Lost to Gain: sausage

I lie. I hate cognac. I specifically hate Hennessy and most other forms of dark liquor. I have bad memories with countless of this shady libations and I don't care to recall any of them.

That being said, on my walk to work this morning I passed a man (who was probably a bum, although he wasn't exuding any particularly offensive smell,wasn't wearing anything completely inappropriate or tattered, didn't look totally unkempt and wasn't muttering profanities to himself - so I can't say for sure, but I'm pretty convinced he had bum written all over him) who was pouring himself a beverage from a black bag. He was had a large see through plastic cup sitting on the side of a stoop, full of ice. There was a bottle of coke next to him, which he didn't give a second glance at any point. I watched him open a HANDLE of Hennessy (unmistakable to my well-trained eyes) and pour an entire cupful of that liquid from hell into the iced cup. What time was it? 8:54am.

The smile on his face as he poured though was...mindboggling, because I know what happens when people drink Hennessy and it's never good. Never, ever good.

This experience inspired me though. And no, it didn't inspire me to pick up a bottle of Henny, or to become accepting of day drinking (day drinking is only acceptable for special occasions, cookouts and the first day of vacations). It did inspire me to start writing down things I see on the streets of New York City (and in some of the establishments that I find myself at) in my phone, for blogging purposes.

That's right folks, I'm becoming a real blogger.

However, I think blogging has given my computer a virus and IT will be by later this afternoon to re-format my computer. Hell of a day I tell ya. (side note: I thought I lost this ENTIRE entry due to my computer crashing and I almost flipped my shit. THANK YOU AUTOSAVE.)

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It's cool if I look like the devil

On a completely different note, B and I went to prom last night (I will upload pictures when I put them on my computer). Yes, two 20-somethings went to a high school prom and let me tell you two things. One, getting there was no easy task and resulted in an issue with the car (nothing serious folks - but I'll tell you about it anyway) and two, I am thankful that my mother used to tell me I looked like a sausage when I wore clothing that was too small for me. I swear some of these girls are so deluded about the shape of their body and how clothing is supposed to fit that I think I need to open a new pair of contacts 3 weeks early from how dry they got staring at some of the messes at that damn prom.

Firstly the car situation. B came over after work and it worked out well because she now works 20 minutes from my house and gets off of work an hour after me. So I went to the chiropractor (which I'm only seeing because hopefully the letter from my doc can get insurance to cover my planned surgery - otherwise he does nothing for me) and then found my way home. We decided to be fat and get tacos/tostadas from the taco truck. In the end, a decent idea because we didn't get to prom for another 3 hours.


You can kind of see my make up skeeeelz

Anyway, with Mexican food in tow we made our way back to my house to get ready for prom. We were giddy and excited and I did some bomb ass eye make up for B (way better than my own, and I will tell you 20 times that I should work for Sephora if I drink after having done any make up - so says B). We ran into one problem though. Already running incredibly late I noticed my dad's bag was home, but not him. This lead me to believe that he had to car. I was right. He started bowling on Mondays again and wouldn't be home until 9:30pm. Of course prom started at 7 and was an hour away. It was 8:45pm when, after frantically calling his cell phone to no avail, I was forced to call the bowling alley and got into a stupid argument with him on the phone about needing the car and blah blah blah.

I was a whiny baby and I was expecting him to drop everything and come home with the car. I felt like an ass for getting mad and hanging up on him when he said he would be home in 45 minutes. He made me feel worse when he got home, but whatever. I'm a child. Move on.

Prom location

We got to prom at just after 10pm. We ate, probably too much, but it was relatively delicious (dessert far surpassed dinner in every way shape and form). My mother was being nuts, as usual. We tallied the votes for prom king and queen. It was relaxing. We danced a bit, or at least lingered around the dance floor. All in all, a pretty good night.

Let me tell you the real reason why I'm talking about prom though. Some of the dresses these girls were wearing, oh my fucking god. Who lied to them about looking good?

There were these twins in these short TIGHT dresses that probably were suffocating them or at least causing them indigestion. One of them was wearing this white lacey number and I swear she looked like the Michelin Man. It was awful and definitely not prommy. There were a bunch of Little bo peep wannabees with these very odd dresses. There were those who looked really nice and dressed their bodies well. There were dresses that made no sense and were very Gaga. The prom queen was essentially wearing a see through crystal/sequin dress. There were heels that could break your ankles just by looking at them. So much weave I wanted to make a basket to carry all of the garbage they gave out at prom in.

It was at this time that I wanted to thank my mother for always bestowing upon me a sense of semi-modesty or at least consciousness of the size of my body. Some things are just not meant for bigger girls. It's not sexy to be bulging all over the place. It's not sexy to leave nothing to the imagination.

Thank you mom for your not-so-kind by informative words. "Don't wear that, you look like a sausage trying to bust out of your casing." More people should take heed of your advice...sometimes.

Random pictures from prom: