Okay, I'm going to say it now. My roomie and her boyfriend piss me off. Their hoity-toity, we're better than you attitude pisses me off. When she criticizes Michael for not doing enough around the apartment IN FRONT OF HIS BOYFRIEND DESPITE THE FACT THAT HE'S BEEN DOING WAY MORE THAN SHE HAS THIS PAST MONTH AND FRANKLY ALL ALONG, it pisses me off. When she opens my door without knocking, it pisses me off. When she criticizes the state of my bedroom, it pisses me off. When she and her boyfriend go, "Waaaait, we have a few more things to do before you turn off the light and we no longer get to use your room as a right of way" and further delay my sleep time even when I have to get up for work an hour earlier than they do, it pisses me off.
When she uses my rice cooker and doesn't do anything with the rice and leaves the cooker plugged in, it pisses me off. When she uses my food or utensils, and neither puts anything away or cleans anything up, it pisses me off. When she leaves all of her bath products all over the tub area while Michael and I considerately keep our bathroom real estate to a minimum, it pisses me off. When I'm trying to go to sleep and she's talking on her cellphone, it pisses me off. When I am talking on my cellphone and she asks me to be quiet because I'm inconveniencing her, it pisses me off. When she alerts me to something and it's obviously a thinly veiled criticism towards something about me or Michael, it pisses me off. When she borrows my DVDs and somehow thinks that leaving it faceup on my dresser or the coffee table is equivalent to returning it to the DVD case, it pisses me off. When she cooks food and leaves it sitting out when she knows she's going to be gone for days on end, it pisses me off.
When she criticizes me for any slight form of a PDA that I might display with Axel while she and her boyfriend pretty much suck face and drown the room in their sappy disgusting love goo all the time, it pisses me off. When she changes the way she thinks just for her boyfriend, and only when he's around, it pisses me off.
And I'm just saying, don't you ever judge me. A person who thinks they're better than anyone based on what they DON'T do in life should take a good hard look at themselves. They're all just frogs living at the bottom of the well.
I want to move out.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Sauna
Last night Axel and I went to the Russian Turkish Bath House. It's this dingy old place in the lower east side that is reputed to be the oldest bath house in the city. I went there once with Rachel (old roomie) after Axel suggested it. It was nice, though I think because it was a Saturday, there was more girl-watching on the mens' part, and I sort of...um...got molested by one of the masseuses.
Much better this time. Being a Tuesday night, it was mostly regulars who come for saunas, not for staring purposes. It's nice when it's like that, and people are willing to talk to each other so it's not intimidating like those swooshy spa places.
The basic routine was 1)go into the sauna (we both preferred the russian radiant heat room), 2) quick rinse in shower, 3) go into ICE COLD pool. Repeat 4 times, with a break for carrot/apple/ginger juice (yum!) and stuffed grape leaves. The pool was ridiculously cold, like dipping your toes into ice water. Axel would hop right in and tell me to come join, but I refused every time, so he'd always swim over, grab me and pull me in. I would cling to him in a sad attempt of not freezing to death and then realize he could easily dunk me so I'd swim away fast. I must admit though, after the extreme temperatures, one feels really nice and relaxed.
Afterwards, Axel took me to dinner at a Bavarian place nearby. The owner and some friends were part of a documentary that Axel was working on about punk polka. They were going to apply for a Grammy, but sadly, it was announced not too long ago that the polka category is no longer. When Axel saw one of the guys in the documentary, he went off to go commiserate and I took the opportunity to grab the check and pay. Mwahahah. Bavarian pork roast, even the watered down American version, is most tasty.
Much better this time. Being a Tuesday night, it was mostly regulars who come for saunas, not for staring purposes. It's nice when it's like that, and people are willing to talk to each other so it's not intimidating like those swooshy spa places.
The basic routine was 1)go into the sauna (we both preferred the russian radiant heat room), 2) quick rinse in shower, 3) go into ICE COLD pool. Repeat 4 times, with a break for carrot/apple/ginger juice (yum!) and stuffed grape leaves. The pool was ridiculously cold, like dipping your toes into ice water. Axel would hop right in and tell me to come join, but I refused every time, so he'd always swim over, grab me and pull me in. I would cling to him in a sad attempt of not freezing to death and then realize he could easily dunk me so I'd swim away fast. I must admit though, after the extreme temperatures, one feels really nice and relaxed.
