Happy quarter year!

It’s the end of March, which I thought would be the perfect time to update everyone on my new year’s resolutions. Those who were with me to ring in the new year heard my bold proclamation: I wouldn’t be setting just one resolution. Ho no. Any joker off the street can swear they’ll start taking their Centrum Silver every day. I was going for the decathlon of resoluteness. (Editor’s note: Kate, decathlon is 10. It says so right in the name. Read a book or something.) Dodecagon of resoluteness! (Editor’s note: Closer)

At one point I had them all written out, but then I realized that if I accomplished something every month, I could just say that was my resolution.

Nevertheless, here’s my original list, with updates:

JANUARY

Goal: To get a manicure.

Accomplished: Yes!

Story: I’d never had a manicure before, not even for prom. What can I say? I’m pure of heart and steady of hand enough to paint my own nails. Also, I’m not a lady of leisure, and the whole thing struck me as sort of imperial, sitting there while some (let’s face it) Korean woman tended to me.

Off to the salon! Hibernating Bear and I went after work one day where I paid $10 for a half hour of hand massaging, filing, undercoating, polishing, top-coating and shoulder massage while under the hand dryer. Also, she buttoned my coat for me when we left.

The nice Korean manicurist also told us she’d failed her driver’s test three times. Look kids, it’s a stereotype come to life! Take my picture with her.

Verdict: I am impatient because I kept trying to hop up because I thought I was done. Also I am clumsy because I managed to get wet nail polish in my friend’s hair.

FEBRUARY

Goal: To finish my I’m-a-giant-New-York-cliché screenplay.

Accomplished: Yes!

Story: Originally started in 2002, and lost when it was 70% complete, the screenplay made a triumphant return, bigger and badder than ever. It was erased during a tragic memory-update attempt by an ex boyfriend, but I knew it was in good hands when the monitor went black and he told me, “Pack it in your suitcase and bring it home when you come for Christmas. Me and (friend) will get some beers, crack it open with a screwdriver and have it fixed in an hour.” (Sidenote: It was not a laptop, it was a 900 lb. Mac)

So I immediately knew it was gone forever, and got so mad every time I thought about it that I didn’t do anything with it for a few years. I started it up again around Thanksgiving, and typed the final “fade out” around the middle of February.

Verdict: Depending on who’s reading it, I should either be writing my Oscar speech now or not quitting my day job.

MARCH

Goal: Moving

Accomplished: Yes!

Story: I realized that while I technically clung onto Manhattan by my fingertips (What are those bight lights outside my window? That’s the Bronx.) it was time to live in the city where my commute home didn’t involve Harlem. Also, after two years it was wearing thin to keep saying “North of there” when people asked if my neighborhood was near xyz. I also heard “The streets go up that high?!?!” a lot.

Verdict: Successful transition all around. Except for the 86th Street subway stop in the morning. Someone please tell me what is up with that post-apocalyptic clusterfuck. It’s six people deep on the platform, throwing elbows to strong-arm their way on to an already-packed train. There is an honest-to-Thor a police presence.


And looking ahead:

APRIL
Goal: Get a haircut.
Reason: It’s been a while.

MAY
Goal: Finish “Salt.” (The history of salt.)
Reason: I’ve started it thrice, and I’m really enjoying it, but I keep re-reading passages because I feel like I need to be cramming for a test. It’s chockablock full of facts, and I just need to accept I can’t take them all in.

JUNE
Goal: Skateboard.
Reason: Never have, always wanted to. Want to be able to sing “Sk8er Boi” with some authority. (Boy, spellcheck does not like that song.)

JULY
Goal: Get tan.
Reason: I’m currently so pale you can see my internal organs. I’d like to blend in with the other summertime people and not make kids cry.


AUGUST
Goal: Make something out of clay.
Reason: Clay is delightful, and I haven’t been artistic in a while. One can never have too many ashtrays.


SEPTEMBER
Goal: Have a birthday.
Reason: Outlook is good on this one.

OCTOBER
Goal: Play a dead body on “Law & Order”
Reason: The reruns are shown in perpetuity! Someday my grandkids will duck home from work to grab a tuna sandwich for lunch, and boom, there’s grandma, scaring an innocent jogger/arguing couple.

NOVEMBER
Goal: Learn some Italian.
Reason: I’m curious in nature, and I think learning Italian will help when I eventually go to Italy. Also at the Olive Garden.


DECEMBER
Goal: Have insurance
Reason: I’m clumsy (see January) and I love medical tests.

Hometown heroes, back for more: pro-smoking, anti-gay edition

As I read (hometown)'s newspaper online, I remember why I used to cry on the inside a lot. And the outside a few times a week. The letters to the editor come from parents of my former classmates, customers I’d have to wait on at the places I worked, your friends and neighbors.

