I'm the worst blogger EVER... but tonight was absurd

So I pretty much abandoned maintaining a blog. There are several reasons. But mainly the fact that I'm a horrible writer, and as good as I tell a story face to face - I lack any ability to put it into written word. It was to the point that I was just going to shut down the page. And then tonight happened...

As much as I love living in New York City, it's been crazy difficult meeting people. And by people, I mean guys. I made the decision to utilize the Internet to help me. I've been on several dates, almost all first. This doesn't mean it hasn't been a success, but I just haven't met anyone who I've "clicked" with.

Tonight I decided to meet Deepak, for the first time, at a bar on the Upper East Side. I was running a little late, so I texted him to let him know - and this is where I knew it was going to be a bad night - he texts me back, telling me to let him know when I got there. So when he finally arrives, we take a table and start talking. And from the very beginning it's just... not fun. He's barely talking, meaning I'm having to lead the conversation and pick every topic- this is annoying, to say the least. But to make it worse, he was so arrogant. For example, he was telling me how he works full-time, but he'd also recently started his own company based in India. This is just one example of what came out of his mouth, "I could tell that India was becoming globalized. So rather than just watch or be passively involved, I wanted to contribute to it." Are you frickin' kidding me? I wanted to start laughing at him when he said that, but I managed to keep a straight face... and continued the 'conversation'. To make things worse, any time he found something funny he would laugh and put his hand on my shoulder and shake me. Really? Not attractive at all. And then he started bumping his knee against mine, just to make contact - ugh! By the time I was on my second beer I thought I was going to vomit because I was chugging it so fast so I could get out of there.

And as bad as all of this sounds, I wasn't hating it exactly... until he decided to take his hand and run it through my hair and place it on the back of my head and rub it a little! I don't know what the balls he was thinking, or what kind of look I must have had on my face when he did that - but it didn't stay there very long. And when I noticed he was trying to make eye contact with me, I made every point of looking away and watching Sports Center. When we finished the second round, he asked me if I want another and I shied off by saying how I'm always late for work when I have too many drinks the night before. He bought that excuse and we stepped out, which is when he asked me if I wanted to walk some . Fortunately, he had to walk north, and I, south - which is exactly what I told him. And then (I know, I thought it was never going to end), he was like, "Oh, well would you like to come to my place for a bit?" What the shit? You think I want to go HOME with you? But I refrained from using that response, and instead politely said I needed to head home. Which is when he went in for the kill. Thank God my kung-fu skills are so amazing I managed to dodge his kiss which was headed for my lips, but he did manage to swipe my cheek instead. I managed to hug him back without rolling my eyes, and then we headed our separate ways. I was home before 10pm and even made cornbread - which I found to be more scintillating than his company. No seriously, I would rather make out with my Martha White Sweet Cornbread than this guy.

Dirty Men on the Streets of NYC

The main theme behind my blog here was to depict the insanity that my friends and I encounter from the male species on a relatively daily basis while living in New York. You can see from the lack of posts that I've either gotten lazy about writing or that I haven't been encountering much of this insanity. It's a little bit of both.

In trying to write about events that happen in my daily life - these events have to actually occur. And it's not to say that they haven't happened, just not in the extremes as some of my previous postings. But mainly in tidbits here and there.

For example, what is it about New York City delivery guys and their inherent need to comment on every, and any, passing female. And when I say any, I mean ME, after a long hard hour at the gym. That's absurd, there is nothing attractive about me in that condition; sweaty, stinky, wearing the most asexual clothing, and more often than not walking like I just got off a horse from all the aching muscles. There can't be one single asset about me that would create any sort of sexual appetite within a human. So I'm wondering, is it something they teach delivery guys? Like, "Here is your bike and anytime you see a female you have to make some sort of animal noise, grunt, sputter or whistle."

And then there is the most recent one that my best friend told me about. All of us New York City girls know about the guys that just stand on the sidewalk and do any of the following: whistle, pssst!, make other random noises similar to a snake, and the endless requisite inappropriate comments. Well, this happened to my friend yesterday, we'll call her M. And M is a smart girl, so she ignores them. What I don't understand is the backlash; just because a girl doesn't respond, some guys get really upset - I guess they haven't figured out that it might be their own technique. Anyways, so these guys get upset with M because she ignores them and so they start making fun of her toes [Sidebar: I make fun of M's toes incessantly, but I'm her girlfriend and that's allowed. Plus, I've toned it down a bit. And they really aren't bad toes, they just make me giggle for some reason; but really nothing that a stranger should comment about.]! This is how she explained it to me in an email at work (thus a$$, instead of ass), where I proceeded to laugh hysterically at my desk:

"on my walk home from dinner yesterday - a group of scary dudes were making lewd comments about me.
when i didn't react, they started busting on my FEET. it was the meanest/funniest thing ever.
they were like "you got gangly a$$ toes..you freak" and then i started laughing. and then they got pissed. and i walked away faster, with my gangly a$$ toes."

Really guys? Has the dating scene been so hard up lately that you hit on the sweaty/stinky ones and if a girl says no you must stoop so low as to crack on a girls toes? It gives me some hope that whatever I do to try and talk up a guy, it can't be nearly asbsurd. Oh well, it definitely makes for good reading material.

Cheesecake & Mexican Food

This post is well overdue. So let me not waste any time.

Saturday before last I ended up drinking 10 bottles of wine with 5 other people. Let me just tell you: it was beyond absurdity. It was like one of those nights, where everyone gets so inebriated that things are being said in front of people that are usually reserved as inside jokes - at one point I got so embarrassed that I had to crawl underneath a table to hide myself from the chaos.
Needless to say, by midnight, my decision was made to join my friend, Fabiano, at a nearby bar for some dancing. I didn't know most of the people he was with, but he knows how I love dancing the night away.
So I'm just dancing, when this huge guy walks by and grabs my hand and kisses it - ew (Fabiano later told me that this guy had at least 6 inches on him, and that he himself has 10 inches on me):
Big Guy (BG) - Do you want to dance?
Me (P): Um, no thanks - I'm dancing with my friends.
BG: Ok
And then he walks away, then turns right back around.
BG: What's it like upstairs?
P: The music is good, but it's pretty crowded.
BG: Well, can I get your number?
P: ?!?! Let's wait and see.
BG: Okay.

So then he heads upstairs and I forget all about him, and I continue to dance dance dance - like I do. I don't know how much time has passed (at least an hour), but I'm just kinda dancing off to the side with Fabiano and another friend maybe 4 feet away from me when BG walks up to me again and this time puts his arms over my shoulders and has me dancing with him:
BG: Can I dance with you now?
P: Well, I'm really just here with my friends.
BG: You're just trying to avoid me. You look at me, and all you see is a black man. But you know, I got a degree, I'm educated. I got a job.
P: [silence - what the hell do you say to that?]
BG: I've been wanting to grab that ass all night.
P: ... That's just a line you use?
BG: No, I'm being dead serious (and then he grabs my butt!).
P: [Looking over my shoulder, throwing a pleading look to Fabiano, who just proceeds to laugh at me]
BG: So what do you think, I wanna take you out... I would take you out for some cheesecake and Mexican food.
(Seriously, I kid you not. Those are his words, and it came out in that order - what?!)
P: You don't even know my name.
BG: Well, whats your name?
P: Parmita - what's yours?
BG: Elbee, E-L-B- double E.

Yea, that's pretty much the end of that.

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 57^th st between 2^nd and 3^rd. 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.