The Extreme Hunger

This morning on the train, I got edged in by people right above a woman openly breastfeeding her baby. She was very much in her own mommy/baby world. She was also a generally empathetic (empathic?) mother; every time the baby whined or squealed, she would whine or squeal back at it. In the exact same tone.

The Pie Man

This morning (afternoon...morning if you wake up at noon) my roommates and I couldn't stop talking about pie. Who doesn't love pie? Pie is delicious. Plus it's filled with anything you like. It's versatile. We started going on about Thanksgiving pies -- you know, homemade apple, pumpkin, etc. -- and just getting generally dreamy about pie.

A bit later, my roommate and I decided to walk to Trader Joe's (on 72nd St...from 143rd St). On the way, there was a little street festival outside Columbia. My roommate HAD to get a street corndog (which emphasizes her place on the "awesome people" list), I HAD to get a smoothie, and then...we saw it. The wonder. The miracle of miracles. Yes, that's right -- there was a pie stand. A stand, just filled entirely with pies of different sizes and varieties. It was incredible.

That's to say nothing (does this phrase make sense?) about the pie man himself. He was really incredibly damn attractive. Plus, he sold pie. And, he was that perfect, sexy kind of disinterested in us and everything we had to say. We were all like, "Holy shit, we were just talking about how awesome pie is!" and he was like, "Um, yea. Duh. It's pie. What can I get you?"

I am seriously regretting not asking him out.

The Website

I can't remember if I've told you this before, but I have an OKCupid profile. I made it in college entirely for hilariousness, but since moving to NYC I go on it only 90% for hilariousness and 10% because it's actually fun (and a friendlier way to meet people in a city where someone's just as likely to say "fuck off" as "thank you").

I don't use it that much because I still think meeting people online is a bit sketchy and sad. Also the people I meet on it tend to be too nerdily similar to me, so the exact opposite of who I should actually be dating. Example: the neuroscience researcher who was plenty chatty via message but much quieter in person; I can be like that, so I don't want to be forced to carry the convo alone. Especially when what you have to say about your job is mostly rat brain surgery-related. He was super sweet and very smart, but please, don't let your only conversational contribution over ramen be ratbotomy.

So any way, I've decided, in the spirit of embracing hilarity, risk-taking, and rebellion, that it would be a great idea to meet NYC-area dudes online and report back to you. That is, if I don't flake out and cancel because something comes up with my real-life friends, which is what usually happens.

The Suburbia Lover

I decided that didn't want to deal with NYC last night, so I ran away to Long Island. Hilarious question of the night: "What is a cool, pretty girl like you doing single in Manhattan?"

The Re-Revival

Beware, friends: we're gonna get into some personal shit tonight. It's going to be corny. Enjoy.

Today at work, my coworkers were talking about the Tamagotchi craze, and I said, "Oh, I never had a Tamagotchi."

Cue gasps of horror and fainting in shock. "You NEVER had a SINGLE Tamagotchi?? You must have grown up in the slums of a third world country!! Why, StaciBeth, why?!?"

"No," I explained. "I was just a bit of a rebel."

One of my coworkers (one who likes to give me a lot of shit) said, "You were? What happened?"

Thinking about it, this actually slightly concerns me. Before I moved here, I used to have passions. Real passions, not like, "OMG I loooooooove those shoes!" I mean, my first two internships were at a performance theater and a grassroots peace organization. I agreed with the great Peter, Paul and Mary when they said, "If you've been to jail for justice, then you're a friend of mine." I was never crunchy, but I was a bit of a hippie in my ideology, and I couldn't care less what anyone thought of that.

Since moving here, it's different. I shop at the terrifyingly pretentious Whole Foods. (I should be over the whole annoying multiple-line thing at Whole Foods, but I'm not. It's dumb. I always inevitably get on the slowest line. Why not just have one long line that winds around the ropes? And why do you treat me like I'm the sad one because I don't know the difference between sprouted and unsprouted quinoa? Think about your priorities!) I think it's normal to pass Betsey Johnson on the street (and know who Betsey Johnson is. She is a scary looking person). I care even less than normal about what's going on in politics, and I haven't volunteered at any "fairs" (art, preferably, or music. Not Ren; I don't like horses). I haven't been in a situation when there was even a chance I might have to go to jail for justice the whole time I've lived in New York.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still me; maybe even with some shiny NYC bits. I'm perkier, slightly less bitchy (slightly), and probably a nicer person to be around. I eat better (thanks, pretentious Whole Foods quinoa snobs). I look damn fabulous when I want to, and I have some really great shoes.

As I am living in NYC (until I get out of this godforsaken city), and I continue to be perkier, healthier, and actually wear shoes based on my outfit, there are some parts of pre-New York me that I want to make sure I keep. As such, I have written a manifesto of my personal non-negotiables, below. These may certainly be added to or changed (after intense consideration) in the future.


My Re-Revival Manifesto -- to stay sane, stay awesome, and stay my rebel self:

-I will have no shame.*
-I will appreciate my kickass surroundings.
-I will only say what I believe -- but I'll say it damn loudly.
-I will decide what is cool (and what makes you sound like an idiot).
-I will be (almost creepily) enthusiastic, but only when I really feel it.
-I will tell you when I have no idea what the hell you're talking about.
-I will wear wife beaters and baggy jeans with glasses and lipstick if I damn well please.
-I will flaunt my passions.
-I will love freely and as much as possible, except when I am feeling particularly bitchy or cynical. Then I will hate with a flaming rage.
-I will say, "What's the worst that could happen?" and then I will jump.

Damn, that felt good.

(Caveat: all these should include, "Except when with clients. Then I will be as fake as I need to be.")

The Revival

Some say you should let dead dogs lie, but that has never been my way.

Wait. WTF does that even mean? What else would you do with a dead dog? Make him dance? Put him on parade? I am seeing this quite graphically and it is getting barftastic. Quick, think hilarious thoughts.

God I love how gimages can read my mind.

Anyway, what I meant to say was that this blog was getting a bit dead dogesque. But will I let it lie? No my friends, I certainly will not. Because I'm still a girl, I still live in NYC, and I still have things to say.

Except not today. I think I've said enough for today. I won't tell you about the crazy man on the train who was eating the bag of Doritos upside-down and screaming at strangers (but actually, I thought the part about eating the bag of chips from the bottom was the weirdest. Who does that?), and I won't tell you how many people called me mamacita on my way home (only two. I'm losing it), and I definitely will save my intoxicated weekend stories for later (especially meeting the way older St. Lucian "party planner" on the train who invited me back to St. Lucia with him). For those, you will have to wait and see.

I'm back.