The Last Post.

I moved to Brooklyn. September 2008.

Got a job, quit on the first day. Got another job the next day, at a cafe, as a waitress. It seemed great. The people were nice.

The owner hired me, claimed it was the busiest restaurant in Brooklyn. Economy was bad, restaurant did poorly.

Met some cool people, made some great friends, applied to school, got into school, started school. Seasons changed, it got cold. People moved away, west coasters kept moving east. Spent my 23rd birthday alone, watching President Obama get inaugurated. Got homesick. Lied to my bosses about my grandma being sick so I didn’t get fired for going home for Christmas. (Red flag number 1).

Came back. Got promoted to bartender. Loved it. Loved my customers, loved my friends, started to feel like home. I had a great crew. Made more friends, hung out all the time. School was hard, got a teaching job. It was awesome. Went to Puerto Rico, came back engaged. Put off planning a wedding. Stressed about money. Tips were bad, not too many customers.

Started blogging. Got more customers, friends came in on a weekly basis, had lots of fun, lots of laughs. Ran a half marathon. Still in school. Saved money – paid tuition in cash. Drained my savings. Started planning a wedding. Pushed it back to save more money. Thought it would be in Hawaii, planned for Washington to save more money. It got cold again, family came to visit. I kept blogging.

People found out. People chose not to read it. Believed rumors instead. People got mad.

Customers left. Those who remained used demeaning, awful pet names.

Baby.

Sweetheart.

Young Lady.

Gorgeous.

I hated it. Someone got really mad, spread rumors, people still didn’t read it.

People yelled at me, made me cry. I don’t cry in front of people.

Customer told me I thought I was better than everyone else because I was in school. Called it a “garbage dumpster sized chip on my shoulder.”

Customer came in with counterfeit money. Scared me. Asked for help – got yelled at for taking the counterfeit money.

Threw a rad New Year’s Party. Killed some sea monkeys. Had the best time with the best people.

Planned a wedding, applied to jobs, wrote a thesis.

Stressed. Stressed. Stressed.

Customer started to threaten me. Told boss I didn’t feel comfortable, was told I had to serve him anyway. Needed the money, didn’t walk out even though I desperately wanted to, needed the money.

Interviewed for jobs. Wedding date grew closer. Got an offer. Put in two weeks notice.

Came in for last shift, was told to go home – 2 years later and I didn’t even get a goodbye. Got a, “we found someone hotter.” Karma. I kept blogging.

Cried about leaving my friends – my Brooklyn family. Miss them every day – didn’t realize it would be that hard to leave.

Moved across the country, got married, got a puppy, got a car, got an apartment, adjusted to life. Still making friends. Seasons didn’t really change. Don’t know what to do with my winter coat… Miss my friends. Miss them a lot. Kept writing. Wrote a whole outline.

Published the first post, great success!

Published the second post. People were hurt, people got mad. Friends were concerned about still working there and being associated with the blogger. Gone for 7 months and somehow the owners still have control over my life. Took the posts down, hurt my friends. Apologized. Felt terrible.

The End.

Short-lived.

After the last two posts – I have decided to take everything down indefinitely.

Though the things I said I don’t necessarily take back, but in thinking them through – it was not fair for me to have published such things on the internet whether or not it was true. Perhaps my story is mine alone.

Regardless of if I were mistreated, fired, or felt completely powerless by my employers, I can be the better person.

In the mindset of “putting myself in someone else’s shoes,” if it were me, no matter what light I were portrayed in, I would not want that kind of information on the internet for everyone to see.

I never intended to hurt my friends, especially those still employed at said cafe.

So for now, bloggies, this is the end of the road.

I’d appreciate if you could let me know what you think? Have I made the right decision?

Peace.

Resoluting. Yes – I made up that word.

What up Bloggies?

Yah – I know, it’s been a while. Like a really really long while. See the problem is, after my last “I’m so ridiculously happy as a wife in suburbia post” I’ve realized that I don’t have much to say when I’m all happy. As it turns out Hemingway had it right. Not saying that you need to go off yourself to be a great writer, but that some of the best writing comes from that tortured, dark and twisty place.

I’m definitely better at the dark stuff. My first published story was “gothic” and my first published newspaper article was an obituary. Needless to say, I thrive on the cynicism. My favorite color is black and I love skulls – always have.

Thus, my resolution this year (thanks in large part to my good friend Meghan – who calls me out on my shit) is to write my story – the one this blog is named for. So the way it will work is that occasionally there will be a post titled, “Confessions of a Brooklyn Bartender: Part 1″ or whatever number I am up to at that time. I will continue to blog about other random crap that happens in my life, but my priority will be to tell the real story of what happened in Brooklyn – and how I ended up where I am today.

