fupafighter

Terrible Titles

I can't help but mention a fax I just received at work. A company is advertising a "Soul Safari" happening in October and they'd like NGA to mention it. I'm wondering if we can though...

The company? VirginBush. Listen people, I like going on VirginBush safaris as much as the next girl, but are they really being serious? Or am I just completely blowing this out of proportion? Well, let me know if you're interested in doing some bushwacking in October.

Addendum

In light of my 'tough critic's' response to my weekend activities, I will say that yes, there was a little more to Saturday night than I initially mentioned. I was hoping to sort of gloss over some of the less memorable occurences that evening, but alas, my adoring public just can't get enough of my humiliation.

Back to Queens then. Basically, me and CC were the two biggest fish out of water after getting off at the wrong W stop, and literally, we were walking underneath the tracks. Imagine two white-ass cracker chicks--one decked out, stilleto sauntering, w/ freshly straightened rock-star hair and grasping trendy clutch, the other bundled up in Ralph Lauren scarf and wrapped in a suede, shearling-lined coat--walking back and forth along the same strip of shady street right off the Queens Plaza stop. Basically, between the two of us, even crossing a street was mentally challenging. Needless to say, it was a very Coming To America moment, all we were missing was an array of Louis Vuitton luggage being wheeled behind us.

At aforementioned surprise party. CC and I didn't leave the bar/food area for the entirety of the night, assuring not only our rapid decent into drunkeness, but our binge eating as well. Or at least my binge eating (I think my hand was perpetually hovering over one bowl or another). In my gaiety, I might've accidentally made an off-the-cuff reference (ahem) to an elderly gentleman taking a nasty stumble at our hosts' wedding a few months earlier. What I didn't know when I blurted out that some geezer bit it and was gushing all over the sidewalk was that A) he was actually a guest at the wedding and B) it was this girl Brynne's grandfather, and she was basically like standing next to me. That's the faus pas that is my very existence.

Partying continued back in Manhattan that evening, and we made some striking discoveries. I learned that I'm weak and pathetic, that CC is looking fat and has shitty hair, and another one of our friends is just riddled apparently with STD's...oh, and his boyfriend needs dental work. This was relayed to us before I jumped on the merry-go-round but right after our game of two-square and kickball. Very deja vu, oh, 15 yrs. ago.

Note about Friday night--why must my glass have no bottom at Barrage? And why would I hop in a cab downtown only to come back up? Do I even remember going downtown? Yes, how I got back to 70's, really, I just couldn't tell ya.

My L World

Aside from a variety of brain cell eradicating activities that I engaged in this weekend, including my first ever grand appearance in Astoria, Queens at a surprise birthday party, I'd have to say that my little Sunday night L Word premiere soiree was a success. I say this not b/c I remember anything especially exciting happening (besides Erin Daniels and Leisha Hailey getting it on in a bathroom cuz that's the kind of class I appreciate), but the next day's clean-up was basically a tell-all.

Let me enumerate the consumptive list:
-- 1. 75 liter plastic bottle of Iceberg vodka
-- 1/2 a Smirnoff bottle of vodka
-- 35 beers
-- 1/2 bottle of Chardonnay
-- an entire plate of crudite
-- two shrimp rings
-- box of wheat thins & jar of mixed nuts
-- a hummus plate
-- box of Chef Pot Roast's homemade chocolate chip cookies (I'm actually really upset that those are gone)

Okay, the number of people at said fiesta...EIGHT. I will continue to feel blessed with my friends.

On a side note, I finally went to bed at 9 in the morning. Waking up four hours later, I have to say that even laying on my couch and watching all of my DVR'd Saturday Night Live episodes was a mental challenge. Truly, all of my insides were (and to a certain extent still are) sore.

On This Odious Day

I'm not going to be my usual, bitter self on this day and sit with pouted lips and arms crossed in a gesture of defiance, but rather, I'm going to celebrate this day for exactly what it is--my half birthday. Yes, today I am exactly 25 1/2, and I feel it necessary to at least celebrate myself, if I can't celebrate myself with someone else. Therefore, I am accepting gifts and tokens of affection for this occasion and this occasion alone. For those of you that are swapping ephemeral niceties with significant others on this day, just remember one thing--today will always be more meaningful for me than it is for you.

On a side note, I was in the deli today paying for my salad (shocker there), when the guy looks at me and says, "Have a good day, sir." Um, yeah, I've been called "sir" before, usually after coming from the gym wearing a hat and sweats, but in a peacoat and turtleneck? Should I be a little worried here?

