Hi, I’m alive! October 15, 2007

Woo!
 
Though, really, I shouldn’t be. Especially seeing as I left work early on Friday, writhed around in bed with severe stomach pain, chugged some Pepto and then…ate Mexican food for dinner.
 
What can I say? I like living on the edge and also, guacamole’s siren song is impossible to resist.
 
Luckily, many of my symptoms have subsided and fully functional Clink is back in action. My uncle, the doctor, is monitoring the situation and seems to think that everything is fine thus far.
 
(Now watch, I’m going to totally die tomorrow and you’ll all be like “that idiot should’ve gone to see a doctor. She gets no sympathy from us.”)
 
Anyway. This weekend was so wedding-licious I can’t even stand it. I seem to be back in the wedding-planning swing after having been apathetic during much of the summer (must’ve been all that sangria I drank).
 
On Saturday morning, a few of my bridesmaids, my mother, my sister and I ventured into the garment district to try on bridesmaids dresses. Initially I thought that I wanted the girls to wear an array of dresses in the same color and fabric but different styles. That is until everyone tried on the sweetheart neckline dress in chocolate brown with a light pink sash and be still my heart, all of them looked breathtaking in it. So, um, yeah, that “an array of dresses! My bridesmaids will be individuals!” idea is hanging on by a thread, dependent on what the rest of the bridesmaids think. Seriously, little known secret: a sweetheart neckline looks amazing on everyone.
 
Though - gah - is $270 entirely too much to ask? My bridesmaids seem okay with it but part of me feels a bit guilty, even though it’s over $100 less than I was asked to pay for the wedding I was in. I should probably go consult my wedding guru (”Hi Martha Stewart? It’s Clink.”)
 
Sunday, M and I met a potential photographer in a Starbucks near our apartment and I think we both left with a little crush on him. He’s personable, talented and absolutely on the same wavelength (also: hot; bonus for the bridesmaids). He’s shot at our reception site before and says that Greek weddings are actually his favorite because, in his experience, Greek weddings have the most personality (if he was saying that just to butter me up a bit - it worked). Also: he costs about half of what the other photographers we’re considering cost. It’s like he hasn’t yet realized that, yeah, hi, you work in Manhattan and that in and of itself means you can charge an exhorbitant amount of money to photograph a wedding.
 
We might meet with another photographer just to say that we did but, really, I think we found The One.
 
Who says this wedding planning thing is hard? Puh-lease. (Brushes shoulders off.)
 

Dying. Farewell. October 12, 2007

I was going to write a post about how it’s Friday! And this weekend is going to be awesome! Because I’m going bridesmaid dress shopping! And having a wonderful Mexican dinner to celebrate the engagement of a friend! And we’re meeting a photographer, the photographer who could be ‘the one’!
 
Except, um, I may die before any of that happens.
 
I’m at work but only because it is absolutely necessary that I be here. Granted, I’m hunched over my desk, clutching my stomach and unable to do much else (except type, of course, because hi, I love you guys) but still, I’m here.
 
My stomach hasn’t felt right all week. I’ve been eating very light so as not to make it angry because when my stomach gets angry, it’s not a pretty sight.
 
Last night, I met up with one of my bridesmaids for dinner and because we hadn’t seen each other in months - months! - we decided to go all out. And by “all out” I mean we had french fries. As an appetizer. For example.
 
Big mistake.
 
The minute the check came, I felt something wasn’t right. I started to get the shaky, nauseous feeling that tends to come on right before my stomach decides to go a few violent rounds with my body. 12 hours later, something still isn’t right.
 
I won’t go into the gory details but I’ve never experienced this before - not even with my long and storied history of a sensitive tummy - and, judging by my symptoms, I should probably go to the hospital. Or at least to a doctor.
 
There’s only one problem: hi, I’m Clink and I work freelance and I don’t have health insurance.
 
The good news is that it has gotten a bit better. I mean, I’m no longer crying or writhing on the floor in pain, so that’s a good thing.
 
M has called me every half an hour since I got to work to make sure I’m ok. I’m half expecting him to show up, throw me over his shoulder and carry me - kicking and screaming - to a doctor.
 
This morning he said, “you’d better not do ANY googling of your symptoms, Clink. I know you let the internet pick what dress you’re going to wear to a wedding but that is not the same as letting the internet diagnose you.”
 
Of course I googled. And I’m pretty certain I have dysentary. Or cancer. Or some rare stomach disease that has get to be discovered and will probably kill me in the next few hours.
 
