Another day, another effing financial crisis. Besides Wachovia joining the ever-growing list of failed banks, and being bought out by Citigroup, the bailout bill (which everyone kind of hated but thought is totes nec) failed to pass the House. YAY! Soon, everyone will be out of a job so we should probably go out and stock up on canned food, Ramen and bottled water. But first, Kerry and I have compiled a list of possible names for the impending financial crisis, since “The Great Depression” has already been used.
- The Greater Depression
- The Ultimate Depression
- The Big Bummer
- The Nightmare on Wall Street
- The Super Sadness
- The Big Broke
- The Monetary Meltdown
- OMFG! AHHHHHHH!
- Something in Chinese, when they take us over and force us to speak Mandarin.
Don’t Eff with the Waiter, Pooface September 25, 2008
Last night, while working as a cocktail server (at a hotel wine-bar, not exactly skeevytown) I was waiting on a table of two middle-aged guys. They were nice enough and spoke vaguely with them, but pretty much left any convo to “would you like your martini with a twist or olives?”. No big deal, right?
Wrong. One drink in the guys and they were ridic. I simply went over to the table to check on them and one of the guys; I’ll call him Balding; simply said, “you know, you are HOT”. I thanked him for the compliment but he kept going on and on, asking his friend to tell me I’m hot, etc. I started to feel uncomfortable and did not respond to Balding because frankly, what the eff could I possibly say besides “thank you”? Well, then Balding said that since I did not respond, I must KNOW I’m hot, which makes me that much hotter. This was followed by a diatribe on how hot and sexy confidence is…of course.
I avoided that table for a while; only going back when I saw their glasses were empty. Then I was told, again, that I’m hot and was asked if I would be working the following day (today). When I said no, I was promptly listed all the things Balding and I could do together. I threw out the typical, “Oh, tomorrow I have plans with my boyfriend,” hoping he’d get the point and quit.
Of course not. Balding asked for my boyfriend’s info so that they could chat. He explained why he was better than my boyfriend, and why I should spend time with him instead. Bear in mind that he had no idea who he was comparing himself to since he’s never met this boyfriend. Meeting him would, in fact, be impossible, because I do not have a boyfriend. In this situation, my “boyfriend” was a complete work of fiction (which, btw, makes him perfect and therefore uncomparable). Anyway… I quickly got out of that situation and transferred the table to someone else. It just is amazing how little respect waitresses and waiters get from their customers. Saying things of that nature in an office setting is easy grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit.. why do we put up with it in restaurants? It’s still our place of work and everyone deserves respect and comfort in their place of employment.
Homo Heartbreak September 24, 2008
My broken heart. Today, the earth stands still, the sky is red and the grass is pink. I went to CVS this morning and on the magazine rack was People with the giant coverline proclaiming Clay Aiken is gay.
That’s right. The most beautiful, most talented singer in the world likes guys. I’m so shocked, so speechless; it’s simply astounding. It comes out of nowhere. His daliances with starlets, all those pictures of him making out with Vegas showgirls..they gave me hope. They made me think, you know maybe one day I can be with Clay Aiken. I’ve loved him for so long. I’ve always considered him not only incredibly gorgeous and incredibly talented, but also, so manly! My room is plastered with Clay Aiken pictures, and I listen to his many albums on repeat all day, every day. Now, that hope is gone. I guess I’ll just have to throw my whole heart at Zac Efron; there’s no way he’s gay so I’ll be sure not to be heartbroken again.
Ode to the Stadium September 23, 2008
Some buildings are beautiful; some are feats of engineering; some are just there for a specific purpose. Very few buildings envoke true feelings. Yes, old homes can do this, but it is more about personal memories of one than shared feeling with others. Yankee Stadium was one of the few that did this, and I will always remember it fondly.
I only vaguely remember my first game at Yankee Stadium. It was the summer of 1994 and I had just turned 9. I went with my dad, my sister and my mom and little did I realize that in a couple months major league baseball would be close to extinction. I don’t remember who played or who won, but I remember yelling and teasing my 6-year-old sister about getting ketchup on her shirt. Other memories include eating ice cream, being held up by my dad to see something, and thinking “WOW” as the Stadium erupted into cheers. It was cool- to be in the big city, in the massive Stadium with more people than I had ever seen in one place at one time, all cheering for the same thing.
The strike made me semi-forget about baseball, but my grandparents always watched the Yankee games, and I got into it in 1996 when the Yankees were on a roll. Though my heart belonged to Jonathan Taylor Thomas at the time, I developed a little crush on Derek Jeter. He was so good! And young! Derek Jeter made baseball exciting for me, and from that season on, I was hooked.
