Little Annoyances in the Big City

All I've done since Friday night is watch the Olympics. From my couch. It's making me happy, but sad. Sad that I stopped playing soccer after ninth grade. Sad that these girls are 15, 16, 17 years old and accomplishing such impossible feats while I sit on my couch and do nothing. Sad that I don't have a pool to swim in. Sad that I have no one to share in the victories with. I've been watching via FB with Andrew and text with Vince every now and then, but it's not the same. Matt and I did watch a crazy game of badmitten earlier, though. Never knew the delivery on those birdies could hit 200mph. Geezus.

We really accomplished nothing this weekend. I made some pretty good (pre-made) stuffed chicken breasts and baked lemon pasta Friday night, but we didn't enjoy it until almost 3:00 a.m. He called to say he was coming home at 1:15ish, I think, and then I guess the A train just never came. So he took the E uptown a bit and then waited another half hour for the A train. He said it was packed. At 2:30 in the morning, it should not be packed. I can't imagine the stress and strain of the people on that train. He walked in red-faced and exhausted and felt so guilty that he was so late. I felt horrible. I suggested we just not eat since it was so late, but he was hungry. And so was I. I mean, I waited for him all night... The meal was pretty good, and I only burned myself a little bit when I grabbed a pan that'd been in the oven for 45+ minutes. But I survived; Matt came home and made me hold a pickle and then dumped lime juice on it. A few minutes later, it didn't even really hurt.

After such a late night, we decided not to try to go see The Dark Knight Rises on Saturday morning. It's just too difficult. There's so much to do in Manhattan at any time of the day or night, but it's difficult to get there. The trains never seem to be running on time, the weather is either 90° or stormy... It's really hard not to have a car at our disposal. I thought I'd quickly run to B&N on 82nd Street yesterday to get Matt's half-birthday present (the Game of Thrones box set and a giant cupcake!).

I left during a thunderstorm (The radar showed that it was going to rain for hours and I wasn't going to wait around for it to stop.) at about 4:15 and by the time I got to the platform on my street, my jeans and feet were soaked. By the time an A train finally stopped at the platform (three just breezed right on by, not stopping and infuriating many of the people waiting), my feet and my jeans were mostly dry. I got to B&N at about 5:30. It should not have taken me more than an hour to get there, but the trains just didn't work in my favor. And I wasn't paying for a taxi. The ride home was much easier. I got in about 7:15. However, running to B&N to buy a book and getting back home would've taken me about 35 minutes in W-B. It took me almost three hours on Saturday.

When I got home last night, I was planning on doing laundry. I got all our towels and our bedsheets together and went downstairs to find that all three washers and all three dryers were in use. There was about 20 minutes left on the washers, so I figured someone would come down to switch their loads in about 25. I came back upstairs, ate dinner, and then went back down. All the machines were off, but no one had come down to unload. I went down four more times, every five or ten minutes or so, and nothing had changed. I wouldn't want anyone taking my clean clothes out of the washers and leaving them in a basket to get all mildewy in a dirty basement, so I wasn't about to empty the washers myself. Come to think of it, I wouldn't even be the type of person to leave my stuff in there and forget about it. I know that three washers and three dryers is not nearly enough machinery for six floors of people, so I time my loads accurately and am down there the second the washer or dryer goes off. But apparently not everyone functions that way. I gave up at 8:30; considering it takes about an hour and a half to do a load of laundry and the basement closes at 10, it wouldn't have been smart to put anything new in after that. But the nerve of some people! I've hogged all three washers/dryers in the past, but I was always down there to switch it on time. No one ever had to sit around and wait for me.

So I figured I'd just do all the wash today. And Matt figured he'd wash his really gross, crusty, smelly work clothes before work this morning.

And when we woke up, the elevator was broken. For the second time in one month. He, again, didn't want to go to the laundry mat. And I wasn't going to sit in one alone all day. So... nothing got washed. Which means I'm going to have to try to smush them into multiple loads throughout the week with everyone else in the building. Which is going to be SO frustrating!