Ok, I really can’t sit upright any longer. Back to my hunched over position. If this is it, my friends, well…I’ll miss you. It’s been real.
 
Update: From Peter, which made me laugh out loud (and then, um, clutch my tummy in despair because laughing makes the tummy very upset):
 

 
 

Also, I called my uncle, the doctor. Left a message. As embarassing as it will be to discuss the symptoms with him, if he tells me to get my ass to an MD, then I will do it. And I have y’all to thank for even prompting me to call him because little known fact: I’m stubborn.

Ode to Mike. Also, Clink has had some really bad bosses. October 11, 2007

I’m guest blogging over at Mike’s place while he’s on vacation. My first guest-blogging gig ever.

Come visit.

Stuff. October 10, 2007

Really? Only Wednesday? Le sigh.
 
I don’t think I told y’all but this past weekend, my parents met M’s parents for the very first time. In retrospect, I kind of wish that it hadn’t gone as swimmingly and delightfully as it did so that at least I would have something to blog about.
 
Other than, you know, how hard it was to find the perfect gold shoes to match Dress #5 (purchased! Decision made! Thank you Internets!) and how Dress # Lots of Controversy About It Being Too White is also purchased and will probably be worn to my rehearsal dinner, if I can wait that long.
 
But yeah, the meeting of the parents was fine. More than fine. I spent way too much time beforehand worrying about it. I even told my parents that they were not allowed to talk about politics (opposite ends of the political spectrum) or baseball (Yankees fans, Red Sox fans, could get messy) with M’s parents.
 
“It’s okay Clink, we’ll just talk about The Hills,” was my father’s response. But even he ultimately followed the rules and everyone genuinely got along. No awkwardness. I know, right? What the fuck? Don’t they know I need at least some drama in my life at all times?
 
Anyway. Here is the final wedding outfit, complete with the accessories I have so far:
 

Why hello there, Dress #5.
 

Gold shoes with 1″ heels, for both comfort and so that I’m not an Amazon woman because at 5′7 and 3/4″, that is of some concern.
 
 

Gold bangle bracelet.

Part Deux. October 8, 2007

So, um, Internets? If I ever win the lottery, guess what I’m going to do? (I mean, other than buy every single dress in both this post and yesterday’s post because I’ll be so rich that I won’t have to bother myself with silly things like ”decisions” and “finances.”) I’m going to employ all of you! To do nothing but dress me! Via this website! And it’ll be awesome.
 
Moving on, here are the standings of the dresses at the moment because I am a DORK and also, a Master Time Waster. Seriously, you should bow down to my procrastinating skillz:
 
Dress #1: 13 votes
 
Dress #2: 1 vote
 
Dress #3: 4 votes
 
Dress #4: 9 votes (I CANNOT AFFORD THIS DRESS. Can I just throw that out there? Cannot. I bought myself four pairs of shoes this weekend before I laid eyes on this dress and now I am full of regret and woe. But I do have really cute shoes.)
 
Dress #5: 8 votes
 
Dress #6: 3 votes
 
I don’t know if this is what my mother called “pushing it,” like when she agreed to get us ice cream and then we asked if we could also go to Toys ‘R Us to get a Barbie or a video game and she was all “now you’re pushing it.”
 
If it is, indeed, pushing it, I apologize. But! But! I have to add a this dress to the mix because I stumbled on another website and now I’m all AHHHH, but the Internets haven’t seen THIS dress and what if THIS dress changes everything and there’s a unanimous decision and everyone’s like “oh that one, definitely, yes, do it.”
 
So, in the interest of full disclosure (does that apply here? Whatever, it sounds smart), here is the dress I found this morning that I heart with the heat of the ten thousand tanning lightbulbs I will be standing under in order to look perfect for this damn wedding:
 

 
Is it too light colored for an October wedding? Is it too WHITE to wear to ANY wedding? Do you think it will make me look pregnant? Should I just go try on #1 and #5 and see what looks best and call it a day? (And also, maybe stand and drool over #4 for a few moments. Sigh. #4, WHY DO YOU TORTURE ME?)

Dress Clink. Pretty Please. October 7, 2007

Later this month, M and I will attend what is known in our circle as the Platinum Wedding of one of his friends.
 
And since I’m, I don’t know, a girl, I want a new dress.
 
Like most women, I have a closet full of dresses but, of course, nothing to wear. I’ve been doing some research online - just to see “what’s out there” and of course I’ve subsequently fallen in love with a dress or two. Or twenty. Which is where you come in, since showing M the dresses online resulted in “that’s sexy” and “that’s sexy” and “that’s sexy” and “you’ll look great in anything baby”. He’s cute, but the man is of little help when it comes to these matters.
 