On New Years Day in 1997, my parents announced they were splitting up. Dad moved in with my grandparents down the street so he was still around a lot, but those every-other weekends were killer. My 9 year old sister was easy to please- she loved playing sports and was still a little kid, so my dad could just play with her and all was well. I was turning 12, ridiculously girly and into middle-school gossip and wondering when I’d get boobs (answer: sometime between 8th and 9th grades). Watching baseball was pretty much the only thing Dad and I both enjoyed. So for the next 5 years or so, I went to a lot of games with my sister and my Dad. One of the most memorable was Opening Day, 1998. They had won the Series the year before and we got there early to see the banner raised. We sat in the bleachers and it was absolutely miserable weather. Cold and raining. I remember bundling up in layers to get to the game and then talking Dad into buying overpriced sweatshirts at the game and wearing a poncho on top of everything. We stayed almost until the end; leaving early because the bleacher creatures started to get drunk and surly. When we got to my grandparents’ house, I remember my sister and I changing into the heaviest clothes we could find, then wrapping ourselves in the thick fleece Yankee blankets we had received the previous Christmas. Grandma had made my sister hot chocolate and me hot tea with honey (I don’t eat/drink chocolate) and it was awesome.
As we got older, my sister and I spent less planned time with Dad. It wasn’t every other weekend anymore, and my stepmom was around to do things with as well. Yankee games were few and far between. When I went to college, they basically stopped. I was in DC, and watched whatever games I could on tv. For the first time, I had friends who were Red Sox fans. I remember watching in 2003, as Aaron Boone became a hero, yelling in jubilation as my friends down the hall screamed obscenities in their Boston accents. It was wonderful, but oh how I wished I could be there!
Fast forward and now I’m a surprising die-hard Yankee fan. My Dad and my tomboy sister have become casual fans, while me, the daughter often invoking the nickname “princess”, checks stats, follows blogs daily and flies down to spring training. It’s weird, and surprising to many people when I throw stats out or mention players in the farm system, but I love it and there’s no going back. That first trip to the Stadium in 1994 and the subsequent trips with my Dad and my sister formed and cemented an uncomprimising love for baseball. Maybe it would have happened if I had gone to another Stadium, but I doubt it. The roar of that crowd and the ghosts that walk with you there can not be duplicated. The memories I made there cemented my love of the game. And I will miss it, greatly.
Surviving the Recession: Broke 20-somethings edition September 18, 2008
When you live paycheck-to-paycheck but have a secure job, the financial collapse is not such a big deal (source: Mallori). Ultimately, you will continue to live life the same way you do every other week: as a broke ass. Sometimes, when you log onto Chase.com to check your account balance, you feel quite sad, but most of the time, as Tim Gunn, would say, you just make it work. Here are some ways to survive the recession as a broke 23 year old without turning into a complete freegan freak:
- Bring your lunch to work almost every day. A peanut butter sandwich, yogurt, pringles, all of these things go a long way. Lunchables…not out of the question, and Lean Cuisines are preferable if not gourmet.
- Walk anywhere you can. Personally, I dislike getting sweaty and having to throw on a pair of Rainbows, but it’s free, and it gets you where you need to go, and it burns some calories, too.
- Don’t waste your money on stupid bar nights. Seriously, no one night is going to be better than the next at a dumb bar, no matter what people may say. Go out when you have some money, but if you don’t, do something free, like hanging out with friends at home. Or go to a movie and then stay and sneak into another one.
- Don’t waste the rest of your money on trendy clothes from expensive stores. A few key pieces like nice jeans and a solid pair of designer shoes will take you a long way, and Target, Forever21 and H&M can take you the rest.
- Do spend your money on groceries and cook for yourself. Whatever you don’t eat, refrigerate and save to heat up as leftovers. You’ll save so much money this way and it’s kind of fun to cook, too. Cooking will garner you mad street cred with roommates and friends.
- There’s no need to go out to dinner all the time, so don’t. If you want to catch up with someone you haven’t seen in a while, invite them over to your apartment for a home-cooked meal, or some wine or beer. You can catch up just as well with someone over a cheap meal as you can over an over-priced meal.
- Find free things and go to them. Free outdoor movies are a personal favorite, as are free open bars. Book launch parties with free wine are fun, too. In nyc, there’s an entire website dedicated to free shit: http://www.freenyc.net/. If you’re a girl, go to a club with a promoter and you’ll get free bottle service all night. Or if you’re single, see how many drinks you can get a member of the opposite sex to buy you at a bar.