Dashboard Confessional

For some strange reason, cab drivers tend to pour their hearts out, let go of their inhibitions, pull a Lifetime-movie and express their feelings. To me. Now, once is odd but can be dealt with. Twice, maybe a coincidence? But three times? Maybe I should shave my head and start making everyone call me Dr. Phil because this is what it’s come down to. This string of dashboard confessionals [Oh, I am so clever. Bask in my cleverness people!] began with a Caribbean car service driver who, during the short drive from Gerritsen to mi casa, proceeded to fill me in, in detail, on his struggling love triangle relationship with his coke fiend girlfriend and her drug dealers [“The triangle is not a friendly shape, okay? It's pointy, it's got sharp edges. Triangles hurt people.”- Cohen (!) I swear, most occurrences in my life can translate back to one of Cohen’s quotes of genius-ness]. As usual, I was buzzed beyond belief and therefore cannot remember or share my brilliant advice and slurs of wisdom.

Then, there was the angry Polish driver who was unsatisfied with his present automotive existence and dreamed of being an accountant. Yes, you read that correctly; he dreamed of being an accountant. He aims high. By the time I had paid the fare, I knew how and when he came from Poland to New York, knew the name of his first American girlfriend, and knew about the joy that numbers gave him. