Ramblings Onsss July 14, 2006

Dude, here I am making more money than I ever thought I’d make, and my bank account is broker than broke. I’ve been thinking about this:…hmmm…haaaww…I’ve said…why am I so bloody broke after I just got a fat check?

Then it occured to me: I am keeping myself in the lifestyle to which I’ve grown accustomed, and there is no way one person can ever make enough money–from scratch–to support that! I mean, I’m ridiculous. Who really needs 2 personal trainers? That’s more than half my pay-check right there. Not to mention that no matter how hard I try, I cannot live on $20 a day for food in this city. Food–sure–but what about drinks? And snacks? And desserts? And lunch time shopping trips? Hellooo! $20–I think not.

And toilet paper? I mean…shit man…I’m always fucking running out and having to use my kleenex box. What happens when I use up every kleenex box in the apartment? I’ll have to wait till my grandparents come back in August to get more boxes because that shit is the real expense in bathroom materials! Then when I run out of toilet papge I’ll be seriously screwed and have to resort to Domino’s napkins and the back of my hand. (Only for pee–and I wash it right away! Like you’ve never done that before!?!?!)

And I’m forgetting the regular stuff like toothpaste and razor blades. I feel like as soon as my credit card is cooling off from the last Duane Reade excursion, it’s time to swipe again.

Who can honestly live on a five-figure income in NYC?

Not me, that’s for sure. Imagine if I had to pay rent!!! Atrocious. I can barely cover a pedicure and an eye-brow threading, and tomorrow I want to get my hair done. Wow–I wonder if my parents will let me use their card. I’ve confiscated my own credit card because it keeps getting me in trouble.

Onto other news, I have a little crush on Bo, therefore I’ve deleted his number from my phone (as I’ve done once a week for the past 3 months), and decided to no longer respond to any contact he may try with me. I cannot fall for a gay man.

Not again.

The weather is getting a little cooler in Nuevo York. The rain helps, although I didn’t make a sale all freaking day. I’m #3 in the region though, so I guess that’s worth something. Tomorrow the numbers will change, so let me just have tonight to gloat.

I’m #3!!!!!!!!!!YIIIPPPEEEE!!!!

–End of Post–

In Response… July 3, 2006

In response to the comments I’ve been recieving:

Stephanie–I get an HIV test every 6 months. Everyone should. If I sleep with one boy or twelve, it is my responsibility to myself and my sexual partners to be sure of my health. Why aren’t you getting an HIV test every 6 months, Stephanie? Getting tested doesn’t mean you’re a slut or even that you are infected. It’s the responsible thing to do. I would encourage everyone to get tested as often as possible. There’s no harm in knowing you’re OK.

Peta--I have a fine self-esteem. I love myself better than anyone else. Having occasional moments of self-doubt is normal and healthy. I wouldn’t want to meet the egotistical bitch who thinks she’s perfect all the time. Through the process of writing in a stream of conciousness fashion, I dispell doubtful thoughts from my mind. Once they are out, they can’t hurt me anymore. It’s not that I have low self-esteem, its that I’m human, and I operate on a binge/purge system of mental health. Thank you for the self-help book anyways. It’s a very kind gesture.

Readers-At-Large: The last two months of my life are rather out-of-the-ordinary for me. It’s not my habit of getting involved with almost-married-men, or having one-night stands with dubiously straight actors. I only ever sleep with one man at a time. Bo and I haven’t had sex in two months. Kyle and I had sex four times over the course of five weeks. All that is done now. My blog may portray me as over-sexed, but in reality, I’m not actually getting that much.

Stephanie Again: Despite the personal situation between me and Kyle, the fact remains that we are passionate about this business. That isn’t a question and it’s not something I want to get out of. Don’t ‘I told you so’ at me–this is my project, my baby for goodness sakes! I can bitch and carry on about how Kyle betrayed me personally all I want, but don’t think for one second that I’m not devoted to our partnership. Men come and go, but business is business. If I could, I’d invest my $5K again tomorrow. Stop thinking of me like a child–as emotional as I can be, I am careful about my money. This is still a great investment and has incredible potential for success.

Everyone Else: This is my private blog space. It’s not a forum to discuss how fucked up I am, or even a place to express your opinions. It’s for me! I let you read it because you few are the ones that I consider friends. Don’t abuse the privelege or I will take my writing elsewhere and not give you the address.

Daniel’s Here! May 13, 2006

Daniel Chin Yee is here. Yay! We’re having a party and I’m meeting his best gf tomorrow. But tonight…we’re partying…downtown…and pre-gaming on memosas….:) I love my life!

cinco de mayo fiestas! May 6, 2006

It’s cinco de mayo and I’m drunk. that’s right–after three months of liquid celebacy i broke out with a giant memosa. wow-1 drink and there u have it. SMASHED. i want to have sex and now i don’t care with who.

i’ll be down on third avenue if u need me…chatting it up with the F/X traders and hoping i run into someone with their own place. (my grandparents are still here so my place is out of the question). ideally i’d like to have sex with nate or mark. preferably nate bc he’s a better lay, but then again, mark is safe and i know i’d never fall in love with him.