So yeah... that's basically been my whole weekend. Olympics and irritations. (And if Phelps doesn't start winning, even more irritation!) I'm also have a few tummy issues that I'll spare you the details of, but let's just say that I can't scroll on the computer or stand up too fast without feeling slightly nauseated. I think it has something to do with the breakfast we made on the fly this morning. Omelets with red peppers (and waaay too much salt) and toast. Oh, and smoothies with really old strawberries and bananas. Matt swore they were still okay to eat, though. But I'm thinking he lied to me just to get our money's worth.

Oh... and I finished Apron Anxiety and am very disappointed that there wasn't a classic happy ending. I mean, it was happy. She is happy, as far as I can tell. But I love when relationships work out. And the relationship she had with Chef just wouldn't work. I feel like she could've tried a little harder, but maybe she just didn't have the personality or the right attitude to accept that at that time in his life, his career had to come first. I don't know. Maybe I'm just weird... I said to Matt today, "I wonder what it would be like to be a normal couple for a week." He laughed and said, "You signed up for this." And yeah, I did. But it's weird. I'm used to him not being around, but it's different now that we're living together. I feel like I actually notice that he's not around more. In college, I had so much schoolwork, I was working three jobs, and I was living with my parents. I always had something to do or someone to talk to. And most of the time I lived alone, we were broken up. So of course he wasn't around all the time; I didn't expect him to be. But now we share this space. And he's not here when I am, and I'm not here when he is, and it's just odd. I know this is a subject that keeps coming up in my blogs, but it's only because it's been on my mind so much due to the book I was reading. Now that I'm moving on to something new, I don't think I'll be thinking about it as much. Or at least, I hope I won't be.

So... what's coming up this week?

• I checked my work email a few hours ago and I have a pitch meeting scheduled with my publisher at 10 tomorrow morning. Hoping to convince him to publish this one cookbook! I'll know by 10:10 tomorrow. Cross your fingers!
• Dinner at DBK with Andrew on Monday night to sample the Restaurant Week menu.
• Gym at least two times.
• Tentative happy hour Wednesday night with colleagues.
• Possible visit from two of Matt's friends for Thursday and Friday. No idea if he even mentioned it to them yet, but I know he was planning on asking them. If they do come in, then...
• Date night would move to Saturday night. Which means I have time to plan a menu. If I can find peppermint extract, I can make the thin mint cookies from the recipe we've both been talking about since Thursday!

Date Night #1: Stuffed Chicken and Baked Lemon Pasta

So, it's date night in the big city! And I'm in my jammies on the couch watching A League of Our Own ("There's no crying in baseball!") and waiting for Matt to tell me he's leaving the restaurant so I can put everything in the oven. The time is currently 12:38 a.m.

It's crazy that bars are open until 4 a.m., but we haven't been out to any yet. It's so hard. He gets home so late, and he never wants me to meet him out because he's all sweaty and gross and tired from the kitchen. And I don't blame him. And the drinks are pricey. It'd be better to pregame and head out, but we live so far away from everything that by the time we'd get anywhere downtown, we'd be sober. Especially if we had to wait a half hour for a train.

I'd ask some people from work to go out on the weekends, but it's difficult because none of them actually live within a reasonable distance. Bronxville, Astoria (that one may be doable, but we haven't been talking much these days), and Connecticut. Effing Connecticut. That's like, an hour and 20 minute train ride every day, twice a day. I wouldn't ask anyone to make that trip in to get coffee or a drink or anything like that. And I sure as hell am not making the trip out!

I learned today that there's a really good chance that my publisher will accept my first pitch next week. There aren't too many cookbooks on the Spring 2013 schedule, and the one woman's blog is well-written and her pictures are fantastic, so there's really no reason not to take it on. I'm really excited about this opportunity. I mean... less than a month full-time and I'm already acquiring titles? It's unreal. And, again, something I didn't think would be happening for a very, very long time.

I also learned today that I get two copies of every book I work on. I didn't really do more than a pass or two of the books I got today (three), but it's still pretty cool. Free books are always okay with me! I'm giving the other copies to the girl who I replaced, since she really did most of the work for them. I think I'm going to meet up with her and another girl from the office for coffee one of these days. And then she goes to med school and I'll probably never see her again... Oh, well...

Back to date night... It's 12:50 and Matt's still not out yet. He's texting, though, so they must be cleaning up. This dinner will be later than I thought. But that's okay. I'm a natural night owl, anyway. (And I went to the gym today!) I've always done my best work at night. I think it's the college student that's still left in me. That'd explain all the naps I like to take, anyway lol.

