weekend update

i feel like i'm bursting at the seams with shit that i want to say, yet every time i try to write, i shoot blanks. what's going on here? i'm not one to usually suffer writer's block. i'm going to try to write myself out of it, so bear with me. hopefully i won't bore you to death in the process.

this was a fairly uneventful weekend. nothing was terribly exciting, but we went to new places, met new people, and did new things, which, to me, is a successful weekend. thursday night was when ronnie, my ex, got into town, so i spent thursday night and all of friday visiting with him. he brought me my guitar, which made me intensely happy. we joked about that being the only reason i wanted him to come to new york, but i can't lie, it was so nice to see him, especially because it involved a deluxe chicken fingers platter from the flame (thursday night) and a burrito bol from chipotle, which everyone who's known me for at least a week knows is my absolute favorite, on friday afternoon. (seriously though, my birthday is october 20th, and i highly recommend chipotle gift cards in $15 or more increments if you want to get me something that will make me absolutely love you.) i didn't realize how much i'd missed him until i saw him again, and oddly enough, all i could say to him for the first hour or so was "i hate you." scary thing is, it was partly true. it's a funny situation, but i'm glad that there's no misunderstandings or confusion about everything. it's nice to have it pretty much sorted through.


thursday also happened to be my suitemate nadia's 19th birthday, but we didn't celebrate until friday night. she wanted to go to dinner (which we did for lindsay's birthday, too) and she paid for everyone, which was awesome. we'll see if my dad will concede and agree to pay for my suitemates and i to go to a nice dinner together on my birthday in less than two weeks, though i doubt it. this is the same man who, in all seriousness, asked me "why do you need to buy groceries?"

but i digress..

we went to this gorgeous little restaurant here on the upper west side called sarabeth's. if you have a spare $30 for dinner, go there. i recommend the "24 hour pot roast", especially if you enjoy roast that melts in your mouth accompanied by lighter-than-air "whipped" potatoes. she even invited ronnie (unexpected and incredibly nice of her to do), so he took our group shots, didn't smile for any photos we tried to take of him, and made the girls laugh every once in a while with his token black guy phrases and general tomfoolery. he certainly seemed to leave a good impression with the gals, especially after dinner when he, mj, mayara, and i walked back home and cranked that soulja boy into the wee hours of the morning. (we did the bus stop, bunnyhop, and walked it out too. we're diverse.) ronnie was particularly excited about the punjabi hip hop and traditional dancing that mj introduced us to when we started sharing our new orleans music and dances. i seriously liked it better than a lot of the shit in my itunes. and i have to admit, it was nice to have ronnie here and to be able to get it ready with someone who understood. plus, it was a relief to be able to be black for a minute. just a minute though. anything more than that, afterall, is overkill.

saturday morning (which to me was still friday night because it was only 3:30 in the morning) is when he left for the airport to go back to houston. it was an excellent visit for all but the last three minutes of it when he called me by the nickname he used for the girl he cheated on me with in houston, but what's three minutes out of approximately 1446? it was all a blur of rage and hatred after that point anyway, so it really doesn't matter.

saturday night, on the other hand, was a completely different story. a total 180. it began as the night from hell spent club-hopping (and not in a good way), and ended in a random apartment on 63rd and 11th that turned out to be kind of cool. that's where i met new people, which is always a good thing to me, being the social butterfly that i am. i can't lie though, that shit was random and a little sketchy. at least we knew half of the people there, and the host remembered me sunday night when i bumped into him on 60th on my way home with delicious, hearty value meal from mcdonald's in hand. the first meal of two that evening, as a matter of fact. ha.

now sunday, that was a classy day. i got home from avalon/pm/akin's apartment/the flame (my saturday night in a nutshell) around 5:30 in the a.m. and slept until 10, when i woke up for some unknown reason and ransacked my apartment in search of bottled water to quench what felt like a decade's worth of desert-induced thirst, which i did not find. it was so hard to fall back to sleep and i figured that once i did, i'd sleep restlessly for two or so hours before finally just getting up and doing random shit to stay occupied, but no. i slept until four fucking thirty (4:fucking30) in the afternoon. shit, that's almost evening. i basically wasted an entire day. and then once i did wake up, i merely relocated to the sofa, where i numbed my mind for a few hours catching up on gossip girl (watch it) and watching reruns of that gem of a show on mtv called 'made'. maybe you've heard of it? these days, it's the show where they take a) semi-goth social outcasts, b) fat people, or c) overweight socially outcasted (a.k.a. misunderstood) gay guys and turn them into the homecoming/prom king/queen, cheerleader, varsity athlete, or some acting/singing/dancing or fashion-related professional. i love mtv's attempt to take lonely people and make them popular as some sort of philanthropic endeavor that they televise for the good of the teens and early twentysomethings of america. the first episode i watched was featured (surprise!) an overweight gay guy from vermont whom no one "understood" due to his flamboyant taste in clothing, love of couture, and slight lisp, who wanted to be a fashion reporter. the second was a girl from a very skinny town in connecticut who had an impressive 39% body fat who heroically lost 18 pounds over the course of a summer at the hands of the black, female, bodybuilder "made coach" that mtv assigned to "whip her into shape" and solve her family's issues stemming from the fact that they are apparently the only overweight family in town, thus making her a social outcast, which naturally led her to choose an "alternative" gothic style of dress which only served to further her status as a social outcast, which led her to eat to mask her sadness or to "fill the empty space" that she felt in her life (and that's a direct fucking quote) which only led to more body fat and more social outcasting. it's a vicious cycle that the poor girl is trapped in, and one that mtv apparently thought would be absolutely riveting for those of us with an age and a bmi of under 21.

after i was done bettering my soul with the help of mtv, codename _coffeeboy and i went and had coffee at starbucks, which earned him the title of coffeeboy, considering the fact that our previous plant to get coffee never panned out into coffee. it was a spontaneous decision and i have to say, it was pretty nice to get out of the house for a minute and do something different. we talked for a while, which was enjoyable enough, and shared a delightfully awkward moment at the register that was perfectly suited for an episode of seventh heaven, which was also playing in syndication earlier that afternoon when i was catching up on the happenings of the boob tube. it was a lucky coincidence that we saw brian as we were leaving, because that's when he invited us to his apartment to hang out. cb couldn't go, but i did later on, after an overwhelmingly enjoyable and intensely sober half-hour at dj reynold's with a few of the girls and one of their friends. it turned out to be really relaxing to go sit out in the night air on the patio at brian's in a big circle of deck chairs and talk with our juilliard friends and their juilliard friends. i also realized that brian has the ipod library that i envy the most and consequently devised a plan to steal some of his music at some point in the near future, if possible. oh, and i suppose it's worth mentioning that somewhere around the vicinity of 3 a.m. was when i (along with miss m-jeezy) made trip numero dos to mickey d's (to the one on broadway & 51st this time, not the one pictured, which is located on 8th ave.) for french friends and chicken nuggets. yes, mine is an aciton-packed, exciting life.

well, now i've run out of fun facts from this weekend to ramble on about and i just realized this isn't witty or funny or remotely interesting and it's not helping cure my writer's block. fuck.

at least now you know what i did this weekend, because i know you were dying to know. i mean, what kind of friend would i be if i didn't devote this time that would be better spent on homework to pointlessly blogging about my ridiculous and uninteresting weekend.


oh well. maybe i'll interest you next time.

but for now,

much love.