FUCKING DOCTOR SUESS??? I can't trust green clouds? Does this apply to other things that are green too? Are all green things working together to ruin my life???

The short and simple answer to all these questions is, yes. Yes this world we live in can be figured out through color (heeeyyy girl, I'm a rainbow. SURPRISE) and green clouds are the worst thing you could ever see in the sky. I am astonished because I have seen green clouds, no less than, 10-15x in my life since I have seen this movie. Luckily, none of them ended up in a tornado...at least to my knowledge.

Sweating

I talk about sweating a lot on this blog. I talk about it because it plagues my life. I get it, I'm not athletic and I start sweating if the temperature is above 66 degrees (that is, unfortunately, not an exaggeration). So why put this in this post? WELL, thanks for asking kiddies! I add it in here because I have begun, in the last year, sweating when I think that I might sweat. 

('Guuuh-huh???'- thats the noise (s)he is making. Duh.)

I, once, was a carefree kid who didn't recognize all of the situations that he would sweat in. Then, like 5 years ago, I became overly aware of the sweating issue and would start to panic when I felt that first bead of sweat roll down my face. The first drop was the bane of my existence and then became the sole thing running through my head. If you see me slightly gaze off into the distance or try to "discreetly" wipe my brow, it usually means that I hace completely checked out of our conversation and I am trying to plan my escape so I can go sweat by myself in the corner. The corner of shame and dispare. 

Large Groups of People

HA! Good thing I just moved into a city. A city with lots of people...some may call it a large group of people. I moved here for so many reasons and one of them, surprisingly, was not for the abundance of people cramped into small areas. I get irrationally awkward when there are too many people in elevators and the only way I know out of it is by making weird conversations. 

Examples: 

*Cramped elevator the other morning*

Me: No stairs for anyone? So, guess we all aren't going to be winning the weight loss challenge. 

*Cramped metro car*

Me (to my friend): Wouldn't it suck if  everything just stopped and we were stuck for an hour. I would have a panic attack. 

*Cramped into a small work space for a happy hour at work*

Me: I am definitely sweating in places I didn't think possible. 

(Where's Waldo wasn't a fun book for me, it was, and is, my personal hell)

So, you see, it doesn't matter whether I am with friends or not, I shut down and become like rain man about one extremely awkward thing. (Yet another reason why meeting a boyfriend in a public space will NEVER happen for me. *wink, nudge, nod*)

Silence: Horrifying

Dark Clouds: I blame Helen Hunt for this one. I am not Mad About You, Ms. Hunt. 

Sweating: A constant worry

Crowds:  Brings on sweating and creates a silence...in my heart.