Looking Up

I hate to jinx things, but everything is looking up. Greg is the father of Bonnie's child, Sophie is doing a lot better, Jean, for once, took control of a fundraising event and managed to have a good time (although the free liquor helped), and I GOT MY ROMANCE NOVEL OPTIONED FOR A MOVIE! Oh my god, you have no idea- basically they're going to turn it into a romantic comedy. They loved the storyline, about a young man who tries to rob these four college girls, and they catch him and put him in their basement as their sex slave. Except, well, they're changing it around a bit where instead of being a thief he is a hot traveling salesman who, recently out of a bad breakup, needs a place to stay and ends up as their new roommate in the basement. Wackiness still ensues, but it's not as dirty as my book. And that's okay. I've got cold, hard cash.

I can't wait to quit my bar job. Once I have the first check in hand, I am going to quit in the most creative way possible- I am open to suggestions, by the way (see comment section at the end of this blog).

It's funny, a lot has changed in the past year since I moved to New York. I managed to find a great group of friends, have had some crazy things happen that almost seem fictional had they not actually happened (hello, private visit to the Oval Office), and learned a lot about relationships with the opposite sex. For example, I'm worth a lot more than the heaping loads of cowpie I used to receive.

I first came here as a visitor; a tourist. My first memory of New York is looking up at the skyscrapers. I had never seen so many large buildings in one place at once in my life. Now I occasionally look up at the buildings because you'll always find something you've never seen before. Like, do you know that at the tops of most buildings there are invariably these awesome gardens? Of course if I was rich and lived in a penthouse I'd make a garden too. For now I have a basil plant. But like I said, things are looking up.

Martini, I Hardly Knew Ye

I don't really know how to say this, but Martini, my dog, has passed. Someone gave him chocolate (and espresso) and he went into cardiac arrest.

I don't know why chocolate AND espresso, and I won't reveal which one of the girls it was, but let's just say it was very fine, expensive chocolate and rather high quality espresso. The only reason I am not naming names is because I forgive her and I think she was genuinely sorry for her mistake.

Even if I were to hold a grudge, it would do no good as Martini is gone. So I am trying to think of all the happy memories we've shared together.

The girls handled everything well. For once. Well, I thought I saw Jean laughing at his funeral but maybe that was just tears. No, she was laughing, but inside I know she is crying.

Sophie is finally getting help for her little problem, and I am continuing the apartment search as Jean has again flat out refused to find a place with me. Whatever, Sophie and I make better roommates anyway.

Okay, so it was Bonnie. But she looked so sad and later told me she missed him. And one day I'll give her daughter chocolate but it will be a happy event because children are not allergic to chocolate.

That's all. Oh, except that Jean is still waiting for her HIV results, Bonnie has yet to know the father of her unborn child and Sophie's under a lot of stress. I would normally end this blog with "At least I have the dog to keep me sane" but I don't. So instead I'll listen to country music and cry a bit. Or maybe I'll write a country song about Martini:

Been a long time ago
Too long to really know
When a dog named Martini
came 'round

He came to stay with me
Without a family
And in him a new friend
I found

My friends were jealous quick
Jean said he had fleas and ticks
So make fun of my friend
they did

Bonnie said he was dumb
Because he ate my gum
But I ain't the one stupid enough
to have a kid

To his needs I would cater
Tho he ate my vibrator
But I sure didn't mind that
a bit

Soon his days were numbered
When at Jean's house we all slumbered
And Bonnie gave him deadly
chocolate

(CHORUS)

Oh, Martini oh Martini
My little cuddle bear
Bonnie didn't mean to kill, I swear

So now I sit here all alone
Smilin' cuz I know why
You're sleepin' in a dog bed in the sky

That righteous little dog bed in the sky.....yyy (hold that note)

I love you, Martini

Internet...vention

I am officially obsessed with the internet. It's been a growing addiction since I learned about Google many years ago. Now I truly cannot live without it. If it were a choice between TV or internet, I'd choose the latter. You know why? Because you can watch TV on the computer. There's this thing called YouTube where you can view an endless array of random videos. You want to watch a cat talk? You got it. Anyone up for an SNL Digital short? It's yours. Hey, who wants to watch a webcam of some kid playing Nintendo? It's crazy.

I am also now participating in this online survey about bartending for this focus group study. It pays $100, so I'm all on it. It's a message board and they ask us all these questions and we respond. We can also talk to each other, and I am currently conducting a wild and public bulletin flirtation with one other bartender from Miami. Why? Because that's how I roll.

I have also used this damned thing to find out more about Sophie's little problem. Although I can't talk about it here, but Sophie, I'm getting you help. And I won't tell Jean or Bonnie.

Jean and I hung out yesterday. Well, I bartended and Jean hung out. I guess she got a weird piece of news about a friend of hers or something. We had a nice talk; sometimes it's just nice knowing that people understand/agree with you. And then we read aloud dirty limericks from this "Ye Olde Limerick" book my friend found on the street. I'll tell you, you've never lived until you've read the one about "Nymphomaniacal Alice" who did something tawdry with a phallice.

Sophie has been all up on my case about finding an apartment, and Bonnie is so preoccupied with this baby I feel like I haven't seen her in ages. I miss her. I hope we can all four hang out soon this week.

Okay, back to craigslist. Why do I need to check the missed connections section every five minutes? Oh, that's right... because I can.

I'm Not the Firestarter

Okay, how do you talk about something that you want people to know about but you don't want to make it obvious to protect the guilty/innocent? Especially when it's in a blog that Jean has pointed out to me on many occasions is public.

Let's see. You know how there have been like, three fires in Sophie's life this past year? Twice in her studio and once in our home? That's weird.

