Spare Loft

I attended a party last night to say good-bye to a former VP from my company.

The party was thrown at a spare loft owned by an employee of my company who apparently started out small here but who made his way up and also made lots of money on stock. He still works, but owns all sorts of real estate throughout the city and rents out this particular space either for parties or for $10,000 a month.

It's interesting to see how the other half lives. It's hard to be jealous, though, because he started off working in facilities. Good for him. He made himself.

At any rate, it was a lavish party with remarkable food and dense drinks. I was trashed after drinking only 1/3 of my first rum and coke despite having stuffed myself with all sorts of food.

The loft was gigantic. There were probably 200 people there and it felt like there were no people. We decided that we could set it up orphanage-style and put like 20 sets of bunk beds and all split the rent. It's absurd that 40 people could, realistically, live in this space.

The conversation was good. Stiff drinks guarantee that.

Here is a picture from the party:



I don't know how I feel about this. On the one hand, belly dancing is cool and interesting and more of an art form than a display of sexuality. This being said, would they have hired a belly dancer had a female VP retired? Certainly not. Is this inappropriate at a work function? I think so. Do I care? Not as much as I'd predicted. I guess I just don't care about anything involving work.

Only in NYC.

You will all be happy to know that R, again, was drunk and saying things like "You know whatttt? I lufffff you...." and "You haf the mosht beautiful eyeshhhhh I've efer seen... doesn't she haffff the most beautiful eyessss?" to various women. D and I tried to extract (incidentally, this was all very cute because D and I became friends at the first company party I attended while escorting R home and we kissed for the first time at the second company party I attended) and R wouldn't have it. He grabbed D's coat and said "I haffff D's coat... you cantttt leave.... no kishing.... I haffff his coat... HAH! HAH HAH HAH. I haffff your coat. Wait - whose coat is thisssh? Why am I holding thisss coat?" and then threw D's coat on the floor.

Bench Buddy took R home this time. Well, they walked home together since they live near each other and Bench Buddy said "Hey, dude, let's go into my apartment and make mac and cheese!" so R joined him and immediately passed out.

D and I walked around the city for a bit but I was weepy and moody from the rain and from drinking too much and from missing my friends from home and from appreciating the few that I have here. He wanted to show me some hotels, but I wanted to get home safely (my neighborhood is sketchy at night so I don't like to walk around post-11:00 while alone) and take a warm shower and enjoy some much-needed sleep.

When I got home, a card had arrived for me from my friend MT, who I haven't spoken with in ages. It was a card with an Amish Man on it.

How much do I love mail? And the Amish? It made me more weepy, but in a good way, because I felt loved. Mail is good like that. I need to buy some stamps so I can send people notes. Well, I need to find a place in this damn city that sells cute cards with Amish people on them.

This morning I overslept because I had a hard time sleeping last night because I think I may have passed another kidney stone! Wtf? Dehydration will do that to you. Or, it could have just been a drunken tactile hallucination. I don't know. Either way, I was exhausted and decided to just sleep in.

Someone was buzzing my apartment all morning and I was pissed. There was to be no electricity or hot water in the building today, so I just assumed it was someone trying to get into the building by any means possible.

Not so. I ordered some light bulbs online and they arrived while I was actually home (when does that ever happen?) but I didn't answer the door because I was either paranoid about or irked by someone summoning me.

I am now doubly annoyed with myself. I have this fantastic floor lamp that I discovered while in Miami years ago and ended up ordering online. It takes little and extremely delicate halogen bulbs. When I moved to Brooklyn from Somerville, one of the bulbs ended up breaking so I bought one in the city. Each of these bulbs retails for $4, and the lamp takes ten of them.

Anyway, while packing for this move, I remember thinking "OK, I don't want them to break this time, so I will pack them very carefully!" I apparently also thought "I will pack them in an extremely clever and protected place where I will never find them again! Mwa ha ha!"

They are the only items I misplaced during the move. I am annoyed with myself, because how could I be so stupid? There are a few places I thought I packed them, but no. Gone. Vanished. Disappeared. I finally admitted to myself at the beginning of the week that the bulbs are, indeed, gone (well, not gone - I'll find them when I pack to move out of this apartment) and ordered new ones online. I found them for like $1.37 a bulb and ordered ten of them and then had to pay like another $8 for shipping. Ridiculous.

