Taking it all in...

Thursday: Another night dancing my ass off to 80s tunes at Sway (an amazing place and definitely my new favorite club/bar in the Village) till the wee morning hours and having my boobs grabbed many a time during "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by my new fabulous friend J (apparently he thought my "girls" just wanted to have fun).

Friday: Another date with laundry room boy turned into a bizarro night that I refuse to blog about...other than he is officially being called NY Boy Freak #1 in my running log of bad dates and freakos....and if you know anything about my dating past (remember foot fetish/super-sweaty old dude?) well, this one totally takes the cake. Jesus. We'll see if he calls me again though Boy Roommate has told me that I've officially had my first "Sex in the City" moment and if I'm smart, I'll never talk to the dude again. Too bad. He still is pretty fucking adorable.

Saturday: Spent all day thinking about previous evening's events and consulting friends, who seem to be just extremely amused by my ridiculous situation. Then more dancing till the wee morning hours at Central Bar with Mizzou friends.

Sunday: Sleep. Clean. Laundry. Music. Sleep. Family Guy. Sleep.

Don't Even Know Where to Start...

Last night was so ridiculous I don't even know how to begin so until I think about this post a little more (you know, for concision, wit, humor, drama and whatnot) I'll leave you with this little naughty bit--A man and his leashed albino parrot walk into a leather-fetish shop on Christopher Street yesterday......

Yeah. I'm not bullshitting.

Fuuuuck!

Apparently Boy Roommate is now privy to the blog. Let the ruthless harassment, mocking, and ridicule begin.

Hot....or not so much

Today on the 7 train I spotted, well, more like ogled an outrageously attractive couple. I don't know where they were from but they were tall, thin, dark, and just fucking gorgeous. Both of them. And they were pawing at each other like mad. Then after my initial shock of their hotness and the subsequent emotional, physical bloat I felt about my own body/appearance (stumpy) I stared at them some more and realized that they were a little TOO similar in the their hotness. In fact, they looked like they could've been siblings. Like their united hotness wasn't sickening enough....

Some of you D-Spoteurs will be happy to know that I just discovered or just noticed that blogspot has spellcheck. Yay! But it doesn't recognize the word fuck and suggests that I use buck instead. That's annoying as fuck.

Honey Train

So my NY girlfriends (they really do need a nickname, but Bitches is already taken)...think it is very very unusual that I meet men on the train. I attribute it to the fact that it's a longish ride out to Astoria. They're thinking it's because i'm new to the city and haven't become a "jaded, hard-assed New York bitch yet". Maybe it's just because, unlike everyone else, I'm mostly enterained by peoplewatching and not by reading or listening to an iPod. Boy Roommate thinks it's bizarre that these guys ask for my email and that I give it out (well, only twice) but come on! It's just fucking email. What are they gonna do? Anyway, one of the guys actually did email me (Franco the amusing thirtysomething Italian and LA transplant who had just purchased a Scarface action figure when I met him and was so elated that he had to show it off to me) and we might, just might go have a casual drink at the Beer Garden (he lives just one stop away from mine).

Moving On Up to the Ivy Leagues

Princeton Boy called...we've got a date, er, drink date, er something tomorrow night. We'll see, we'll see.

The Trouble With Temping...

Is that you're treated like a 3rd Class citizen...or something like that. Maybe a paid intern is more like it. Plus you're stuck scanning a 45 page document to the office in LA while everyone else in the building (literally) is enjoying wine and cheese at a "bell-ringer" whatever the fuck that is. Anyway, at least it's giving me the chance to blog a little at work. After the recent bruhaha with one of this company's employees blogging about her magazine job, I'd probably get in trouble if they even saw me looking at a blog. Anyway, my point is that it's rough being someone's bitch.

Celebrity Crush Of The Month

Johnny Knoxville. Good God, have you seen him in the new GQ spread? He looks amazing, well at least in that magazine. Now I'm going to have to go see fucking Dukes of Hazzard.

And so it begins

A second trip to visit the beautiful winetender at an Italian restaurant in the Village (who i met on the train a few week ago) proved to be fruitful this time in that a) he was actually working this time 2) he's still adorable and remembered who I was
b) the food was fucking incredible c) he didn't charge my girlfriends and I for a bottle of wine, a round of espresso, or a round of drinks later at the bar d) he asked for my number e) I got his number. Then later at a big fabulous bash in a jaw-dropping TriBeca loft, I made friendly, very friendly with an adoable Princeton grad who lives way downtown.

On the way home, my girls and I hopped in the cab of the most famous cabbie in all of NYC. Ahmet the Cupid Cabbie. Yeah, his agent is William Morris, he's chummy with Katie Couric and he's going to have a reality TV show next year on Bravo. Weird. And apparently if you offer to let him hook you up, you'll have 60-year-old Muslim dudes calling you at all hours of the night....or so i hear.

