Don’t drink on an empty stomach…


Oh my god, my heads hurt so bad.

Oh my god, where am I?

I am in my bed.

Phew….

“What the hell happened last night,” I wondered as I started to sit up and felt as if my head was a pinata getting hit blow by blow.

All the lights were on in my bedroom and there was a bag of empty cheese puffs on the floor.

“I don’t eat that crap,” I whispered as I wiped little corn puffs from the corners of my mouth.  My room looked like a crime scene. Clothes everywhere, food all over the floor, music playing and my god damn Iphone in my water glass.

Ugh.

Oh I know, my arch nemesis, “Tammy” probably came out last night and clearly purchased the fattening cheese balls.

Tammy was and still is my alter ego after I have had more three glasses of alchohol, preferably chardonnay. Anything that happens after that, I no longer am accountable, Tammy is.

Can any of you relate?

I want share something with all of you about my Friday night.  It was the most embarrassing moment I don’t remember. Tammy does, but she won’t share this story with you, so I have too.

What happens when you don’t eat dinner and your have three glasses on wine on an empty stomach?  Imagine a terrible episode of Desperate Housewives and times by 100.

I was out at an event in Soho last weekend and met some friends at the party.  I had a killer day at work and had no time to eat lunch. I figured I would go to the event, have peanuts ( bar peanuts are very filling and great for adding weight quickly to one’s butt) from the bar and have “1″ glass of wine.

Hah.

Who the hell was I kidding? I would think at at 35 years young, I would know myself by now.  1, 2  and 3 glasses chardonnays later, Tammy was well on her way to becoming the life of the party. Tammy was hungry, not for food, but for a man. Tammy did not care what he looked like, how tall or short he was or if he was even employed.  Tammy was looking for a big DICK.  She had not been laid in three months and clearly decided the hunt was on.

The event was wrapping up and my group was of to a private club in the meat packing district.

12 hours pass…..

And now fast forward to when I woke this morning with cheese puffs in my hair, bed and around my mouth.

Whoa,  I didn’t remember anything except hoping into a Lincoln town car with four people to go to the private club. Shit!

Suddenly my phone rang with an obnoxious ring tone that I attached to my best friend’s number.

“What is it,” I answered in a raspy voice.

“Hi Tammy, oops I mean Samantha,”  my best friend laughed. “Where are you and do you know what the hell happened last night?”

“No,” I cringed. I started to brace myself for what was to come. My best friend had an unusual way of making even the most terribly embarrassing moments funny and I knew she was going to rip on me.

“Do you want me to tell you?”

“Yes, get on with it,” I rolled my eyes and wondered why my mouth was so dry.

“How do your knees feel?”

I looked at them and noticed one knee in particular was a little red.

“Fine, why?”

“Well you never met us at the club after the event!  My friend rode in the Lincoln town car with you. He sat in the front and you were in the back with some guy. The car stopped out front of the club, he got out of the front of the town car and then went back to open your door. Once he took a look at you and the guy, he decided to give you some space,” she squealed from the other end of the phone.

“OK, Enough with the day time TV drama, what happened,” I screamed.

“You decided or Tammy did that best course of action would be to pull down the guys pants and give him a blow job in the back seat of the town car!  You apparently put your hand up when my friend came to the window as if your were helping cars pass through an intersection and he went on his way and met the rest of us in the club.

“FUCK, really? Oh my god, I am so embarrassed. How trashy of me,” I whispered with my mouth squishing the side of my iphone.

I hung up the phone and laid back down. I had a short flash of a zipper and the town car’s carpeted floor.  Ew!

Well, I am just going to blame the bar peanuts, they must have been laced.

As my best friend said, “You just got to own that shit and move on!”

I got ready for work and walked down the stoop from my west village apartment laughing to myself, ” Ah, just another night in NYC.” I wonder what is going to happen when I hop in a cab this morning!”

Tammy, 2012

 Oh my god, my…check out my new post: http://missnyanonymous.com/


Miss NYanonymous

Image

Oh my god, my heads hurt so bad.

Oh my god, where am I?

I am in my bed.

Phew….

“What the hell happened last night,” I wondered as I started to sit up and felt as if my head was a pinata getting hit blow by blow.

All the lights were on in my bedroom and there was a bag of empty cheese puffs on the floor.

“I don’t eat that crap,” I whispered as I wiped little corn puffs from the corners of my mouth.  My room looked like a crime scene. Clothes everywhere, food all over the floor, music playing and my god damn Iphone in my water glass.

Ugh.

Oh I know, my arch nemesis, “Tammy” probably came out last night and clearly purchased the fattening cheese balls.

