how to disappear completely.

Do you remember laying on your floor in college listening to Kid A?  Great album, but pitiful word-picture.  Anyway, I kind of considered my blogging hiatus to the tune of "I'm not here, this isn't happening." So you can imagine my surprise, when I realized that you all had in fact continued churning out collages, editorials, things called editorials but are really just collages, and so on.  Printed denim and heroin chic for 2013!  So what have I been up to?  Here goes:

1. Le Bernadin. 
Eric Ripert's sexy pout is kind of an aphrodisiac in and of itself, but I also ate a lot of raw fish, so who is sexy now bitch?  Unfortunately the 'barely touched' menu doesn't make you skinny as I was anticipating, but I got down with what my dining companion referred to as a "Jewish Flavored" app of Scottish Salmon, Candy-Striped Beets, Pumpernickel Croutons Horseradish Sauce.  Despite my Nordic good looks, you can relax, I am Jewish, he is by association, and thus its like, OK.  Anyway, my point is that never have I tasted such a good Absinthe cocktail since I got shitfaced at Bar Marsella and took my shoes off at the table.  Word to the wise, put on your best mix-ology frock and re-create this gem:  Brooklyn Gin, Lemon, Lavender Honey, Champagne, Absinthe.  Two words: You're welcome.  Lastly, I need to address the floral arrangements; their proportions were to die for! Large fromms with controlled and episodic blooms and I was in OCD-slash-large scale installation, heaven.  Email me if you want to know more, I just thought a retrospective on the caramel popcorn ice cream might be a bit glutinous to this audience.  

2. Wedding Planning.
I totally get that people die over this kind of thing and while that isn't exactly me, I will say I have discerning tastes and a demand for precise and accurate specificity.  I didn't exactly make the seamstress cry but suffice it to say that I sat silently at the venue while my mother, politely discussed a novel-length bullet point list, as her highly functioning adult daughter could not seem capable of doing.  Self-respect is overrated.  The bottom line is that the florist will need a floor-plan before tomorrow at 8 AM and somewhere to store these table numbers.

3. Firefly Music Festival.
I am sort of hoping that when I wake up I will be the type of person who rolls around naked in glitter so that I can finally go to Burning Man once and for all, but its unlikely.  Alternatively, I will stay at a luxury hotel and wear festival inspired outfits for this:

and by 'will' I mean that I spent all morning on a virtual line.  It felt like when I waited on a street corner outside of Sam Goody for Nirvana tickets, but kind of nothing like that at all.

4. Love and Inappropriate Behavior.

Finding someone or something to love is arguably the best adult choice you can make in life.  There is an article out there that suggests that there are 19 ways to know that you are loved.  Is this accurate?  Probably not but some of the suggestions are are reasonable, namely: They think about you when you’re not around (but I think about a lot of things not immediately before me); They listen to you. Really listen (clearly the above mentioned article is penned by a woman); You share a sense of humor (Have you met me?  Who wouldn't?); and They don't hide anything from you (Well that one is just rubbish).  Anyway, this is all ridiculous.  My point  is that I can pin-point love, for me.  Love is letting me sing August and Everything After in full dread-locked nasal tone, from start to finish and not be completely horrified.

5.  Meeting your Friend's new Girlfriend.
I am like 100% 50/50 this anecdote will get me busted if I tell it, so here goes.  We have a friend, lets call him M, who was dating a woman, whom by all accounts was lame on her best day, so we won't even give her a consonant or vowel.  In my estimation, albeit shocking, she was not fond of me either.  Our holiday party this year ended with them having an audible "You shut up" "No, you shut up" argument from our bedroom and she stormed out, in what is now referred to as the door-slam heard round the world.  Being English, M spent the next 20 minutes apologizing, grabbed his wig and monocle and scooted after her.  We all continued drinking, sitting in a very collegiate-like circle making episodic comments about the relationship (as all good friends do).  Cut to 11AM the next day, I am laying on the granite floor eating left over cupcakes Lena Dunham style learning third-hand that the kids done broke up.  So like all newly-minted singles in New York City, he falls in love the following fucking day.  Seriously, one English accent and all the birds come a-flocking.  I have been nay-saying this vertigo-style relationship from day one, but I saw it with my own eyes last night.  I was wrong, you can in fact fall in love the day after you end your four year relationship.  Moral of the story: be a believer.

6. Feh Factor.
I have been getting a lot of mobile messages which contain disclaimers at the bottom like, "Please disregard typos" or "Please excuse grammatical errors."  Is this what it has come to?  As a professional, but also a human being, I find this kind of crazy.  Should I end emails to my boyfriend, please disregard any cheating I might do?  Should I end emails to my clients, if I fuck this up please excuse me?  This trend has Feh written all over it.