Better start preparing my liver now....

The Crazy Bitches from Birmingham have said they are coming to NY to visit me in September! Oh mercy. Can't wait!

Gypsies and all

As I was sitting at the bar at Nublu waiting for what my friends called a "Yugoslavian Disco" band (that was amazing, by the way-- and I danced my ass off!), a freak of a groupie came up to us and said "It's a gypsy band, man. These guys are amazing. Every skinny kid with a guitar from Brooklyn thinks that they know music. But THIS is real Yugoslavian gypsy music. Are you ready? Klezmer was to the 90s as Gypsy music is to the 00s..." Wow, man, that's like so profound.

Let me see how your ass looks in those...

Yesterday, I spent an hour helping Boy Roommate select and purchase a new pair of Levi's. Yeah. Punji, come back from Thailand already! That boy needs you!

Cafe Habana

This Cuban restaurant rocked my world last night. The specialty is roasted corn-on-the-cob (also on a stick). Plus, excellent mole and grilled plantains. God, I love NY.

Random

I just received an email from someone at Esquire. Apparently my ever-floating resume got into his hands (and he specifically asked that I DO NOT ask him to track its history to find out how it actually got there). Anyway, apparently he felt obligated to tell me that there were no positions available but that I'm a good fit for a fall intern, which they're currently looking for. Of course this brush with possible employment has been the excitement of the day. And who knows, I might be an unpaid Esquire intern come September.

When Two Worlds Collide (or How Danielle Realized She Belongs in the Village)

After dragging a few of my girlfriends to Beauty Bar where we sipped $3 beers under old hair dryers and watched dudes get manicures...we all went to see Mr. Hollingsworth and Co. at the Knitting Factory. I missed his set but was greeted by dozens of familiar faces from the Bham. Blaine the womanizer (aka B'ham's biggest sleeze), the dude from Blue Epic (who apparently just moved to NY to start his own music thing), Greg from the Nick and the rest of the Pacific Stereo crew (they're playing Mercury Lounge tonight), and of course Hollingsworth and company--he, by the way, looks about 9 years old with his hair short. My friend Jess and I (who's also from there) were floored by the Bama turnout. Bizarre. Everyone caught up and then we went to Pianos (a fucking fantastic bar, and my bar endorsment of the week) and drank on Blaine's tab for the rest of the night. A reunion with Mr. H in the romance department did not occur, however. Had I not gone to Pianos I probably would've had more fun. I did receive a very drunken phone call/voicemail from him the next morning at 5 a.m. (perhaps he was searching for booty, but mine was at home in my bed in Astoria. boo.)

Parks are for Lovers

And I don't have one. Went to the Bryant Park Summer Movie "Touch of Evil" and regardless of how much I wanted to watch Janet Leigh and hear fattie Orson Welles say "I don't speak Mexican!" I couldn't help people-watching, well, couple-watching. Fascinating and depressing. For a minute I felt like Dian Fossey watching the gorillas and then I felt like Lindsay Lohan making the same fucking reference in "Mean Girls" and then I got over it. But still. Damn. Fucking couples...er, wait.

Meanwhile in REAL corpo-hell I'm so fucking busy creating spreadsheets, powerpoints, making arrangements for car services, coordinating meetings, bleh, bleh, I'm so fucking tired bleh....that i don't even have time to piss. or eat, which REALLY makes me mad.

Typical NY Weekend

Things I DID do this weekend:

1) Went to the Siren Music Festival at Coney Island
2) Got sunburned
3) Saw loads of hiporati hotties (scrumptious)
4) Saw my favorite band of the moment Brazilian Girls in Central Park and screamed "Pussy Pussy Pussy Marijuana!" at the top of my lungs
5) Ate a fucking amazing spinach, cheese, and mushroom crepe AND was screamed at by an old French lady/crepe maker who refused to sell any more crepes because she thought i cut in line
6)) Drank lots and lots of beer


Things I DID NOT do this weekend:

1) See those gorgeous rockers from Ambulance LTD at Siren Fest.
2)Go to Fire Island (like I was supposed to)
3) Win a trip to the Hamptons (boy roommate did)
4) Cut in line at a crepe stand at the Bastille Day street fair
5) A beer bong

Friday Night Anthem

"Gotta Get Drunk" by Merle and Willie. Yeah, that's right. And uhm.."holla!" to Allison in Philly whose intoxicated phone calls make me love her even more. hahaha. Silly girl.

Spending Someone Else's Money is FUN!

