All Our Disney Princess Dreams Came True This Morning

Last night I went to the opening of the new Pop Burger off-shoot Pop Pub where I ran into a guy who for a brief second I had a crush on. (Things were mildly awkward and only partially due to the fact he and his roommates read the blog post). He asked if he could maybe call me later. My response: No, sorry, I'm going to bed so I'm well-rested for the royal wedding tomorrow.

We all have our priorities. He is not one of them.

At 5:30am The BFF crawled into bed with me and we started the Best Morning Ever. Besides for the annoying commentary (doesn't matter what channel, 4 Americans + 1 Brit = annoying), the whole thing was just as we hoped it would be: Disney Princess-worthy.

Kate looked stunning. Pippa looked stunning. Harry looked smokin' hot (man I love him). Camilla looked good (is it just me, or is she kind of awesome?). The hats were amazing (can we pu-lease start wearing them to weddings?). But really, the Queen couldn't find something with a little more flair?

There were parts where we cried. There were parts where we made judgmental comments (duh). There were parts where we shouted, "OMG WHO ARE ALL THOSE HOTTIES SEATED IN THAT SECTION?!?!" You know what I'm talking about, right? Seriously like 10 hot guys! What I would kill to be single at that reception...

Anyway, the best part, I think is summed up here:

Just that knowing, loving look followed by his cute double-glance and her confident smile. Love it. Lifetime couldn't have written this fairy tale ending any better.

Cheers to the happy couple.

(And to the amazing weather in NYC and the fact it's Friday.)

The Fear

A few weeks ago I had a thought: When did you start making things so damn complicated? Seriously, living in New York has turned me into that wishy-washy-will-she-wont-she annoying girl you roll your eyes at on TV. (Carrie Bradshaw, Rachel Green, I'm looking at yall.)

There's a million issues that can pop up in your head during the span of time between getting to know someone and things starting to lead toward The Talk. Is this worth my time? Does he think I'm hot? Is he forever going to be a chronic man child? But if you both pass each other's prerequisite tests, then you realize that you like him and he likes you.

And that's when the real trouble starts. It's that second you let yourself relax enough to start making plans for the future (e.g. two weeks from now). It's the moment you realize you would actually be sad if this ended. (And of course, that time you start blogging about your happiness.)

This is a Houdini Disappearing Act
I could support.

Then the fear arrives. What if this is it and it's over? you think when he hasn't texted you. It's starting to set in: the Houdini Paranoia. The Wham, Bam, See Ya Ma'am Disappearing Act.

While I understand and condone the brush off method for casual things, a month plus of consistent dates deserves something more than just letting things fade into the abyss. 

And that's where I am now. Jaded from past experiences and fearful it will turn out the way I've seen it go before. (Oh, then there's the whole putting it out there for the world to judge that adds another level of fear.)

So we shall see.

(P dot S: I received an Intervention Email from My Fairy Godmother today. After this, I promise I will stop live-blogging this Person of Interest...for the mean time. I know she has my best interests at heart. She's a wise lady ;)

Smitten Kitchen

Smitten Kitchen is the name of a great recipe blog. It also aptly describes my weekend.

After traveling for almost two weeks, TK finally returned to the East Village (did I mention he lives ten blocks away? sweet glorious convenience). While he was gone, I made a joke about him picking up souvenirs from his travels (actually I really wanted to say, "Bring me back something French" but I didn't know if he'd get the H.A. reference).

He arrived with gifts of Parisian chocolates in hand (which I just discovered have a second layer in the box, score!). Oh, and French goat cheese and brie. Those are two of my top favorite cheeses! (Yes, I am the kind of person who has a Top Five Cheeses, judge as you wish.) He shared, I swooned. Even if you know nothing about me, you will soon realize that food is the way to my heart. Major points.

We made the most of a rainy Saturday and saw a movie (Limitless, I liked it about as much as I thought I would...) followed by a great Mexican brunch at Hecho en Dumbo (mole duck enchiladas, I liked them better than Bradley Cooper's range of acting...).

We parted ways that afternoon, but not before I awkwardly overheard a voicemail left for him by another girl..."heeeeey welcome back in town!...but what if she was just a friend?...well then it's unfortunate he chose that moment to lower the volume so I couldn't hear the end of it... Anyway, whatever.

