Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The bearded wonder

Greetings from Costa Rica!

Vi and I just wanted to check in and let you know we having blast. More importantly, we wanted to let you know that in this time of damp clothes, unwashed hair, infrequent showering, and money belts, my perfect man has come in and out of my life. It's as if the Costa Rican gods plucked him up and put him on our boat, with big smile, good jokes, and a beard. Mother may I.

Stay tuned as our internet has a time limit, and a line has formed.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Belated Weekend Update

I'm a bit late on the Weekend Update, but Grayer and I are preparing for a tropical vacay, so you'll have to excuse me. On top of that, not only did I meet many of the cute neighbor's friends over the weekend, but I also had dinner with him and his dad last night.

First up: the weekend. The good news is, I didn't need nearly as much wine as I thought. I think it helped that two members of the group didn't show up until Saturday, so I had the first night with only three new people, all of which were very friendly. When the other two showed up, I was actually a bit happy to learn that one was a girlfriend, and didn't know anybody either. Turns out, she's even quieter than I am. All in all, it was nothing to stress out about, and I don't have too much to report.

The Cute Neighbor's dad is in town for work this week, so the cute neighbor asked if I wanted to join them for dinner last night. I accepted, and then took on the difficult task of figuring out what to wear when having dinner with your boyfriend and his father when it's 97 degrees outside. (I settled on sensible shorts and a polo.) You would think I would be just as nervous, if not more so to have dinner with the dad. Not so. As it so happens, I've already met his dad. Twice. I've met both his parents, and one of his brothers. Advantage of being just neighbors for awhile before an actual couple: meeting important people in no-pressure situations.

It's interesting though, to see other people interact with their parents. I wouldn't call Grayer's and my parents conservative, per se, but there are certain things we just don't discuss with them. (I mean, I did have Grayer tell my parents via family announcement about my actual boyfriend.) So it was interesting to see his dad use his "Position of the Day" book as a coaster for his beer (which my parents don't drink). I was even more amused when he looked at the book title and said, "Surely there can't be that many positions." To which the cute neighbor responded, "Some of them are physically impossible." This is a conversation that would never, EVER take place between me or Grayer and our parents.

Other than that, it was a completely casual, uneventful Dinner with the Dad.

But don't worry, Grayer and I will have plenty of shenanigans to report from the jungle. We promise.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

One Year On

Today is exactly one year since Fergus and I broke up. It kind of took me by surprise that so much time has passed so quickly. It did make me feel a little depressed, after all, we did have a pretty serious relationship and at one point I did honestly think that he was the guy I would stay with for a very, very long time. However, rather than feel down and nostalgic I decided to focus on all the good things that have happened since we broke up, some of which may very well not have happened if we stayed together.

1. I passed my driving test. (Passing your driving test at 23 is a little pathetic but reversing round the corner is hard ok).

2. I got a job. A proper job. In the sector I wanted to work it.

3. I moved to London.

4. I visited Violet.

5. I have started dipping my toes in the vast pool that is dating.

And, most importantly...

6. My dry spell game to an end.

All in all? A very good year.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Solution, Thy Name is Alcohol!


The cute neighbor has been out of town all week at a conference. After the conference is over, a few of his friends decided to rent a cabin in the mountains for the weekend before going home. The cute neighbor asked me to come along awhile ago, which of course, I was very excited to hear, because it's always, always good news when a guy wants you to meet all his friends. At the same time, however, I was very, very nervous.


First of all, it's intimidating enough to meet The Friends. Especially several at once. And for some reason, when I meet new people in groups, I do one thing: clam up. I get quiet. I'm not my usual delightful self, but instead barely contribute to the conversation more than one word answers. I don't know why, but that's how I work. But don't worry, I have a solution for that this weekend, and it's name is alcohol. On my way home from work, I stopped at Trader Joe's and bought 6 bottles of two-buck chuck. Obviously, I don't think I'll need all 6 bottles, but I want to be able to offer it to others (can't be rude), and I'm sure the house beverage of choice will be beer, and I don't drink beer. Can't take any chances of being sober while everyone else is not. There is nothing fun about that.


