Throwback Thursday

TBT: To that time in my life where I wanted to dress like Wednesday Adams...but not really and only a little bit.

 TBT: When we got really drunk on Strawberita's, got kicked out of a lesbian bar and walked across Manhattan to drink Mike's Hard on a strangers roof.

 TBT: To that time my family had one of our traditional picnics on the floor of a sketchy hotel in Auckland, New Zealand. 

TBT: To Dallas BBQ's....always a mistake.

TBT: To every single night out that ends with me taking reflective selfies in the bathroom....how did I get here? Who am I? What am I doing with my life?

TBT: To standing in the hot sun in ugly robes melting away and inwardly freaking out that high school was about to be a thing of the past.

TBT: To one of our many summer trips to Old Orchard Beach 2011-2014.

TBT: To that trusty book of crosswords we worked on for weeks...this was the final page....we did a lot of school work during high school as you can tell.

TBT: To starting 2015 the only way I know how with New York City, double chins and feathers. 

2015

January is more than halfway over so I believe it's time for me to start committing to change this year.   For the last few years I haven't been overly happy with my situation. I've mentioned it before, a constant feeling of dishevelment that I can't seem to shake. I feel as if everyone around me has their lives together in every sense of the word and I can't even master one little portion. I used to mask this with constant movement. If I was always out... busy... intoxicated, I never had time to truly reflect on how much I wasn't actually doing. I've since ramped up my flakiness and have been spending a lot less time on my distractions, allowing me to mentally grow the fuck up and realize that I can actually make progress at any time....I just have to kind of...well...do it.

So that's what I'm doing...I'm doing it....

Whatever the heck "it" is...well I'll figure that bit out later.

Cheap wiiiiine and three day....s worth of vegetables

Cold Chisel anyone? No? I'll see myself out. 

 My joints are really sore....is this an age thing? a weather thing? a not taking care of my body for 20+ years thing? Either way stairs are hard....and also typing is hard...life is hard.

So today....or...err yesterday? Whatever the 8th was Queen Mumpets birthday. Happy Birthday Queen Mumpet.

 I'm not sober right now....which is making stringing a sentence together very difficult. I'm not sure why exactly I'm even writing something....but alas here I am.

Oh actually, snaps for me for something. I haven't spent a single penny in 1 whole week (I almost had to pay for my drinks last night...but then I remembered I have boobs....I half hate myself, half love myself....) Two weeks ago I did something I never do aka bought groceries aka what up adulthood! This was the brain child of realization after I had added up how much money I spent on going out to eat....let's just say it wasn't pretty especially since I am desperately trying to save money and seem to be spending hours staring at my bank balance with a look of sheer bewilderment at where exactly my money went (#girlzjustwannahavefundz.) I still can't cook though so I have been living off 3 dollar wine, avocado and ham sandwiches and huge bowls of lettuce and broccoli smothered in balsamic (aka the gods nectar....aka it's literally my favorite flavor....aka shower me in it). I've also noticed that my body is liking me more (except my old man joints). It's less bloated due to the whole no artificial-what-have-you I normally inject straight into my blood stream and I don't constantly want to kill myself due to constant food coma....well I mean I did eat a whole french baguette yesterday and felt my heart slow down but that's beside the point.

I've reached that point in my life that my diet actually effects how I feel. I've never really been too self conscious about my weight- I have big boobs, big thighs, a smaller waist and a weird little baby bump of chub that likes the hang out on my lower stomach sometimes and that was just kind of that. Some days I would feel chubby and crappy but it was never a massive deal to me honestly, so I just ate what I wanted and went on my merry way. But now I actually feel my body reacting to food. It kind of blows. I have always loved vegetables, hell I used to hoard heads of lettuce under my bed as a child and constantly gobbled up cucumbers and tomatoes much to the annoyance of my mother who planned on using them for dinner. But I also have a major sweet tooth...and a bread tooth....and a bacon tooth...where was I going with this?

Oh yeah! Australian bacon is so much better than American bacon (that definitely wasn't where I was going with that...but hey man, a fact is a fact.)

I would just like to apologize for wasting 5 minutes of your time, I'm going to be honest I'm not even going to reread and edit because I'm way to sleepy and isn't there a rule about writing drunk and editing sober?

See you when I'm sober I guess.

Time to go nap nap.

Hangover Cure.

I had a really amazing day.

I am ready for my vacation now.