I'm about three-quarters through Apron Anxiety and I'm loving every minute of it. I don't think I've read a book that I can relate to so much since MWF Seeking BFF (which I still highly recommend!). It's so weird because I feel like I'm reading about my own relationship. The late nights, the constant disappointments (due to work-related events... private parties, early prep, inventory, weekend specials, holidays), the feeling of being "second." I can't necessarily say I relate to the love of the kitchen the author develops as her relationship breaks down and she travels the country looking for new places to eat and cook, but I did kind of enjoy playing around in the kitchen tonight. I had the New Found Glory channel on Pandora playing as loud as my Kindle could handle and I sang and danced around to bands I listened to non-stop in high school. It's crazy how you don't hear a song for years, but the second it comes on, you can remember every lyric...

It's 1:06 and Matt's still at work. Hasn't left yet. I'm hungry. Very hungry. The table's cleared off, all the dishes are done, and I finished the little bit of freelance work I've been able to scrape up at around 9:00 while I watched the opening of the Olympic Games (big creepy baby...). I guess I can just try to stay awake and maybe read a bit until he at least tells me he's getting on the train. Once the oven is on, I have to stay awake and check it every now and then.

I was going to make a salad, but I don't think we really need one now. I'm just cooking some cheese and cranberry stuffed chicken breasts that I bought at Trader Joe's last night and then I made Baked Lemon Pasta. Hoping it all turns out okay... As in, the chicken is cooked and the pasta tastes decent. Never know with low-cal stuff.

Matt's on his way home now! Time to get movin'! We're going to see The Dark Knight Rises in the morning (if we get up) and then I'm going to head out on my own and buy him a half-birthday present. Because we celebrate half-birthdays in this apartment. Always have, always will. People (I...) like to feel special!

Being in a Relationchef

I'm reading a book called Apron Anxiety, which is a memoir written by a writer who had absolutely no desire to cook, bake, or learn about food until she started dating a chef. She calls her relationship a "relationchef," hence this post's title. She gave up her own career as a journalist to move to Washington, D.C. where her boyfriend-turned-fiance (so far—not sure if they get married yet) opens two restaurants and travels the world to promote them, his cookbooks, and himself. (He was a contestant on Top Chef.) At first, she doesn't really want anything to do with the cooking aspect of his life...

But then the long days and nights without him get boring and depressing. She gets tired of spoonfuls of Nutella and bowls of cereal for dinner and he gets tired of never having any food in the house when he finally does get home after midnight and is exhausted and famished. (She hates grocery shopping, as well). She grows to be extremely unhappy and can't seem to accept that their relatinoship is unconventional; it frustrates her that she attends most family parties and friendly get-togethers alone, and she hates that their time together is so limited every day. She decides that she has to find a way to fill all her free time. (My initial thought was... how 'bout get a job? But I suppose when you date a reality-television star/celebrity chef, there's no need for that nonsense.) She wants to pick up an activity that he'll support and that will rejuvenate their relationship. So she decides to start cooking.

Every day, she bakes or cooks something new. And every night, when Chef comes home, she has dinner ready for him—even if it's 1 a.m. They eat together in front of the television, cuddled up on the couch and watching whichever shows they're following. When I read this part, I got an idea...

A few weeks before I found out about/interviewed/and got a position at my company (remember—this all happened in about two days), I cooked a real meal for Matt for the very first time. In the past, we'd made a few meals for our families and he'd cooked for me once or twice, but I never thought of trying to cook for him. On a calorie-counting high at the time, I downloaded a cookbook on my Kindle and set to work making him coconut crusted chicken, coconut rice, and a salsa to put over both. I also made the salad dressing on our tropical salad. I made cookies, too, though I admittedly burned a whole batch of those. He was impressed, and I felt accomplished. I vowed to cook more often and had bookmarked a bunch of recipes I thought I could handle.

But then all this happened and I haven't made anything more complicated than a tuna sandwich in the past few weeks. I microwave everything: chicken nuggets, steamed bags of veggies, corn on the cob, pizza... If there are microwave options on the box/bag, you better believe I'd rather push a few buttons than dirty a pan, turn on the stove, and have to worry about burning myself while retrieving my food. In recent weeks, though, I've played with the idea of maybe trying to cook a little bit more.

