Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Hanging My Head in Shame. Sigh.

There's nothing worse than the feeling of utter embarassment after you've come to the sober realization that when you've been drinking, you should not have a cell phone near you. Alcohol does indeed cloud my judgement making brain cells, and while I'm aware that I shouldn't text someone, or that after a certain point I should stop texting someone, I still do it. At least I don't drunk dial. The whole buzzed-texting thing hasn't gotten out of control, I just feel dumb the next day, or an hour later. This happened yesterday while at the outdoor bar at Bryant Park. I had few beers, no big deal, but then I'm proceeding to text a handful of friends about stupid things. Blame can be given to the fact that the friend I was with left me to go to rehearsal, and I couldn't leave a full beer there un-drunk. What would Jesus think? There was also a group of married 40 year old men who decided to talk to me. The hilarity of the situation had to be shared, but texting also allowed me an escape. Long story short (too late), I want to put an apology out into the universe. I don't want to look back at what I sent. Too embarassing. I don't think I did anything to really annoy anyone. Please don't hate me. It's just myself and my own insecurites (yes, I have a few of them)that make me feel like I'm being that kind of girl. Oy. I don't know where this is going. In that state of mind what I say seems like an okay thing to be telling someone, when it actually makes me look needy. Maybe I am needy. Fuck. I should do a week of sobriety again. Don't hold your breath.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Hi, Lloyd. Little slow tonight, isn't it?

It's always fun to find new places to hang out at in this city. I'd be denying all three of you who read this information on the new NYC hotspot if I didn't tell you all about it through this blog. This past Wednesday night my friend/co-worker and I were going to get a drink after work. After walking in and out of one place hosting a "Broadway Bares" party, and then another (a Japanese karaoke restaurant), we realized there are a handful of hotel bars in the surrounding area. En route to one on Park, we passed the Madison Tower Hotel (I think that's the name of it) which was advertising its since passed "Jolly Hour" at the Whaler Bar. OBVIOUSLY we had to go in. The hotel is empty, the front desk people don't even blink an eye to the two people awkwardly walking in, giggling. It took us a minute to find the door to this Whaler Bar, but when we did, oh boy. This place is not so much a bar, but more so a huge living room/cigar lounge filled with couches and tables, a piano, and an odd portrait of a dog in a general's uniform. There's no one in there except the bartender. It was like the bar in "The Shining," but instead of Lloyd the bartender's name is Dan. Even in its absurdity we still had to get a drink there. After one round we talked to Dan for about five minutes, listened to him berate the bar and then he gave us free drinks. We got there at 11:30, it closed at midnight. At 12 Dan closed do the bar, packed up his stuff and left, shutting the doors behind him...with us still there. Not only did we get free drinks, but now we get to sit in this huge, creepy room unattended! Excellent! Nothing exciting happened, we had another coworker meet us in order to experience this with us. But think of the possibilities! Even Dan said we could do anything, watch porn on the televisions (Then he said, "Or make our own." Which was creepy.)Next week we're going to do a photo shoot, the week after? Who knows! Guerilla theater? Orgy? Tea party? I kept expecting the hotel's cleaning staff to come in and kick us out. Never happened. So for all of you in need of a new hang out, check at the Whaler Bar. It's hilariously bad, but I'll take hilarious over loud, crowded, and obnoxious-meaning 95% of bars in this town.

This entry was in no way entertaining, rather educational. I am learning you on new places to go in this city. I think all the dye currently on my hair messed with my wit too. Oh well. I can't be "on" all the time. If ever.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Yay Sobriety.

Thanks to my recent bout with food poisoning, alcohol hasn't touched my lips in almost five days. Five. Sadly, this is the longest I've gone without the stuff in oh, I don't know, five years? I usually get to three days then my thirst gets the best of me and I have to have one. Or four. Or seven. I work in a restaurant, my soul aches, therefore as a coping mechanism I am forced to drink after work. Or before work. Or during work. Drinking on the job does make me one delightful waitress, but it's WRONG. Drinking that much, that often, is BAD. The worse part of the whole thing is that while I'm trying to lift my spirits (with spirits) I'm killing a little something known as thoughts. I have millions of genius thoughts skipping around my brain, these thoughts only like to come out to play at night time though, as soon as I lay down to go to bed. Well, usually I drown these thoughts Hurricane Katrina-style with booze and just pass out. But when hitting the sack soberly, they're allowed to live and thrive! I went to bed around 1:00 last night and didn't actually fall asleep until almost 3:30 because I had to keep getting up to write down dialogue and ideas for my "30 Rock" spec script. Oh yeah, that's my new ridiculous thing to add to all my other ridiculous things that I started and never finished. Now maybe they will be finished! Three cheers for temperance!