Here’s one now! Remember, a real-live person sat down and composed this (possibly on a computer, possibly written in transmission fluid or possum blood) in regards to a survey on banning smoking in restaurants:

…I also asked (local person involved in smoking survey) if I could see who participated in the survey and she told me to go to (Web site) and click on the directory. Of the 1,200 partners, there are 28 restaurants; there were no bars or taverns. For (city) to make an accurate survey, it should include all bars and restaurants, not just a handful. These are the businesses that will suffer from a smoking ban.

Logical! Stop while you’re ahead! Whatever you do, don’t turn it into an anti-gay rant!

The (City) Tobacco Prevention Coalition seems to hold Lexington up as its role-model city. I read in yesterday's paper that Lexington is now ranked 10 as one the nation's most gay-friendly cities. Whoo hoo! Maybe (city) can become the 11th.

If gay recognition comes with these smoke bans, I think that most of the non-smokers would rather live with the cigarette smoke. This ain't gay bashing; it's just that the people of (state) have voted that marriage is between a man and a woman. Let's leave the smoking in the preachers' hands. God knows the Baptists give it to us on a regular basis.

Again, I’d like to emphasize that this was not generated by a big-shot Hollywood writer mocking Homestate. Thank you for your time.

Uh-oh Fred.

You’ve got competition. Your lack of dedication to the multiple parentheses tells me you’re just not ready for a real relationship, even if I supply full-body non-webcam pictures. You know who is ready for a relationship? Omid, that’s who. His lack of spelling skillz/coherency is more than made up for in his enthused punctuation.

*Hi,...IF U R 4 ((((REAL))))????...I am SINGLE man with strong family values, very haerd working, I love kids & sports,...soccer my (1), looking & very interested for a (real woman) to be in a serios relationship.. I do not like playing the games in todays dating.(((sick of games)))))... seeking nice, fun,((real woman )))...with strong family values .who can undrestand respect and believe honesty above all things, I would love to meet real woman with ((NO GAMES))??? to be my best friend & lover..to shaer the rest of my life with...?...pleaes if u feel the same...I am waiting for u ...with love,,,,,


P.S. Why is “1” there? And “real woman” is in parentheses? Has he been burned by she-males before? This note is even better if you read the parentheticals in a robotic voice, like they were dubbed in later.

An open letter to March

Aw, c’mon now baby, why you gotta do us like that? Remember all those good times we had together in the park on Tuesday and Wednesday? OK, we didn’t actually go to the park. We told you, we had to work late. Next week, baby, next week. Well excuuuuuuse us, but if you would do more than just….nevermind we’ll talk about it later.

It’s not like we didn’t compliment your warmth, and the way the sun brought out the color in your flowers. We didn’t fall in love with you for your hotshot 80-degree days. If we wanted that, we’d be with June. We love you for all the little things you do for us. You take away February, and promise us springtime.

You don’t have to be flashy to impress us, just be consistent so we know where we stand. We have new spring clothes to wear for you, but we’re not going to bother trying to look cute for you with our sundresses and tank tops if you keep pulling away.

And we know, we’ve talked about our drinking problem before, but it’s just we’ve had these plans for a year to drink green beer all day tomorrow. We’ve got friends coming into town, and when you get frigid, it hurts us.

Just when we think we’re making progress in our relationship, you go and get all cold on us. We’ve gone through so many ups and downs already, we can only take so much more of this. We give our relationship 15 more days.

Love,

New York

Fred in relationships

When you’re in a relationship you know isn’t working, you’ve got a few options: Dump them, start being an ass in the hopes that your former beloved will do the dirty work and dump you, flee to Reno in the night. Or you can just drag your feet, knowing that maybe life would be better without Cody fussin’ at you about dinner being cold and telling you to hush up when NASCAR is on. But on the other hand you’ve known Cody since before he got his GED, you’ve figured out how to get him to mow the lawn sometimes and he even lets you go to bingo once in a while. And he did get you that nice reindeer sweatshirt last Christmas. And he’s pretty close to remembering when your birthday is. (This is the year! The 18th, Cody!)

And if you stay with status quo Cody (Quody?), you’ll never have to get Match e-mails like bachelor number 1:

*Subject: OK.... I'm here what are your other two wishes?

Hello God? It's me again, Oh God, is there a man out there who owns
his own business, has his priorities in order, is smart AND great in
bed, grew up not being a momma's boy, never lies-EVER-- about
anything!--Is he out there? Oh good, and God, could you make sure he
puts all of that pretentious bullshit info in the first email? Thanks.

I hope I got your attention. :-)

You got my attention like cartoon promotions get Boston police attention, darlin’. Let me just say I’m flattered frightened that you think my relationship with God is close enough that I’d pray for a man to be good in bed. And say “bullshit” to the Almighty. Also, you’re 38. There’s a moratorium on emoticons after 30 unless you’re the editor of Seventeen.