Here are a few of the dresses I’m considering, and why:
 

Dress #1:

Something you should know about me: I’m a sucker for anything lace and anything chocolate brown and pink. Also, this particular dress happens to hit at the smallest part of the waist and I’ve watched enough of Tim Gunn’s show to know that that’s ideal. However, I’m slightly worried about how revealing it is in the chest area and also, too prom?
 

Dress #2:

I absolutely love this dress. Love, love and also love. One problem: the back is a keyhole, down to the waist, which means no bra, which means problem (Dear Chest, You are a pain in the ass. Love, Clink). Also, is it boring? I mean it’s really just a plain black dress gussied up with a large bow.
 

Dress #3:

This dress isn’t nearly as sexy but there’s something about it. I love the color and I think the cut will be flattering to an hourglass shape like mine. However, this was the one that garnered the least emphatic reaction from M. Too conservative?
 

Dress #4:

Gorgeous. Especially with gold accessories: earrings, bangle, shoes. Except, um, it’s $420. But, um, I could wear it to my rehearsal dinner! So, really, two dresses for the price of one. Or something. Please help me rationalize.
 

Dress #5:

Simple, yes, but I love the color and I can again accessorize with gold and still afford to pay my November rent.
 

Dress #6:

See? SUCKER FOR LACE. Plus, it’s the cheapest.
 
So, there you have it. Well, that’s about half of it - I got too lazy to upload the rest that I have bookmarked. Plus, we’re watching The Fairly OddParents and if you’ve never seen this cartoon then you haven’t lived. HAVE NOT LIVED.
 

Damn you, Hooters. October 4, 2007

I don’t know if I’ve told you because, you know, I’m not very vocal about these things (snicker, snort) but I’ve been working a lot lately.
 
To be specific, I’ve worked 40 hours in the past three days.
 
Can I give a little shout out to Starbucks? Because Starbucks has held my hand the entire time, guiding me through on a wing and an espresso. Starbucks, I think I’ve officially forgiven you for that time I figured out that an iced lemon loaf slice has something like 1,500 calories (also, crack). You and I? We made it through. The end is in sight and I couldn’t have done it without you. Props, Starbucks. Props, indeed.
 
The only thing (other than, you know, a shitload of coffee) getting me through yesterday’s 12 hour workday, which came on the heels of a 16 hour workday, was the knowledge that I’d be going to Hooters. Yeah, yeah, wings, boobs, friends, whatever. In my mind, Hooters = grilled cheese sandwiches. And grilled cheese sandwiches = reason for living. (Seriously, hi, have you tried their grilled cheese sandwich? And have you ever thought of maybe dipping it in the hot sauce they keep on the tables? You can thank me later. Cash is preferred but baked goods will do.)
 
So a few of my old co-workers and I showed up at Hooters with huge smiles and huge appetites and huge “we’re hotter than any of the girls in here anyway, whatEVAH” attitudes.
 
Tangent: Have I told you my theory about New York City Hooters? I can’t recall, so I will just repeat it. Essentially, if you’re a beautiful, well-endowed (by nature or doctor, I don’t judge) woman in Manhattan looking to make a living off of your looks alone, you are a stripper at an elite club. Or an actress/model. Or at the very least, a waitress at a high class establishment. The beautiful cream rises to the top here, just like any other city, except the top far exceeds Hooters, leaving the Hooters waitresses in Manhattan to be relatively average looking(’relative’ being the operative word here.) However, in Smalltown, USA, Hooters may be the only place for beautiful women to make decent money off their good looks so the waitresses there are probably more beautiful than the ones in Hooters NYC. Omigod, does that theory even make sense? Don’t throw stones at me. It makes sense in my head, but my head is a very jumbled mess at the moment.
 
So what was I saying? Oh, right. Grilled cheese. So we rolled up to Hooters all “yay!” and then we walked in the door and WHADDYA KNOW. It was Calendar Girl Night. And there were exactly no women (other than said calendar girls) in sight. Also, it didn’t appear that they were serving very much food because WHO NEEDS FOOD WHEN THERE ARE CALENDAR GIRLS? Also, it was crowded. And we felt like shit about ourselves because the freaking calendar girls? They are freaking hot.
 
And what do women do when they feel like shit about themselves? Why, they eat pizza. And drink lots of wine. And maybe get a chocolate souffle with nutella and vanilla ice cream for dessert.
 
