Sorry, It's Been Awhile
So you know how it is when after a long night of partying, and then you wake up the next day and you're trying to recollect what happened the night before. And while you're doing this you notice that you're sore and achy in some places, possible some scrapes and bruises - none of which you can recall getting.
Yea well, none of the above has happened to me in a while now. I'm grown you know? Trying to be more responsible... ah yea, that's bullshit. Because on Saturday morning while I'm in the shower I notice the bruise in the picture, and it freakin hurts. And as much as I think and think, apparantly I just can't think hard enough to remember how I got it. (Please note I took this picture tonight, 3 days after I even noticed it - and it's still going strong. Yea, OUCH.)
So it's Tuesday and this bruise still has me confused. I wake up early, go to the gym where I have an appointment with my Personal Trainer, Chris. I'm, and I swear I'm not trying to use a cliche, doing some bicep curls and Chris notices my bruise.
'That's pretty bad looking - what did you do to get that?'
And I tell him how I don't have a clue, and how it's really been bothering me.
And he's looking at it some more while I'm silently counting my bicep curls (...11, 12, 13...)
'It looks like you got a jab... or a hickey.'
And that's when it hits me, so suddenly, that I stop doing my curls, 'Holy shit, that's exactly what it is!'
And Chris gives me this confused look.
And so I explain how I went out to Hiro on Thursday night. My friend David told me about this DJ set that was going to be performing (it was awesome by the way: MSTRKRFT). So me, David, and the rest of our friends are having a great time. It was one of those atmospheres where dancing led to making lots of new friends, and so I made a friend named Raul. ;) And, as I thought back, I recalled how there were several times that my new friend, after he paused from pursuing my mouth, he just dove into my arm.
And that's how I got a funky bruise, which turned out to be a hickey... on my ARM.
Hugs & Kisses
Honestly, I shouldn't even have this story. Saturday night after I went out, I took a cab back to my place around 2:30am - normally I get dropped off at the corner, and that night was no different.
As I'm walking towards my building, I pass a guy who's smoking a cigarette underneath a canopy to another building, and he starts talking to me:
Random guy: Hi, my name is Sal - I'm new in the neighborhood.
He proceeds to stick out his hand, like I'm supposed to shake it. So I graciously put my hand out, except he grabs it and kisses it! A little too much for me, so I start walking away. He apparantly doesn't get the hint:
Random guy: That's a lovely expression, where's it from?
Me: (purposely trying to not understand his question and walk away at the same time, so over my shoulder) I don't know what you're talking about.
The persistent weirdo: The expression on your face, where is it from?
Me: (just trying to get it over with) My parents are from India.
The extremely persistent weirdo now starts walking towards me, proceeds to catch me soo off guard that he snags a hug and kisses me on both cheeks. Now I'm beyond freaked out, and really just trying to think about how to get away and not let him see which building I walk into.
Dude who at this point just won't stop talking: Would you like to have a nightcap?
Is this guy SERIOUS? I'm walking down the street and you ask me to have a drink with you at 2:30 in the morning, I don't have a clue what was going on in his head. But for whatever reason, I just don't know how to be mean, it's the ingrained Southern Belle in me. Which, rather than making me a polite person, puts me in weird situations like this:
Me: No thanks, I'm done for the night.
Weirdo: Perhaps some other time then.
This is where I think I'm free, except he steps up to me again and gives me a weirdly tight hug and kisses me on both cheeks AGAIN! Do I never learn?! I didn't even see it coming, I am lacking in some serious skills. I laugh a little uncomfortably and moved away from him really fast this time, and didn't turn around.
The moral of this story; AVOID SAL THE SMOKER!
Bengal HOUSE
So I've decided to write my first blog. And honestly, I wasn't motivated by any need to 'keep up' with the joneses, but I just realized how often I was repeating tellings stories about myself. I don't know how motivated I will be to maintain, but it's worth a try.
I suppose I should include the story that was the precipice to me deciding to blog. First, I should explain that I live in the wonderful city that is New York. Thursday night, I decided to order a pie from Ulimate Pizza, not realized that there was going to be a torrential downpour. So I left my apartment to hit the ATM first, and it was nice outside, after exiting the bank it was like the sky had fallen down within a matter of seconds. There was barely anyone else on the streets, and those who were, were either standing underneath awnings or finding transportation. Being that this place was only 3 blocks away, I figured I could make a run for it. What a horrible decision. I'm not pointing out my clothing now because I'm a girl, but because it's necessary to the story: tshirt, lounge pants, and loafers (no umbrella - I hate umbrellas). By the time I make it to Ultimate Pizza, I'm soaked, and everyone inside is laughing at me.