This idea comes from my reading material, of course. But it also comes from walking around the Union Square Farmer's Market, surrounded by nothing by natural, homegrown foods. Honey, apple cider donuts, jams, fruits, veggies, meats, breads, pastas... everything. It just makes me want to eat. And, maybe, cook. On top of all that, I'm working on aquiring two cookbooks based on very popular food blogs. I helped one of the bloggers write a book proposal today and was seriously contemplating my abilities to make some of the sample recipes she included. I feel like everything is telling me to branch out... become a teeny tiny bit domesticated. I mean, Matt already cooks and cleans (and I love love love it!), but I suppose I could do a bit of work around the apartment, too.

So... I proposed a weekly date night. Every Friday after work, I'll go to the gym and then come home and make dinner for us. It'll be really late, but neither of us will need to be up super early on Saturday morning and I won't feel too guilty about eating late because I'll a) have exercised that day and b) try to make healthy-ish meals. I shared my idea with Matt today and he was very supportive of it. We're really not seeing a lot of each other these days, so it'll be nice to have one designated night to just catch up, share a bottle of wine, and watch our shows. (We're seriously behind on the new True Blood season.) Having dinner so late at night (or, early morning, if you so choose...) will be convenient for me, too, because I'm really slow in the kitchen. I'm not very confident in my knife skills or measurements and I constantly second guess and triple check my lists, so having all night to put something together will be better for me. Less stress. And I'll have time to clean everything up.

I don't know if this will be something we (I...) can keep up on a weekly basis, but I'm going to try. Our relationship really is unlike almost everyone else's that I know. We're working separate shifts and just kind of passing in the night. His days off are few and far between and any socializing done on either of our parts is done on our own. It kind of sucks. But it is what it is. And I knew that when we got back into it. And he did warn me several times. Now's the time to put our careers first, though. We only have ourselves/each other to worry about and I think we're both mature enough to accept it. Even though I think we both want to throw a tantrum every now and then. (I'm even pretty sure Matt threw one today when he realized his alarm never went off and he slept most of his day away...)

Matt has hundreds (literally) of cookbooks, but I think they're all above my skill-level at the moment. I have two. And I have also been frequenting PreventionRD and Iowa Girl Eats. (The two blogs that I'm trying to make cookbooks. But ssshhh.) We are currently working with two or three pots (no pans, because someone forgot them all at home... Ahem.), so the recipes can't be too complex right now. But if anyone has any easy, healthy suggestions, I'll take them! And I'll try to post pictures of my finished products... or of all my neighbors on the front sidewalk when I set the alarms off!

Quickie #2

Stuff to do, stuff to do... And if I'd stop taking 3–6 hour naps, I'd get most of it done! My sleep patterns have been so messed up recently. I think a lot of it has to do with a lack of discipline—I want to spend time with Matt, but I know the only way to do it is if I stay up really late. Every few days, I try to be awake when he gets home so we can watch a little bit of TV or talk for a few minutes, but it's difficult. It's so late. And I have to be up so early.

Another thing that's throwing me off recenlty is a lack of exercise. I went to Planet Fitness twice two weeks ago and I haven't been back. It's depressing, actually. I want to go, but I just keep finding things to do... like nap... It's really hard to get home at 6:15, eat, and then head back out alone. I think I'm going to try to bring all my gym stuff to work with me and either change there or change at the gym and just go straight there. That way I don't have time to think about how much I don't want to go or how I don't want to go alone. Once I'm there, I'm okay. I can stay forever, reading my Kindle and sweating my ass off. But it's the getting there that's the hard part. And stopping home in-between right now is like an automatic game-changer.

This weekend was lots of fun. Chatti came out to visit, which makes her the first person who actually said they would visit and fulfilled that promise. Which makes her even more wonderful in my book! We did so much in a two and a half day span that I'm having a hard time recalling it all. We went to Taka Taka on Friday night and had the most amazing (deep fried!) sushi experience ever. We closed the place and then went down the street to Matt's restaurant and waited at the bar for him to get out. Then the three of us were up until at least 3:30/4 watching Workaholics.

Saturday brought brunch at 181 down the street—a small, affordable cafe that Matt and I have become huge fans of—a walk around the farmer's market, exploration of three different book stores, and then a viewing of Spiderman. (My third viewing, by the way.) Then we trekked to Brooklyn to go to Mike's birthday party, which was on Kevin's roof—a roof that had the most amazing views. (See below.) It was great to see Mike and his friends were all extremely entertaining and welcoming. I had no idea that one of them had offered her couch if I didn't find a place to stay when I first moved to NYC, but I was as appreciative of the offer now than I would've been in May had I known.

Empire State Building and NYC view from Kevin's rooftop.

Being in Greenpoint for a few hours and walking around a few streets made me really want to consider moving somewhere else when our lease expires. There were real grocery stores (which, by now, you've figured out is important to me), people who spoke English... I'm sure I can find this elsewhere, and I definitely don't have my sights set on Brooklyn, but I think we'll be looking for a new area. I love this apartment, but the area doesn't feel like home to me. We rushed into this because we needed a place to live, and I think that's just fine. I'm happy with it, for the most part, but I don't know that I'll ever love my surroundings. I'm going to try to keep an open mind and let the neighborhood grow on me, but... I think it's going to be difficult. Especially if I keep visiting people and liking their areas better lol.

After a small mistake on my part on the way home from the party, we ended up taking an expensive taxi ride back home. Although it was costly, we just weren't in the mood to navigate the stuffy, humid subway system. Even though it's extremely convenient during the day, it's irritating at night. The trains run every half hour. So if you miss one by two seconds, you're stuck on the platform for another 30–35 minutes until the next train comes. I accidentally got us off the L two stops before we were supposed to and there was no way we were going to stand on the platform for another half hour, waiting for the L to come back around so we can go two stops and then wait for the A for God knows how long. So I forked over the cash for a cab and a relaxing drive up the highway. We made pizza when we got back and watched a few more episodes of Workaholics with Matt.

Sunday morning, the three of us were supposed to go see The Dark Knight Rises, but Matt had work in the afternoon and it was going to be too difficult to go all the way downtown for a movie and then come uptown for his stuff and go back downtown to work. (He brings a 50-lb bag of knives to work every day; there was no way—especially with recent events like the Batman massacre—that he was going to bring a bag of knives into a theater.) So Chatti and I went to Times Square to see the movie and then after burgers and fries on the corner (Hudson View Restaurant, not McDonald's lol), she left and I went to bed. At 5 pm. I was more than a little exhausted.

I have a feeling this whole week may be pretty exhausting. Matt's working six days (something he really hoped wouldn't happen just yet, but it's Restaurant Week in NYC... which means three weeks of specials, critics, and who knows what else) and we only have one night to go grocery shopping and try to hang out. He still wants to see The Dark Knight Rises, too, so I'll be back in a movie theater sometime soon. Aunt Fil is in town tomorrow, so I'll be meeting up with her tomorrow night. That leaves Thursday and Friday to myself. Maybe I'll go to the gym or something on Thursday, but I'm spending Friday night on my couch with a decent dinner while I watch the opening ceremony for the Olympics. Thrilling, I know. But I really need a night of nothingness.

(Tonight doesn't count because I've been trying to clean up a bit.)

Living with a Boy

Every now and then, I'm reminded of the episode of Friends where Rachel learns that Chandler's moving in with Monica and she, therefore, has to move out. At the end of the wrestling and packing and unpacking and fighting, Monica sits on Rachel's lap and says "I have to live with a boy!" and starts to cry.

Well... this is my "I have to live with a boy!" cry.

Matt's been here two weeks this Saturday. It's been an interesting two weeks, to say the least. When people ask how living with him has been or how we're getting along, I find it hard to come up with an accurate answer. The thing is—we barely see each other. I knew was going to happen, though, and am honestly okay with it. Our average day looks like this:

7:30 AM (if I'm lucky) – I'm up and getting ready for work, he's sleeping through my alarm and the hustle and bustle of me being late.
8:20 PM – I ask if he's set an alarm, he says yes, I leave.
12:30 PM – I get a text that says "I just woke up. :("
4:00 PM – His shifts start. All communication ceases to exist.
6:15 PM – I get home from work.
12:30 AM – I get in bed (maybe).
1:30 AM – He gets home from work and subsequently wakes me up to tell me about his night. (And he's so enthusastic about it that I don't want to tell him not to.)
3:00 AM (sometimes earlier, sometimes later—I have no idea because I'm sleeping by then) – He goes to bed.

