Valentine's Day update...surprisingly not so destructive!

I feel that it is only fair to update all on my not too destructive behavior over the "Weekend o' Love" and I was even anti-destructive in one way.

So as mentioned before, my beloved Spaz made the trek down to the 'Big Apple' for some bonding time with yours truly, a lil' touristing and of course, a lil' debauchery. She arrived Friday late afternoon in time to get ready for night #1 of shenanigans. As we got ready we took part in some imbibing on Vodka Sodas. Once primmed and pretty for the evening we set out for some din din. We enjoyed a delish meal at Diablo Royale. We shared four taco creations and each had two of their infamous 'Ricky's'. Feeling full but buzzed, I took her out in the Village.

We hit up the Peculiar Pub (peculiarly becoming a new fave stop due to bartender Stephanie). Upon entering we were asked for our ids (god bless) and the bouncer of course had to comment, "What are you ladies up to tonight other than breaking hearts?" Good one! That was original...After rolling our eyes, we made our way into the bar observing that we probably have 10 years on the majority of the crowd.... Hoping to overcome this 'obstacle' we order up a couple beers and try to make the most of it. Spaz makes a pitstop at the ladies which leaves me time to see if there is any way we can salvage this 'amatuer night.' After hearing some girl cackle louder than a rooster, I tell Spaz its time to move on, sorry bartender Stephanie.

Next stop, 1/2 Pint. Same situation, damn NYU! In attempts of creating some interest in the evening, I whip out the good ol' blackberry and text 'little brother.' Of course he responds and of course he is at his usual watering hole. Spaz and I suck down our brewskis and grab a cab. Spaz is intrigued to meet little brother since she has heard/read the stories. We get there and wouldn't you know, he was being a jerkface. Apparently him and his two friends have something against the Irish and against the fact that I am Irish (BTW, we were at an Irish pub!). For some annoying reason, this keeps coming up in conversation. After all this, some blonde chick shows up at lil' brother's request. Spaz and I take the que, grab pizza, a cab and call it a night.

Next morning, first order of business; delete little brother from my phone, COMPLETELY (meaning not just saved number but all old texts and incoming/outgoing phone calls). Yes, despite the 'fun' that had existed previously, him treating me like dirt is not something I am going to tolerate, for what 'fun' is that???

After some much needed Starbucks, we assemble ourselves for the day. Spaz whips out a pair of brown boots that look worse than a homeless woman's (toe completely worn through, heel worn through to the point that the nail was more of a heel than the actual heel!). I decide first order of business is to find this girl an acceptable pair of boots! You would think this wouldn't be too difficult due to the fact that it is still winter, it is after Christmas so the prices have to be good and we're in New York City....NOT-SO-MUCH! After a failed attempt, we decide to proceed on to our 'cultural' activity of the day and make our way to the Upper East Side to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

We spent a good portion of the day making our way through corridor after corridor observing the statues of the Greek and Roman era, than onto paintings from Van Gogh and then onto what I couldn't wait for, the Temple of Dendur (that wing is so frickin' cool!). As we made our way through the museum we passed couple upon couple, some looking rather oddly paired up (Oh yes! It's Valentine's Day! Don't look single, we'll be stoned!) After our cultural experience, I feel its only fitting due to the fact we are on the Upper East Side, that we reward ourselves at one of my beloved bars, Doc Watson's.

We make our way there and find ourselves a couple stools at the corner of the bar. Having been a frequent patron back in the days that I lived on the Upper East Side, I knew the bartenders. Our intentions had been to go for only 'a couple' drinks but a 'couple' turned into four(?). After countless drinks and making friends with a man in his 30s from Indianapolis in NYC for the first time ever for buisness, we contact our friend from home who's friends are having a bar crawl properly titled, 'Forget about Cupid, Let's all get Stupid,' on the lower east side. We pay up to the sweet Irishmen, tell Mr. Indianapolis to go to Bro Jos to hit on 23 year olds while saying he too is 23, then make our way down to the crawl.

We make it to pretty much all the bars on the list and it becomes clear our dear friend needs to make an exit and his way home. Spaz and I, having built our tolerance the night before, are not ready to quit so I take her to my beloved Pete's Tavern (go ahead, start making fun but this place is the bomb diggs!) We make friends with the bartender (of course). Before I do anything I'm going to regret, Spaz tells me we should call it a night, so we do and end the evening having been mildly destructive, if at all.

So, not as destructive as you would have thought, huh? I am pretty impressed with my behaviors over the weekend. I finally came to the end of one of my destructive paths (lil' brother) and even heard 'reasoning' when being swayed away from another destructive path (Pete's tavern bartender). Sorry if my weekend bore you but I feel rather positive Polly that I may be learning....NAAAAAH!

To be Self-Destructive or not be Self-Destructive? That is the Question..

Ah yes, Valentine's Day is upon us.

I had no idea that it was coming since every other commercial isn't a "every kiss begins with Kay's" or some diamond special being run at Zales.

I also had no idea because everything in stores is Red or in the shape of a heart. Even my beloved 'treat truck' is a betrayer and has shaped all their sugar cookies into hearts and used red food coloring for the frosting on their cupcakes!

I have my issues with this holiday because for some reason, on this day of the year, people feel that it is their opportunity to show others, mainly their significant others, how much they care by going out for over priced meals, getting or giving chocolates, buying "small thoughtful gifts" and spending a ridiculous amount on the 'flower of love' otherwise called, red roses.

When I was younger I did enjoy the holiday because it was so fun giving out valentines and even more fun getting them, especially when there was chocolate or candies involved. Now that I am in my 'adult age,' I mainly now stick to dressing in all black (sorry for not being mushy gushy and wearing pink or red) and find other single partner or partners in crime to get black out drunk with(not really but imbibing is usually on the agenda). Although I talk rather pessimisticly, I am not a complete "hater of the holiday" since I have observed the holiday three times in my adult lifetime because only three times did I happen to have a boyfriend when the holiday passed.

The first year I was "in a relationship" was my senior year in high school. I was dating THE guy who was captain of everything and after many previous years of 'awkwardness' came into his own and was rather attractive. With his attractiveness came an ego that was out of control and a feeling of self-righteousness. He thought he was soooooo romantic for giving just one rose instead of a dozen because it was 'more special' or as I like to call it "super cheapass." On Valentine's Day we went to dinner with a few other couples to this ghetto beyond ghetto Italian place. He continued his "charm" by, gasp, buying dinner! Oh yes, it was one for the record books on the romance scale of 1 through 10.

The next time V-Day was of some sort of significance, I happened to be dating a guy who was more sensitive than I am at the height of PMS. This guy put the sap into 'SAP.' As well intentioned as he was, he was one of those guys that just tried too hard and premeditated EVERYTHING in order to be 'romantic' but most of the time it was borderline nauseating. Since the 'holiday of romance' happened to fall during the time of his 'courting' I was fortunate enough not to be completely 'wooed' but days after the holiday when my beautiful bouquet of yellow roses began to wilt, he made a comment, 'those are looking a little sad, we'll have to replace those,' under his breath but loud enough for me to hear. The next day I had a fresh bouquet left on my dorm room bed. As romantic as that may be for some people it was mushier than baby food.

Next man to be thrown under my anti-cupid bus happens to be the one guy I truly feel I 'fell' for. He gave me not a dozen roses but eight, the number of months we had been dating. That was kind of mushy but I totally ate it up like any other fool in love would. To really throw me into orbit, he hand-made chocolate covered strawberries with Ghiradelli chocolate and served them with a nice bottle of champagne. I melted. I am admitting to a moment of complete mush and vulnerability. Before I throw up all of the girl scout cookies I've consumed tonight, I must move on.

This year, I happen to be excited for the holiday, not because I have a significant other but I DO have someone special, we shall lovingly refer to her as 'Spaz.' Spaz and I have known each other since we were in elementary school and officially became great friends in seventh grade. Spaz and I have seen each other through thick and thin, know pretty much EVERYTHING about one another and most importantly have ridiculous fun together. So this Valentine's Day, since we are both fabulously single, she has agreed to make the trek down to NYC for some ridiculous funness. I am beyond excited for her arrival for pure debauchery. Instead of staying in and moping over not having a date, we shall go out and meddle with all the 'men at prey.' I refer to them as 'men at prey' because I am not naive. Any single man knows that THE day they are almost guaranteed to get laid is Valentine's Day. Sadly, some single girls will go out in hopes of finding love on Valentine's Day but what they will end up with the next morning is an STD and another number in their 'one night stand list.'

So this Saturday, I wish you all a lovely day/evening of looooooove while I enjoy a day with one of my bestest of friends and a night of punking all the D-bags in NYC. Happy Valentine's Day my luuvers!

Reserving the right to be picky

I have been inspired to write a blog such as this by a short conversation I had with Gumbi the other day, on Superbowl Sunday none-the-less.

We were discussing the antics of Thursday night and he said, 'So what about Red? He really dug you and you both have the whole Irish thing workin' for you.' (Oh how I wish I could impersonate his voice for you to make it that much better!)

Interesting reasoning.....so, in trying to be polite--but not really, since I am not a sugar coating kind of a gal (unless its a cupcake and then of course, throw me some icing!) I tell him, 'I'm not so sure about that.' He then responds, 'You should just go out on a date and give him a chance.' That statement then brings me to, Why? Why is it necessary to go out on a date with someone that you barely want to share a hot molten cake with let alone go on a second date?

About a year ago this time I went through a phase where two dates were my cap. I would go on great 1st dates with guys and then they'd ask for a second and then they must have fallen off the island of Manhattan (for there could not possibly be another reason!) and were never to be heard from again. It left me feeling rather confused. Was I not fun? Was I boring? Am I unattractive? Did I have food stuck between my teeth? A boggah dangling from my nose? Then, I realized these guys were actually doing me a favor.

Boy #1 we shall call 'Mr. Former Wall Street;' he obviously used to work as a trader and then moved on to work for a Finance Publication of sorts. On our first date we met at one of my fave tapas places in the city, Pipa. We had quite a few cocktails (we were just meeting for drinks) and he asked if I'd like to grab dinner. One to never pass up a free meal, I agreed to go for Sushi. After what seemed like the never ending progression of raw fish accompanied with MORE drinks, I suggested we go for a beer at my beloved Pete's Tavern. We got there, we each had a beer, I raised my arm and dismissed myself from the date for I had hit my wall and Mr. Wall Street was officially a fish of all fishes! After our first date, we texted daily and he asked me on another date. We met at Houston's on a Wednesday and being consistent with our first date, had numerous cocktails. After dinner, he asked me what I'd like to do and I didn't really offer too much in terms of suggestions so he said, 'how about we drink our way from here downtown?'

Not really one to enjoy drinking so aggressively during the week (I tend to try not to) I obliged and followed his boozebag staggered path to various bars. After our last drink of the night, he assumed he could come home with me.....ummmm....really? I was hardly wearing anything 'seductive' and I wasn't really giving him any 'signals' that that would be an acceptable assumption. I told him that I didn't feel comfortable with that, he hailed a cab, basically slammed the door shut on my ass and that was the last time I saw Mr. Wall Street. When I never heard from him again I really wasn't upset because a) he mainly talked about himself and his snotty family, which I thought was entertaining that someone could think so highly of himself, b) lived in Hoboken and most importantly c) thought he could come home with me because he paid for a couple of dates. I feel I earned those free meals after listening to his Macy's Day Parade Balloon-sized head for a two date combined total time of 8 hours!

Boy #2 we shall call 'Gramercy' because to state the obvious, that's where he laid his head to rest at night. We met for the first time at Pete's Tavern (yes I'm obsessed with the place, have you had their popcorn???) and had a great time. We had interesting conversation about sports (we both played soccer), about work and about family. We did have dinner but I went home not completely schnockered and not overwhelmed by his conceitedness. That week I was able to get tickets to the Knicks game through work for that following Friday and decided to invite Gramercy as my date. I am not a fan of the Knicks but he was and I do like going to sporting events. We met for a drink before and went to the game together. We talked a lot during the game about how we love the beach in the summer and all sorts of fun stuff.