The guy behind the counter goes, "mushroom?"
I laughed and nodded my head.
"Why didn't you just get us to deliver it?"
"It wasn't raining when I left m apartment", I said.
"Well, do you want us to deliver it now?"
Nice gesture, but I was stubborn in my efforts, "No thanks, maybe I'll just take a cab home."
Please note that this is not my first stupid decision/action of the evening, and it won't be my last. So I pay for my pie, and he hands me my pizza with an umbrella on top - nicest pizza guy ever. So I make my way outside and the umbrella immediately inverts, and I try to walk onwards. Eventually, I make it to a building that has a recessed entrance and I step underneath to compose myself. I flip the umbrella back out to its normal position, make sure my pie is ok, and that's when I realize my phone is missing (stupid decision of the night number 53: I didn't bring a purse, but instead decided to carry my keys, phone and wallet). There wasn't really anything I could do at that point, so I continued trekking home. The whole way sliding around because my pants were so long they kept on wrapping around my shoes, which only put me in the situation where I was stepping on my pants with every step I took, thus dragging them off my hips as well. And as much as a tried, there was no physically possible way to rearrange my clothing while holding a pizza, and an umbrella, keys and a wallet.
Once I made it back to my apartment I put an away message up stating: What did I just do?! Can someone please call Ultimate Pizza and see if I left my phone there.
An hour later I have a response from my best friend saying that they didn't have it. So I left her a message asking her to call my phone when she gets a chance (I'm sure you're intelligent enough to realize that I don't have a landline).
I wake up Friday morning with the most ridiculous email from my best friend saying something along the lines of a guy called my mom saying he found my cell phone on the street. And that "he works at a shop or restaurant or something on 57th st between 2nd and 3rd and he said i can come pick it up right now (midnight) he leaves back for Queens tonight... but i'm sure you could pick it up tomorrow..." Etcetera. When this was later discussed with her she mentioned that she was to scared to go meet up with this guy herself... but it was okay for me to? Hilarious. Anyways.
Of course by this time it was too late. So I get to work, and call her and get the entire story, and after we hang up she sends out the following email to our 'girls':
Subject: HALLOOO
To all –
Parmita left her phone somewhere last night while getting pizza while caught in torrential downpour (hehe..)
And this random dude found her phone – and he very nicely called her mom who called me
So I called Mita's phone and talked to this guy. And this is the conversation:
(This whole thing is funnier – if you imagine the dude just yelling for no apparent reason.
Not yelling at me – but just screaming in general – And he's clearly a FOB Asian –
And throughout this whole thing I couldn't understand anything
he was saying and made him repeat everything at least twice)
Dude: YOU WAN U PHO – YOU CUM GE ITT HEA
Me: where are you sir?
Dude: A;DSLKFJA;LSKDJFA;LDKFJ – QUEENS!
Me: I'm sorry, where exactly is that? You want me to come to Queens?
Dude: NO NO NO. COME HEER TO MAH WARK - 57 STREE BETWE SEKAWN AND THIR AVENOO
Me: Um, is that a store?
Dude: NO – IS A A;LDKSFJ;ALSDKFJ
Me: {Omygod this is hilarious}
Dude: YOU WAN U PHO – YOU CUM GE ITT HEA
Oh god so hilarious. So in conclusion, we don't know where Mita's phone is exactly – somewhere with this guy on 57th st between 2nd and 3rd. and he has now turned mita's phone off.
I just told my whole office
And everyone's running around screaming – YOU WAN U PHO – YOU CUM GE ITT HEA
Hehehe…
MM
So the end result was: I called my phone throughout the day with no one answering. Someone picked up eventually, and the conversation was equally lacking in comprehension:
Me: You have my phone.
Dude: I don know.
Me: YOU have my phone.
Dude: I no understan, I don speak inglish.
Me: Well is there someone that does?
Dude, Ok, hang on...
I wait for a while, and when I finally look down I see that he hung up on me! So I called again, and he just answered the phone and hung up on me immediately. Needless to say, I never received my phone.
There's no moral to this story. Or if there was it would be something like, think think think you stupid dipshit, before you do anything.
