BFF

I never thought I'd open a blog with "So and so once said..." but here it goes. Oscar Wilde once said, "True friends stab you in the front". It's also said that his dying words were "Either those curtains go or I do". What a goddamn genius. But in that "I know I'm a genius" kind of way and it's a little annoying. But he's got a point about the friend thing.

I had this weird blast from the past this holiday season. One of my best friends from Buffalo came down to the city this week. When I was a kid I was really shy and didn't have a lot of friends but there was this one girl, Jenna, I was close with. Even after I moved to Virginia and became best friends with Bonnie, we kept in touch but that's when the hormones and the drug experimentations kick in, you know, the usual, and we kind of drifted apart. And it's hard to keep in touch with someone when you're that age and there's boys and family shit and you find that you've been "experimenting" for so long you may as well have written a new Chemistry theorem. So we haven't talked in years. But she heard I was in NY and came down with her husband and yes... child... and looked me up.

We went out for coffee and walked through the park and just talked and you know, the darndest thing is that it was as if nothing had changed. There were no awkward pauses or silences, it was as if we had regressed back to those giddy, nervous, excited 10 year olds both terrified and electrified with the idea of growing up. In fact the only awkward moment was when she asked me why I wasn't at my mother's funeral (of course she went, it seems everyone else did). I had to tell her why- "Oh, I was cracked up on some guys couch somewhere and my family had no way of contacting me. By the way, your baby is beautiful". Yeah, there it was. But instead of being snapped back into my present reality, I heard myself saying it as if I was 10 again, looking into my future and seeing the outcome. And I was sad, a bit, but then I couldn't help but think of how far I'd come, what had happened, and what I had done in my life (albeit small). And I had that stupid George Bailey moment where you realize how lucky and loved you are, because instead of judging me Jenna just gave me a big hug and said, "Well, I'm sorry about your mom. I'm happy to see you're okay." I didn't cry. Well, when I got home I did, but in a pillow so Sophie couldn't hear me because that bitch is so hypersensitive she always has to "cry along".

I got to thinking about my friends. My real friends, not just Jenna but the ones who know you best and remind you where you come from. And they suck because sometimes you don't want to remember how awkward or obnoxious or slutty you were at whatever age. But they're always there. Goddamnit. I hope Sophie doesn't read this because she'll make a big deal out of it. But I hope Bonnie does. She really has been there for me and I hope she knows that. Jean too- even though she's a "new friend" I kind of feel like I know her pretty well. But there's still a window where she might totally piss me off and I'll only tolerate her at social gatherings. But I don't think so. I hope all those bitches keep stabbing me in the front.

364 Days Until Christmas

I finally have the Christmas spirit. And the day after Christmas, no less. Here's what happened- I showed up at Sophie's friend's house, and I actually had a really nice time. The family welcomed me in with open arms, and I realized that all families are completely disfunctional, not just mine. It was awesome. Sophie got wasted and knocked this really expensive dessert wine all over this rare tablecloth from Tibet, and I was glad that for the first time no one was mad at me for screwing up. In fact, I helped the host woman clean it up and got crazy points for doing it. I can see why Bonnie likes being perfect- you get this weird "I'm the Good One in this room" rush, and it's pretty addictive. Next thing you know I was doing dishes. Thankfully it ended when I broke the dishwasher but I didn't tell them it was me. Let them blame it on Sophie.

Sophie got me this really beautiful necklace. I'm sure it was a re-gift, but it's mine now. I got her a bag of this fancy granola. She seemed touched, but she's lucky she got anything seeing as how my bank account is negative 0. Seriously though Bloggie, I was really happy that she invited me. I actually felt like I was in a family.

Which is why I feel bad I'm mad at Sophie for totally cutting her hair. She says it wasn't her fault- she was forces into it and was visibly traumatized and I don't remember the whole story cuz it was so weird, but she looked beautiful and I'm all pissed because I wanted to cut my hair short and now I can't because all of my friends will have short hair (except for Bonnie) and they'll think I'm copying them. Also the days and weeks after a new haircut that person gets all the attention and it's an unwritten rule among women that you can't out-do your friend's haircut until about a month after they get theirs. So now I have to wait.

Jean's been mentioning Peter a lot. Not in a good way, but lately it comes up in conversation a lot more. Like, "Pass the salt. Peter's an asshole." Not that I understand how salt can tangeant into Peter, but I'm sure Jean has a reason. Maybe it's because New Years is coming and it's another holiday to remind you that you need to kiss someone. Whatever, I don't need a day for that. But I also don't need a reminder that another year has passed. Yes, I get it. A year has passed. I'm excited- I think Jean is spending New Years with me and she's always fun to hang out with. If only I can convince Sophie and Bonnie.

Well, off to play with my presents. Oh, Bonnie got me that iPod. I knew she would. Now I just have to figure out how it works.

Later, Bloggie

Throwing Punches

I got in a huge fight with Sophie last night. I don't really remember what it was about but I guess I accidentally spilled some crap on this dishtowel of hers and threw it away, and she's all like, "Where's the dishtowel" and I said I didn't know then she found it in the trash (she doesn't trust me) and went on and on about how I'm a bad friend and then she started to cry. I've learned in therapy the small things are always representative of something else and surprise- turns out it was a wedding gift for her and James. Not even the FIRST gift or something super heirloomie or anything, just a gift. And she never liked her mother in law anyway. So she's freaking out and I tell her it's because it reminded her of James, and she needed to get over that cheating rat bastard. Then she started giving me shit for "cheating" on the 18 year old. Can you even cheat on someone who is 18, not your boyfriend and coincidentally, thousands of miles away? Isn't there some out of zip code rule? The 18 year old is in London for the holidays and that hot International student from Belize can't keep his hands off me. Sophie made a big deal out of the fact that I slept with him. "How do you think that boy will feel when he comes back from London?!" well, gee Sophie, he won't know now, will he? Then she just starts to cry again. I think it's because it's the holidays and this will be her second Christmas without James. For her sake I hope they get easier.

I still don't know where I'll be on Christmas. Sophie says I'm still invited to some artys friend of hers house. Bonnie called me but just left a message that said, "Merry Christmas!" God, could you get any more cliche?

Jean left today for Vermont. I kind of miss her, which is weird because I rarely miss people. Maybe I just like knowing she's around.

See you, Bloggie.

Humiliated

Humiliated. What a strong word. This girl I go to school with- I won't name names but it starts with an S and rhymes with Ephanie, told me today that she was humiliated. And I don't blame her. She'd been seeing this guy for 4 months and he was totally into her but then something changed. Turns out he met another girl. Fair enough. But then he started taking the other girl into the same places they would always hang out. The thing is, he was still seriously dating my friend and neglected to tell her about the other girl. Again, I know men, fair enough. But in some sub-conscious shallow way there's the game where the man knows she will find out so: a. it's easier than telling her yourself, and b. there's some satisfaction in feeling like a big pimp. But everyone knew... the bartenders of the bar they went to, his friends, even the fucking deli guy on the corner of her dorm. She picked up the weird vibes right quick. So she confronted him and they ended it. No new story here. But the thing is, we're sitting in class the other day, and I look over at this brave, strong girl I had always secretly admired, and she was crying. I asked her what was wrong (even though I knew because I am the satellite tower of gossip central) and she says to me, it wasn't the fact that she wasn't THE ONE and it wasn't because she missed him. Well, maybe a little of both. But it was the humiliation- public humiliation. That's exactly what she said. And I hadn't heard a dirtier word since the way she said it. Worse than Cunt. Almost as bad as Twat, but Twat is a funny word and always makes me laugh inside.

The thing is, I'm quite familiar with that, and even worse, I've been guilty, many times, of being the other girl. And I felt bad. For the first time, I felt bad about all those times I was. I did it to Sophie. I even did it to Bonnie, but that's high school so that doesn't count. And all the times it was done to me and I should have felt humiliated, I laughed it off as a stupid girly emotion. But it hurts. Humiliated. What a strong word.

