It's free, but...

There is always a catch.

I need a place to live. I see a craigslist post offering free room in a sweet apartment for a girl. The catch? I would have to rub moisturizer on the owner of the place after he lays out in the sun all day. I would be lying if I said I didn't respond to the ad. When staring poverty in the face, one considers extreme measures in order to ensure survival. I eventually decided against the idea (of course), but that idea of free rent is still so tempting.

I need to exercise. I go to the lovely free yoga studio near me for some relaxation and movement. It is packed, and I am stuffed in a corner next to a woman whose physical build reminds me of a ball of dough, with a leotard acting as the saran wrap keeping it all together. She laughs a lot, as I, Bi-polar Betty, sob hysterically. Then she coughs in my mouth. She is obviously a smoker, because my mouth suddenly tastes of nicotine. I gag in between sobs (it's been a long week). Free yoga? Awesome. Fat chick coughing smoker filth IN MY MOUTH? Hardly awesome.

I need to eat. I go meet a friend for $3 margs, and eat the chips and salsa they bring to the table as dinner. Cheapest dinner ever (free!). I wake up this morning to stomach cramps, and have been in and out of the bathroom all morning. I think the salsa was made by Ex-Lax.

Choose your free carefully.

Wise Words

Wisdom I would like to share:
1. Never jump up to bat at a leaf, no matter how dangly and fun it looks. Your flip-flop will bend when you land, you will tear the top of your toe off, it will bleed a lot and then get infected, and you will be in pain. Toes don't like to heal properly, despite being given the tools to do so. Rebellious little fuckers.

2. Running across a linoleum floor stark naked and soaking wet is a bad idea. A very bad idea. You will crash into things, crack your kneecap, and be rendered speechless due to the pain. Then, after improperly caring for said knee, it will feel like flames are shooting through the joint with even the slightest movement. Much like toes, knees don't enjoy healing. Unlike toes, you only have two.

3.Yelling at people on the street is often a wonderful way to boost endorphins and relieve stress. However, looking at who you are yelling at before unleashing a verbal tirade is a great idea. The gentleman blocking the sidewalk with his GIANT FUCKING UMBRELLA may happen to be the same 44 year-old you went on a pity date with. Having him turn around to see you barking obscenities at him can be really awkward (and almost as uncomfortable as the date itself).

4. Brown noodle mush will always taste exactly how you would expect brown noodle mush to taste. And it won't change forms before it exits the system.

I think this sums it up

ariella820: so i was reading in union square park on Sunday, started talking with the guy next to me, we ended up seeing a movie together and i gave him my phone number. he's not particularly attractive, but not hideous
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: ok, go on
ariella820: I kept ignoring him, but finally talked to him last night, and agreed to get dinner on thursday. at the end of the convo i ask him how old he is
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: well, he's either 40 or...
ariella820: older
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: NONONONONONONONO
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: CANCEL
ariella820: 44
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL
ariella820: he is 44
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: wait...is he jewish?
ariella820: DOES IT MATTER?!
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: yes, for your mother
ariella820: he could date my mother! fuck it, with some creative surgery, he could be my mother.
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: so... you canceled right?
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: please tell me you're NOT going to go through with this
ariella820: first I screamed and gagged. then I called a bunch of people to laugh and gag more. then i called him back and was like "about dinner, i already have plans HA-HA silly me..how about coffee" and it is then that i am going to tell him he's a creep
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: he may just think you're older. you could pass for 30-a very young looking 30
ariella820: TODD!
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: i mean it in the least offensive way possible. i PERSONALLY wouldn't think you were 30 if i met you
ariella820: way to dig yourself out of that hole
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: just make sure he doesn't pull the sugar daddy attempt
ariella820: while that would be nice, he is more than twice my age. i bet he has kids and divorces
SyphiLiTiCdRUid: lol, i love how we put divorce in the plural
ariella820: i am on a roll. first, the nasty college reject/bass player/waiter. then a french dude with a mullet (thank you, mace) and now this.

