first dates are fun--or hell

Do you guys ever get nervous before a first date? Do you wonder how long it will take for someone to discover you are a total loser? Do you ever convince yourself you will die alone???

Yeah, me neither.

I used to drink a couple of beers and smoke cigarettes before a date. Mainly to quell my nerves but more so because I am addicted to beer and cigarettes.

My least favorite part about a first date is that moment right before you enter the bar. You stand in front of the door and you think: What the hell am I doing? I could be at home. ALONE. I could be watching the Food Network. I don't want to be here. I don't want to date. I DON'T NEED LOVE!!!!!

Then you open the door.

I think it would be funny if you show up to the date and say, "Actually, I change my mind." And then walk out.

Or in the middle of the date, you say: Aaaaaaaand SCENE.

It's not that I don't enjoy meeting new people. I loathe it. You are forced to do things you wouldn't normally do. You have to be polite. You have to wait until it's your turn to speak. You have to ask questions. I'm sorry, when I asked about your job you must've thought I was asking you about your job

I also don't like first dates because they inevitably lead to second dates. OMIGOD I HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN?!?!?!

I guess I'm just not a big proponent of dates. Other people like to date just for the sake of dating. People are always saying: "Open your mind!" What does that even mean? It's not like I've been with Charles Manson for twenty years. I have a very liberal mind. I've dated black people.

shopping for your father

My mom and I went shopping at Macys, looking for shirts for my dad because his idea of getting dressed up is wearing a Hanes undershirt, and I realized that the fashion industry wants our fathers to look like gay Puerto Ricans.

My mom held up one shirt and asked, "What about this for your father?"

Oh, yeah, that's a great look for dad. IF HE WAS RICKY MARTIN.

God help you if you are a man over the age of fifty. Your clothing options are limited to Hawaiin shirts, plaid shirts, polo shirts, golf shirts, and hospital robes.

how to make men fall in love with you

Cosmo magazine has tons of advice on how to make men fall in love with you. And apparently doing an impression of Sean Connery as Papa Smurf is not one of them. (Whoa there lassie, I'm Papa Schmurf.)

Instead, Cosmo instructs women to:

1. Wear soft clothing because they trigger an intense reaction in men and heighten his amorous instincts.

I wear soft clothing. But unless you're robocop, why would you wear clothing that is hard???

2. Reinvent yourself. Little changes in your appearance remind him that you've got a zillion facets to your personality.

I've had the same glasses and bangs for like the past ten years. But what I lack in multiple looks, I make up for in multiple personalities. Just call me Sybil.

3. Respect his privacy. Stay out of his desk drawers and don't peek at his caller ID.

Look, now that I'm 30 I'm too lazy to snoop around. I have better things to do with my time. Like eat crepes.

4. Ask him to build or fix you something,. Performing tasks enhances his sense of success.

I have no problem with this.

5. Let him see you primp. Be goddess like (applying lipstick or powder), not gross (bleaching your mustache).

I wax my mustache not bleach it thank you very much.

6. Share your fears. Guys hold back because they think women are baby hungry.

Um, I think it's no surprise that I'm baby hungry. I could go to a baby Sizzler.

7. Blow him off. Men hate the idea of being tied down socially so turn down plans.

Yeah, I can't go out tonite because I have to wash my hair. No, seriously, I haven't washed it in three days. It's starting to smell like the inside of a used baseball cap.

8. Cook together. The more often you prep dinner a deux, the more he'll associate you with the good feelings he gets from eating it.

Well, when I cook with a man, I can definitely say that he gets good feelings from eating my food. And by good feelings, I mean trichinosis.

united nations preschool

I work across the street from the United Nations preschool. There are so many cute international toddlers being picked up by their Caribbean nannies.

I imagine that if you're a teacher at the UN preschool, you have to be pretty sensitive to the cultural nuances of each student. Like nap time, for instance. I'm sure the teacher has to do more negotiating than a diplomat in North Korea.

Every child loves to get out of nap time. When I was little, I would just cry and scream. God, I wish someone could've told me to enjoy nap time and that we would never get it again! Everything goes downhill after preschool!

This is how I imagine the international toddlers would get out of nap time:

French baby: What is this bottle of milk? I want my bottle of vin rouge! Oh-Hoh-Hoh-Hoh.

Cuban baby: I don't feel comfortable unless I'm sleeping on a raft

Colombian baby: I can't fall asleep. I've had too much coke. That's diet coke, cabron. I'm not allowed to have coke until I'm 12. I'm talking about cocaine, maricon.

Japanese baby: I don't know why but I have this intense urge to occupy that Korean baby's blanket and call it mine.

Korean baby: My people have owned this blanket for centuries!

Italian baby: Buttaa waaaiiiii I gottaaa nap? Mamma mia!

Bush baby: click click click click click click bop

Russian baby: Psssst, teacher. I give you 50 rubles if I don't have to nap.

without polly

Along Came Polly would've been a much better movie if Polly never came along.

if i was your woman

You know how R&B singers are always talking about the things they'd do for their man? Offering all their love and devotion and sexual services? Bish, please, if I was your woman, these are the things I'd do for you...

If I was your woman, I'd lure you into bed and then make you watch Paul Blart Mall Cop on Netflix Instant

If I was your woman, I'd eat anchovies and then try to makeout with you

If I was your woman, I'd fill your contact lens cases with vodka

If I was your woman, I'd watch you fall asleep and then draw a phallus on your forehead with a sharpie

If I was your woman, I'd call your mom on April Fools Day and tell her you got me pregnant and then say Totally J/K!

If I was your woman, I'd go out in public with you wearing a "I'm with Stupid" t-shirt.

If I was your woman, I'd post your photo on Amber Alert

girls gone mild

There is a great disparity between your social life in your early twenties and your social life in your early thirties.

In my early twenties, I would wear flammable clothing and pay a $25 cover to go to clubs called Carbon or Tunnel or Shantytown.

But now that I'm 30 and more mature and sophisticated, I like to go to my friend's houses and drink bourbon and eat chocolate chip cookies. I went to a friend's house on Saturday and we spent the evening indulging in home made butternut squash gnocchi, apple cider with cognac, and a bottle of Chilean red. Afterwards, we decided to stay in and watch a movie. We even contemplated watching The Bucket List.

Fortunately, we watched Gangs of New York instead. I know we're 30 and all but I'm pretty sure we still have a couple of years before we enter the Bucket List demographic.

It was a great evening and I'm happy to be a girl gone mild. Plus, I can't afford $25 covers anymore.

happy thanks for nothing

I made a list of things I am thankful for because sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm not a cyborg.

Drum roll please...

Things I am thankful for:

1. Wine bottles with twist off caps. Thank you! You make drinking so much easier!

2. Subways that go above ground because they make you feel like you're in Mister Rogers' Land of Make Believe.

3. 24 hour Dunkin Donuts. You can walk into them when a creepy guy is following you in the middle of the night and then you can order a coconut donut. I believe this is what they refer to as 2 birds, 1 donut.

4. My green tea perfume from L'occitane. You conceal my smell when I haven't showered in a couple of days.

5. The part of my brain that still functions. Keep hanging in there, buddy!

6. Crazy people on the subway. They make the ride more entertaining. And frightening.

7. Homeless people who ask me for money. They make me feel like I actually have some.

8. Child labor. I hope to employ some of my own kin one day.

9. Sriracha sauce. You make everything taste better. Even my emotions.

10. Netflix instant. Without you, I don't know what I'd do in bed.

perennially poor

I was walking down the street when this woman alerted me that my purse was open. Thanks, lady, but I don't think anybody wants to steal my purse. If some guy stole my purse he'd come back and ask for a refund.

The only items in my purse are: an expired metrocard, acne cream, and ticket stubs to X-Men Origins and Terminator Salvation. So if anyone ever found my bag, they'd think it belonged to a 13 year old boy. Except 13 year old boys have more money than me.

What's worse than being poor in New York is being a poor yuppie in New York. It's like being a fat anorexic. You're not going to get any compassion. Just looks of contempt and confusion.

And nothing makes a poor yuppie feel worse than going to a group dinner. You become resentful of friends who can afford luxuries such as eating food. And when the check comes you have to evenly split the costs with everyone. What's next...UNIVERSAL HEALTHCARE?

But there's always that one guy who says, "I owe less because I didn't eat anything." And everybody will be really annoyed but you secretly envy his boldness. Damn, I wish I could be that cheap!

One way to save money is to cook at home and shop at your local grocery store instead of Whole Foods. It's amazing how these grocery stores manage to stay open, given that the food has been there since the Cuban Missile Crisis. Except the meat. The meat looks like it's still alive. I once saw a brisket walking down the cheese aisle. And the fruit looks sickly and bruised. Um, excuse me, can I get a lemon that doesn't look like it has AIDS?

It's hard to come to terms with your poverty after spending $100,000 on a college education. I'm still waiting for my diploma to do something amazing. Like find a lemon without AIDS.

Facebook and Schadenfreude

Facebook does have many strengths. For one thing, it's an opportunity to see all the people who either tormented us or rejected us in middle and high school and bask in the fact that they are all now fat and bald and still living in our hometown. That and they and have kids.

Yes, the camera may add ten pounds but Facebook adds fifty pounds and children.

facebook will make you wish you had no friends

Okay, so you've been in this situation. You log onto Facebook in the afternoon, excited for a respite from work and an opportunity to see updates from your close friends and/or stalk your exes, only to be deluged with status updates from that one person you didn't even want to be facebook friends with in the first place.

And you know how Facebook gives you the option to choose if you "LIKE" something?

I think they should give us an option to click:

JUST DIE ALREADY

"Malcolm is writing his status update while washing his hands."

JUST DIE ALREADY

I don't know what is worse: people who chronicle the banal or people who bare their soul.

"Jerry is depressed from his divorce."

Um.

I'm sorry.

JUST DIE ALREADY!!!!!

Okay, I'm kidding, I don't want you to die. I just want you to disappear forever.

I mean, how are you supposed to respond to that? Do you give a thumbs up? Leave a consoling comment? "Here's to hoping it's your last divorce." Or... "Sorry you must resort to finding comfort in the online community during this time of grief."

reading for pleasure

Did you guys hear about the Stuyvesant high school librarian who was arrested for sexual harassment? He was charged for molesting male students. I am so shocked. I can't believe that public schools have enough money for libraries. Keep reading, kids!

What I can't figure out is how the molestation actually ensued. Especially since libraries are ostensibly public places that are very quiet.

Student: Excuse me, where can I find War and Peace?
Librarian: (whispering) In my nut sack.

life lessons

1. Be open minded
2. Don't trust people who listen to acid jazz
3. Keep your friends close and your enemies close to the edge of a subway platform
4. Love like you've been locked in a basement for twenty years
5. Don't be afraid to ask someone out
6. Don't be afraid to jump out a window when they say no
7. Clear your browser history after typing "urine + smells like burnt rubber"
8. Kick the heads off snowmen so you know what it feels like to be awesome
9. Avoid saying "Are you looking at me?" when a blind person approaches you for directions
10. Don't be so hungover that you can't think of a tenth lesson

eating and drinking in ipanema

We stayed at the Mar Ipanema Hotel. Ipanema reminded me of Soho or even parts of LA and Miami but with better looking and nicer people. And there are so many restaurants, bars, and juice stands on every block. Oh my god, let me just tell you about the heavenly juices!!!! Brazilians may not eat vegetables but they sure love their fruit. They all just hang around the juice counter, drinking their juices and finishing it with a filet mignon sandwich. WTF???

In Brazil, you have all these "botecos" which are convivial, brasserie type of places that serve small plates of, yes, more meat and fried food, and beers. The ubiquitous Brazilian beers are Brahma, Bohemia, and Skol. If you go to Brazil, just stay away from Skol. It tastes like Coors Light mixed with 2 day old urine.

On our first day, we decide to kick off the vacay with some caipirinhas at this restaurant next to our hotel called Forneria Sao Sebastiao. It is one of my favorite places in Rio. The waiters are easy on the eyes and the drinks are easy to gulp down. Purrrrrr.



Later we go to Academia da Cachaca which has more than 80 different brands of cachaca, the Brazilian sugar cane liquor. I love the name of the place. I want to graduate from this cachaca academy. I'd probably be the best student.

But my favorite bar in Rio is the one right in our hotel (very convenient to stumble back to your room). It is called Devassa which translated from Brazilian Portuguese means "Slut". LOVES IT.

Devassa has their own brewery and their beers are the creamiest, most delicious beers you will ever have. I'm a slut for slut beer!!!!




the brazilian breakfast

Our hotel package comes with complimentary breakfast, so every morning I was all up in the restaurant. It was a breakfast buffet and you guys know how much I love buffets. I think the most romantic phrase is not "i love you" but "all you can eat".

The breakfast buffet was a panoply of all these different Brazilian pastries and cakes, sliced meats and cheeses, scrambled eggs bathed in butter and cream, and the most amazing fruit I've ever had. Again, the fruit! I consumed about a hundred pounds of papaya. You know how I always thought papaya tasted like fart? Well, in Brazil, papaya tastes like...PAPAYA. Seriously serious.

So I went to town on the buffet and sampled a bit of everything. I have a 3 trip minimum rule for buffets so I sampled a bit of everything...3 times.

the brazilian bikini

After breakfast, we head to Copacabana to buy our first Brazilian bikinis. Now as some of you may know, the Brazilian bikini is like a regular bikini only that the bottom covers, well, pretty much nothing.

You can always point out the tourists because their bottoms are entirely covered. I wonder if the Brazilians laugh at them. "Oh, silly, American, with your puritanical ways and all your fabric!!!"