Strike Sex

You'd think I'd be the first to know about strike sex, but apparently I'm the last because this guy I know was like, "Have you been offered strike sex"? And I'm like, what's that? Turns out it's this big thing because everyone here is working from home and the craigslist posts have been all about "Meet me at my place for Strike Sex". Awesome. Unfortunately I can't take drink orders from home so I am stuck in the bar, but that place is a vortex of sex anyway so if you think about it I'm always having strike sex, well, "They're drunk and I'm intrigued" sex.

Strike sex. Do you need a strike as an excuse to have sex? It's like The Blackout sex or Oh No, Terror Alert Has Been Raised Let's Have Sex sex. I guess when people are feeling vulnerable or afraid to be alone they get horny. That's why the holidays are so hot.

Bonnie hasn't called me. I think it's because she's pregnant and has to have sonograms all the time. She's always getting a sonogram. I think Greg should pull a Tom Cruise and buy her a sonogram machine so she can just do them from home and maybe she'll call me once in a while. I don't want her to call me when she's doing one though, it's kind of like talking on the phone while you're going to the bathroom, although I always do that but I just don't tell the other person.

I guess Jean got a temp job but couldn't go because of the strike, so she comes to my bar all the time. I wish she could get paid to drink. Maybe I'll find her some strike sex.

Oh, I have to make a public apology to Sophie for not returning her calls. She is looking over my shoulder as I type this so this is verbatum from Sophie:

Sophie- I am sorry I didn't call you back the other night. I didn't know you were in the FUCKING hospital getting FUCKING stitches (bold lettering not my idea), and she needed a FUCKING friend to pick her up. I, Sara, am a bad friend. I should have called her back, that is why I have a cellphone. Sophie, I will never do that again.

Okay, she's gone. Whatever, how was I supposed to know she was in the hospital?

Later, Bloggie.

Holiday Cheer

Okay, so all the girls were giving me shit about "blogging" but then they're all like, "It's so theraputic; Sara was right". Of course I'm damn right, I'm right about everything.

This weekend sucked because Jean had her holiday party and I didn't go because I thought it was going to be all the nerds from her office playing Cranium or Trivial Pursuit. But then it turns out that it was a bunch of really cool people, and then I remembered that she was still unemployed so of course she wouldn't invite office people because she doesn't have co-workers. And all the girls went and then they were all like, "Why didn't you go" and it's like, I have friends outside of you. Well, not friends but acquaintances. They always make me feel guilty cuz I want to hang out with "friends" who also happen to have functioning "penises" that want to have "sex with me". And Sophie's saying how I always choose men over the girls but when they break my heart I come crying to them and I say, that's true, but that's what friends are for. And I ALWAYS make time for them. Well, at least Bonnie, and that's because she's pregnant and in a delicate condition.

I don't know what I am going to do about Christmas. Seriously, I don't know where I'll be. Jean is going back to Vermont, but that's okay, I didn't want her to invite me anyway. Sophie is having Christmas at another friend's house and she invited me but I don't want to get in the way or have to meet new people. My brother invited me to host a holiday with him and his perfect wife at my dad's in Buffalo, but since Dad moved back to upstate, he's been weird and I don't want to deal with him. Not like he wasn't always weird. I haven't talked to him in months. My brother thought it would be a good idea to go up there "bring some holiday cheer" but I don't have any way to get out there, and I'm really busy and I have to work Christmas Eve. Okay, I also can't think of anything more depressing. Seriously- what are we possibly going to do to cheer him up. "Hey old man! You are totally alone! And your kids kind of hate you! Now let's eat." The holidays are so weird. You have these great memories of your childhood but then you'll never forget when it all changed and you can't really enjoy it anymore. That's why I want to spend the holidays with Bonnie and Greg. I always feel like she's my real family. I think Greg wants to invite me; we kind of bonded after I scored him some pot at the holiday party, but I think Bonnie wants to have some alone time with him this season. Which is totally cool, I know I'll be invited but I'll just politely decline and say, "Oh, no... you have your time alone with Greg." Here's how it's going to happen:
Bonnie: "No, Sara, you are like a sister to me. We want to there."
Sara: "But you've got Greg and the baby..."
Bonnie: "Hey! This baby is never going to come between us. To tell you the truth, I'll always love you more than this baby."
Sara: "Really?"
Bonnie: "Really. Don't tell Greg. Now spend the holidays with us."
Sara: "Okay."

