2 legs good, 4 legs bad.

I tried, and failed as a cat person/animal lover.  We thought it would be a great idea to get a little creature to greet us and love us when we got home.  Like we don't greet and love each other enough...so after a week of craigslist searching, our new little addition was found.  A beautiful striped kitty by the name of Isabel, and I couldn't be more miserable.  I have figured that a cat is one of those things that sounds good in theory, but is just really a horrible idea all together.

Now I am not talking shit about those of you who love cats and can manage to live in peace with them, I am just not one of those people.  I knew it, deep down, but the thought of having a pet was so exciting, and with the building of our new little home, a pet just seemed like the next natural thing to happen.  The strangest girl brought the cat to our apartment and me and Sage were just plain giddy with excitement.  She removed the cat from the carrier, let it run and poke around in like the 3 places we didn't want it to, she left the cat with us and we did our happy dance.  Yes, we have a happy a dance and you would melt with envy at our joy if you saw it.  We wasted the happy dance because that cat didn't want shit to do with us.  

Talk about anti-climactic.  The cat ignored us for a few days, before it started pissing on Sage and Tyler's bed.  So, first thing a cat can do to be an awful pet.  Since they have the luxury of a door, they locked the cat out, so now Ground Zero for cat habitation is my bed.  Which brings me to the second thing a cat can do to be the most awful housemate ever, sheds clumps and gobs of hair ALL OVER MY NEW BED!!!!! I had only been in possession of my bed for a damn week before this fucking obnoxious creature took it over.  I am no monster, so I don't tell it to kick rocks, I let it sleep there at night, she nestles in between my legs.  For being the least excited about animals in general, this cat cant get enough of The Jackie.  I guess my animal magnetism is literal.  

Now, cats usually just kinda chill, do a lot of napping.  They are quiet, that's the whole point, but not this cat. Oh no.  By 7 am she is "meow purrrrr meow pouncing".  Even if you are reading this and barely know me, you know how I feel about mornings.  Litter box scratching, meowing and jingle ball batting, NOT OK.  She talks, she fucking talks, all day, every second.  Unless shes asleep, in a fur pile, on my damn blankets.  I may sound completely irrational, but I am allergic.  I wake up with runny eyes, and a clogged nose.  I wear black to work, where I sell food, so needless to say, cat hair. NOT OK.  I go through 5 lint roller sheets before I can even sit on my bed.  NOT OK. It took a few days of desperate texts to this strange cat lady who gave us the cat, but she finally got back to us and said she would take it back.  

Now I am filled with equal parts relief, remorse and guilt.  Since the cat is always on my bed, of course I bonded with it, its fucking cute, it likes me, and I have to be the asshole that firmly puts my foot down and says she has just got to go.  If she could stop her constant fur flinging, I could learn to the live with the other stuff.  But its just not gonna happen and the stress of waking up covered in creature fur is gonna drive me off the deep end.  I have a pretty high tolerance for a lot of things, animal hair ranks at the very bottom.  Even if I love the animal to pieces, just ask Mike.  His dog B was the greatest dog in the history of dogs, and I would sometimes have to bounce from his house because I couldn't even cope with the hair.  It's physiological, I am not an animal hating monster.  Who am I trying to convince? Either way, I still feel bad.  But whatever, I'll get over it, guilt goes away, allergies don't.  

I know, I know...

Sorry for the hiatus folks, not being fully settled was messing with my head.  Work, drink, sleep was all you guys missed last week.  This weekend I had 2 really awesome dates, which is cool, because I don't think I've ever dated before, and in New York, everyone is dating, so I thought, "Why the hell  not?".  I'm single, 26, and I don't really know anyone, so meeting guys and letting em show you cool shit,  not too shabby.  Keeping track of all these guys, a little bit shabby.  Not getting drunk and talking about one or the other, working on it.  Not like any of them think they are the only one, and not like I have anything to hide, I guess I just don't know "The Rules of Dating", but I just keep picking up new ones on the way, and one or the other might get offended, and I like them all.  They all couldn't be more different, and have different things to offer or points of view to see.  I guess it can't hurt. And if any of you aforementioned "guys" is reading this, well then, I guess it answers some questions, and when I say I'm real, I mean it.  So much so that I will publicly say it, and if you don't like it then, well, we should save ourselves some time.  

In other news, I FINALLY got a bed yesterday, I spent more money than I care to think about, but now I have a real room.  Minus doors.  I have a bed, a dresser, mirror, yup, that pretty much constitutes a room for me. Somewhere to watch my Grey's Anatomy marathons, put my shoes and underwear.  I don't ask for much.  Now that I am more comfortable, I can go back to being productive.  There's some big things in the works right now, I don't want to share it just yet because its that big, but if any of you ever worried about my future, you don't have to anymore.  

