Dear Ryan Seacrest,

Dear Ryan Seacrest,
I need my own tv show. It's not so much a want, more a need. For both of us.
A bit about me: I am a typical 9 to 5'er (correction 9 to 6'er, that whole "9 to 5 bit" is a major falsity, I'll write to whoever started that lie later), who feels my talents would be better served in front of the camera of my own half hour (could be an hour if the editing was done right) television show. I am willing to do almost anything on my show (well except maybe bite the head off of a pigeon a la Ozzy Osbourne, but definitely don a unitard and walk the streets of Los Angeles with a midget a la Chelsea Handler - I love love love miniatures, but that's a separate letter). I am also great with people and can chase them down in 5 inch heels if necessary (don't ask). I think alcohol is 50% of the food pyramid and carbs should be the other 50. I used to be so ugly I had to sneak up on water to get a drink. I have a dating history that rivals "Another World" (RIP). I can also have an entire conversation with an answering machine or any other inanimate object.

Call me.


P.S: I don't eat meat.


Wednesday, July 25, 2012

NYC - Night 1


I was recently in NYC to celebrate my friend Ayla's birthday.  We were going to eat, drink, shop, and drink. We were determined to play up her bday as much as possible (I equated this to telling everyone we came into contact with to buy her a shot - but more to come on that front).  Upon arriving at our (amazing) hotel Ayla informed the front desk guy, let's call him 'P', it was her birthday, they immediately bonded as his birthday was 2 days later. He said he'd send drinks up to our room. SCORE. First freebie courtesy of the birthday excuse. Since it was quite late we immediately got ready to go out once we got to our room. A few minutes later we got a knock at the door. We looked at each other thinking the same thing "drink time!".  We opened the door annnnnd it was P...the front desk man. Err confused?  Ayla goes "umm you're delivering the drinks?".  The drinks being a half opened bottle of vodka in a brown paper bag.  He goes "yah, why not?". Umm "because we're not interested in being date raped. Thanks".  We both just looked at each other with a "WTF was that" look. I mean props to the guy for having balls, but a brown paper bag? Come on now. We classy ladies.  Freebie FAIL. (also for those of you thinking "omg so scary"...trust me...it wasn't )

With that awkward and strange situation behind us we set off for the East Village and a secret speakeasy.  Too bad the "secret" speakeasy had a 2 hour wait. Typical New York.  Sooo plan B? Bar None. I knew it as an NYU college bar - somehow the fact that we're far removed from college didn't seem to weigh in on our decision to go there. We arrived and almost instantly decided "yep, we're the oldest people in here".   In our quest to get a drink Ayla got a beer bottle dropped on her foot - I told the baby faced kid he was a dick and he started apologizing profusely - clearly not from New York.  We went to the dance floor and then decided the bar was a much safer bet (I think it was the pelvic thrusting and gyrating that convinced us of this fact).  There was a group of guys at the bar who overheard me say it was Ayla's birthday, so I immediately took advantage of the opportunity to tell them to buy her a shot.  One of the kids (literally) told me he's a sophomore at USC and from Westchester (He lost me on both points).  Then asked "where do you go?"...."umm I don't 'go'".  He then proceeded to introduce us to his cousin and the following conversation ensued:

Cousin: "I'm 18!"
Me: "years old?!?"
"Hell yes!"
"Seriously?"
"yah!"
"So you graduated high school in May?"
"no! June!"

**he clearly doesn't understand the fine art of lying**

"ohhh k....you're a child"
"no! I play Lacrosse"

**oh holy hell**

Now anyone who knows me knows I love a good awkward situation. This seemed to qualify, hence, why I kept it going as long as I could before it became child endangerment.  At a certain point (after I'd made plenty of one-liner jabs) they go "ohhhh I get it, you're sarcastic". Quick, aren't they? They then informed me I was "hot, but condescending". I informed them that while they were mastering freshman biology I was fine tuning my sarcasm/condescending skills.  They looked perplexed. We looked bored. But then we hit the motherload. They. Called. Us. COUGARS. Let it soak in a minute. Mind you we told them Ayla was turning 23! (ok reality, 29, close enough though). She goes "I'm a cougar at 23?"....

Cab ride to the East Village: $15.00
Drinks: $12.00
Getting to meet the Class of 2012: Priceless

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