Well, except when it really happens I'll just tell her I have plans. And I do have to work Christmas Eve.

I'd better call Sophie, I don't know if she hasn't been home or we keep missing each other, but I haven't heard from her. Whatever, she's probably okay.

Bye, Bloggie.

Do I Know it's Christmastime?

I just realized it's 10 days until Christmas and I have done absolutely no shopping. I also have no money to speak of. Maybe I'll make gifts, but that ends up costing as well. You know when you're like, "Oh, I just MAKE a paperweight that looks like a puppy" and then the next thing you know you are spending like, $30 at an art supply store to buy those google-eye stickers. And the paperweight doesn't look like a puppy. That was a shitty Christmas.

I hope Bonnie gets me an iPod. I know she will, because when I asked she just rolled her eyes and said in a sing song drone, 'And if Santa CAN'T get you an iPod what ELSE do you want?" And I said I only wanted an iPod. Then she put her head in her hands, shook it around for a bit, looked back up at me and said, "But how am I supposed to SURPRISE you if you don't give me SEVERAL ideas?" To which I said, "How am I supposed to KNOW that you're definitely going to GET me an iPod if I don't make it CLEAR?" Then she just shook her head again and walked off. Sweet, I will be getting a 30 if not 60 GB.

I need to get Bonnie a present. I know she understands that I'm broke but I have to get her something. Maybe I'll replace the ceramic Flamingo ornament Sophie broke at Bonnie and Greg's Christmas party. She just ripped it off the tree and threw it clear across the room. She said the tree was being mean to her. This was after several cocktails and no food in her stomach. I never did ask her what the tree said to her. Either way, someone should replace that ornament. Bonnie told me later that it was one of the first ornaments they bought for the tree. Because Greg is Jewish and from Florida, he thought it would be funny. So the ornament was actually a symbol of their marriage. At least, that's what Bonnie told me after the party- that it was symbolic of their shattered marriage. Maybe if I buy her a new one, it will symbolically mean I "bought" her a "new and better marriage". And seriously, that's better than an iPod. So if you think about it, she owes me.

Jean.... easy. I'll buy her a bottle of champagne.

And Sophie? Maybe some Aloe Vera juice. But I'll bet that's expensive. Hmmm. I'll think about it.

In NY

Well, here it is, my first blog since San Francisco. Although in San Francisco I was blogging just because it was new and chic and now it's old and passe. Does "passe" need an accent over the e? Is that even how you spell it? I wish I spoke French.

I hung out with the girls tonight, then Sophie went off to meet a new gentleman friend of hers and I just came home. For the first time in nights I actually just came home. Sophie won't tell me anything about this new guy; probably because she thinks I'll hit on him. What can I say, I'm charming. I can't help it if every guy who meets me thinks I'm hot.

Jean said the meanest thing to me today; I can't remember exactly what it was but it was mean. It was something like, "Oh, I'll never hook you up with my friend so and so because he has more education than you" translation "Hi I'm Jean and I am insecure about men so I don't want you to be happy." Whatever, she doesn't need to be insecure. I'd date her if I was a guy or she was a lesbian and I was too.

The 18 year old keeps calling me. I guess I'll call him back tonight. Dammnit, it's cold out and our heat's not working and he's 6'2 and warm. I kind of like NY in the wintertime. I'd like it better if the heat worked. I hope Sophie is having an illicit affair with the Con Ed man and that's why she won't tell me because she's embarassed about ho-ing herself out for heat for our apartment. Then she'll take a picture of her vagina.

Bonnie actually looked pregnant tonight. She's seriously got back, but I didn't tell her that because she'll get self conscious. But she does have a nice booty.

G'night bloggie.