Tammy was and still is my alter ego after I have had more three glasses of alchohol, preferably…

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Aside

 Oh my god, my…check out my new post: http://missnyanonymous.com/


Image

Oh my god, my heads hurt so bad.

Oh my god, where am I?

I am in my bed.

Phew….

“What the hell happened last night,” I wondered as I started to sit up and felt as if my head was a pinata getting hit blow by blow.

All the lights were on in my bedroom and there was a bag of empty cheese puffs on the floor.

“I don’t eat that crap,” I whispered as I wiped little corn puffs from the corners of my mouth.  My room looked like a crime scene. Clothes everywhere, food all over the floor, music playing and my god damn Iphone in my water glass.

Ugh.

Oh I know, my arch nemesis, “Tammy” probably came out last night and clearly purchased the fattening cheese balls.

Tammy was and still is my alter ego after I have had more three glasses of alchohol, preferably chardonnay. Anything that happens after that, I no longer am accountable, Tammy is.

Can any of you relate?

I want share something with all of you about my Friday night.  It was the most embarrassing moment I don’t remember. Tammy does, but she won’t share this story with you, so I have too.

What happens when you don’t eat dinner and your have three glasses on wine on an empty stomach?  Imagine a terrible episode of Desperate Housewives and times by 100.

I was out at an event in Soho last weekend and met some friends at the party.  I had a killer day at work and had no time to eat lunch. I figured I would go to the event, have peanuts ( bar peanuts are very filling and great for adding weight quickly to one’s butt) from the bar and have “1” glass of wine.

Hah.

Who the hell was I kidding? I would think at at 35 years young, I would know myself by now.  1, 2  and 3 glasses chardonnays later, Tammy was well on her way to becoming the life of the party. Tammy was hungry, not for food, but for a man. Tammy did not care what he looked like, how tall or short he was or if he was even employed.  Tammy was looking for a big DICK.  She had not been laid in three months and clearly decided the hunt was on.

The event was wrapping up and my group was of to a private club in the meat packing district.

12 hours pass…..

And now fast forward to when I woke this morning with cheese puffs in my hair, bed and around my mouth.

Whoa,  I didn’t remember anything except hoping into a Lincoln town car with four people to go to the private club. Shit!

Suddenly my phone rang with an obnoxious ring tone that I attached to my best friend’s number.

“What is it,” I answered in a raspy voice.

“Hi Tammy, oops I mean Samantha,”  my best friend laughed. “Where are you and do you know what the hell happened last night?”

“No,” I cringed. I started to brace myself for what was to come. My best friend had an unusual way of making even the most terribly embarrassing moments funny and I knew she was going to rip on me.

“Do you want me to tell you?”

“Yes, get on with it,” I rolled my eyes and wondered why my mouth was so dry.

“How do your knees feel?”

I looked at them and noticed one knee in particular was a little red.

“Fine, why?”

“Well you never met us at the club after the event!  My friend rode in the Lincoln town car with you. He sat in the front and you were in the back with some guy. The car stopped out front of the club, he got out of the front of the town car and then went back to open your door. Once he took a look at you and the guy, he decided to give you some space,” she squealed from the other end of the phone.

“OK, Enough with the day time TV drama, what happened,” I screamed.

“You decided or Tammy did that best course of action would be to pull down the guys pants and give him a blow job in the back seat of the town car!  You apparently put your hand up when my friend came to the window as if your were helping cars pass through an intersection and he went on his way and met the rest of us in the club.

“FUCK, really? Oh my god, I am so embarrassed. How trashy of me,” I whispered with my mouth squishing the side of my iphone.

I hung up the phone and laid back down. I had a short flash of a zipper and the town car’s carpeted floor.  Ew!

Well, I am just going to blame the bar peanuts, they must have been laced.

As my best friend said, “You just got to own that shit and move on!”

I got ready for work and walked down the stoop from my west village apartment laughing to myself, ” Ah, just another night in NYC.” I wonder what is going to happen when I hop in a cab this morning!”

Tammy, 2012

I’m shopping at D’agastino’s on Valentine’s evening???? Help!!!


It’s 7pm and I’m not at the most expensive restaurant eating dinner and drinking my favorite champagne in New York.

I’m not clubbing in the hottest club.

I don’t have the reddest rose or the most amazing man laughing at my jokes across from me.

I’m by myself, shopping at the Safeway supermarket alone on a very sobering Valentine’s day. I am walking up and down the aisles trying to pass time so I don’t have to go home to my small box sized apartment in the lower east side.

What does being alone on Valentine’s day say about me? What are people thinking about me when they pass me by in the aisle? Am I a looser?