Today i spent about 5 grand on a corporate credit card for my new temp gig which involves (thus far) hooking up sweepstakes winners with their prizes.

Ehh..

Just scored a 3 week gig with yet another publishing house...at least it's longterm.

Jealousy is a Bitch

So Boy Roommate found a job. Ugh. It's a fulltime gig through the end of Oct. working for the biggest corporate magazine nasty of them all doing administrative work (through our temp. agency). Happy for the guy, but jealous as all hell. Wondering if the phone call i missed earlier because i was in the shower was the temp agency offering me the same gig, but since i didn't answer they moved on to the next name on the list. Oh well. Wasn't meant to be.

Today's Food Craving

Steak Frites (did i misspelll that? probably) from Chez Fon Fon. Good God, I love you Frank Stitt.

The Pathetic Life of the Unemployed

It's Wednesday evening, around 9:30 ish...I'm drunk off a 40 of Budweiser and watching losers compete to be the new lead singer of INXS. I miss Micheal HutchENCE...."Something about you girl...that makes me SWEAT!" Oh yeah, baby.

PS: Soo good to talk to all my B'ham peeps this week, by the way--BV, Clare, Abbi, Biff--I miss you all so very much. Come visit me already!

Grrrr!

Stupid fucking fires on the NW train make Danielle a very angry girl!

I think someone somewhere said something along the lines of...

If you want to keep friends, don't talk politics. Last night Boy Roommate and I went to some random Astoria dive to partake in some 10 cent wings/$5 pitcher action and watch the all-star homerun derby (yes, again i'm learning more about basebal than I EVER EVER wanted to). A discussion about the sanctity of marriage came up and before I know it we're battling it out over feminism, Laura Bush (yes, I think she looks like a vacant-eyed, brainswashed Stepford Wife), Hilary Clinton (yes, I'd probably vote for her if she ran for President), and female sports commentators (don't ask). And as my blood pressure rose, I lost my buzz. Thus reaffirming my hatred for all things political. Can't we just talk about some lame reality television or ponder the significance of Tomkat or play name games with Britney and K-Fed's unborn offspring?

NUDE PHOTOS!

Readership is down people....perhaps this fake blog entry title will create some online action. Ha! And as for the rest of you loyal D-Spoteurs...gracias.

Eek.

I have my first REAL interview on Wednesday (for an associate copy editor position, nonetheless). Double eek. I applied for it when i was temping there a while back. Plus, they're going to make me do an InDesign test. WTF? Everyone's asking about this InDesign program. What ever happened to good ol QuarkXpress!? I'm scared. Any advice?

Coney Island= Corny Fun

Today Boy Roommate and I ventured to the infamous Coney Island for some Nathan's Famous hotdogs (with kraut and mustard) and chilli-cheese fries. Then we headed to the beach, and let me just say it was NOT the relaxing Gulfy beach-vibe i'd been hoping for/needing. Dirty, trashy, overflowing with tons of different people, but absolutely fabulous regardless. It was such an American experience. I even spotted a Dale Jr. softie cooler! It was beach meets carnival. We ate a whole mango on a stick (who knew?) and they were selling cotton candy on the beach. And yes, I am sunburned.

Shoot Me, Shoot Me...it's a little slice of Heaven!

Reading the Village Voice today and saw that B'ham's hottest guitarist (in my not-so-humble opinion) is playing July 20 at the Knitting Factory with Maria Taylor....I think I'll have to make a visit.

NIce boys take the late train

So it's been my experience thus far that the only way to meet nice guys in NY (and maintain a true conversation) is while waiting for the NW transfer....tonight i met a producer/filmmaker that organizes Boston's version of the Sidewalk Film Festival and Scramble. Interesting. Or maybe it's just me. Who knows. I went with some girlfriends to the Hot Actor/Bartender/Subway Guy at his restaurant in the Village tonight...he wasn't working, but is TOMORROW apparently. I've always had shitty luck. So, we went to the Italian place next door and gorged on some pasta and red wine. I actually consumed 3 square meals today. I'm bloated, tipsy, and oh so very happy. Tomorrow, I fast. And I bought a belt today...not quite sure how I feel about it...never really worn a belt before...will probably return it on Monday. This post is so lame.

Dead People and All their Fucking Money

So the big, bad company way uptown has me proofreading hundereds of pages of auction items (includig the the vomit-inducing values) from a dead person's estate. Let me just say, we're talkin' millions. And I swear to god, if someone is actually willing to pay thousands of bucks for an "American folk art" Flying pig weathervane (and yes, the pig is wearing little aviator goggles and a leather cap)...I will die myself. Also, I didn't think it was possible to misspell "caviar serving dish with spoon" but apparently I was gravely mistaken. So the job is as boring as hell and way too ironic considering my current financial situation...And my supervisor just happens to share the same name (first and last and the same exact spelling of both!) of a certain J-school professor that made me suffer through hours of her annoying voice, oh and journalism history. There was however, no evidence of said professor in my super's office. I checked all photos on her desk and examined her face for any sign of relation. None. I almost brought up the coincidence, but I chose not to. Probably a good thing, but still...it's too fucking eerie.

