In all honesty, I’ve had enough of seeing Lady Gaga’s crotch in her super high cut leotards. Kthxbai.
“I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.” — Albert Einstein
RIP Corey Haim.
Another email from that night:
Post the 1st shot at the Russian Vodka room, I have not memory until I emerged from the NYC subway system (Union Square) around 7:30 AM on Sunday. Correction - I vaguely recall waking up on the train (with no coat) in either Queens or Coney Island.
An email I received from my favorite Irishman - this is his friend describing what happened after leaving my buddy’s epic birthday party the other weekend. Any story that starts with “I have absolutely no recollection …” is going to be a good one:
I have absolutely no recollection of leaving the Vodka room.
Then there was getting off the train (not at my stop) and not being able to tell the cab driver where I lived. I had to show him my drivers license. This was confirmed when I checked my wallet and saw that my license was not in its usual spot.
I then checked my phone and saw 3 calls to an unknown number. Odd. I did a search on the number and it was a bar in a town about 20 min south of me. Now I’m really confused but then suddenly remember someone asking me to borrow my phone because hers had gone dead. Typically I never lend my phone to a stranger no matter how convincing the hard luck story. I checked the times on the phone and saw the calls were 15 minutes apart. Now I’m really confused and a bit nervous – did I get ripped off? Somehow the phone was a diversion to get my wallet?
I checked my credit cards and they were all present and accounted for. I also checked all my balances online and everything seemed to be ok. Now I’m thinking I probably didn’t get ripped off but I still can’t explain the 15 minutes between calls – did this person come back and borrow it again? Did I have a 15 minute incoherent conversation? A conversation is doubtful since an hour later I couldn’t tell a cab driver my address. Did this girl realize I was in such bad shape and help me get on the train? Doubtful – no one is that good a Samaritan but on the other hand I’m not sure I was capable of getting on the train by myself.
In any event the calls allowed me to figure out what train I took and realize I spent the better part of and hour in Penn station. I’m pretty sure I didn’t eat since I did not wake up with the remains on a taco or Big Mac on my jacket. Maybe I just sat on the floor and ‘rested’?
Unfortunately this is not the first time I had this type of experience in the Vodka room.
Once before I stopped by for a drink and would up leaving my briefcase in a bar on 9
Sunday was absolutely miserable.
Oh, I’ve never seen the actual inside of a “can o’ whoop-ass”. Pretty intense.
Check out my lil buddy, Cassandra, and her awesome campaign with Dove. She’s all over the place! She’s even more adorable and charming in person. Our families had dinner together last night at Outback, as we always do. We like to tease Vin, that he gets to hang out with models and dancers but doesn’t even appreciate how lucky he is. :D
I see what you did there.
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Damn, you gettin’ thick, I hope you don’t go on a diet. ;)
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I tell my son all the time: You send out good, you get good. You send out bad, you get bad. You can fill the universe with whatever you want - but, remember, you have to live in it too.
One of my resolutions for this year was to be less of an ass. Cause I am, sometimes. Being in NYC makes me short tempered, impatient. I get snappy. I’ve reignited that irritating New Yorker smugness that the South sweated out of me when I lived there as a teen. I keep a scowl on my face when going up and down the street or subway (ok, I do smile a lot when I’m lost in thought … my thoughts are so beautiful sometimes) to discourage men from bothering me. I walk a fine line of assertive that often carries over into unfriendly. I have a chip on my shoulder with the world - had it since I was an angst-ridden teen and I’m still working on filling that chip in and smoothing it out in my 30s (I’ve gotten better.)
While I have failed miserably to maintain this resolution in some areas (such as, my annoying crazy smelly downstairs neighbors, aka Crazy Angela, and the ones beneath them, the Garbage Nazi’s, aka The People Under the Stairs and those damned receipt checkers at J&R … sorry but that guy really pissed me off today, fucktard) - I’ve managed to keep it in other areas.
I’m mending ties with family. I’ve been nicer to my neighbors. Nicer to people on the subway. Nice to my coworkers (I do manage to keep my attitude in check at work - I am a professional, you know.) I’ve even tried being nice to … wait for it … tourists! Yup. I’ve given directions. Correctly. And without the “Jesus, you’re stupid this city is on a grid” inflection in my voice.
The results: good is coming back to me.
I know these things aren’t directly related to my being less of an ass, but I believe in Karma in both the immediate sense and the macro sense.
It is very challenging to be kind and compassionate in one’s day to day life, especially when you have MY personality and when you live in NYC where the wolves are free to roam. But I’m trying - both for my own sanity and for my son’s future. He will have many challenges to face with as he grows into a man, I don’t want to make things harder for him by setting a self defeating mindset as an example.
Do you try to follow an ethic of compassion in your day to day life?
Vivienne dropped her ice cream and is PISSED.
I love this pic of her.