It kind of sucks in a few ways, but at the end of the day, I know that this is actually a really good situation for us. One of our biggest issues has always been that I want more time with him and he wants more time to himself. (Clearly, this is an issue lol.) When we were broken up, I developed a sense of independence that I don't want to lose. I'm okay by myself. I actually don't mind it that much; I'm very rarely lonely. And to be completely honest, he's a huge distraction. When he's around and I have work to do... work doesn't get done. So it's really good that our schedules conflict, because I'm able to keep functioning on my own and he's able to get the free time that he wants. He's home almost all day, doing whatever it is he's doing (which is certainly not unpacking...), and then I get the nights to myself.

He was off this past weekend, which was nice, but we did so much running around that we didn't really have time to just hang out. Then he was off yesterday and after he made dinner (the first home-cooked meal to be made in this apartment in a month... and the first that did not consist of placing even a single item in the microwave...), we sat on the couch and he was like, "Now what?" I ended up falling asleep because I had an awful headache and he played video games. Then we put away about four loads of wash and I went to bed and he... I guess he played more video games. I honestly couldn't say.

There are little things that bug me, of course. I knew sharing "my" space wasn't going to be easy. But it's getting better. We bought a little dry-erase white board last weekend and hung it on the front door so we could leave messages to each other. Some of his are vulgar (if you know Matt, you know what his favorite thing to draw is...) and most of mine are reminders. He's been a huge help around the house; I hate cleaning. Hate it. Haaate it. And despite the condition of his bedroom at his parents' house, he seems to hate messiness. So I've come home to very clean bathrooms, kitchens, and floors a few times now. I can't complain. I didn't touch the Swiffer the entire three weeks I was here alone. I think he's Swiffered three or four times in the last week. I'm not super messy; I just really like making piles and I just don't feel the need to organize them every single day.

Anyway, yeah... So we've been getting along decently. It doesn't even really feel like he's living here yet. Actually, it doesn't even feel like I am living here yet. I still feel like I'm on a vacation, except I go to work five days a week. I'm waiting for him to have to catch a bus home. Or to not be around for a few days. Having him constantly around is weird. And when we go places like Columbus Circle and Lincoln Center and even down in Soho, I feel like we're just visiting. I have this overwhelming need to see everything and go in every shop and buy everything I want because I have to do it now. As though we'll never be able to come back. And then one of us says, "We live here. We can come back," and everything slows down a bit.

Every now and then, though, something ridiculous happens that makes me roll my eyes and have an "Ugh, you're such a GUY!" moment. Case in point:

On Saturday morning, Matt showered and then I heard him talking to someone. It was weird, but I figured he was on the phone. He came back into the bedroom to get dressed and I wandered into the kitchen to get a drink. I reach for the handle on the fridge and notice something on the oven. Upon further inspection, I discovered it was a pair of boxers. (As in, boxers he'd already worn.) I yelled from the kitchen, "Why are your underwear on the stove?" and he just laughed and retrieved them.

And later, he cleaned the stove.

In other, less disturbing news, work has been great. Very stressful, but super cool. I went to lunch with someone new today (the assistant sports editor) and I have plans to go out with the girl who sits behind me next week. I'm trying to cut down on lunches outside the office to try to save some money (considering all the freelance I keep booking with various companies doesn't work out—honestly, eLance seemed like a great idea until all the contractors turned out to be less dependable than the freelancers), but I also don't want to turn away the chance to make new friends!

Back to work, though. I edited an entire book today. Like, a book that I'll be in charge of taking through production and making sure it gets to print on time. It's the first one that I get to do from scratch, that Eleanor didn't already start before she left. I also got to pick the covers for the four books I have coming out in early 2013. That was fun. Tomorrow I get to read a sample manuscript and write a report on whether I think we should publish it. (I skimmed the first few chapters and I'm intrigued, so I may ask if I can work on it if we decide to publish.) If I wasn't entertaining my very first visitor this weekend, I would've probably gone in on Saturday for some OT, but Chatti will be here tomorrow night and I'm not going to make her sit around while I work!