So, it looks like my dog, Martini may have Canine Dementia. It's kind of like alzheimers, but for dogs. The initial test results came back negative, but there is still more aggressive testing that can be done, and I'm all for it. I just need to borrow some money from Bonnie. The girls didn't take me very seriously; they think he's just dumb. But for a dog he's very smart. Like, the other day, he figured out that Jean had left her expensive cheese from Balducci's on the counter, and Martini found it. And ate it! See, he has good taste. And that makes the possible dementia even sadder. The fact that he sometimes barks at nothing and walks into walls can't just be elective stupidity.

Speaking of elective stupidity, wouldn't it be kind of funny if Sophie did accidentally set those fires? Like, not on purpose, but in a fit of carelessness, which she is wont to posses, maybe she just left an iron on or set a match without remembering? Everyone does that, right?

So Peter met Jean and told her a bit of serious news. It's always feels good to see an ex look like shit, except when they tell you they are HIV positive, then it's not cool. I know Jean will be okay, but man, that's messed up.

I give it another week before Bonnie moves back in with Greg. There's only so much Rita Weisberg anyone can take, and if Greg is seriously going to let his mom stay there, then there's something wrong with him. Which is good because previously there was nothing wrong with Greg.

Wow, fires are powerful. Sometimes people light them on purpose to, you know, have a sense of control. I wouldn't even blame Sophie if she DID set those fires, not that she did. I would just hope she didn't set any around me and sought help. That is, if she were a pyromaniac. Which she's not.

I Walked the Line and the Line Won

On the plane to Hawaii last week I watched Walk the Line twice. Not because it was that great but because my only other options were Rent or Everybody Loves Raymond. It was a pretty good flick if you ignore the beginning and the end. Because right there in the middle was this incredible love story between Johnny Cash and June Carter. For those of you unfamiliar with this tale, I'll break it down. They fell in love, their love was forbidden (something about a wife at home) and then the pills got in the way. All I can say is: story of my life! Well, not really. But it was sweet that they ended up together after all that. Sorry if I spoiled the movie for anyone.

Okay, I'll admit it- every girl has got a little bit of a romantic in her. Some more than others but like I said, it got me. When Johnny looked into June's eyes and proposed and swore he would be true and never pop another pill, heck, even I suspended reality and thought, 'Say yes, girl! He LOVES you!" Then the plane hit turbulence, my traytable knocked my arm and the businessman next to me woke up in a start. Even in my dreams things are bumpy.

Maybe it's because in real life they are. This week I reviewed the Amateur Porn Film Festival (yes, there is one), and Sophie's ex-husband James, submitted an old web-cam porno of them. Ouch. Bump. On top of that, Greg told Bonnie he wanted her to raise the baby Jewish OR ELSE! Bumpier. And then Peter called Jean and broke the news that they would be working together. Bumptastic. Now me, I'm fine. I was just doing my job and walking the line.

But when I got home, I got this impending sense of dread. Something about Andrew. I love him, I think. But is this it? Is this my Johnny Cash? Because I don't feel nauseous like all the other times I've been really into a guy. Maybe I want the drama. No, I do want the romance. Because if I really wanted the drama, I would have watched Rent. Well, no, I still wouldn't have, that story sucks.

See you, Bloggie.

Maholo

Okay Bloggie, I know it's been a while but I've been in Hawaii! I know, I know. Well, it's good news and weird news. The good being I got an all expense paid vacation to Hawaii. The bad being it's because our website got bought by some super corporate company and they flew us down there for "Team Training". What the f@#k is that? And did you know Aloha means hello AND goodbye? Well, according to the video on the plane, it can also mean a feeling. So I guess you can be greeting someone whilst wishing them adieu and emoting all at once.

Andrew thought it would be good for us to have a vacation, but the second we got down there, they split us up into "Adventure Groups" and took us to separate sides of the island of Oahu, with the goal of meeting up on the last night. They put us with people we don't know, and we were supposed to bond/beat drums in the woods/get drunk and hook up. I hate corporations. Our team leader was named "Janice" and she smiled as if the pineapple shoved up her ass might fall out if she flinched. Seriously, bloggie, we hiked and did trust falls, and at night everyone got drunk and the men wore Bermuda shorts and flirted with local women while the ladies bought shells and joked about getting "leid". I missed Andrew. He was stuck on the south shore with all the sewage.

At the end of the trip, we all met on the top of this place called "Diamond Head". Andrew and I split up and I gave him diamond head of my own. Oh, shut up, I'm allowed to be crass, I was stuck with balding production supervisors and project managers for the entire trip. We are the only creative area of the company. Oh, I have a new title, "Content Strategist". What the heck does that mean?

Oh, did I mention I broke the no-sex contract? I had to, Andrew and I are in a great relationship. I don't care that I owe $840. Well, I do, but Jean hasn't mentioned it because she has been distracted with Nathan. I hope she forgets.

Bonnie is having drama of her own. She temporarily moved out because Greg's mom, Rita Weisberg, is pressuring her to raise the baby Jewish. I don't care what she does as long as she gets out of Jean's place. She has "nowhere to go", I'm like, that's what they make hotels for. I hear New York has several of them. Also, her and Martini do not get along. Who hates dogs? Apparently babies are okay, but dogs are "dirty and annoying". Boy is she in for a shock.

Sophie could not be happier to have an excuse to stay with Andy Samberg. Well, she can move in with him if she wants. No, I hope she doesn't. I got her a freelance job with my company, (she's in the "graphics" department, ha), which means she takes photos. She better thank me for it.

Well, back to work. This new office is stifling. Hello bigger cubicle, goodbye freedom. And I have a feeling this is gonna suck. Aloha.