I will be using pseudonyms for everyone – based on descriptive qualities, to preserve people’s identity. Those of you who know me well – or who are a major player in the story will probably be able to identify yourself and others pretty easily but whatever, it will be fun.

That’s the nit and gritty. I’ll be posting starting tonight.

Enjoy.

I Like Lists

This is a list of what I have accomplished this weekend:

 

This face is what Monday feels like

 

 

1. Cleaned my shower

2. Almost suffocated to death on the bleach smell when I decided to stand in the shower with the door closed bleaching the door.

3. Took a bubble bath

4. Realized that body wash works perfectly as bubble bath

5. Cleaned the shower again after the bubble bath.

5. Realized my dog may in fact fail puppy school

6. Babysat a grumpy bulldog puppy

7.  Went to a football game

8. Got a free snuggie – that my puppy stole approx. 1 hour later

9. Baked cookies

10. In an apron

11. THEN made a homemade dinner

12. Fell asleep at 8pm on Sunday while watching a movie.

13. Straightened up the kitchen and living room only to have them completely messy again an hour later.

14. Skyped with some great, amazing friends back in Brooklyn for what felt like 5 minutes but was really 45. I could have easily talked to them all night.

15. Realized just how much I miss my friends. So so much.

16. Got really really bored at work and made a list of my lame, lame life activities.

 

And then Reality Hits

Hello my Lovely follower(s)

I have been really good at falling off the map lately. I know that – in fact most of you who know me saw my last post and were like – oh wow! So glad you are happy! Which is kind, and nice and awesome, and not really me. Not to say that I’m unhappy, it’s just that there wasn’t a lot to complain about. But don’t you worry, cynicism has never been something I have lost completely :)

So the cynic in me has some complaints about the Golden State that I would love to share with you.

1. The weather.

Yes, it’s awesome and grand and all that – but it’s so strange. I LOVE LOVE LOVE everything about the fall. Rain, moderate temperatures, pumpkin carving, pumpkin eating, pumpkin baking, Halloween, etc. Every year around mid September when the weather starts to change I get so excited for all things autumnal. Here, the weather has been the same as it was in July. 80 degrees and sunny. Which rocks – don’t get me wrong – it just feels like I missed Halloween. I did get to go to Tahoe, where it was freezing cold, so at least on Halloween day everything felt right.

But it just wasn’t the same as walking through Prospect Park with warm tea and a scarf looking at the changing leaves.

2. The people

I have met some very cool people at work, and still keep in touch with some of my friends from college. But I have found a certain level of flakiness that exists out here. Perhaps I’m wrong, but I just don’t think many people were as flaky as they are here. It’s annoying to make plans, or plan events, even with work – and people simply don’t show up. But it’s California, so people have this like laid back, no worries attitude.

I worry. I’m antsy. And if I tell people I am coming to something, I show up.

3. Driving

I love the freedom that having a car gives me.

I hate traffic. And stupid drivers. And it’s Silicon Valley so everyone is talking on the phone and texting and emailing, and at times even operating a phone and a hand-held device at the same time!

I even saw a guy shaving his face while driving. Shaving his face.

Maybe I should try texting and shaving my legs while driving.

4. My Dog

My dog is kind of an asshole.

She’s adorable, and I love her, but she kind of sucks.

She barks all the time. All the time. So much so that I can’t bring her to work because she just barks and barks.

She escapes from the kitchen while at home and pees on the carpet – so we have had to make a crazy contraption out of boxes, storage containers, pieces of luggage and one baby gate just to keep her in there. If she escapes she will be officially re-named Houdini.

She steals everything. You leave it within reach, and she will steal it and hoard it. She steals laundry, hairbrushes, makeup bags, socks, shoes, remote controls, PS3 controllers, food, plastic, everything.

She vomits on the carpet, right next to the tile floor that is much easier to clean.

And then she comes into bed and cuddles and looks at me with the damn sad puppy face and I forgive her all over again. It’s bad.

That’s the nit and gritty everyone. Suppose its about time I got all cynical and sarcastic out here :)

Confessions of a Boring Suburban Wife

Have you ever had one of those “how the hell did I get here?” moments? Today, while starting at my desk around 3:35, (which as well all know, 3:35 on a Friday should be the stopping point because no real work gets done after that) I had a sort of out of body experience.  It was like the cynical bartender with a potty mouth rose up out of me and went, “what the fuck are you doing?”