On sunny Sunday I went to a delicious Easter brunch with some Texas girls (and one very tolerant Australian boy). I didn't have any expectations to see TK again and figured I'd spend the evening writing a blog post about that damn awkward voice mail incident. Of course he's probably seeing other girls. C'mon, Rach, you know how dating works in this city. Just because you are too lazy to juggle doesn't mean he is. 

But that evening he called to ask me to dinner. As much as I like plans, the impromptu date night can be fun too. Since I'd just bought a fridge full of groceries, I decided to make good on my offer to cook him dinner and invited him over. (Plus it was raining and going out sounded like a terrible idea.)

In less than an hour I threw together chicken breasts with goat cheese and shallots, cauliflower white cheddar puree, and mushroom Israeli couscous. He said it was great. I was happy. We were both content and full.

I think we can agree that there was some generous casting
with the exception of Harry.

The best part of the night was him acquiesing to watch the Best Lifetime Movie Ever: William & Kate. (That's what happens when you unknowingly ask a girl to explain to you her new favorite topic, e.g. why do people care about the Royal Wedding. Duh, it's a great love story, here let me tell you all the details, as interpreted by Lifetime. Unfortunately he had a last minute work call and had to leave early. What can I say, he's an adult...who asked me to save the rest of the movie for him.

Three days in a row. Two nights in the kitchen. One Royal Wedding-related date night. In my world, that's something, sort of, I think.

(Of course I realize that blogging about it is a surefire way to jinx any potential, but I honestly don't have much else to write about so I'm sacrificing my happiness for your entertainment. I hope you will feel an adequate amount of guilt if this goes south.)

Wanted: (Temporary) New BFF

Clearly one perk of having a blog is to use it to your advantage. Like in terms of ending things with guys. Or when your roommate needs a favor.

For instance, for six weeks she's looking for someone to sublease her room. After talking about going back to grad school, The BFF is finally pulling the trigger. And to really get back into the student mindset, she's taking an extended summer vacay to Lebanon like she's done in years past. Aka abandoning me.

But due to the interesting (read: zero privacy) living situation we call home, there are some strict stipulations. Aka way way way more thorough vetting process than what allowed us to live with two psychos in the past. Craig and his damn list can suck it.

This sitch would be ideal for someone coming to NYC for a summer internship or someone moving here who needs a place to stay while looking for something permanent (You really have no idea how long that process can take and friends' generosity usually ends after two weeks.)

Pros:
- The price is far more reasonable than most dorms or apartments (I can give you specifics if you email me)
- East Village, convenient location (to great late-night dining)
- Top floor walk-up (might sound like a con, but you will leave with the nicest a$$ ever)
- Living with me. Duh.

Cons:
- None That damn bicycle blocking the hallway

The specifics: 
- End of June - end of July
- One half of a (very unprivate) two-room studio, decorated cutely

Qualifications:
- Someone who is female
- Someone who is a non-psycho
- Someone who will not bring guys home (again, no privacy, welcome to my world)
- Someone who will not be home all the time (unless you want to watch 40 hours of Food Network and Bravo per week with me in which case, welcome to my world)
- Someone who is really quiet when they come home late. Unless I've gone out with them, in which the neighbors below me who throw parties every time I am trying to nap and/or sleep can get a taste of their own medicine, bwahaha
- Someone who does not buy snacks
- Someone who cleans up after themselves. And will also occasionally clean up after others, because I'm sorry, I'm not perfect.
- Someone who is my size with cute clothes and a generous nature
- Someone who thinks I am really cool

Obviously there are a lot of candidates out there who meet these specifications. Let me know if you're one of them.

Making the Most of April Showers

Brunch at the Continental Club. The hostess asked if we
wanted to sit in the swing chairs. My response was identical
to that of a small child: YES YES YES!!!

Even though the weather has started to warm up to naked-leg-acceptable temperatures, I'm still not satisfied. For that to happen, we need sunshine and blue skies. But no, instead, we've traded in snow for rain. Five-day forecast endless rain. Luckily we've been able to sneak in a few dry days every here and there, but the days that really matter - those brief precious weekends - have been stolen from us.

Normally I'm devastated when that's the case, but last weekend when I went to Philly to visit Ashley I didn't mind. Although the non-stop downpours drowned any hope of us making it across town for famous cheese steaks, I have to admit it was kind of a nice excuse to be utterly lazy and catch up.