HAPPY 5th Maiteys….here’s to you, kids!

Sex Dreams, Pregos, and Another Day at the Office May 3, 2006

It dawned on me suddenly today: it’s been two and a half weeks since I’ve had a day off. I had a half-day-off last week, but it wasn’t enough. I’m totally exhausted. This morning when my alarm went off at 7:30 for my 9 o’clock Wall Street meeting, it interrupted a delicious sex dream with a random guy who I kept calling Kyle. (Kyle is my boss). The guy didn’t look like Kyle, but I was saying: Kyle stop it, I’m going to be late to the Launch meeting. I guess saying his name in my dream stirred me into a wide state of wake, because I got out of the apt in under 45. Ew.

I can’t even get away from work when I’m sleeping. How the hell do people have lives and jobs simultaneously?

Also, everyone around me is pregnant. A girl at work today thinks she’s fatted-up. Adrian is — at this very minute — having a C-section. Wow! Laura and I are so close to being aunts I can hardly breathe!

The thing is: I want to be pregnant. This is really bad because I feel like the next loser I sleep with will immediately impregnante me. I want it too bad — they don’t make rubbers strong enough to escape my strength of will.

News May 1, 2006

After careful consideration, and many many sales, I’ve decided to keep my job. I’m good at it, I pretty much do whatever I want, and the VP (in addition to all my upper management) has asked me personally to stay. What can I say? It’s good to be needed.

In other news, I am never falling in love again. This is a concious decision and not a ploy, or tempt of fate. Really now–enough is enough. I don’t understand men and obviously they don’t care too much for me (past sex), so I’m cashing in my chips. LOVE: leave me alone!

In even other news, I have a crush on one of my clients. Bryan. Accidentally today I ran into him and blurted out: Oh Bryan, i had a dream about you…I mean, you were in my dream…ugh…

yea, I’m a smooth one. Oy veh.

More ARGGG April 26, 2006

Do you see why I had to put my two weeks notice in? My job is making me crazy. I am losing faith in all humanity because of the people I deal with everyday. My co-workers are amazing — I love them. My clients are fantastic too, don’t get me wrong. But it’s those awful mother fuckers that string me along, blow me off, and use and digaurd me without a bat of an eyelash that make me want to tump a hole in a wall!

I’m a Jamaican woman. Hell hath no fury…

Tomorrow I’m interview for a receptionist position at a hedge fund. My temp agency called to say: dress conservatively. Black suit, whit high-collared blouse. Minimal everything. Also, Amanda don’t talk about growth — it’s just a receptionist job. I thought she was making a joke so I emailed her back saying: haha, ok no growth talk.

Her response: what was the haha? stay focused…

Stupid bitch. Why don’t you swallow a box of laxatives and get it out of your system.

Dumb whore.

Anyhow, I have two promising interviews on Friday with magazines. Fuck the hedge fund. I hate white people.

ARGGGG!!!! April 26, 2006

On deeper reflection, I’ve come to the conclusion that people do not deserve trust. People, not in general but rather very specifically, are horrid. They lie. They say they’ll show up for an appointment. They say they’ll come back because they love you/your product/themselves–they say noble promising things, frought with false hope and unprecedented expectation.

HOLD UP! that mother fucker just signed online! Out loud to my empty apartment I just screamed: You’re Alive!?!?!?!?!

OK, that’s it. ALL PEOPLE ARE HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE PIECES OF SHIT AND IF THE WORLD ENDS AND WE ALL DIE, WELL FUCK! WE DESERVE IT!

Goodnight!

Quitter April 19, 2006

I quit my job yesturday. I loved it when I got to do it, but I couldn’t take the rejection and disappointment. I was losing faith in humanity. People are so horrible.

Monday Morning Musings April 17, 2006

There are more pressing issues in the world than this, but here’s what’s on my mind right now:

Tila Tequila has re-made Bob Marley’s “No Woman, No Cry” and put it on her myspace page. ugh! OK, so I love Tila for being a hot slutty Asian-American girl, and for accomplishing all she has in the past years, like everyone else, but hey now Tila: don’t re-do reggae! Especially not Bob Marley! It sounds fuuny if you replace the ska beat in the background with your child-like, clear-as-a-bell voice. Sorry Tila, you lost my vote on that one. Keep it to techno/electronic/alternative or whatever you’re calling your sound these days. Reggae is not your homecourt.

(But Tila I still love you so don’t get mad! You’re in my top 8, aren’t you?)

Right-io then, moving on…

My grandmother has decided that I should move back to Jamaica in June. Just when I have a job, she decides this! I love Jamaica and I want to go back, but the question is what will I do when I get there? and Who will I date? Sad to consider that there are no men I fancy in my homeland. Sure, there are small crushes here and there, and I sometimes entertain the possibility of something more occuring, but truly I know it never will. The fact is that if I move back to Jamaica I will never have sex again, and as a healthy, attractive, 22-year old girl, that is UNACCEPTABLE!

As an alternative, I’m also thinking about moving to CT. Can you imagine? Me in CT? AGAIN? Craziness…