So even though there was no grilled cheese (*shakes fist at Hooters), it was the perfect way to cap off a hellish three days.
 
And then I got to crawl into bed with M and choose from a vast array of DVR deliciousness (Gossip Girl? Fashionista Diaries? ANTM? Top Chef? Biggest Loser?) I went with the Top Chef finale and I won’t spoil it here for anyone who hasn’t seen it but I was actually very pleased with the outcome.
 
Even if the episode didn’t feature my crush, Anthony Bourdain. Shut up, there’s something about him. Something I LURV.
 
Ok, I need some more coffee. And I probably need to stop writing (You: Um, yeah.)Also, I need Friday. Friday needs to get here immediately.

Update, courtesy of Julybug: Gawker was apparently at Hooter’s last night.
 

15 hours and counting… October 2, 2007

I’m still at work.

I’m posting this just for the record.

And also? In case my future, stay-at-home-mom self gets any wild ideas about how much fun it would be to go back to work, what a relief it would be to get away from the kids, how rewarding it would be to earn a paycheck again, etc.

Dear Future Self: Please note the time of this post. Don’t do it. Love, Past Self.

I’m starting to get a little delirious, I’m not going to lie. There is no end in sight. Send all the survival necessities, please. You know: wine, chocolate, a gun.

Kthnxbai.

Update: Just for the record (again) I had to be in at 9am. HEAR THAT FUTURE SELF?

Also, I updated my blogroll but I’m also kind of spaced out (WONDER WHY, FUTURE SELF!) and if I left you off accidentally or you would just like to be linked up in this mutha, then please email me at clinkny@gmail.com or leave a comment. Feel free to also reassure me that I won’t be this tired forever because holy lord it certainly feels like I will (again, FUTURE SELF, take notice). 

Love & Hate. October 2, 2007

Love: Birthday deliciousness from M. I came home to find a huge, homemade ”Happy Birthday, Baby!” banner and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from the expensive place in the neighborhood, the one I drool over whenever I pass by. He then came home from class with take-out and a package of the brownies that I can maybe possibly eat an entire container of, not that I have ever done so. Also, a gift card to Bloomingdales for an obscene amount. Seriously, ridiculous. To the point that when I opened it and saw how much he spent, I may or may not have hit him with it because is he crazy? On the upside, I can now replace four or five pairs of my beloved jeans. The man rocks.

Hate: I came in at 8:45am today and probably won’t be leaving until around midnight.

Hate: I lost my debit card.

Love: Am I sick because I’m actually excited about getting a shiny new one?

Hate: The woman from the bank asked me where I was from. When I told her that I live in New York, she said that she’s been here once and everyone was rude and she has no desire to ever come back. Um, hi? First of all I love it here and second of all I never asked you what you thought of my city and third PLEASE JUST REPLACE MY DAMN DEBIT CARD WITHOUT THE DAMN COMMENTARY.

Love: Monday night television. Seriously, does it get any better than Heroes, The Hills, How I Met Your Mother and Monday Night Football (I’m not cheating on the Giants if I root for the Patriots, right? Right? I can’t help it if Brady and Moss are a pleasure to watch.)

Hate: Seriously, WHERE DID I LOSE MY DEBIT CARD?

Love: My old co-workers are taking me out to Hooters tomorrow to celebrate my birthday.

Hate: Y’all, it is going to be a long ass day.

26. Officially. October 1, 2007

I’m a few hours in. So far, so good.
 
The awesomeness of my pre-birthday weekend can best be summed up in just a few photos:
 

The “one of each” dessert sampler at Landmarc.
 

The aftermath.
 

Manicures, in fall colors.
 
Not pictured:
 

-A dinner with M which consisted primarily of fresh guacamole.

-Capping that dinner off with a waffle cone medium-sized ice cream from Cold Stone (cake batter, bananas, peanut butter, chocolate chips; I have been to Heaven and it is indeed lovely y’all)

-Rock of Love finale. Yes, I cried. Shut up.

-A shopping spree in SoHo that resulted in two of the most awesome necklaces ever.

-A lazy Sunday morning with the Times, some sports and my boy.

-Saw Cameron Diaz. I don’t know why that makes the list but it does.

-The Giants won.

-Every time I got up to go to the bathroom after midnight last night, M sang Happy Birthday (while half-asleep) to me upon my return to the bed. Adorable.
 
And that was all before my official birthday. Yeah, I have a feeling 26 isn’t going to be so bad after all.