Now I don't think I have a problem with alcohol. I think I have too many friends who I enjoy spending time with and unfortunately in this city one of the main components to socializing happens to be alocohol. And complaining. But there's no such thing as too much of that! I guess it's scary to think that if I stop drinking, or get a grasp on it, not only will I save money, I might actually propel myself closer to succeeding as a writer. It's amazing what can be accomplished when you're not drunk, hungover, or even mildly buzzed! Maybe only allow myself only to drink one day a week? I can still have fun even when I'm not drinking, right? RIGHT? We'll see how this actually goes, but it would be nice to churn out a script or two of something, anything, and not completely waste the summer, let alone my life, drinking.

On a completely random sidenote: While watching an old "30 Rock" episode, with David Schwimmer on it as Greenzo, I realized I onced dated (?) a guy who looks like him. It was kind of sad, because David Schwimmer? Aw, bless. He's trying. I also wondered if said guy knows he looks like him. Yeah. End random sidenote here.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Upchucking While Heading Downtown

For years now I have lived in fear of one thing. Well one thing of many...but this thing actually happened to me Sunday night. There have been numerous times in the past that I've gotten on the subway, into a car, onto a bus, hungover and nauseous. Somehow, I've always managed to hold back the urge to purge. I'm not sure how, self control? Strong will? It was really just the fear of the humiliation that goes along with public vomiting. I don't get embarassed easily, if at all, but the thought of being on a packed train and SPLAT! I instantly make everyone else's lives more miserable because I was the drunk chick who couldn't hold last night's liqour makes me shudder.

Sunday night I was at a friend's place on the Upper West Side. I hadn't been feeling good all night, sure enough, I end up kneeling in front of her toilet. And this was in no way alcohol induced. Which is surprising, I know. After that I felt better. I drank a lot of water and decided to leave. I need to get to 14th St. from 86th. I made it to 59th street before running out of the subway car and throwing up into the nearest garbage can. Thank goodness I'm so tall that I didn't have to touch the can, just leaned over, and held my hair back. Everyone must have thought I was some drunk chick from Jersey (okay, that's partially true) or a junkie in need of a fix. Nope. Just food poisoning. I walked down from 59th to 42nd, thinking my stomach would calm down and I could get on the train again. After waiting for 10 minutes in the 42nd St. station I broke out into a cold sweat and decided it wouldn't be smart to get onto the train whenever it decided to come. So I walked to 33rd, hoping the fresh air would help. Even with my disheveled hair, smeared lipstick, and sickly complexion I still managed to get hit on. I guess I reaked of junkie hooker. Understandable. I kept thinking, "Watch this be the night I get attacked and I'll be too sick to fight back. Great." I didn't get attacked, but I made the mistake of buying a bottle of water and drinking that, because once in a cab on 33rd I only made it down to the West Village before the driver had to pull over for me to stick my head out the door again. I said to him, "I ate something that really messed me up." He probably thought, "Yeah, drugs." It was truly one of the worst nights I've had so far in my life. At least no one had to clean up after me, because then I would have felt truly horrible.

This happens every time I tell my friends, "Gee, I haven't thrown up in awhile." Every time I say that I always end up vomiting that night or sometime in the very near future. I was telling people that Saturday night. Go figure. Thanks to the food poisoning, which is the only probable diagnosis I can give myself next to cancer/death, I lost two days of my life being couch-ridden. It's amazing how something that starts in your stomach manages to mess up your entire body. I felt like an old woman in a hospital bed over all the moaning and crying I was doing because my back hurt so much. I was in so much pain I kept thinking, "I need a boyfriend so he can rub my back for me." Yeah, it was that excruciating. And I hate massages. Then I realized Advil works just as well. So I hope no one out there ever has to experience puking in public. The actual act is bad enough, and trying not to touch anything doesn't help. Eck. I also never realized how far Brooklyn is from the West Side when you don't think you can handle being underground for more than 7 minutes without an escape.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Three years later and I still wonder what would have happened if you had chosen me over her.