It is so crazy that I have only been here for a little over a month, and I feel like I got off the plane feeling positive and at home.  I never had an "adjustment" period, I just did the damn thing.  And I still am.  I have a job that I love, roommates who make me want to be a better person and who love me even though I'm not.  I have this blog that you all have been so supportive of.  I don't think I have ever been so happy, so much so, I almost feel guilty about it.  I have so many good friends and such a great family, I feel like there is something wrong with me that I had to go so far away to get my head out of my ass.  I know I needed it, and I know you all know I needed it, but I just can't help but feel that way.  Missing my mom and grandparents makes my stomach hurt sometimes, but I still don't regret it.  I guess that's what "growing up" is, which apparently I did accidentally.  

It's working out for me, I've found the perfect balance of jackass and responsibility, so I will see how long I can keep it up for, because I am about to be up to the gills in responsibility.  I can't wait to let the news out, I guess I am more scared than anything, not that it wont happen, but that it is for sure going to happen, and I just hope I can deal with it.  I know I'm cocky, but, man, it is gonna be crazy.  Well, I know I should be more consistent with this, and I know I also said I am going to work on writing about others more than myself, but, I've also spent a lot of years not worrying about myself, and this is a good healthy way to do it.  Just stick with me, and we will see how this evolves.  Plus, I'm broke this week, so I will probably be spending a lot more time at home on my computer...I am going to try and post a bunch of pictures, the new place, the new neighborhood...I think visual stimulation will definitely spice this blog up.  It needs it!

NY vs. LA

When most people get to LA, the first thing I would hear is, "It's nothing like the movies."  No shit.  This city was built around movie studios, you know, sets, fake.  When you see New York, it's EXACTLY like the movies. To quote Sage, "You can't make this shit up..".  

The walking and the trains is what I think makes it the most real for me.  Everything, no matter how minute; the laundromat, the bodega(say it with me, BO-DE-GA), it all has significance. I live 2 blocks from the projects, which I thought would be a bigger deal than it is.  Same shit as everywhere else, don't make eye contact, carry about your business. Even though it is in an area that hipsters are slowly creeping in on, it is still mainly about the struggle.

I have mad respect for the skaters here.  If you ever want to complain about the streets in HlP, think again.  The streets here are sooo janky, and these crazy little hoodlums navigate these potholes like no other.   It makes me want to skate even more, but I am super tentative about it.  Like they said in Elf, "The yellow ones don't stop." And they don't.

I take the train 25 minutes everyday into the city, and let me tell you, its great.  I loved my car, but riding the train affords a whole other luxury.  The luxury of observation.  On the train you have nothing to do but look at people.  If you don't have a book, which I usually don't, I appreciate voyeurism.  So many different types of people take this train.  Especially since it's Brooklyn to Manhattan.  You can literally be and act however you want, and no one even looks twice.  Weirdos Paradise, let me tell you.

I realize this sounds completely NY bias..but shit.  I live here, I better feel that way :)



Ok, there is a lot more, but right now, work and train taking are my main activities in life.  Since I am barely, almost, stable, my new goal is pure observation.  I'm about to focus on others problems, instead of my own, so its about to get real REAL...Transition with me folks.  And I'm drunk... Mardi Gras everyone....


***Love to the homie's of their lost loved one***

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire, and I'm pretty sure we need water...

It never fails, even on the most humdrum work day, something crazy has to happen.  I hadn't blogged in the past few days because all I have been doing is working, not so interesting.  Today started as every other day, me rolling around on my futon in the living room, partaking in my morning ritual.  A silent temper tantrum about having to be awake at 9 am.  I showered, put on my 10 layers of clothes and headed out into the beautiful, sunny 20 degree day.

I get to SoHo, stop by the bodega (say it with me now, bo-de-ga), grab 2 coffees and a bagel for me and my boss, arrive 10 minutes late as per usual and get this meat business cracking.  It was our first real busy day.  The people just poured in all lunch break.  Me and the chef handled business, sold a million sandwiches.  The day was busy but so peaceful. I'm going to attribute it to not having to hear the incessant ridiculous self obsessed chatter that pours out of my other co-workers mouth like vomit out of a bulimic girl.  All in all, shit was great. 

My job isn't particularly hard, but being on your feet for 10 hours takes its toll on anyone, so by 8:30, me, chef, and owner were done and ready to go.  I go in the room where we keep our coats, grab my stuff and get ready to reapply my sweet vampy tip making lipstick when chef practically breaks the door down and starts telling me I need to get the fuck out and get outside.  Pretty much, grab your shit and run.  Outside I vaguely hear sirens, but still haven't figured out why I'm being rushed out. 

 Turns out all those sirens were heading towards the blazing fire 2 floors right next to and above the carvery.  No shit.  We rush out of our door right as the fire trucks are filling the tiny little one way street.  I can't even believe it.  This apartment is being engulfed, the flames are not merely licking out of the windows, it is causing them to explode, showering the 800 looky loo bystanders with glass and debris.  As exciting as it is to see, its fucking tragic.  There are people standing in the street in their pajamas, clutching their children and their pets. 