Second, all of these people are PhDs. And until last Friday, I was a professional baby-sitter. I know that this doesn't really matter, and last week my roommate lectured me on how smart I am, and if I wanted a PhD I could have one, and what a great teacher I am, so don't worry about something silly like that. She's right, but it does up the imtimidation factor. Especially because their PhDs came from a top-notch school and they're now all professors or post-docs. Again, I was a professional baby-sitter.


Keep your fingers crossed, and I'll give you the rundown on Sunday or Monday!

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

I don't want to jinx anything!

I know I'm risking alienating everyone on this blog by making the following statement, but I don't have anything else to write about: It's difficult to get used to having an ACTUAL boyfriend.

Don't roll your eyes or throw tomatoes at your computer screen. It's just the facts. I've been single for a very, VERY long time. I realized the other day that I spent 4 years with the same boyfriend. Then I went 4 years WITHOUT one. Ouch. So no, the term "my boyfriend" doesn't really come rolling off my tongue. On the rare occasion when I have used it, I've thought, 'Wait, is that right? Am I getting ahead of myself?' and wonder if I should still just refer to him as "my neighbor."

It's also a completely different mindset. For a long time now, I've been on The Lookout for any single man with some potential. Now I'm not. I'm afraid I may have to remind myself of that, though. Last week, I was asked out by a new member of our softball team. I hope I wasn't giving out flirtatious vibes. I declined by telling him "The Cute Neighbor and I have plans on Thursday." That way, if he wasn't asking me out, I didn't embarrass myself by assuming that he was, but if he was asking me out, the name dropping should do the trick.

Of course, The Cute Neighbor is out of town this week. And I don't even have Eloise to take care of. It's feeling an awful lot like 2009 all over again...

Monday, June 14, 2010

Fever Pitch


Grayer and I are good Americans and don't really care about soccer. However, when it's World Cup time, I watch. Mostly because it's a major sporting event, and I like to be in the know. But I think we can all agree on one thing: Soccer players (or footballers if you're Fenella) are HOT. They are by far the hottest athletes on the planet. It is most definitely worth watching for the eye candy alone. And they take their shirts off at the end of the game. *pauses to wipe away the drool.* Here is just a sample of what you'll see if you tune in. And as Fen said, Forget the funny name, Bocanegra is fine. Just another reason to be chanting for USA! USA!

Sunday, June 13, 2010

A Friday Night Epiphany

I had an epiphany on Friday night. It was a somewhat vodka fuelled epiphany but an epiphany nonetheless.

On Friday night I went for after work drinks with PWG. Even though we had the whole WTF? Friday night, we're still friends and you have drinks with your friends. Except the problem with me and PWG is that we're not really 'just friends'. Nor are we seeing each other. We're in a weird limbo where there's always some sort of tension bubbling beneath the surface but we don't act on it. This is not healthy. I decided to head home and asked him to walk me to the tube station. I've learnt my lesson with him, I have to ask to be walked to the station.

When I was on the tube I found myself to be crying for a reason I couldn't work out but knew it was in some way related to him. But the vodka can take a little bit of the blame. And then, my epiphany.

Posh Work Guy messes with my head. Badly.

He makes me feel slightly inferior because our social lives are on opposite ends of the social spectrum. He gives me mixed signals which are very difficult to decipher. And he used to (if not still does) liked my friend Emily at work. Which I knew and still got involved with him. Then there was his behaviour that WTF? night. And he doesn't do wonders for my self confidence. Once again, not healthy. At all.

So I text him saying that I can't do the whole friends thing anymore. That he messes with my head and this whole thing isn't great for my self confidence and we shouldn't have taken things as far as we did. I wasn't terribly articulate (blame = vodka) but I got my point across. He replied that we should be friends, he's just in a really complicated situation, blah, blah, blah. I remained firm.

I feel somewhat cleansed now. And apologies to Violet who has been telling me for awhile now to stay away from him. But you know how it is, until you realise something for yourself you're not going to believe what someone else tells you. It sucks, majorly, that I have to work with him. But he is looking for another job so fingers crossed he finds one soon. And might I just plead with you all not to get involved with someone you work with. It's not a good idea when it all goes wrong. Plus, you have that embarrassment of being in a departmental meeting and there's someone in that same meeting who has seen you naked.

It makes it very difficult to concentrate.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Nanny Cam

Remember at the end of The Nanny Diaries when Nanny tells off the nanny cam hidden in the teddy bear? Well, I'm about to go nanny cam on this blog.