Speaking of Brazil...

I just viewed some pictures from a recent trip to Rio (among other Brazilian places)that some of my friends back in Alabama took...and I just have 2, wait, 4 comments. 1) Why the hell didn't you send me the uploads bitches! I had to get them from Abbi! 2) I'm jealous and I want a Brazilian tan too 3) TY, where's your Speedo? and 4) LOVE LOVE LOVE the Junt t-shirt. It really is more than just a name...it's a state of mind.

Band Endorsement of the Week

Brazilian Girls. "Don't Stop" (I don't know which album it's on) is fucking incredible. Do yourself a favor and check them out. Apparently they're playing for FREE on the Summer Stage this month too.

Things that go POW! in the night

The Fourth of July gathering on Roosevelt Island was a blast--tons of cheap beer, Mizzou grads, and a really shitty view of the fireworks (due to the bridge and the fact that we weren't allowed on the roof). I seriously think I ate four hotdogs. Ick. I can't believe I just admitted to that. And I got to ride the RI Tram.

Tomorrow I go to work proofreading/editing only god knows what for a big bad auction house located waaaay uptown. The attire is business professional and that open-toed shoes, even cute highheel ones, are not allowed, I don't even think I have a pair of closed toed shoes here....Something tells me this two day gig is going to blow.

*Sigh*

It's the Fourth of July weekend and I should be sitting in a boat on a lake in Oklahoma waiting my turn to waterski. But I'm not. Boo.

What I've learned from one night in Brooklyn

Park Slope brownstones are fabulous (inside and out), I still love Williamsburg and now the wonderful garden at a bar called Miss Williamsburg, For the first time in my life I wish I wasn't WASP-like, Why does every guy I know in NY have an "Asian thing" or an "Indian thing" ? I am not that smart and I wish I had more of an interest in politics or the Yankees so I could join more conversations, A guy I know who writes for the NYTimes (and was RECRUITED for the job) had never even picked up/read the Times before he worked there--just kill me now, already. Apparently I have a "New York" look and others feel this qualifies me for working at a department store (?), Because I am comfortable commenting on the attractiveness of other women, certain men assume I'm a lesbian, or at least "suprised that i don't kiss girls," Mojitos are fucking incredible, and I think I'm going to make it my signature summer drink..

Hungry Like the Wolf

I love getting drunk with old friends. I absolutely love going to shitty karaoke bars with old friends and singing awful Bon Jovi and Salt n Peppa tunes at the top of my lungs at 3 am in the morning. It was kinda like a throwback to the beloved Brown Derby days, except this place was called Iggy's and there was no Britney singing, nipple ring-flashing Vincent/Eddie...just a pathetic Asian guy named Richard who wore his cell phone on a belt clip singing Duran Duran...

it IS worth waiting for the train!

Last night I suffered through two pretty terrible local bands (you really can tell a lot by a how high dudes wear their guitar straps) performing at a pretty terrible venue that can only be described as a ghetto version of Zydeco with a surprisingly clean ladies room. Then I went to another pretty terrible fratty bar (think an even more obnoxious Innisfree) with a huge beer pong table. So after too many beers and a few Jager shots, I finally made my way back to the train station far too late to be alone....and I waited, and waited, and waited ( i hate the fucking late night train schedule)....Then I had a craigslist-worthy missed connection moment. Well, it wasn't really missed...Anyway, I've always thought it would be sexy to meet a boy on the subway. Catch each others eye, do a little flity body language. Lame, I know. And as I'm looking at this very adorable guy on the train platform (who I assume is NOT in a band, which is good cause it's an old habit I'm attempting to break), I'm thinking he would be an amusing endeavor. Then I realize I'm in NY, it's nearly impossible to meet peopole, I get on the train and close my eyes. Three stops later he's sitting next to me and actually brings up some conversation. Exciting. Anyway, he's got some midwestern history, has only been in NY for 5 months, is a struggling actor (I know, I know) and tends bar (ditto). So we're chatting it up and I discover he's only one train stop away from mine. When the train starts halting at his stop, I say "Isn't this your stop?" He says "yeah...it's a shame" and I say "I know..too bad". And he gets up, tells me to stop by his bar sometime, and is gone. This is the extent of my New York love life.