Considering that whenever Ashley visits New York I have to share her with her boyfriend and other friends (I know, how dare she, right?), it was fun having the pinnacle of a girls' weekend.

I won't go to the trouble of calculating how many episodes of Say Yes to the Dress we watched or how many bottles of wine we drank, but by the time I left on Sunday, I felt relaxed. If I can't get a weekend tan in the sunshine, then I'll take it.

 

(And icing on the cake, we didn't sleep on the streets this time! Woo.)



P dot S: On Saturday afternoon we saw Arthur at the most adorable (tiny) old movie theater where tickets were $6! Yes, I've seen TVs larger than the screen, but it was still fun. And I really liked the movie. After I told cinematic snob Dolo this, her response: "Yes, well, we like Russel Brand." Because what 80 year old doesn't go see Get Him to the Greek?

 

My main issue with the movie, though, was how unattractive they made Helen Mirren look. Totally unrealistic, everyone knows that woman is hot.

Also, last bit of randomness, did you know that determining 'love child' combinations of people is one of my best talents? E.g., Greta Gerwig, Russell's love interest in the movie, is totally the love child of the first Becky from Rosanne and Chloe Sevigny. Am I right?

And, more importantly, do you think that is a marketable skill?

Girl Talk

As I've mentioned, I've been blessed with quite a few great girl friends, especially a new group of dinner buddies brought together by my former blogger-turned-real-life-friend Elle. And besides for the fact that most times when I see them I spend money I don't need to spend on a ton of unnecessary calories, getting together is one of the highlights of my week.

Last Wednesday in an effort to save some dinero, I invited over the girls for a dinner of mushroom mac n' cheese and turkey meatballs. (And tons of dessert, which those biatches left for me to attempt to avoid the next day. Fail.)

In addition to being great company, everyone always has hilarious stories to tell. (And they know that whatever they decide to share is fair game blogging fodder.)

My pick for story of the week:

One girl had met a guy at a party, and after they had both left, he texted her to meet back up. Conveniently he was in her neighborhood so she figured what the hell and invited him over. (PSA: Inviting randoms to your apartment is never the smartest idea. Mostly due to the high probability you will want him to leave way sooner than he realizes.) The next morning, mid-make out sesh, he asked her if she knew that her college alma mater was associated with the Presbyterian church. No, she didnt know that, leading to the following rant:

"What, does that mean you don't believe in God? My dad is a preacher. I don't know how we can date if you aren't religious. I mean, what's the point? Then we can't get married. Because how would we raise our kids???"

I'm not even kidding. And please keep in mind this is all being said while he's trying to get in her pants. I mean, what would their kids think?!?

Oh, and to top off his weird religious-man-whore-hypocrisy, when he was walking out, he stopped in front of some of her fridge to admire her pictures. Do you have any of you in a bikini? Those are so hot.

CGS 2.0: Crazy guy syndrome. If dating didn't make for such great stories to entertain our friends, I'd be so over it.

Patience Is Not My Virtue

Before I left work on Friday, one of my colleagues needed help carrying down some stuff she wanted to take home. Because at that point in the day I had reached my productivity breaking point I felt like helping others, I volunteered to go down to the lobby with her to meet her boyfriend.

Anyway, as I got back in the elevator to head upstairs, I was forced to do my least favorite thing ever: Wait. Our building is really great in a lot of ways, e.g. the lobby's beautiful fresh flower arrangements or how the air is filled with the fragrance of glorious garlic bread courtesy of Little Italy next door, but the one thing I detest is that the elevator doors refuse to shut - no matter how many times you press the 'close' button - until a certain amount of time passes.

Those 30 seconds, sort of like Internet video ads, are the longest, most dreadful seconds of my day. So since it was Friday and I didn't hate everyone, I made small talk with the delivery guy who was waiting with me. Why yes, it is really annoying since clearly no one is coming. Then ol' Chatty Cathy mentioned how she's just really impatient in general. He paused, looked at me and said, "Someday you'll become patient. You just have to meet the right person."

Wait, what? I thought we were talking about elevators?!

Oh, maybe he meant one day if I got a puppy then I'd learn patience?
That's probably right.