Gotta give it up to NYFD for responding in seconds, and navigating through a sea of uncaring cab drivers, retarded ass bikers and one way streets.  In less than 5 minutes there is about 15 firetrucks wrapped around the surrounding blocks.  The fire is raging almost out of control, the window air conditioner crashes to the ground from 3 stories up in a hail of smoking embers and splintered wood.  A fireman scales the ladder to gain access to the room.  You can hear the flames crackling as they get bigger and bigger, eventually spreading to the apartment above.  We are so close, we can feel the heat and hear the fireman axing the hell out of everything in their way.  

Me, chef, and Bossman stand and watch in awe as water starts to shower out of the windows with such force, it actually hits the windows on the apartment across the street.  The whole time we are looking at each other wondering if the other window air conditioner in the apartment is going to break loose and literally fall through the skylight of our humble little Carvery. Our door was unlocked and nothing could be done.  The crew had it under control in about 25 to 30 minutes, but jeeze, for awhile, I thought the whole building was a goner.  

The scariest thing about a fire in that part of New York is NOT just the fact that everything is old as hell, but its all connected.  Multiple buildings are separated by nothing more than an address, and this particular building shared a damn address with the carvery. If the firemen lose control, it could be catastrophic, taking everything down around it, gutting the brick buildings.  It just made me very conscience to the risks of this type of cramped city living conditions.  

They got the fire under control, and we still have a job to go to in the morning.  Either way, I have just resigned myself to the fact that I may never have a dull moment for the rest of my life.  Which is good for my followers, but bad for my nerves.  On the bright side though, it made me realize that roaches or not, at least I got to come home to my apartment tonight, and sit on my laptop and be safe.  There is a family in SoHo who just lost everything, so I gotta appreciate my shit, no matter how shitty it is.  Good night guys, and make sure to turn off your space heaters before you go to sleep.... 

 

Caulk Fest 2011

First things first, I worked 48 hours in 6 days last week, and the stress of not having my home was taking its toll on me.  I actually got sent away early one day last week for being as pale white as my shirt.  I used to average 13 hours of sleep a night in LA, I am now down to 4.  The hustle is much more important than shut eye right now. My job is going well.  But having to make decisions about someone else's business is a little bit tricky to say the least.  


The chef that I work with is completely cool, a born and raised New Yorker.  We are on the same page on pretty much everything, so he makes things really easy.  My other coworker, is beautiful with a great heart, but just needs a little more guidance than any of us care to or can provide. As a follower of this blog, I apologize kid.  My boss is a complete nutter, but in the most fantastic way possible.  He trusts us with everything and it is actually a pleasure to work for him, even if it is a 10 hour day.  we spend most of the day laughing and selling meat, I can't complain.  And any of our differences aside, I believe we are forming a very strong team that will make this business a success.

I am somewhat happy to report that I am finally in my new apartment.  It is good to have all my stuff in my own closet and to be able to wear a different outfit, as I have been wearing the same 5 for 2 weeks.  Tough or not, I like to look good.  But things are still pretty sketchy domestically.  The gangster ass roaches I spoke of before are relentless.  3 bug bombs, 2 packs of roach traps, an exterminator and 2 lbs. of boric acid later,  we are no longer afraid to sleep, but still a little weary of the kitchen. 


This apartment is old as all hell and I am pretty sure not everyone in the complex is as vigilantly committed to the cause as we are, so it is as you would expect.  It's a headache, but I am pretty sure in a few weeks time, we will be in charge in our own home.  HAHA.  Me and Sagey went on a caulk and Spackle frenzy today.  There are so many cracks, crevices, nooks and cranny's and we devoted our whole day filling them with some form of latex or silicone.  I also tackled the frightening feat of cleaning the stove, which was ground zero for the roach community.

The females that lived here before us hardly must have cleaned at all because that stove was a sight to behold.  Cooked on egg, grease, crumbs, jeez bitches, grab a Clorox wipe every once in awhile will ya?  I dove in industrial strength gloves first, armed with some 409 and the drive for total roach genocide.  I scrubbed, I scoured, I sweat, and no roaches.  After hours of crack filling and bleach soaking, we finally felt relaxed enough to put some contact paper on the shelves and our dishes in the cupboard.  

Sage went back to the commune to get the last of her and Tyler's stuff, I handled some last touches, showered and headed to the laundromat for some 1 AM laundry action.  I only have to walk 2 blocks, through the projects, and under a train overpass to get there, but I made it alive and rue the asshole that fucks with this girl and her clothes.  Upon arriving home I spotted the first roach of the night...a little confused baby hanging out underneath my discarded sock in the bathroom.  Then roaches 2, 3, 4 followed shortly after, right by the cupboard that I had so thoroughly tried to fix.  


We will not lose hope, nothing is cured in a day, and I feel very confident that we are taking all the right steps, plus our very cool neighbors from across the hall said that the problem is manageable, we just need the upper hand.  And I think we are almost there.  Oh, and, the neighbors also hooked us up with the internet, so I will be able to be more consistent with the posts.  And hope upon hope, tomorrow I will be able to relay some other stories not having to relate to offensive metropolitan insect infestations.