Yesterday was my last day with Eloise for the summer. Tomorrow, they are leaving for New York, then on to Florida for July. In between, they will be home, but I will be in Costa Rica with Grayer. Of course, when I told Mrs. X this, she was not happy. "But that's when I need you most!" I'm sorry, but my commitment was until June 11. I'm not going to miss out on a travel opportunity because you are incapable of packing your own suitcases.

All this week, I was counting down the days until summer freedom. Yes, it meant living in poverty for the rest of the summer, but it was a trade-off I was willing to take. My excitement had nothing to do with Eloise; I was really going to miss her. It had everything to do with Mrs. X. (Sound familiar?) Over the last six months, I've been Mrs. X's personal assistant, only with a 5-year-old in tow. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to run all over town, going grocery shopping, picking up dry cleaning, going to the bank, running to clients' houses, er, mansions, picking up goods at fancy shmancy designer stores with a 5-year-old (and sometimes a dog) tagging along? Yeah, Mrs. X doesn't either.

The woman has no concept of reality, nor does she have any grasp on time management or how long it does indeed take to do anything, and never, ever factors city traffic into anything. I knew the job would require some errand running for her, but I never fathomed the things she can't seem to do for herself, including raising her own child.

This week was the last straw. First of all, I had to take her to the doctor. I also had to schedule the appointment. I scheduled all the appointments. I was expressly told to only schedule the doctor's appointment for a time when I could take her so Mrs. X "didn't have to." Previously, I had had to schedule a dentist appointment for the morning, when I wasn't able to take her, and the woman asked me at least 5 times if I was sure I couldn't schedule it another time. Seriously. So I took Eloise to the doctor. She needed to get a shot. The nurses had her sit on my lap and I had to hold her down while they gave her the shot. She figured out what was going on as they were about to give her the shot, so of course, she struggled to get away. Then, when it was all over, she was left in my lap, clinging onto me, big, fat crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks. When I relayed the story to the cute neighbor, he shook his head and said, "I can't believe a non-parent is doing this."

He's right. It was starting to feel like blood money. Here I was, collecting paychecks every week so that this woman could continue to be a bad parent.

By Thursday morning, I knew I only had two days left, but I didn't think I could even make it through that. I knew I couldn't keep doing this any longer. I figured I would let Mrs. X know of my plans over the summer (while she was gone) so I could go about finding my own replacement without her breathing down my neck. On Friday, my main task was to pack Eloise's bag for them to go out of town for the next two weeks. Mrs. X had laid out all her clothes. It was my job to get it in the suitcase. Why can't she just put it in the suitcase herself, you ask? The world may never know. Instead of just letting me do my own thing, however, she kept giving me other things to do. I was getting incredibly irritated. I just wanted to scream, do you want me to pack or not?! I didn't, but she picked up on my irritation. I won't go into all the details of the conversation, but she went on and on and on (as she always does, she is constantly talking over people and never gives them a chance to speak. She even talks over Eloise's therapist- yes, Eloise has a therapist.) Finally, when I did get a chance to speak, I finally just flat out told her I didn't think I could work for her. I knew if I didn't tell her she was the problem, she would tell Eloise that Eloise was the problem, and I wouldn't be able to bear that. Luckily, she didn't stiff me in my final pay (She actually gave me a nifty $300 bonus. Severance package, I guess) and Eloise didn't have to run down the drive screaming for me. But there were a few tears, as I had to say goodbye to her. I feel like somehow I failed her and she was taken from me before my work was done.

And now I need a nanny came. Here goes...

Hey, Mrs. X. See this darling, adorable brown-eyed girl? She's your daughter. Not an accessory. Not something you can dress up in cute clothes and use to help you climb the social ladder. Maybe you should try coming home from work before 7pm a few nights a week (Eloise goes to bed at 7:30), or maybe skip the stylist (that I know you pay more than you pay me) so she can spend some time with you. You know those behavior problems she's been having? The ones that caused you to pay $170 per hour to the kiddie shrink? If you would just put down your iphone and give her a little attention, they might go away. Also, her dad would really like to be more a part of her life. Is there a reason you only allow him to have dinner with her once a week? Maybe, just maybe, if you let her stay at his house a weekend or two, those behavior problems might just go away. Girls need their fathers. Keeping him away will lead her to seek attention from men in other ways as she grows older. That therapist you pay so much money to knows all this, but she won't tell you, because she wants to keep taking your money.