Why didn’t anyone ask me out tonight? I mean, I’m beautiful, funny, charismatic and employed, so what’s the deal?

Let’s do the math here:

I’m alone on Valentine’s evening, shopping at Safeway alone,  talking to myself in the aisle while pretending to shop for a recipe on my Martha Stewart app on my iPhone.  I’m wearing my “sexy” (or from what the label tells me)  GAP pajamas with UGG boots and my hair is still in the bun that I slept in the night before. Hmm….

I just passed a short hispanic man next to the gluten-free items and he winked at me drawing me out of my reality check.  I smiled back at him like it was George Clooney looking at me on my way into the bathroom at Mr. Chow’s (which did happen to me, I swear)!

As I approached the register, I realized, it’s not me, it’s them. I am over qualified! I am just too good for them.  They want the young, dumb gals that laugh at their jokes and drink their $1,000 bottles of Vodka at the Avenue in NYC. Do I sound bitter, no…..

I did end up getting the Hispanic 18 year’s old’s phone number though, he slipped it to me when I dropped my peanut M & M’s on the floor. Yes, I was binging.

I look forward to the next Valentine’s day, I hope I am not shopping at Target!

Ms. desperately needing a box of chocolates….2004

Miss NYanonymous, 2011 | Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miss NYanonymous with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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Thanks, a new post is coming soon…”He matches me, he matches me not!”

Miss NYanonymous 

He matches me, he matches me not…


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Oh my, I never would have thought I would blog about my Match.com days in the city 10 years ago, when online dating was so cool, but really NOT.  No one would EVER admit they were writing profiles online because it sounded so desperate.

HAH!

Everyone was doing it! But why? Why in a city of 8 million just in Manhattan alone, would a beautiful woman like me need to go online to date?

Well, if you can believe it, I was bored and so were my friends. Every night we would go out in the city and do the same lame thing, drink, talk to a guy in suit and then if we were REALLY lucky we’d get our bill paid with the hopes that we would not have to sleep with the suit, especially if he was the “Happy Hour Suit.”  Those guys were never that cute, pretty overweight and had the worst scotch breath (not to mention they never flossed). Ew!!!

Who knows how long they had been sitting on those stools in the generic pop up irish pubs with the foul smells of beer soaked in the wood from years passed evaporating into their clothes. “The Suits” just sat there waiting for incoming mid 20 year old’s to walk through the door. But in their defense, these suits were walking ATM’s. So it’s safe to say, I have had plenty of fish and chips in my day!

One night my friends and I went out (every night was girls night out) and we were sitting around a table at a swanky restaurant that we read about in “Time Out” magazine. The big joke around the city was who could find out about the hot spots before the masses did (masses meaning the “Bridge and Tunnel crowd.” Sorry if you are reading this and you are from New Jersey, no offense, really.

The life cycle of “cool, swanky, private, exclusive” went quickly in the city.  It seemed if over 100 people knew of a hot spot, it was urban mutiny and we were on to the next dark dingy lounge to be noticed.  How vain we were back then!

Like I was saying, girls night out turned into the contest of all contests.  We all had a couple of poor girls chardonnay, the house wine which was ONLY $15 dollars a glass and discussed who could get the most dates in one day on Match.com.

There were three of us up for the challenge, the other three pushed their noses up in the stinky smoke that had drifted from the other tables and said, ” No way, they would never go public to admit how desperate they were! ”

Well as Darwin said oh so long ago, “It’s survival of the fittest baby!” And I was not going to fail.

We had 48 hours to secure 5 dates in one day.

We all went to work the next day at our lovely jobs that only paid us 40k a year.

That was another reason we wanted to take on the challenge. We were BROKE and the only way to survive, meaning feed on something besides a pretzel from a street cart like a bitchy woman with low blood sugar was to have a boyfriend.  We gals worked or starved during the day, then they (the walking ATM’s) took us out for dinner. It was that simple. No one cooked in NYC. I think I cooked a meal three times in over 2 years and it came out of a box.

Anyway, I was hungry, boy friendless and needed nourishment.  I was starting to fit into all the children sizes at the GAP.  Did I just say Gap, I meant Armani. Sorry.

The next day, sitting in my uncomfortable chair at work, I wrote my very witty, charming profile and posted it immediately.

I went home that evening from work feeling a little weird and exposed.

I mean what if I’m at Barnes and Nobles and the weird perverted man staring at me in line recognizes me from my profile handle, “Long walks on the beach?”

What if my boss was on Match? What if all the dorks on the trading floor at the bank I worked with were on Match? Is that why they were laughing when I got on the elevator?? I was totally paranoid. I started to keep my head down, every where I went. I was acting like everyone on the street was the Paparazzi!  I wore hats and sunglasses so I would go unnoticed.