Or how about bachelor number 2?:


*Please, NO WINKS! Email me and I will respond. I am a paid member so i have the capabilities to respond to you directly. Have pictures on your page that are representative of how you look. I have updated pictures on my page so I expect others to do the same. We don't have the luxary of seeing each other face to face so pictures are important. Please no webcam face pics. Have full body pictures. Also please read my profile. I think it tells you a lot about who I am and what I am looking for. R.I.F LOL 

Now that we got that little unpleasantry out the way, let's get to know the man that is Fred. Let the journey begin..LOL

Fred in relationships? I believe you treat the woman in your life special and appreciate her. You make time for her and dont use priorities in your life as a crutch or a tool to prevent you from being with someone. I am someone that believes in quality time, cooking for someone, massages, wine, maybe a weekend getaway. Physical chemistry is very important to me. I need to be attracted to someone physically AND mentally. I want someone that will support and challenge me. I am aggressive, very easy going and easy to talk to.

Fred, Fred, Fred. I don’t think I need to tell you this is a man who has one of those thin lines of facial hair outlining his chin. LOL

What does R.I.F. stand for? LOL. I thought I was abbreviation savvy, but you’ve opened new doors to me already. LOL I can see some woman have done you wrong, that’s why there’s the strong need for multiple, full-body, non-Webcam pictures. LOL Did you date that woman from Norbit? LOL


Although I must say, I do like being treated special. LOL Even by the dichotomy that is Fred — aggressive AND very easy going. That’s more than Cody ever did for me.

Just call me Weezy

After weeding through the seedy dark side of humanity that is Craig’s List New York, I shall fox wit them no more.

I moved down the island this weekend, to my own little bedroom/cubbyhole on the Upper East Side, part of a two bedroom I’m sharing with Greatest Roommate Of All Time. I met her online, actually, but worlds away from guys looking for feet to tickle in exchange for free rent. ’Cause, you know, I keep it classy. Turns out we work in the same building, one floor apart, do the same job, I know one of her bosses, and we’re from the same state. A match in roommate heaven. Or famous last words. We’re off to a strong start though — GROAT even made me dinner Sunday night while I assembled my bed.

Added bonus: I no longer breathe in plumes of black mold from my wall (or as my super adorably called it “just humidity.”)

I actually had to put together my bed twice, as I realized the hard way that in the bed's original direction the final, uh, metal thing was about 3 inches longer than the room. So up against the other wall it went, and now it’s in a cool little nook exactly as wide as the bed that I’m calling “cozy” and “like being in a playhouse” to keep myself from feeling claustrophobic.

I had the offer of bed-assemblage assistance from Azerbaijani Mover, who wanted to come back off the clock to help me put it together, then take me for margaritas.
“I can think of no more awkward-at-best/terrifying-at-worst situation,” I did not say.
“No thanks, I’ve got it,” I said.

What I called “making conversation to fill the silence in the moving truck talking about caviar from the Caspian Sea” he saw as flirting. Likewise, when he said he could lift the box because he “made many of the push-ups today” I saw as a fun translation, like being near a real-life Borat. He saw it as bragging.

Also, he warmed up by saying, “You might not really believe this, you might not hear this a lot, but you are actually quite pretty.” Did he just compliment me and insult me at the same time? And then there was this gem: “You will be a good mother some day.” Is this hitting on a girl Azerbaijani style?

Well that’s just great. Plus, he knows where I live. Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger! I’ve seen Law & Order: SVU, I know how this works.

Burying the lede

If you’re like me—and I’m going to go ahead and assume that you are—you wonder what kind of person would be friends with Mentally Unstable Monica. Wonder no more.

M.U. Monica had a party last Friday. Fine. Fair enough. It’s her apartment too.

I’d been up until midnight babysitting the night before (because the fun doesn’t stop with me.) and had to be up at 5 Friday morning for a meeting in Washington D.C. So when I walked in that night to 5,622 people (not an estimate) hanging out, listening to Thriller I was slightly dismayed. Determined to not be the shushing roommate, I said hey to M.U. Monica and went to my room where I tried to sleep for the next 6 hours with people coming into my room looking for the bathroom. Pretty funny stuff, right? They seemed to think so, judging from the giggles. My door doesn’t lock, so I had to ghetto it up with a garbage can in front of the door. They tipped it over.

I pulled M.U. Monica aside around 1 to ask her to make sure her friends knew where the bathroom was. The party went until 3, and friends kept coming in, waking me up and walking back out. They also kept blaring Thriller, which I was more confused than upset by. I was also pretty psyched to stick it to my reggaeton-blaring neighbors.

As her friends left, they were all sure to push open my door to remind me of all the good times we shared. The next day I discovered that someone had also thrown away my shampoo, juniper gel and exfoliating glove. Now how am I supposed to smell like juniper?

M.U. Monica’s reaction to that was, “That’s weird, maybe it was an accident.” Then she went back to reading because she doesn’t own a TV.

Oh, and unrelated: I’m moving this weekend.