Oh, and speaking of money, did you seriously just tell me that some weeks you struggled to pay me? SERIOUSLY? Did you seriously try to make me out to be ungrateful for that? Because let me count the ways you squandered hundreds of dollars a week just to keep up appearances. And I know because I whipped out your American Express card an awful lot in the last 6 months.
1. We can never, EVER, forget The Bookmark. Ludicrous.
2. I bought multiple photo albums for $125 a piece. Seriously? Have you ever heard of Target? You have at least 25 of those albums. Why? Who cares how much you paid for a PHOTO ALBUM?
3. Eloise has more clothes than I do. I've also seen the catalogs you order them from and therefore know that they are obscenely expensive. Kids play in dirt. They also grow very quickly. Why would you ever need to spend that much money on clothes? And then pay to have them DRY CLEANED? $75-$100 a week on dry cleaning is ridiculous.
4. I was instructed to cook dinner for Eloise on Wednesday. What did I cook? Filet mignon. Of course, I, being the simple person that I am, had no idea how to cook filet mignon. So I called the cute neighbor. When I explained what I had to do, he said, "Are you fucking kidding me? Give her a burger and bring the filet home to me. She'll enjoy that more." Seriously. She's five.
5. You have subscriptions to Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire, People, New York Journal, and at least a half dozen decorating magazines. Is that really necessary? By the way, when you throw them out (ever heard of recycling?) I took them out of the garbage for my own use. Thanks for that.

I could really keep going all day, so don't tell me that some weeks you struggled to pay me. In reality, you should have been paying me twice as much as you did, because I was the one taking care of the most important thing in the world: Your daughter. I guess we know where your priorities are.

Did you also just tell me that I was always in such a hurry to get out of there when you FINALLY came home and that some nights you were up until 2 in the morning doing what I didn't "get done"? Seriously? When I started this job, you told me 15 hours a week. 15! How many weeks did I only work 15? Once! And you were in California that week! Every other week I worked well over 20 hours. If you can't get all your shit done, then you need a lesson in time management. Or HIRE SOMEBODY ELSE.

I wish I would have cleaned your toilet with your toothbrush.

Whew.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Birthday Booty

Now that I'm old (25! eeeek!) I have a few things to blog about, please do your best to follow along.

1. My secret affair with The Roommate has ended. He texted me at the end of last week, saying he just couldn't take the guilt/awkward situations with his roommate/my former fling, The Karaoke Kid. Obviously the situation was complicated so this is for the best. KK did not find out (as far as I know) but claims he doesn't know why I just stopped talking to him. (Seriously someone needs to teach this guy how to date a girl!). To be honest I was disappointed to no longer see The Roommate (I was just making out with him 2 days previous!). We talked about all being friends in the future but he said he just needed some time before that could happen. Why does he need time?! I feel like I could just be friends with him...as long as I'm not left alone with him....The Roommate also said I need to talk The Karaoke Kid about just being friends. The problem is KK hasn't talked to me in a while and when I tried to start a conversation with him via text, he never responded. I don't really know where I stand with either of them now, which is disappointing because they were my progress in making friends in Boston. Look where it got me! Nowhere. Fine, I'll say it: You were right. But I'll also say: It was fun while it lasted.

2. Obviously nobody wants to have things end right before their birthday, especially when all one really wants to do for their birthday is A. get birthday drunk, and B. get birthday laid. Fortunately, I don't need a man to get my drink on, yet my prospects of Birthday booty were not looking good. If this blog (Fen) has taught us anything, it's that nothing is more dangerous then a lethal combination of wine, an erotic charge (that's smart people talk for horny), and a cell phone full of numbers. After assessing myself as a High threat risk (That's color orange, people!) I needed to take some preventative measures. I've learned something in my 25 years. I deleted The Roommate's phone number before going out. I would have been embarrassed after begging him to come home with me. I also warned my roommie not to let me text and she certainly held me to it. I got yelled at everytime I had my phone out, when all I was doing was texting Violet (who was prodding me to say something TFLN worthy).