The Day of Rest

I've managed yet again to spend an entire Sunday afternoon inside of my apt. without leaving even once, save a brief pillow shaking stint I performed on my balcony. Usually this condition is due to a wicked hangover (Saturday nights being especially notorious in my past), however this time I actually wish that was the case. The flu (or as I'm now starting to refer to it as my baby bubonic) that I've had, oh, since the beginning of January, that clouded my mind and my sinuses for several weeks, then proceeded into my throat rendering me mute for days on end, has now found a comfortable home in my stomach and gastrointestinal tracts. Without being overly graphic, I'll just say I'm happy that I live alone. And besides ordering in a few medicine packs, paper towels, and a box of wheat thins from my fav local bodega, Andy's Deli, I really have become organically fused to my couch.

Seriously though, where is this thing gonna go next before it decides to exit my corpus? What, my fallopian tubes? What's a flu of the uterus called? I shudder to think.

I've Already Eff'd Up

One of my big Lenten sacrifices was the observance of the whole "no-meat-on-Fridays" thing, which, for anyone who knows me a little at all, knows that this is like keeping a recovering angel-duster from his fix at the methadone clinic. The thought of anything soy or tempeh or tofu sends my gastrointestines into a tailspin. I think the whole fish thing is still a go, and God only knows I can never get sick of tuna.

Today at lunch, however, as I casually chomped away on the salad I so meticulously created for myself at the food bar, I awoke from my pensive reflective state only to realize that I had been gnawing on marinated chicken strips the entire time. I literally exclaimed, "Oh fuck," then shrugged my shoulders, and proceeded to devour the last strip. At least I didn't dangle a mentholated from my slightly pursed lips after the meal.

Re...solution

So I've got a better track record keeping Lenten resolutions than I do New Years ones. I don't know, chalk it up to the whole "higher power" thing (blah blah blah), cuz I guess New Year resolutions depend wholly on the person alone, and when that person is me, well, I'm basically fucked. I'm taking bets now as to how long these will last, but this is what I've come up with. I'm trying the new age mind/body/soul thing, which might be hard seeing that A) my mind is mush B) I'm out of shape and C) I have no soul.

I've quit smoking (social or other) b/c really, it does nothing for me, besides give me something to do with my fingers when I'm not masturbating.

I've resolved to either learn one new vocab. word a day or at least write one line of text per day (whether blog related or personal) b/c let's face it, alcohol is not a stimulant in any way shape or form, and soon I'll be reduced to communicating through a series of grunts and hand gestures.

Finally (and this one's a real dooz) I'd like to do some sort of volunteering, even if just once throughout this forty day period, but I think if I'm going to be an egocentric douche-bag, I might as well justify it by ladling soup or whatever out in the process. Since this altruistic thing is rather foreign to me, if anyone has any suggestions of things that I can do for the greater good (and killing myself is not an option here), then please let me know. Actually, scratch that last comment, my friends are the ones reading this nonesense, therefore I won't be receiving any viable suggestions any time soon :)

A Mandatory Reminder

Folks, there's nothing I love more than when you post comments regarding my cl-idiocy (that was CC's suggestion, as I've noted in "carenthesis"). However, quick reminder that this IS a G-RATED site (um, obviously), and I don't want ALL of my underage readers to be exposed to homosexuality and large asses. Not to mention the fact that since I am master and commander of this domain, I will delete your two-cents if I deem you inappropriate, unworthy, and above all, un-funny. Listen, I just need to make this place kid-friendly until my sponsor Mr. Jackson is put away for good. Then you can degrade everyone much in the same way that I do on a daily basis.

Thanks for the co-op

rAsh Wednesday

So yes, today is Ash Wednesday, kicking off the forty day Lenten season of fasting, mourning, and basically feeling guilty of your very existence as a human being. I attended mass today and I now don that little grey smudge on my forehead that reaffirms my position in a church that hates me, practices I rarely observe, and a doctrine I sparely believe. Still, it was nice to open my missalet today and read the first line, "Lord, you are merciful, and hate nothing that you have created." It feels good knowing that at least one person doesn't think I'm a total asshole.

On that note, I'm reminded of an incident that happened on an Ash Wednesday back at college. I bump into a Jewish friend of mine along the pathway post the afternoon mass, and she starts cracking up and says, "Oh my God Natalie! You have a huge dirt smear on your forehead!" I just looked at her in complete disbelief. I mean, c'mon, I certainly did not attend the most Cathocentric college, but on how many levels does sheer ignorance exist? It's not like I would go up to someone and say, "Oh my God, Shlomi, you've got a fuckin' coaster on your head!" Please.

Just A Reminder

That today, according to the Christian calendar, is Fat Tuesday. Now how this is different from Natalie's fat Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I'm not entirely certain. It does differ slightly from my Slovenly Saturday and Obese Sunday, but at least there's an up with Makeover Monday. That, however, simply slides right back into fat Tuesday. So basically, the Lenten calendar somewhat echoes the vicious cycle that is my life.