I’ve only been here three months, and honestly – it feels like I have been here forever. I have a bright and colorful cube with my puppy sleeping next to my desk, I’m working hard at my job at the amazing company that shall never be named in this here blog, and I’m going – dude – what happened?

So in three months I moved from New York to California and my life could not be more different. I have an apartment that is not falling apart or slanting (though the roommates that do it like jackrabbits are a nice reminder that nothing’s perfect) we have a REAL couch – as in, not from IKEA, and it’s so nice I’m afraid to eat anywhere near it. I bought a Toyota Corolla (whoa dream big!)

I grow flowers now:

Without killing them – and dude they are thriving! I pick up dog toys that are strewn about the house, I vacuum, I wake up at 6am and go to bed at 10pm, I cook (but only occasionally) and I work from 9-5.  Oh, and did I mention I joined a book club that I LOVE and we spend our Saturdays at farmers markets and university football games? My husband works from 9-6, and I spend the hour between 5-6 at the dog park with my puppy.

When did I get so goddamn boring?

And you know the scariest part?

I LOVE it.

I honestly don’t think I have ever been so happy before – maybe it’s the whole newly married thing, but really I think it’s just that this was what my life was supposed to be. As it turns out if you work hard enough and are super motivated, life will stop shitting all over you and things will turn out for the best. I mean it took six years – but hey! I’ve finally figured it out.

You see, for so long I thought I was a city girl. I packed up at 18 and moved to Los Angeles. I thrived there, loved the weather, the people, the constant activity. I loved getting all dressed up and putting on heels and going to Hollywood with my friends. LA was my kind of city. I surfed and went out, and had a blast. Every weekend was something new, from going to museums, to shopping, I soaked it all in. I spent all of my money on fancy clothes and cocktails, bought my first car, and bragged about all of the fun stuff I was doing now that I was out of that small town.

And then, I fell in love with a boy. And I was restless, over the whole LA scene – which as it turns out is much more focused on who you know and what you eat (which for me was no one and everything) and he asked me to move to New York with him. Good thing I was accepted to NYU for grad school, because I gave up a great job in Burbank and packed my bags and headed for the big city. I was so excited for culture, and of course, the cosmos.

But as it turns out when you are poor, and new to the city, you can’t afford to live in the city. It’s not so great for the starving artist lifestyle that it so often is associated with.

So I moved to Brooklyn. And don’t get me wrong I LOVE Brooklyn – I could have easily lived there for a very long time, I just didn’t realize that I was losing myself over there. I became this angry awful person who didn’t give a shit about all the reasons I moved to New York in the first place – I just knew I didn’t belong there.

Basically that whole tangent of stuff you already know about me is to reaffirm that yes, it’s true, I am an 89 year old sell out who used to be cool and lived in the city to a suburban working wife. Though I still have plenty of attitude, mostly due to my experiences – so fuck off if you’ve got an issue with me –hehe

Mom, please don’t yell at me!

Should I change the title of this blog to Confessions of a Boring Suburban Wife? I don’t know, but I do know that I am very happy with my new adventure!

An Open Letter To My Downstairs Neighbors

Dear couple who lives below me,

Congratulations. Hat’s off to you. You have managed to prove that unlike New York, apartment complexes not only have thin walls, but very thin ceilings/floors. The fact that I can hear you doing it all day and all night is impressive for many reasons, which I will share with you in this letter. I have never seen or met you before, but I feel as if I know you very well.

The fact that you were able to wake me up from a deep sleep, thinking there was an earthquake, when really it was just sexy time for you, is very impressive. I’ve heard of people shaking apartments below them, but you managed to shake your ceiling. This makes me believe that you use a swing – which means you have agility and strength. You also are creative and adventurous.

I can also hear every movie you watch, and have noticed that you like to do it after each movie. First, it was Lord of The Rings, and now you seem to be in a horror/action movie phase. Constantly I feel as though I am right there, in the midst of flying bullets. You seem to care a lot about your sound system. This also could be the reason why you scream so loud during sex – you are practically deaf from your movie watching.

Every night I go to sleep to the sounds of your sexcapades – and I think the more astounding thing is that every morning, around 7am, there you are doing it again. I’m starting to wonder if you are into the tantric stuff – do you do it all night? And then you do it all day as well – 11am, 2pm, time doesn’t seem to be the issue.

So thank you neighbors, as I listen to you play away on your newly acquired Rock Band, for teaching me what it’s like to live in an apartment complex.

Sincerely,

Your upstairs neighbor

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