24 hours had passed since the posting. I went back to work to check my email. In those days, I did not have a lap top.  Everything I did on a computer came from a big apple box the size of my parents TV.

I closed my eyes and logged on. My finger tip was white as I pushed the last button to sign on as hard as I could not wanting to let go, I held it for what felt like 30 minutes!

I released to find 300 messages!!! BINGO BABY! Oh yeah, I am was gonna win this contest and gain at least 5 pounds!!

Date 1:

Breakfast at 10am – Jan 2, 2001

Match #1  Bald, Boring and Bad Breath

Date 2:

Brunch at 12:00pm – Jan 2, 2001

Match #2  Fake, Funny and full of flatulence

Date 3:

Lunch at 2:00pm – Jan 2, 2001

Match #3

Mature, Manly and a maniac

Date 4:

Happy Hour at 5:00pm – Jan 2, 2001

Match #4

Strange, Stinky and stinky

6:30pm – Barf in the restaurant bathroom at Pastis

Date 5:

Dinner at 8pm – Jan 2, 2001

Match #5

Hot, Handsome and a Hard Body!

I won the bet, my friends came to meet me at my last date and sat at table across from us trying to be unnoticed to see what Match #5 was all about.

Needless to say I did not need to eat for a week after the contest. I have never been on Match since, but if things start to go south again for me and the hunger pains kick in, I will try Eharmony.com!

Ms. will date for food – 2001

Miss NYanonymous, 2011 | Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miss NYanonymous with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Five little pills went into NYC


Does this sound like something your Mom used to say to you at night in Bed when she was grabbing your toes?

“This little pill went to loft party.”

“This little pill stayed in bed with my boyfriend”

“This little pill ended up with all girls”

“This little pill had none”

“And this little pill went eating more pills all the way to the after hours.”

Hmmm….Funny? I think NOT!  The rhyme has been changed to suit my next story, but I wanted to get your laugh and attention. 🙂

There were 5 little pills sitting around on a nightstand waiting for the 5 girlies to come home after happy hour on a hot summer night in the upper east side.

So, Sarah, Sammy, Porsche, Ingrid and Polly made it home after tons of cheap cocktails and put on their super cute clothes from Club Monaco (the clothes were cooler 10 years ago) and looked like  members of Cirque Du Soliel.  The  Club Monaco style was very euro circus performer, but better for us downtown girls, we would get all the hotties  when the Circus acts showed up trying to cut into our bar lines!

First Stop for the first little pill, Sarah:

Sarah, popped her pill and said, “Oh my god girls, there is amazing loft party that I have to crash. So this guy who just launched this drink and it has like vitamins in it, is supposed to be single and hot! I am going to claw my way in…..Later!”

Second Stop for the second little pill, Porsche:

Porsche popped her pill and said, “Why is Sarah alway’s leaving us, what a bitch!” “I am calling my fist Guido pumping white tight tank top honey! “It’s Saturday, so the Bridge & Tunnel crowd should be here by 9:30pm. I’m just gonna chill with Vinny until 5am and then head to Crow Bar to listen to the master mix! Later Chicas!”

Third Stop for the third little pill, Sammy:

Sammy popped her pill and said, “Ugh, you girls suck. Why can’t you be normal? I am going to the Cat’s Meow to find me a cute little woman. Men are so fucking boring . See you back at the crash bad, don’t leave the kitty door open for me.

Fourth Stop for the fourth little pill, Ingrid: 

Ingrid popped her pill while she was shopping for clothes and said, “I’m going out on the town by myself to find trouble. This pill should hit soon I hope. I took it two hours ago and haven’t felt a thing!”

Ingrid grinds this statement out of her mouth walking down the street, “Hey guys want to party?”

“No, are you a prostitute?? The twin brothers from Queens responded.

“No,” screams Ingrid “I am on “ex”!

Looks like Ingrid got the bad apple in the group of pills. It turned out she had pure speed in hers that told her mind to send her down to the meat-packing district talking real fast to italians coming out of Ray’s Pizza and to ask them if they wanted to party all night.

LOL!! Poor Ingrid!

Fifth Stop for the fifth little pill, Polly

Polly popped her two pills or as they say in New York, “2 in the chute!”

Polly heard two pills are  better than one. Probably not the best idea. Polly did not get home from a Brooklyn afterhours until 48 hours later. She made  A LOT of friends, but no one she could introduce to the family.

The five little pills were never to be seen again —— UNTIL NEXT WEEKEND!

Ms. Pilly Wiggle 2003

 

Miss NYanonymous, 2011 | Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miss NYanonymous with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.