Not really sure how to end this because I feel like I'm all over the place, but I do want to apologize for not updating as frequently. I haven't had that much free time; there's been too many places to go and things to organize and get set up. Hopefully as things settle down, I'll have more to say and time to say it.

I am not a hooker.

Last Tuesday, after the "book launch" (I use that term loosely...), I exited the subway stop near my apartment and less than a minute later I was accused of not being interested in some random stranger because he was black. I was minding my business as he and another girl (who he was trying to pick up, I assume) walked up the hill toward me. He said something to her like, "All girls with boyfriends constantly smile." And I didn't hear her response. Then as I pass by, he says to me, "How 'bout you? You're not smiling." And I ignored him, didn't make eye contact, and kept walking. So he turns around and goes, "Oh, I get it. It's 'cause I'm black!" Like... really? It's not because you're a large, strange man walking toward me in the dark? I don't care what fucking color you are—I'm not going to talk to you if you're obnoxious! Especially if 1) you're bigger than me and 2) I'm all alone.

Up until that point, I was feeling pretty good about myself that day. My hair stayed nice (read also: not frizzy!) all day and I felt really put together. I had had a great night out with my friends from work and I was basically on the top of the world. And then he made me feel like shit.

That's how I constantly feel when men mutter things to me out here. And I swear it only happens in my neighborhood. No one gives a shit who walks by them downtown or on the subway platform. But the minute I exit the subway and walk the less than a half a block to my apartment, I feel eyes on me. Old men are seated along the sidewalks, either hanging out at their cars (so they don't get parking tickets) or perched in beach chairs. (I've actually seen a few seated in beach chairs with their legs propped up on the seats of their cars.) Younger guys and teenagers ride their bikes and what not up and down the hill in large groups. Even the Dominos guys are getting creepy. On the way to the gym today, one of them gave me a "Hey, sweetie..." and then said who knows what and I just kept going.

I even had a guy literally try to pick me up on Monday on the way home from the gym. I was standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, and a silver sports car came around the corner, flashed his lights at me, and pulled over! I looked around me and I was the only one at the corner, so it's not like he was flashing at anyone else. When he pulled over, he honked, but I ignored him, and then he got pissy and sped away. I don't know what he looked like, but I was red-faced and dripping in sweat and my hair was probably wild. I didn't look like a hooker, and I certainly didn't look sexy. But no one else was around, and no one came running over to the car. So I can't come up with any other explanations for this man's behavior. I might be struggling to find extra freelance work, but I'm not that desperate.

What boggles my mind is that I think I'm just getting comments because I'm female. It's definitely not because I'm hot (Unless everyone out here likes their girls chubby? Which... now that I think about... might be the case lol.) and it's definitely not because I look like I want that kind of attention. Sometimes (like today, on the way to the gym), I'm not even all dressed up. I went out the one day in sweatpants and a t-shirt and someone at the grocery store said something to me. I guess that's just... the culture of the area? Either way, it's rude. And I know a ton of girls who would be so flattered and think they were getting hit on and what not. But, no. I don't like it.

In an effort to cut down on these uncomfortable moments, I've decided not to get all dressed up unless I know I'll be walking home with Matt or Andrew. If I'm with a guy, no one even looks my way. Matt, by the way, seems to think it's hilarious. He laughs when I tell him these stories. I'm sure if something actually happened, he'd be concerned, but right now apparently my discomfort is just another source of amusement for him. And that's fine... I mean, overall, I feel safe in this area. I think there are too many people around at all hours of the day for anything to really happen...

There was one time, though, that I think I came close to being robbed. A teen with big, puffy hair sticking out of his baseball hat came rolling down the hill and slowed down right next to me. He basically walked his bike down the hill alongside me (like, he was still seated on it, but he was walking instead of pedaling) and then yelled out to a few of his friends (in Spanish, of course). And then suddenly I was surrounded by teenage boys. Luckily, I was right outside of the entrance to my building at that point. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that I was absolutely terrified. In my mind, I was already thinking of which credit cards I had in my wristlet so I could cancel them the second I got inside.

Other than that, I haven't felt like anyone was going to snatch anything from me. And I'm pretty sure most of the men on the street are harmless. They make more comments than I know of (because 90 percent of them are in another language), but they're just comments, I guess. I'll get used to it, eventually, maybe... It just kind of sucks that I have to just accept that it's happening. They can't be the ones to just stop being pigs. I just have to let them be pigs and move on with my life. Of course this happened in W-B once in a while, but it's way more frequent out here. And I do not like it.