Apparently we were talking a lil' loud (we had a few of those giant brewskis they serve at Madison Square Garden) and the boy in front of us turned around and said, 'Hey, could you two quiet it down, I'm trying to watch the game here.' Both of us were embarrassed, apologized and quieted down. At half-time the two older men that the younger boys looked like they had gone to the game with got up to use the bathroom and get beers. The young boy who had 'yelled' at us turned around and apologized saying that the guys that just got up had paid him $40 to embarrass us. This upset Gramercy and when the guys returned to their seats, he called them out on it. They were not looking to concede and neither was he. All three of them took their argument into the aisle.

To say I was mortified would be an understatement. As I tried to hide behind my jumbo sized Bud Light bottle, everyone in the surrounding seats were watching and yelling at them all to sit back down. Finally they did and luckily the game was almost over. Gramercy felt horrible for his behavior and I tried to overlook it, but, come on! You are how old and getting into drunken fights at a sports event?

Boy #3 we shall refer to as 'Prepster.' He seemed nice enough but was a bit boring. All he talked about was the stock market (one of the 'few' investment bankers in the city) and never really asked too much about me other than how far I had run that week (I was training for a 1/2 marathon at the time. Yes, self-destructive can not only drink through a marathon but run at least 1/2 of one too!). Anyway, nothing really too funny or interesting about this one so I'll end it with, we had a second date, he never reached out to me, I didn't reach out to him, and we'll end this to a boring two date series.

So back to the point of my blog, if you don't even foresee a second date, why should you agree to a first? Just so you can listen to some arrogant former trader talk about how his parents only 'accept' his brother's girlfriend because she comes from money? Just so you can go to sporting event with a guy who can't control his temper? Just so you can get a free meal but need strings attached to your eyelids so that you don't fall asleep in your mixed plate of cheese and fruit?

I believe that I should be able to reserve the right to be picky and not be seen as a 'leper' since I am not dating, in a relationship or married. The other night when Gumbi and Co. showed up at the pub, Mark #2 gave me the third degree, 'are you married? do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Dating someone? Why not???' Why is that so 'jarring?' I'm sure if I really wanted, I could find SOMEONE (likely with an ego but lets thrown in a side of temper for entertainment) out there since there are how many single men in NYC?

Still, I'd rather be picky. One of my married friends told me she was picky before meeting her now husband and would get grilled the same questions all the time too. In my opinion, her 'pickiness' worked out really well for her since her husband is not only handsome but also a really nice man who loves her to pieces and is also a great guy to all her friends.

So, for the time being I will walk down the street, head held high, proud of my status. I shall remain open to the idea of dating someone and hopeful that after a few non-controversial dates that things could lead to something more but since I don't currently have any promising prospects, I shall enjoy my 'freedom.' With all that being said, thanks Gumbi for offering up your single coworker, who is truly a nice guy but just not for me. I shall continue to do my 'thang' whether it be self-destructive or not and always, simply have fun!

"Mischievous Molly"

No, the picture to the left is not my actual friend who I will call 'Mischievous Molly,' but she tends to have the same reaction to her medling. As told by Grace recently, I am in contact with 'Little Brother' and some (most) of my friends are not happy about it. I feel that it is my life and I should be able to live it and have fun while doing so. The difference between Little Brother and 'Jake' is that I know the 'type' of guy that I am communicating with and know that it more than likely won't go very far if anywhere. Jake, I thought might have some legs since we shared a love for the same sports teams, still had family in the state we grew up in and seemed to enjoy one another's company. I know I screwed up the chance with him due to my self-destructive tendancies and I am moving on....back to Little Brother :)

Little Brother and I seem to get each other's sense of humor, get along and are mutally attracted to the other. I think in order for me to get over the last 'relationship' I had, I need to have a fun guy in the mix. We text meaningless banter and haven't even seen each other in months (why I know its harmless and more than likely never going to go anywhere).