The Best (Internet) Love Story Ever

So awhile ago I found this blog - which I automatically liked because, duh, her name is Rachel and she spells it the normal way - and then I read some posts and was like wow I would totally want to be her friend in real life. 

Then I started reading more and found out she moved to Texas (Houston to be exact) for a guy she met. Today is the one year anniversary of them knowing each other. And tomorrow will be the day they sign their lease together.

Having been convinced not once but twice in the past year that some random across the country was my soulmate only to find out that not one but two of them are morons, you'd think I'd have become totally jaded. But in fact, stuff like this - and my not-so-secret habit of reading the New York Times Vows section each weekend - keeps me full of hope.

(And this story probably keeps my mother full of hope that I will fall in love with some guy from Texas and move home.)

(Unrelated, but just another opportunity to make a parenthetical aside, my friend M just gchatted me that she has not one but two pictures of me saved on her desktop that she sent to the guy she's seeing for him to send to his friend. Of course that is the best news I've heard all day. Besides the story above.)

Too Soon for the Truth

Why yes I am a small child who knows
she's doing something bad.

TK, the only guy I've actually gone on dates with in calendar year 2011, stopped by my apartment before brunch last weekend.

Of course I had to go let him in because our buzzer will broken until the end of time, which is obviously one of my favorite things about our fifth-floor walk-up apartment, even more so than the non-stop frat parties thrown directly below us. Or that damn bicycle that blocks our hallway. Thanks, Josh and Raquel. (Side note: This morning I heard noise of someone out there messing with it, and being the creep that I am, I opened the peephole to watch. Today's finally the day they actually freaking use it, I thought! False alarm.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh right, when I opened the door downstairs, TK was looking at Kennedy's.

TK: Have you ever been to the fried chicken place?

Me: I don't think we've known each other long enough to talk about that yet...

Diversity is key.

Oh sweet innocence. How little does he know about me. To say that Kennedy's Fried Chicken will be a part of our New York legacy would be an understatement. (Speaking of, we're about to come to our one year anniversary of the contract against going there. Followed soon after by our one year anniversary of breaking the contract. And then again by this and this. In addition to some other times I didn't blog about because, enough, you get it, I have issues.)

I mean, judge all you want, but secretly you know - somewhere deep down - you're jealous you don't have all-night access to a place that not only serves delish chicken tenders (or wings or legs or, whatever, maybe you're into breasts!?), but also:
Sea food, ice cream, hamburgers AND middle-Eastern halal food. One-stop shop my friends, one stop shop. Who doesn't love convenience?

P dot S: Random idea for the day: Wouldn't a great name for a Halal place be "Halal at yo girl?" Get it? bwahaha. Okay, that's all I got.

Brunches and Birthdays Make For Good Weekends

Sweet, glorious Sun!!! Shut up everyone
in Texas reading this. Let me be excited.

After two days in sunny Miami for work, I left on Friday evening depressed. Unfortunately I hadn't been able to convince any friends to fly down to meet me, and there was no way I was going to stay on my own. Solo Rachel + South Beach = Sketchtastic.

Luckily I came home to find my devoted wife waiting for me with a DVR'd BBC special about the upcoming Royal Wedding. Cha-ching. We are obsessed with Kate Middleton. We really want to take the Big Day off work to celebrate. That's normal, right?

Thank goodness Saturday was a beautiful day, because had it been rainy and cold, you'd probably have to stop reading this post because the bitterness level would be intolerable. After a fun brunch with a friend and her sis, I strolled around the city enjoying a day of leisurely shopping.

That is until I got the sadistic idea to combine two of my least favorite activities: Waiting in super long lines and trying on jeans. When you're trying to lose weight, there is no reason to ever put yourself through that. If you buy them a size small as an incentive to slim down, you are obviously jinxing yourself and will only get fatter. If you buy them in your new Fat Size, then you have no incentive to lose weight because, hey, my pants fit!

Late bloomers:
Better late than never, Spring

I left empty handed. It was better that way. (Plus I saw an obese girl in leggings and I was all, oooh good idea!)

Later that night I went to a friend's birthday party where I made a new girl crush (hi!), followed by meeting up with my friend M at a UVA/Ole Miss birthday extravaganza.