Afterwards, Axel took me to dinner at a Bavarian place nearby. The owner and some friends were part of a documentary that Axel was working on about punk polka. They were going to apply for a Grammy, but sadly, it was announced not too long ago that the polka category is no longer. When Axel saw one of the guys in the documentary, he went off to go commiserate and I took the opportunity to grab the check and pay. Mwahahah. Bavarian pork roast, even the watered down American version, is most tasty.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Coney Island
Marlen's brother, Pablo came over for a visit this weekend. I realized as a person living in New York, I don't know much about touring. I hate having to figure out what to show people when they visit. I don't do much here beyond work, eat and shop, and go to dance classes. If none of those are interesting, and shows aren't interesting then I'm really at a loss. Marlen's brother had us all at a loss. No idea what he likes to do, so Marlen just took him to all the places she liked. I took the gang out to Flushing on Sunday morning for dimsum, which I think Pablo and Mark LOVED. Marlen was in the midst of food coma so I took them to Gramma's empty apartment where they just relaxed a bit while I waited for Axel to pick me up.
Axel and I took a little detour into Greenpoint for some coffee and cake, and then we made our way to Coney Island. There was a crowd of guys with zippy looking motorcycles riding around. Axel zoomed right by. They were more interested in revving their engines which I have learned is not a good thing to do to your bike. I did also notice that the girls on the backs of the other bikes were in horribly uncomfortable positions. Mostly because they were all the types of bikes where you have to lean over. Axel's is, to a degree, but I can sit up straight whereas those girls can't.
The beach was still too cold for swimming, but perfect for lying on a towel. We basically just lay in the sun and chatted for a few hours and then we got up and walked around. I tried one of the famous Nathan's hot dogs and then we went on the Cyclone (roller coaster!). Then dinner at an Uygur Restaurant in Brighton Beach. I think Uygur is the northwestern-most provice of China which borders Russia. The decor looked Tibetan, the people looked Turkish, and the food...tasted like Mom's cooking. Axel really enjoyed it and I told him if he liked it that much, he'd like mom's food. The experience was a little odd, mostly because I never expected a Turkish-looking person to cook Chinese food.
Then it was back to Astoria. A whole 45 minutes by motorcycle. A whole 45 minutes of fear sweat. No, it wasn't that bad, but I did whimper a few times when we went over a bad pothole and my butt momentarily lost contact with the seat. And it was gusty, very gusty. Axel tells me that it's an hour motorcycle ride to get to Fire Island, which we're planning on doing this summer. I told him he'd have to pull over every half hour so I could stretch a little. He assured me it wouldn't be nearly as tiring once we hit open road that wasn't pothole-ridden and start-stoppy. We'll see...there was a really nice moment on the way to Coney Island where the roads were smooth and the traffic was negligible. The sun was shining and there was water on one side and happy looking houses and grass and trees on the other.
Axel and I took a little detour into Greenpoint for some coffee and cake, and then we made our way to Coney Island. There was a crowd of guys with zippy looking motorcycles riding around. Axel zoomed right by. They were more interested in revving their engines which I have learned is not a good thing to do to your bike. I did also notice that the girls on the backs of the other bikes were in horribly uncomfortable positions. Mostly because they were all the types of bikes where you have to lean over. Axel's is, to a degree, but I can sit up straight whereas those girls can't.
The beach was still too cold for swimming, but perfect for lying on a towel. We basically just lay in the sun and chatted for a few hours and then we got up and walked around. I tried one of the famous Nathan's hot dogs and then we went on the Cyclone (roller coaster!). Then dinner at an Uygur Restaurant in Brighton Beach. I think Uygur is the northwestern-most provice of China which borders Russia. The decor looked Tibetan, the people looked Turkish, and the food...tasted like Mom's cooking. Axel really enjoyed it and I told him if he liked it that much, he'd like mom's food. The experience was a little odd, mostly because I never expected a Turkish-looking person to cook Chinese food.
Then it was back to Astoria. A whole 45 minutes by motorcycle. A whole 45 minutes of fear sweat. No, it wasn't that bad, but I did whimper a few times when we went over a bad pothole and my butt momentarily lost contact with the seat. And it was gusty, very gusty. Axel tells me that it's an hour motorcycle ride to get to Fire Island, which we're planning on doing this summer. I told him he'd have to pull over every half hour so I could stretch a little. He assured me it wouldn't be nearly as tiring once we hit open road that wasn't pothole-ridden and start-stoppy. We'll see...there was a really nice moment on the way to Coney Island where the roads were smooth and the traffic was negligible. The sun was shining and there was water on one side and happy looking houses and grass and trees on the other.