Anyway, back to the point of my blog, 'Mischievous Molly.' Because I have been communicating with Little Brother, Molly is one of the friends not so happy about it. Today we were hanging out and she decided to take my phone to 'play.' I wasn't really paying attention to her because I was looking up spa information online.....Big Mistake. Molly is known to be extremely mischievous and 'crafty' amongst our friends and I should have known better than to let her get a hold of my phone. The phone rang and it was my sister so I was allowed back its possession. After I hung up with my sister I had a text message from an unsaved number. Confused I open it and realize that it is Little Brother. Then I realize Molly must have deleted his number, check my address book and sure enough, she had deleted his number in attempt to cut off our interaction. What Molly had done that was incredibly contradictory to her purpose was text Little Brother before deleting him from my phone, 'Hi Little Brother.' He happens to be very responsive to text messenging (which she knows) and clearly wrote back, hence, making it possible for communication to continue.

I am generally very patient and calm when Molly is mischievous but to be honest, this really ticked me off! First of all, don't delete things from my phone, that is my property and my business. Regardless of if you are supportive of some of my relationships, I am a big girl and can manage my own affairs. Second, why would you text someone you didn't want me talking to? I would have not texted Little Brother today if he hadn't responded back and then I would not have noticed he had been deleted. I tend not to text him but every now and again when I'm feeling 'destructive,' I do.

So, I was rather perturbed that she would do this because it just didn't make any sense to me and although she thought she was being funny, I was less than amused. What really got my blood boiling was that she texted our friends what she had done and they all, of course, wrote back that they were happy she did that. People, I appreciate your concerns but I am a big girl and know what I'm doing (believe it or not) and really want to be left alone for now.

xoxo

Self-Destructive

Adventures with Gumbi: Part 1

Location: Peculiar Pub.
Attendants: Gumbi, 'self-destructive', Red, Bartender Stephanie and Mark #1 and #2.
Agenda: Drink Brewskis. Many of them.
As promised, I bring you my latest adventure with my beloved pal, Gumbi. It has been awhile since we've 'caught up' and Thursday night was consistent with our usual debachery. The plan was for him to meet me at my apartment around 8 and then we would head out somewhere from there. I received a call from him at 8 saying that he was running behind and would be able to meet me where ever around 8:30. That was fine so I emailed (the man refuses to have text messaging which partially impacted my decision to get a personal blackberry so that I could communicate with him without calling, it has helped our friendship) him directions to the Peculiar Pub. I took the subway to W4th and navigated myself onto Bleeker and made it to the Pub on time. True to form, he was not on time. I called him to see how long he would be and he was in the cab with a coworker (Red) and two British men (what the ?). I ask him how long he'll be and he says, '5 minutes.' Thoroughly confused by the British men thrown into the mix now for I had been under the impression that he was on his way to meet me straight from work, I started invisioning these two random Brits jumping in the cab with Gumbi and Red.

After hanging up, I was left with two decisions; 1) Wait outside for Gumbi and Co. or 2) Go inside, set up shop and get myself a brewski. I obviously chose option #2 and entered the bar, ordered up my beloved brewski of choice, Chimay may (for some reason I always have to throw in that other 'may') and made myself comfortable. While I sat and imbibed alone, I emailed and BB messaged friends thinking he'll show up shortly.....Come 9:05, the tall and limber, strolls into the pub with his 'entourage.' Immediately upon seeing him, I know he did not come straight from work but from another pub.

The boys gather 'round and with that come the introductions. Gumbi introduces me to his co-worker, 'Red' and the 'Marks' in town from England for the weekend. What makes the British pair even more humorous other than their complete randomness is that they are both named Mark. I figured they couldn't be too harmful since they immediately bought me a new Chimay so I dubbed them Mark #1 and Mark #2. Number 2 wasn't too happy with his number so I tried to sell him on 1a and 1b, that at least quieted him down for the time being.

Many Chimays (me) and Blue Moons (Gumbi) later, Mark #1 has invited me to his place in Bermuda, Red has admitted to having a crush on me and Gumbi is swaying but there is no music playing. Time continues to pass and even bartender Stephanie is leaving us so I make the call that we should hit the road as well. Gumbi at this point is truly at his peak and exemplifying his nickname. When he stands, it is as if all the bones in his body have turned to rubber and he is bending forwards and backwards, right and left limbs, jacket, hair a' flying. We walk toward the door and he is confused where he is. I hail a cab and ask if he'll go to Brooklyn (where Gumbi dwells), cab driver agrees, I throw Gumbi in and wish him a good night. I too get into a cab and the night comes to a rather not so destructive end.