This party was the perfect example of how sometimes New York is so college - more so at places like Fontana's - and the next thing you know, everyone and their mother is Southern and cute. I mean, it's great to run into old friends (especially when they make your night by saying they like The Guide!), but in terms of meeting guys, it totally ruins my game.

But it was fine, because to round out the weekend, I went to brunch with  my new interest TK (who I decided needed a name and aren't those just presh initials?) at one of my fav neighborhood places, Momofuku Ssam Bar. I was in a really decisive mood (read: bossy) and he even let me order for us. Sigh. Then he told me that he's going to be out of town the next two weeks, and as you know, vacays are total potential relationship killers. If I wasn't the most impatient (read: fickle) girl in the world, I'd have some hope. But it's me...so we shall see.

...Although I'd almost prefer to just get over any potential feelings I could have for him before I start to miss him. Because that seems like a lot of work. And after a fun weekend, I'm really quite exhausted.

No, Just No

I woke up this morning with an email from Facebook bringing to my attention that someone named Mike Goodman had sent me a message. Hmm, I do not know a Mike Goodman, do I? No.

Upon further research, I found out my buddy Mike is married with three kids. There is a post on his wall of his wife - rockin' a femullet - on a motorcycle holding a Budweiser, I'm not making this up. Anyway, shiz like this makes me want to vom. And not just his totally unnecessary use of my least fav phrase 'lol'.

(I have since blocked him, obv.)

The lesson of course is don't be creepy on Facebook. Is MySpace still around? Go there. And maybe if you're interested in cute young girls you shouldn't marry someone who looks like a lesbian. Just saying.

This also answers my internal debate about sending a message to a cute guy who keeps popping up on my "People you might know" list. We have something like fifty mutual friends, he's got that perf preppy southern boy look, and he lives in New York.

But hell to the no am I going to be the Mike Goodman in this situation. 

Guide to New York: When to Visit

So I've decided that in addition to all the dating insight I've amassed, I also have quite a lot of opinions on other topics. Oh joy, you must be thinking!

Since many people who read the blog don't live here, but duh who doesn't want to visit, I figured some trip tips might be a good place to start. And having been a tourist before becoming a resident, I know how overwhelming coming to New York can be. Especially when you're trying to fit in.

Bringing me to:

Rule #1: Don't wear tennis shoes/fanny packs. Done. There you go. Instant success. (I will overlook the tennis shoes if you're over 40, mom.)

Since we're *hopefully* embarking on some of the best few months of the year, let's start with the trip tip for:

When to visit?

Um, I don't know if you know this, but there's a thing called winter where it stays cold for months at a time and it is terrible. Yes, the city is a beautiful, magical wonderland during the holidays and everything is wrapped up in a sparkly package, but with the exception of December, I'd stick to the warm months.

I guess I'm biased (thank you Austin for ruining winter for me), but spring and summer - before it becomes unbearably hot - are perfection. One day the city wakes up, everyone throws their jackets and tights in the trash (okay maybe not), but all of a sudden the energy changes. I swear there is a proven direct correlation between warm weather and friendliness in the city. Everything is just lovely. Plus the freshly planted tulips and daffodils don't hurt.

So what should you do if you're coming soon? If I'm being honest, one of my favorite warm weather activities is day drinking. Park yourself and some friends at a cute little outdoor cafe (or the Standard Beer Garden or the Frying Pan if you're in the mood for something a little rowdier) and spend the afternoon people watching and drinking Bloody Marys.

Or if that's not your thing, just walking around sans jacket soaking up the little pockets of sunshine can be great too. Plus it's free...that is until you stumble on a great sidewalk jewelry seller or your window shopping gets the best of you.

But one of the top reasons to come during the warm months is the fact that a large portion of the population is vacant from the city during the weekends between Memorial Day and Labor Day. The population that usually fills up all the good restaurant reservations. Score.

So hopefully that helps. Start planning. See you soon.

(Oh, just so you know, this is directly written for certain friends and family members who have yet to visit me. You know who you are.)

P dot S: Summer is also Intern Cougarbait Season. Just sayin'.

Freed From Solitary Confinement For Good Behavior

I was in a horrible mood all week. Granted during this time I ate body's weight in chocolate from the office snack drawer and got all teary-eyed at any commercial featuring a puppy, baby or old person, but it wasn't just my inner-crazy getting the best of me.