So we go to this store and I pick out some bikinis to try on. You know a bikini is skimpy when you can't tell the front from the back.

I try one on and I actually say outloud: You have GOT to be kidding me.

Note to self: Do not go to town on an entire breakfast buffet before trying on the Brazilian bikini.

Seriously, people, I have seen nose hairs that cover more surface area than a Brazilian bikini. Good lord, how do these people eat all their meat and fried food and then fit into these things???

I actually tried on a suit that was two sizes larger, hoping it would cover more skin. But no. Why do they even bother having different sizes when they all cover nothing???

But I sucked it up and bought one. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. And when in Brazil, take a shot of cachaca and gather the courage to let your ass hang out.

the beach

But once you hit the beach, all your insecurities and fears are mollified by the sight of all these asses hanging out. Even the bigger Brazilian ladies were just letting it all hang out.

So if you are an ass man, you will LOVE Brazil. The Brazilian beach is booty overload. Booty over here. Booty over there. Booty EVERYWHERE.

And it's easy to feel comfortable when everyone shows skin. And none of the men give you lecherous looks. They're used to seeing so much booty that they must view it as an eyebrow or something.

So we just sat back and viewed all the eye candy. They have guys selling fresh coconut juice so here I was on Ipanema beach, drinking out of a coconut, and watching all the Brazilian men in their skimpy suits playing soccer.

A vida e boa aqui....Life is good here.

arriving in rio

We finally arrive in Rio but our excitement is dampened when we realize that my friend's luggage didn't make it to the destination. And since it was Christmas Day and all the stores were closed, we had to shop for clothes at the airport.

Have you ever tried finding a new wardrobe in an airport? Especially a Brazilian airport??? All the clothes were in yellow and green and emblazoned with the Brazilian flag.

Yeah, after a 24 hour flight, I'm sure the first thing you wanna do is dress like the country's flag puked all over you.

My friend manages to find a couple of shirts that don't have the Brazilian flag on it and we take a cab into Ipanema. As we drive past the airport, we are greeted by all the favelas, or shantytowns, and then right after the shantytowns we pass a soccer field with kids playing soccer.

It is this juxtaposition that embodies everything amazing and beautiful about Rio. You'll notice that Rio has many dichotomies. You have mountains and the sea. Poor and the rich. Beautiful and the more beautiful. Urban and the natural. Upbeat samba and melancholy bossa nova. And it is the alchemy of all these elements that makes Rio so special, so energetic, so alive.

christmas in brazil

Brazil was everything I ever imagined and more. It's the kind of place where the people are friendly, the weather is warm, the drinks are abundant, and the water is gin clear.

There could never be a zombie apocalypse in Brazil because the Brazilians would just placate them with caipirinhas and then the zombies would start playing soccer and be like "I can't believe we were eating flesh the whole time! I love caipirinhas!"

And it is completely SAFE. When you travel to foreign places, you're usually cautioned about pickpockets stealing your purse. But when you travel to Brazil, you're worried about people stealing your kidneys.

Fortunately, I found Rio to be very safe and Bahia as well. Unless you're a complete idiot and have never been in a city, you'll be fine. Besides, we're from New Yawk mothafucka! If you try to steal our kidneys, we be like "we got another one, we can still drink!"

But there are other stereotypes about Brazi that hold true.

1. Everyone plays soccer. You'll see guys playing soccer on the beach, you'll see guys playing soccer in the middle of favelas. Soccer is the main religion in Brazil. I bet Brazilian men wouldn't care if they lost their balls to testicular cancer as long as they have their soccer ball.

2. Everyone eats meat and fried food. Apparently "vegetables" isn't in the Brazilian vocabulary. Unless you count black beans that have been marinated in pork fat and served with bacon. I guess "heart disease" isn't in their vocabulary either.

3. Everyone in Brazil is hot, hottie, hizzot. These Brazilians yanked the eye balls out of my sockets and made my head turn like the exorcist. Especially in Ipanema. Tan skin. Dark hair. Light eyes. Abs you could carve a turkey with. Asses that could support a ten story building. And these are just the women! Don't even get me started on the men. I actually took a photo of a hot guy on the sidewalk while I was inside a cab. I'm like the paparazzi! But creepier!

I mean, good god, how the hell does one country produce such beautiful people? Could you guys propagate your genes up north? My eyes are still adjusting to all the pale skin. Owwww. My eyes! MY EYES!!!!!

And not only are they good looking, but they are FRIENDLY. If they had this many good looking, friendly people in New York, no one would have drinking problems.

haiti and doctors without borders