And now they are in New York City but I can't get them. Well, I can pick them up at the place they delivered them to but its rainy and disgusting and I don't want to go all the way to the very west side. I had them delivered to work, but I probably won't get them until next week. They were right there this morning but I was too much of a retard to take the chance of letting a potential serial killer into my building. I don't know why I didn't have them shipped to work in the first place.

Idiot.

I blame the weather.

Speaking of which, why is it winter?!?!?

And... in more exciting news... thank you, M, I think I am going to make a bid on EBay this afternoon for the first time!

A week of firsts. Coupons, Ebay, when will the madness end?

New Addiction

I'm looking for a couch and a couple chairs and possibly a table for New Apartment. I have been compulsively checking Craigslist for these items and am now certain that even after I've acquired these items I will continue reading Craigslist on an hourly basis to see what people are selling. "For Sale" is my new "Missed Connections."

It's fascinating.

I want to buy all of this girl's stuff, because she rules:

http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/fur/74977226.html

Puppets

I just ate lunch in the, gasp, cafeteria, and someone said "I'm already discouraging my child from liking science."

Someone said "Isn't your kid like 9 months old?"

"Yes, but you can never start too soon! As soon as he's old enough, I am going to take him to Wall Street and make him look at tall buildings and watch the stock exchange."

Others chimed in, and said "If I had kids, I'd do the same thing" and "I'd NEVER let my kid become a scientist."

Heh.

It's comforting to know that there are many people who are stuck.

It's sad, though, because I rarely meet anyone who's like "Science! YEAH!"

I suspect that this sentiment is unique to my particular field, in that my particular field is not only extremely frustrating but is notorious for not paying well.

Then again, do any adults actually like what they do? Does anyone feel like they chose the right major? Is there anyone who can say "If I had it to do all over again, I'd do it exactly this way?" Is there anyone who hasn't thought about completely starting over?

If I had tons of money, I'd start over.

But would I then get it right? I have no idea. Maybe people just hate working, and learn to hate whatever they do because its work.

Yesterday I was thinking "What I should have done was become a puppeteer. That would be an awesome job."

Yes, folks, puppeteer. I consciously thought "My life would be far better if I worked with puppets." Damn you, Team America, for forcing me to rethink my entire life!

Grown Up

Last night, I used a coupon.

It is the second time I used a coupon in the last week.

It is also the second time I've ever used a coupon in my entire life.

I don't know what this means.

I think I am... gasp... growing up.

"Stereotypes... there must be more to life..."

When I wasn't thinking about couches this weekend, I spent a great deal of time thinking about the nature of stereotypes, and how stereotypes can be valid assessments of people.

I saw Former Roommate who said "I am thinking of getting a motorcycle! Isn't that crazy?" I said "Yeeeeeeeahhhhh!" to appropriately echo her enthusiasm, but inside was thinking "It's not at all crazy, because it was only a matter of time before your made this announcement, as you are so the type of person who would own and ride a motorcycle."

I decided to volunteer for a certain festival for a certain organization that shall, at this point in time, remain anonymous. I thought "It would be nice for me to help them out, since it seems that not a lot of people know about this and I bet they could use the help." In the back of my mind I thought "I might be a little out of place, since I don't have a lot of knowledge about this" but then countered my doubt with "Regardless, they will be appreciative and happy to have me, because they need help."

I arrived at the volunteer's meeting and immediately knew it was going to be a bad scene.

Why?

It was a textbook case of phenotypic stereotype. I thought "Oh god, I am not like these people!"

I then thought "How is it that a personality stereotype can produce a phenotype and how is it that this occurs across the board? Like regardless of where you grow up, you end up looking like this and talking like this because you have a certain hobby. How is that possible?"

Brother does this hilarious impression of himself as a Young Fanboy, in which he talks with the accumulation of saliva and with an urgency that is, well, I hate to say this, typical of even Adult Fanboys. Brother never talked like this, but he knows this subset of the population well enough to know that certain vocal nuances somehow accompany the reading of comic books.

You can tell a theater person from a mile away. For whatever reason, there's a collective sense of humor that isolates them from the rest of the population.

Oftentimes the Fanboys and Theater People run together.

I know I am being overly general. I know that not all Fanboys are like this, and that not all theater people are like this. I am just saying that stereotypes often exist for a reason, and this meeting was a prime example of this.