What is in a nickname?

Recently, I was home for a whole week for the holidays. Keeping with tradition of Sunday Funday, I went to my father's to watch football. Also staying within the usual routine, I began my imbibing. I broke from my usual beverage of choice (bloody mary or Stella) and decided on a red wine for it was a blizzard outside and anything with ice or cold just didn't quite have an appeal. I cradled my delicious glass of vino while rooting for our team. Once our team had won, we decided to get to work on dinner. I am not a culinary woman or one who even really cooks but ever since I was little, I always enjoyed being in the kitchen with my dad making dinner or pies. My father, who is a great cook, chose to make a stir fry. Since it was a chicken stir fry and I was 'warmed up' from my previous glasses of red, I progressed onto white wine to compliment the meal. Once dinner was over I moved along to brewskis (Sam Adams to be exact) to pair with more football watching. Throughout the day, each time I got up from the couch because my glass or bottle was empty, my father gave me a hairy eyeball out of the corner of his eye. Then finally, he spoke up and said, 'do you really need another one, you little lushbucket?' Lushbucket! I loved it! Amused by my father's creative terminology I immediately texted friends to share my newest and probably favorite nickname.

Another reason why I love this new nickname dates back to Halloween '07 when I decided to dress like Britney Spears circa crazy hot pink wig wearing days. To my credit, I pulled the look together rather well. I had the hot pink wig, huge sunglasses, loose white baby doll top with a black bra underneath, cut off jean shorts with the pockets showing, fishnets and high heeled booties. That night, I did not only look like Britney Spears but I took on her destructive behaviors and truly personified her. I was drinking vodka sodas and instead of switching to beer when I hit that 'you should slow down and switch to beer phase,' continued down the road of vodka sodas. Next thing I know I'm wobbling in my heels and ALL OVER the place. Then, I'm not sure if we were taking a group photo or what but I lost my balance, falling backwards and to my 'luck' fell into a large bucket (please note picture above) that was to be filled with beers later. Oh yes, I fell in a bucket and for a very long time I was harassed by all with constant questions, 'Where's your bucket?' There were many photos taken of that moment that I unfortunately can not share with you because I do want to try to stay somewhat anonymous but I have added this picture to help you with an image.



So, over the years I have accumulated many nicknames due to my boozeness. I respond to boozebag, boozer, shithead (father contribution), special and/or specialness and now lushbucket.

I AM the 'Self-Destructive Friend'!

To anyone who is a frequent reader of my dear friend, Grace’s blog, you are already familiar with my behaviors for I am ‘the self destructive friend.’ I would like to give you all a background of where I come from. I hail from a wonderful Irish family (I am 4th generation) who are full of hard workers and hard boozers. As I came into my ‘boozabilities’ my father warned me, ‘kid, lay off the hard stuff, it only leads to trouble,’ as he poured his second glass of Chivas on the rocks….. Although my father shares the love of the drink, my mother does not. She will have a sip of wine and break out in hives or every special occasion she will have a Manhattan (I won’t even touch that) and her reasoning is simple, ‘I like to get it over with quickly.’ My sister is a good combo of both. She has definitely had her moments but generally she is a more controlled drinker but she is in all other aspects of her life. She is very scheduled and goes to the gym, puts in a hard day of work and is always on time for EVERYTHING. And then…there is me, ‘self destructive.’

In high school, my freshmen year, I could not WAIT to go out drinking for the first time. Sadly, the first attempt resulted in just two beers, no buzz and a big disappointment. Then one night, sophomore year, I had a sleepover and my friends and I discovered a hidden and forgotten stash of vodka bottles….JACKPOT! We would have sleepovers taking shots, dancing, playing pool and sneaking out at 2am on adventures. We probably did not have much to drink but we definitely had a good time. Then Junior and Senior year when we were old enough to drive, we started frequenting the ‘Rez’ and the ‘Pit’ where mostly upper class men would navigate through the woods, start a bonfire and drink. Those evenings would typically be broken up by the ‘5-Os’ two to three hours later and everyone would run as fast as they could to hide and get away. The best part about it was that most of us were athletes and could easily outrun the town cops who had pretty much engraved the chairs at Dunkin’ Donuts with their butts.