Behold the power of sleaze!

OuchMyHeadHurts (dot com)

Here's something new and different: I have a headache from talking with my mom on the phone.

It's now quite clear where I learned my phone-yelling habits. (I didn't even know I was a phone-yeller until an ex pointed it out to me through his scared wince, as my screaming reverberated off the car interior.) Holy hell, though. I don't know what was louder, my mother yelling at me from Colorado, or my own echo off the walls of my bedroom. Either way, my ears are ringing and there is a significant pounding behind my temples. Plus, my contacts have gone all dry and blurry, so I can't see a thing. Helen Keller lives!

Life is pretty decent otherwise. I am working at a huge corporation this summer, and the office environment is keeping me moderately amused. What I don't understand is humor in the corporate workplace.

Officemate 1: "Dean and I played golf on Sunday. He shot an 81. I told him to remember to bring his skirt next time!"
Officemate 2: "That Nancy!"
In unison: "HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!"

That's all for now. I think it's time for a special nightcap: 10mg of Ambien and a doubledose of the happy pills. You know how I feel about Tuesdays...

I HATE TUESDAYS

Subway rides to and from Astoria: $4
Cab from one Subway stop to where I should have been, after taking the wrong train and getting hopelessly lost: $6
Coffee for me and The Latest Boy: $6
Food to replace feelings after dragging my ass to Queens so that The Latest Boy could end our non-committed, non-relationship* (all the while begging me to "please dear God Ariella show some sort of emotion"): $8.50

Understanding the consequences of ignoring all of those red flags: $24.50, not including all of the shit I bought him, plus the cost of the Plan B (thank you again for that one, assface). So it's at least $150, easy. I bet you thought I was going to say "priceless!" Nope! This one cost me!

*Who knew that could happen??

I am a delicate flower

What up, party people? Apologies for the long hiatus. I finished yet another mediocre school year, and then spent some quality time in Israel. A fun place, but holyfuckisithotthere. I still recommend that everyone pay a visit there, though.

Here is a story you might appreciate. Since I had absolutely no clean clothes upon my return from Israel, the first thing I had to do when I got back to the city was laundry. I emptied out my suitcase and realized that even my typical choices for laundry-day attire were dirty. I usually have the benefit of choosing between the gigantic, too-big for Rosie O'Donnell underwear or the fetus-sized underwear. I had already worn the giant pair, so I guess my choice was made for me. On went the tight ones. I gathered my clothes and schlepped them down the four flights of stairs to the laundry room, which would have been fine, except for my underwear was already causing a loss of blood flow to...vital...areas. By the time I made it to the washing machine, I had perhaps the worst wedgie ever.

The kind where you feel like picking your nose might help. The kind where once you take care of it, you are so happy, you feel the need to call someone and tell them. You get the idea.

There were two other guys in the laundry room, but there were standing next to me and appeared to be looking toward the opposite wall. I couldn't wait any longer, and decided that instead of losing my ability to bear children, fuck it. I was gonna solve this wedgie problem. So I did. I salvaged my underwear from the depths of my...oh, well you know. I even think leg bending was involved. I let out a nice sigh, and glanced over to make sure those guys were still looking at the other wall. They were not looking at the wall. They were looking at the VIDEO CAMERA in front of the wall. They were taping some sort of skit, and I had just unknowingly lent my skills as an extra.

Not only am I disgusting in person, there is now video proof of me acting like the most indelicate pig in the universe. "Where is Ariella's elbow?" Oh right. UP HER ASS, along with the rest of her arm, retrieving her underpants. I panicked, finishing my laundry as fast as humanly possible. Then, I ran out of there as fast as my constricting little underpants would let me go.

The video is probably on YouTube already. "FUNNY HAHA GIRLS PICKS ASS WATCH NOW XX69XX" or something like that.