Cooking, Cleaning, and Subway Horror!

Earlier today, I got a text from Matt that said he cleaned up a little bit. A few hours later, I met him outside my office building to get the apartment keys from him before he went to work and he made sure to tell me again that he cleaned up some stuff. I could tell he was proud of himself, so I took a picture of the bed he made to always remember this moment by lol. He's so funny.

(He cleaned the bathroom, too!! But we don't need pictures of that...)

Anyway, since he made an effort this afternoon, I decided I'd do some laundry tonight to even the score. So that's what I'm in the middle of at the moment. It's only been a few days, but I think we're settling in nicely. I'm learning to share my personal space and he's learning to shut lights off when he's not in the room, close doors when the air conditioners are on, and not eat all the food. This last one will hopefully cease to be a problem soon, as he's planning on dieting with me. But we'll see. Half a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa were gone this morning. And a box of Wheat Thins was empty Monday morning lol.

To answer the questions about his first day at work (yesterday), I'll just say that he likes the establishment and the people he works with—he enthusiastically told me about how the executive chef screamed at a guy for plating limp asparagus the other day—but the kitchen will take some getting used to. It's the hottest kitchen he's ever worked in, apparently, and he keeps getting lightheaded and confused. I guess the one freezer is broken and he didn't know he had to have his own pair of tongs or something like that, so yesterday didn't go as smoothly as he'd hoped. But I know he'll get the hang of it eventually. He's one of the hardest-working people I know and I'm sure that once he catches on to the style of cooking and flow of the kitchen, he'll be running it.

I, on the other hand, would rather spend as much time out of kitchens as possible. Everything I made for dinner tonight was microwavable and I'm totally okay with that. Hopefully this weekend we'll pick up some produce at the farmer's market on Union Square and be set for a little while. I'm not sure what we're going to do with Friday and Saturday night; we haven't actually spent a Friday and Saturday together in... years. It has to be years. Since he started working in kitchens probably. So... 2006? Yikes.

In other unrelated news... my subway travels have been fairly interesting this week—and it only Tuesday! (Marie D. will appreciate that typo!) Yeah, Matt and I were stranded at the Harlem stop on Saturday night with frozen foods, but then Monday on the way home from work, I got stuck in a car where the air conditioning was leaking. And I don't just mean... a few drips. I mean, every time the train rounded a corner, water spilled out onto everyone in the back of the car. And of course it was 5:30, so the car was packed and we couldn't move anywhere if we wanted, and of course the majority of the spillage took place between the 59th and 125th street stops, so a bunch of us stood huddled with purses, magazines, newspapers, and (in my case) sweaters over our heads while dirty water rained down on us for almost 70 blocks. It was a nightmare; I've never seen anything like it. I immediately rinsed myself off when I got home.

Today, I was lucky enough to get a seat in a dry car on the way home from work. However, the older Asian woman who sat down beside me ruined the entire ride for me. First, she started singing to herself under her breath. And her breath was so stale, I thought I was going to die. And, again, it was a packed train, so there was no where to go. So I sat there with my hand (which I'd just washed with scented soap, Thank God) under my nose. And somewhere between the 59th and 125th street stretch, she fell asleep. And the stinky breath stopped, but she started to slouch. And twitch. And soon her head was almost on my shoulder. I had to keep shifting in my seat to wake her up. And she'd jump up, look around, and fall back to sleep. I almost got up at the 168th street stop, but luckily she got off. And apparently some guy was watching this all go down, because he made a comment similar to "I'll try to stay awake" when he took the seat after she'd left.

So those were two gross trips home in the past two days... What never fails to make me smile every day, though, are the people who are so willing to give up their seats for the elderly and the pregnant passengers. Most of the time, they're turned down, but I can tell that the passengers appreciate the offer. I heard an older man thank a woman three or four times the other day. I could tell he was genuinely thankful that she tried to give up her seat for him. It was nice. It also makes me happy when people (men and women) help women carry their strollers up the stairs and escalators. No one expects a tip; they just do it because they should. I like that. Gives me hope for my generation!