My New Years Eve Sucked

crybaby[img from bbc.co.uk]
Some say that this will set the tone for the rest of my year…they’re superstitious types and probably tie little knots of string to ward off the evil eye or whatever.
So here is what happened.The day of I went to Daffy’s with a set budget of squat to get a dress.

I’d been to Daffy’s recently and tried on a bunch of clothes but was so unnerved by a cellphone fight with the mans during that visit that no amount of pretty dresses could make me feel better–so I left and bought nothing(even though one dress looked pretty good on me and was super cheap).

This visit I saw the same dress now marked down to a squat acceptable level of 13.98.13.98?! For a dress-a whole dress? That’s Daffy’s for you.I snapped it up with a pair of opaque black tights.Then I skipped to Gnarly Vines and picked up 3 bottles of Champagne…something told me the party we were going to that night would be insufficient of Champagne supplies…for me.I like to drink it as a cocktail not just as a toast so I knew I had to byob.
The PLAN:The mans would play drums all night.
I would sit and look peeved.

THE ACTUAL PARTY:
Oh.My.God.
We walked in to the long dark narrow room that was the party room. A band was playing at the back-which the bf immediately joined.There were a few guests but my days of parties in NY have taught me that these people WILL NOT talk to you and that you will HAVE NO DESIRE to talk to them. It was dudes and more dudes. Ok for me in my single days but goddamn can’t these men ever get dates? What’s wrong with them? Don’t they like sex?
We poured ourselves some drinks into plastic cups (of course) and I sat. I sat. I got up then I sat back down.This went on until I went to the the kitchen large enough to have a loveseat couch and I sat there. I ate Funions.Ohh Champagne and Funions,not a good idea. I remained seated there until 11:59 (the band almost played right through past the turn of the hour-the geeks).They broke off and everyone did a brief toast to recognize we were now in 2008 and A smooched me then they all scrammed back to their instruments to get back into the weird jam they’d been grinding out for the past2 hours. I don’t mean to sound unsupportive but obviously this party was a showcase for this band. It was not a
party for people to hang out and maybe talk to each other (people who knew each other of course).
The music was an unhappy mix of Klezmer and hippie jazz crap, if you know what I mean.

More people did begin to wander in and I was even less interested in talking to them as I was when I got there. I had words with the mans about maybe going to another party in Dumbo where there might be more for me to do than sit while looking awesome. He didn’t think it was important that we send the rest of the evening together (he actually said where is the rule that boyfriend and girlfriend have to spend NYE together? wow.). I gave him a whithering look and said that I was just going to go home. And so I did. For that I wore high heels?

And here is a news flash people:
IF you go to a New Year’s eve party bring some goshdarned Champagne,you cheap bastards!
If you throw a New Year’s eve party supply more than one goshdarned bottle of Champage for your guests to share at midnight!
Ye Gods,if I hadn’t brought 3 bottles myself there would have only been one bottle for about 40 people.

So back to my outfit, the only good thing about that night!
I wore a great black and white mini dress with big flouncy arms and black tights and high heels. Accessories were a coat of black faux shearling and my big red chunky necklace.
Here are the photos,the black dress is the one I was going to wear but the decollete is a bit low for me and would’ve been wasted on the numbskulls at the party,anyway.
the dress I was going to wearthe necklacethe coatthe dress I wore

Weekend Bitchfest

Everyone has a rant in them and here is mine because I can bitch about anything in exhaustive detail.

The Offenders:

  1. Inconvenient Shops
  2. Moldy Bread
  3. My Boyfriend
  4. His Mother

Organic bread. Hm. I don’t really care about organic. I care about whether or not it tastes good. Which is why I began to buy Bread Alone, maker of French Sourdough and Organic Mixed Grains. It’s delicious stuff.

I have an inconvenient shopping experience in my neighborhood with only 2 sub par groceries within walking distance from my house.When I say walking distance Continue reading Weekend Bitchfest

I hate you (MTA bus drivers)


All MTA busdrivers need to stop it. I don’t know where they get off being a hell mixture of officious,nasty,ugly,obese,stentorian,mean,

petty,wrong-minded,wrong-headed,evil,
ugly,blind,greedy, and short.

Alright, I was steamed. Not all MTA drivers are ugly, obese, evil and short.

All I know is I rely on them to get around.And so I have to put up with their nonsense to get to where I want to go.Bus drivers should be seen and not heard.
Not only are they mostly incoherent with passenger hatred they like to pick and choose who they pick up…if they feel like stopping at all.Which they sometimes don’t.

I’ve witnessed a handicapped man get turned down for the strapping in of the wheelchair passenger ritual because the driver “didn’t like the man”.

Ok, so this particular unfortunate panhandles downtown then takes the bus back home. So what? He had a Metro card! Whenever I’ve been caught with the wrong purse(the one with the card at home) the driver has let me take my sweet time finding change and 7 out of 10 times they say forget it.
I don’t think this is kindliness on their part. I think it was just them not wanting me lurching up and down the aisles,probably worried I’d sue them if I fell down.

Last night I had to take the cart and the bus to Fairway in Redhook.
All went well on the way there.
On the way back one bus passed me even though I was standing under a streetlight waving my arms. He looked at me and kept going,stopping down the block for other, better people (I guess).
Then when the next bus came by,the driver said I couldn’t get on the bus with an open package.
Confused, I looked into my cart to see if the packages were open but since it was groceries in bags I soon realized she meant open cart.
The correct noun had failed her. She woofed something about how I could get on if I stood in the back, in the way of the back exit.
So when everyone got off I had to somehow get out of their way. Not easy on a moving bus with a cart.
I’ve been going to Fairway with my old lady cart for awhile now.
This is the 1st time I was ever told I couldn’t come on the bus with an open package(cart).
So what am I supposed to do Ms. driver of bus?
Take a cab home? Isn’t it apparent to you that I am unwealthy
what with my big old cart of food waiting for a bus when all the other patrons of Fairway drive away with their booty in their SUV’s?
At least I got to ride for free because once again I had 3 Metro cards, all empty.