3. So if you're following along, I am drunk and manless on my birthday. However, I had a really good night out, which included delicious dessert, a whole lot of wine, and a few friends, including The Mutual Friend. For those of you who need a refresher, The Mutual Friend has been my strictly platonic friend for over a year now. He's a good friend of my old hookup, Hanging Out Guy, and he too has relocated to Boston. Everytime I've hung out with MF I have to insist to my roommie, that he is in fact, just a friend. We get along really well, have great chemistry, are very flirtatious, but by no means do we have any interest in each other. On numerous occasions I've had to tell my roommie, very matter-of-factly, "He is just a friend, it is possible to be friends with someone without sleeping with them, ya know." Until it's your birthday and you're drunk and manless that is...
I'm not really sure how this happened. Sure, I flirted with him and texted Violet that I was going to marry him, but these are all normal things! I don't know how many glasses deep we were but my wine and his rum and cokes were taking effect. Our knees were touching under the table, he was holding my hand to lead me through a crowd, he was coming home with me on the basis that we were going to have a Disney movie marathon the next day, and then he was making out with me in my kitchen. At some points I started giggling, partly because I was drunk, partly because he is sooo skinny, but mostly because it was The Mutual Friend. WTF? It's not like we haven't been drunk together before. No, it wasn't awkward the next morning, yes, I will continue to be friends with him, and yes, I had a great birthday...

I realize that I keep getting myself into these situations, but in my defense (this time at least) it was my birthday. We all deserve to be Birthday drunk, we all have the right to Birthday booty. Even if he is just a friend.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Happy Birthday, Grayer!

Today is June 6. The 157th day of the year.
Important events that have occured on this day in history: Andrew Jackson became the first president to ride a train. D-Day. And the birth of Grayer. So be sure to take a moment to wish her a Happy Birthday!

Congratulations, Gray! You are now a quarter of a century old!

What does this mean? It means those whispers about how you're still single will get a bit louder. It also means that the ticking noise you hear- your biological clock- will also get louder. Trust me on that one.

But in all seriousness, you have a few more years to goof off. It's ok that your love life has become unbelievably messy and that we need Cliff's Notes to understand it. (You should really publish that one for us. Even I'm starting to get confused.)

Hopefully you can snap out of your Birthday Hangover fog long enough to enjoy your day and open some presents. (Except being sung to by various family members. Nobody enjoys that, which is why I won't do it.) Please eat an extra slice of chocolate cake for me. Make it a big one.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Dangerous liaisons

Two weeks ago I came to you with a situation. A situation to end all situations. You gave me advice for my dilemma of two men in one apartment, the Karaoke Kid and The Roommate. Let's be honest, I wasn't going to take just-friends-or nothing-at-all advice. That's just not my style. So I continued to seek advice until I found some advice that I liked. A very wise friend pointed out something to me. They're guys. This simple fact makes everything ok. Think about it, if this occurred with two female roommates/friends, it would be the scandal of the century. Basically because women are overly dramatic and would have to see it as choosing a guy over a friend. Guys? Not so much.

Even The Roommate agreed with this assessment. When he told his other roommate and another close friend (both of whom were there that eventful night) they both responded with a "that's awesome." They agreed, we did nothing wrong. These things happen and it's the Karaoke Kid's own fault for blowing it. (This is all his fault really). Blowing it, seems to be a common theme with him and his lady friends. (My advice to him would be to actually make an effort to date a girl, look what happens when he just lazily invites a girl out with him and his friends. Seriously, look what happens!). Although the other friends know, we still haven't let the Karaoke Kid in on the secret.

Secret liaisons are not easy. Twice now, The Roommate has had to cancel on me because he finds himself alone with the Karaoke Kid. For guys that are always doing stuff together and have all the same friends, it would be very out of character for him to up and leave with no explanation. So why haven't we (or he) told KK? Good question. I think we're waiting it out. 1. KK is a sensitive guy and The Roommate doesn't think he'll take it as well as most guys would. 2. We're not going to make it a "thing" until it's actually a "thing". We don't know what we're doing, we're just hanging out right now. And 3. The "just friends" transition is happening as we speak. I haven't seen/heard from the Karaoke Kid since I slammed the door behind me that shameful morning (other than a text and a Facebook invite to a party this weekend). When I do actually see/talk to him, I will be sure to actually mention the "just friends" transition. (Me? Actually talk about something openly? Shocking, I know).