Summer in New York is only bareable when you don't have to physically do anything all day (this picture was taken this morning...I have since left my apartment...I stand by that first statement)

New York I don't know how you managed to make me hate my favourite season, but congrats. You made an Australian hate summer.

Also, I really miss Australia recently. Whenever I get into a conversation with someone about it, I always leave with the same question.

Australia is my home, I think it's the greatest country in the world....yet I choose not to live there?

I confuse myself.

Oh well, here is a picture of me with some balloons I made a stranger by me the other day. That stranger and I have a date tomorrow and I'm pretty sure I'm in *love with him already.

*Not real human love..."Jordyn love" where I obsess over cute people who *buy me things

*that was a joke! You don't need to buy me things!...but I mean I will take some *cupcakes

*I prefer doughnuts  

P.S. Oh actually doughnuts or just buy me tattoos for my birthday. Thanks strangers.

The 5th of July.

This morning I was on the train at obscenely early o'clock dreaming of my bed, the fireworks still ringing in my ears, completely lost in my own world. It was the morning after the 4th of July, so the train was pretty deserted except for the odd walk of shamer, hangover waiting to happen or homeless person, so I wasn't really paying any attention to anybody.

After about five minutes I noticed the man across from me glaring in my direction. He seemed drunk and fell somewhere between scruffy and homeless, but one thing was certain, his social queues were definitely a little rusty because he didn't even flinch when he saw me notice him staring. His social ineptness became even more apparent when after a few minutes of hard staring he moved on to the quietly stroking himself in his baggy sweatpants phase. Great.

I was only three stops away from my destination and the train wasn't empty enough for me to be scared,   so I uncomfortably turned up my music and began scrolling aimlessly through the pictures on my phone.

A few minutes later I received a light tap on my shoulder,

"Hey..." A disheveled looking business man with an almost comical untied tie and scruffy hair,

"I would move to another car if I were you..." He smiled.

Now, my heart knows he was trying to look out for me in a valiant effort to shelter me from Wank Master 5000. But his words really pissed me off.

Instead of asking this man to stop, he asked me to leave.

Now I'm not saying it was his duty to stand up for me, nor was I expecting it. Heck, this is New York, if a person collapses inches away from a large crowd, nobody bats an eyelid (except for myself and one other gentleman....but that's a whole other story, which you can find on my other website www.newyorkershavenosouls.com).

I wish he hadn't said a word. For the moment he opened his mouth, he unwittingly approved this mans actions and condemned my own.

Somehow it was my fault for being there, provoking this man in some way, and not his fault for being a complete failure of a human being.

I was in the wrong place, as if I had walked into his bedroom and he had every right to be rubbing away.

Instead of telling rapists not to rape, we tell victims to not get raped.

I'm over it.

The Men of Manhattan: Max

Max

Something every New Yorker knows about the busy, underground metal snakes full of crazy (see: The Subway) is that it's always best to keep your head down, eye contact with the wrong person can get you killed in this city! (joking, come visit us we would love to have you.)

This is where I differ from the average New Yorker.

I spend my morning commutes hidden behind a pair of oversized sunnies looking around the train studying the diversity that is crammed in all around me. If I catch the eye of a cute child or adorable suit-wearing gentleman, I transform from average New York to average Human being and I naturally throw them a smile. That is how I met Max.

There I was daintily leaning against the pole poised and perfectly composed in my wedges whilst some classical melody swam along my headphones and danced into my ear (see: clumsy mess, swaying ungracefully all over the train juggling a heavy purse whilst blasting Big L into my brain). When an unfortunate jolt of the metal bullet hurtled me toward two members of the ever present NYPD. 

"OH MY GOSH!" I squeaked through scrunched eyes. 

"Easyyyy...." I opened my eyes and smiled sweetly at the man I had moments ago used as landing pad.

"I'm so sorry..." I was met with a smile and after glancing around the train I noticed that everybody was still in their typical New York pose, "See something, look straight ahead and don't say shit!"

"Wow a smile, you must not be from New York," He whispered trying not to alarm the angry mob surrounding us.

"Not until recently, my heart still has some soul left in it..." We smiled and two stops later he pushed his card into my hand before departing the train with his cackling partner.

The moral of this story: Be kind to strangers and you can meet an amazing guy who will go to the other end of town at 3am so you can get your beloved Mango Margarita's or who loves Sunday brunch almost as much as you do. 

As fast as it started though, it was over. He wanted something I didn't have to give him and I wanted something taller and with a better taste in Waffle toppings. 

I guess Big L was right maybe I do have no love for city cops.