There's nothing wrong with any of these things. Groups are good. I believe in groups. Groups are nice ways for people to feel comfortable being who they are.

I don't like that I felt like an outcast because I was, well, wearing makeup. I don't like feeling like a dweeb for not knowing about the status of the upcoming Babysitter's Club graphic novel. I don't like feeling like I have nothing to say because I can't speak Simpson's.

I thought "Perhaps I will join the audio visual group, because I bet I could communicate with those guys on some level."

I couldn't, though, because there was much talk of "Well, last year we did..." and "Oh, you should have been there last year..." and "I spend so much time in a dark theater..." and more Simpsons speak.

I felt completely isolated and literally had nothing to say, because I speak in a rather reserved manner and without theatrics and without a lisp and without thinking I am really, really, really funny. I don't make loud declarations to draw attention to myself, nor do I roll my eyes around and wear a black t-shirt and wear a different shoe on each foot.

I was really looking forward to this volunteer opportunity, but now I am dreading it. I am so out of my league.

I tried. I really did. I overheard one of the AV boys talking about the T-Rex 3D Imax movie, which I'd actually seen like 7 years ago in New York City. I thought "Oh! I can totally talk dinosaurs!" so I interjected and said "I saw that... it was awesome." He said snidely "Well, yeah, in an after school special IMax sort of way." I agreed, but said that I thought the 3D was cool. Everyone got mad at me. I was like "No, it's not like 3D effects. The whole thing is in 3D. It's different. The story is lame, but I swear its cool anyway." Blah blah blah and more theatrics. I said "No, seriously, when I took the glasses off I was disappointed that the world was flat. I wished it was still 3D."

OK.

I realize that was a stupid thing to say. I was nervous. Cut me some slack.

Beat.

Theater girl, ever sarcastic and theater-like and proncouncing this to the world, "Isn't the world IN THREE DEEEEE?"

Laughter. Cackling.

"That's not what I meant." Come on. You know what I mean. 3D on film looks different than actual dimensions. I tried to explain this, and mentioned the fabulousness that was the Viewmaster, but they ignored me in order to make fun of me and say things like "Oh, I wish the world was in hologram!" and then snort snort snort at my expense. I wanted to scream "Um, hello? You do not make fun of me. No no no. You are annoying and are wearing all black!"

Instead I just sat down and said nothing for the remainder of our time at the meeting. We left the building as a group. I said nothing in the elevator on the way down while they were all exciteable about something or other about Indiana Jones. As we departed, I walked in the opposite direction from the rest of the group despite the fact that I had to walk the same way.

I was just like "Bye?" and everyone just walked away.

Hmph.

They're like "That girl thinks the world is in 2D! HA HA HA!!!!"

Now. I feel bitchy about bringing up stereotypes.

Do stereotypes exist for a reason?

I think I fit a couple stereotypes.

Is that something to be proud of?

I don't think so.

I don't think it really means anything at all, really.

I'm just disappointed that this encounter went exactly as I'd feared, because the stereotypes actually did play themselves out.

Oh well.

Cafeteria

Now that I am poor and therefore monetarily reponsible, I am trying to be better about bringing my lunch to work.

I calculated that since starting this job, I have spent nearly $1000 on lunches.

Yes, the soft, gooey, white chocolate chip cookies from Subway are priceless but with $1000 I could be well on my way to purchasing my very own adult purple velvet loveseat!

Since I've started bringing my lunch to work, there have been fewer trips to the ATM, less activity on the credit card, and a sudden obsession with tupperware sizes.

This would all be fabulous if I didn't have to suffer from a middle-school-like fear of the cafeteria.

It's not that I am afraid of eating lunch with other people.

I'm just aware of the fact that I could be trapped with someone I don't particularly like, or worse, trapped with someone with whom I get along just fine but to whom I have nothing to say.

I admit that I am deathly afraid of small talk.

I am attached to my introverted lunchtime behavior.

I like to read the paper. I like to get out of the building. I like to people watch and walk and not have to dread who I might be trapped with in the cafeteria.

I am starving but don't want to eat yet because I bet there are tons of people down there eating and discussing the weather right now.

I am afraid that I'll walk down there and everyone will be friendly! and happy! and laughing! I'll be even more of an outcast than I already am.

Is a purple couch worth this strife?

Are peanut butter sandwiches really subsitutes for slices of pizza?

Sometimes I really miss Cambridge.