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>I never write about sex…

September 20, 2010

>

Don’t worry guys, I haven’t been holed up in my childhood bedroom crying over old photo albums and high school “love” notes. I have, however managed to engage in a bunch of pretty mundane activities over the weekend. I chopped my hair off on Friday. I used a Groupon for a Mexican meal. I sat around drinking beer and listening to people play the guitar. I slept until mid-afternoon. I walked around Greenpoint/Williamsburg. I ate a grossly over-budget, albeit delicious dinner in Cobble Hill. I casedsnooped, er, stared lovingly, adoringly, and jealously through the windows of brownstones. I watched roughly nine episodes of The OC, Season One. And I did this all alone.
Just kidding. That would be pretty sad. Or maybe reflective? But definitely a waste of money.
I’ve had long hair for the past eight years. Jesus. I thought it was six years, but I just did the math and it was eight. EIGHT YEARS of roughly the same haircut. I guess I had some bang action thrown in the mix, but other than that: nada! So I cut it. Honestly, it hasn’t been as dramatic as I thought it would. I still feel like me, which is sort of depressing (is it? Oh man, that’s bad). Maybe that’s just because I don’t have access to a blow dryer so since I washed it I’ve more resembled a wet black lab than someone with a “fabulous” (ugh) new haircut.
I think I’m looking for change in all the wrong places. I can’t feel hopelessly nomadic because my laptop weighs next to nothing and I can just pop in a Starbucks (now equipped with FREE WI-FI. Blegh, you won me back as a customer, Starbucks. For now) and for the price of one $4.93 Grande Soy Latte I can sit for three hours, Facebook stalk my 93 year old great-aunt (no joke), Twitter stalk Chelsea Handler and the cast of Community, take the entire three hours to write this pathetic excuse for a blog post, peruse Epicurious.com for dinner ideas, and worst of all, do what I’m about to do; are you ready for it? I’m going to watch Boardwalk Empire online in Starbucks on 9th avenue, with an empty cup in front of me. I might buy a pastry or something, honestly, just settle in. Although, they have the calorie count and I’m not sure that in good faith I can put a 400 calorie cookie the size of my thumbnail into my body right now.
I do have a stand up show next week, though, so at least I’m not a complete waste of life. Right?
A
PS: Fuck you coffee cake.
PPS: This post isn’t about sex at all. Are you upset?
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