A lot of things have been out of my control lately, and it's killing me. No one thing too terrible by any means, I've just been stressed with all of life's headaches, e.g. where the hell does all my money go. Plus work has been busy, and OMG it snowed on the first day of April. (Why yes the weather bitchery continues!)

As you can imagine, stumbling on a 40+ picture FB album of my ex and his new girlfriend having a lovely vacation in Aruba did not help. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for him, and it's good that he finally broke out of his chronic man-child commitment phobia. But I will not lie and say I'm happy that I've been stuck single in the land of endless winter.

So thanks to all the factors compounding on top of one another, everything inside of me finally reached a breaking point on Friday. During a gchat convo with The BFF, I lost it. I said some horrible things for no good reason. And that was when I decided I needed some alone time.

A self-imposed social exile, if you will.

After leaving work (2 hours later than I'd hoped due to finishing a last minute project, really helped the mood, obv) I went to the gym, where I did my best to ignore my friend. An hour of cardio later, I was at home cooking dinner and watching Ghostbusters on TV. Big night.

[Sidenote: The movie really made me curious about something: Has anyone heard anything about Rick Moranis lately? I miss that guy. Also, a thought: They should totally make Honey, I Shrunk the Grandkids. Instant hit.]

So anyway, after ten sold hours of sleep, I was a new person. Actually I was more of new old person, considering how excited I was to wake up early on a Saturday morning to run errands and go to Pilates.

While I was out, I also picked up some daffodils for The BFF as a "I'm sorry I was such a C U Next Tuesday" peace offering. (Fresh flowers are the best, cough cough hint hint I'm just saying.)

My stint in solitary confinement ended with me picking up the best Vietenemese bahn mi sandwich from Baoguette and eating it in Madison Square Park, walking around in the sunshine and treating myself to a little 16 Handles frozen yogurt.

It was the perfect cure for the blues and helped to salvage the weekend. Although I should also give due credit to the warmer weather and another fun date with that guy...

[Who now is aware of the fact that I have a blog. (Figured it wasn't worth risking another random's hate-filled text rant.) He seemed to take it well. We shall see.]

Outside of My Comfort Zone

It's so easy to let yourself fall into a rut, and we're too young for that. Actually you're always too young for that. So I do my best to push myself further than I'm comfortable.

Lately the best example of this has been in yoga. Trusting other people in my class to support me while I lowered from standing up into a full wheel (back bend) took a lot last week. But once I did it, I felt good about myself. Same goes with split stretches or headstands. Practice and confidence gets you far.

But in dating, though, I don't really put myself out there with too much effort. I know I should, I just don't. So when I got a random email about an organized singles event, I figured why the hell not. It was a friend of a friend happy hour where every girl brought a guy friend. If nothing else, something to blog about.

Since I'd literally just joked with one of my few eligible bachelor friends about set-ups, I gauged his reaction to attending. He didn't hate the idea so I bought the tickets that minute because if I didn't then I knew I never would.

If I didn't then, then I'd be $30 richer than I am now, damnit. To say the event was proof of why it's better to make no effort at all would be an understatement.

I could lie and tell you I tried to make the best of it, but the truth is I talked to one guy (and two cool girls, but I guess that doesn't count?). Why was it so terrible?

Pickings were slim non-existent. First, as always, standard IAAB disclaimer. Of the two hundred people at the event, 99% were the least dateable people in the greater New York area. Second I like men who are taller than me. I was wearing flats, it wasn't that hard. Third, many were old. It was like it was set in the Great Hottie Depression or something. The friend I brought was by far the most attractive guy there. (Yes, ladies, he's still single, let me know if you're interested.)

Moral of the story: Take a yoga class instead of going to a singles event. You'll accomplish a hell of a lot more. And who knows, you probably have a better chance of meeting someone there.

[Note: I do not actually condone meeting someone in yoga. Unless you just really want to know how a guy looks when he's sweaty and breathing hard, you perv.]



 Apparently http://www.datingyoga.com/ is real.
Really outside of my comfort zone, that is.



Still Fighting the Urge

This was by far my best April Fool's Day prank ever. I'm sad it was only a joke because a year later, I still have a bad case of Puppy Fever.



This is actually my motto every day, not just on 4/1.