Then onto College. As most college kids, I did not have too much of a preference since I would take whatever I could get my mitts on. My freshman roommate and I had a love of the Captain and preferred Natty Ice since, to quote my mother, ‘got it over with quicker.’ Then I believe it was the summer going into my Junior year that I discovered Stoli Vanilla and Diet Coke….it was like a light tunnel flashing down from heaven and I was HOOKED on the delicious combo that reminded me of a cream soda. Senior year I continued that trend and also got myself into a little vino as well, but wasn’t so much of a fan....YET!

Post college, the obsession with the Stoli Vanilla continued but then I dabbled with cosmos and then was introduced to Appletinis….. THAT was a blur of a time. I remember going out and having at least 5 or 6 of those bad boys in a night, my liver was less than pleased. A couple years later, my company had been bought and I decided to make the move to NYC which then, introduced me to one of my favorite ‘hours’…..HAPPY HOUR!!! The best part of Happy Hour was that at many places it consisted of more than just an hour, I was in heaven.

So, here I am, going into my fourth year living in NYC and I have certainly found my way around bars and Happy Hours. I have also become less picky on my alcohol choices. I am happy with a Cosmo, Dirty Vodka Martini (with olives of course), Vodka sodas, pretty much any form of ‘brewski’, have opened my repertoire of wines and have been known to proudly hold a can of Natty Light at Bro Jo’s just to bring me back to the good ol’ days at college. I have also formed a love for brunch cocktails mainly being Bloody Marys first and Bellinis second. My Sunday football partner and I rate sports bars to watch the games based on their Bloody Mary and Wing quality….it is hard to find a good one to satisfy both necessities.

Now onto the more ‘exciting’ things, such as my drinking-capades that lead me into certain ‘mischiefs.’ My pure as can be dear friend Grace, has been able to escape many of my experiences because she understands the term I hear often thrown around called ‘moderation.’ This is a term that I’ve heard and have been able to apply to my life in certain realms but am yet to apply it to my bar outings. That being said, she is foreign to the ‘one night stand’ and the waking up next to a stranger in a twin bed with another twin bed in a room with a man who claimed to be a lawyer the night before. Yes, I have experienced both and am not particularly proud of those moments but heck, I’m single, I’m social and I like to have a good time. The next day I tend to leave knowing that I will not hear from these men but generally I leave not feeling bad about it because with the exception of getting overly tempted (one night stand) I tend to keep myself to a limit of making out because you never know what is out there. I would also like to throw in the disclaimer that although many tend to have their ‘experiences’ in college, I was not one who took advantage. When I moved to NYC I could count the number of partners on one hand and now after living here for three plus years I have added another hand. I believe that not too many people of my age can say the same and I am not upset or bothered by my number. Yes, there is the occasional ‘sleepover,’ but its mainly because I am a HUGE fan of the cuddle... Oh yes, I think that if it had been a class in college, I would have EXCELLED!

Then we move onto instances where I have lost my personal property. Most recently was my wallet which contained; my discover card, my license, my work I.D, my health insurance card, my Weight Watchers lifetime member card (I’m quite proud of this), my work ‘key fob’ to get onto my floor and most importantly, my ‘Treat Truck’ card that had 10 holes punched and I was eligible for a free treat! I was mortified for allowing myself to get to the point that I clearly lost it in some cab while running amuck in the city but also devastated for losing all my personal information. Thankfully, due to ‘luck o’ the Irish,’ I received a call days later from a lovely couple who had found my wallet under the front seat of the cab driver. When I picked it up the woman said, ‘Yeah, we probably wouldn’t have seen it if it weren’t so….shiney.’ (Thanks mom for hookin’ me up with the gold Kate Spader!)

With all that said, welcome to my life and my chronicles as I meander through the city day to day, mostly going from home to work to the gym and to the couch but come ‘Thirsty Thursday’ through ‘Sunday Funday’ the gloves come off and the ‘Self-destructive’ habits come a’ flying! So I leave you until Friday, when I will share with you my adventures with my beloved partner in crime, Gumbi…you will be filled in on his nickname then….until then, live it up and never discriminate a beverage or when to drink it!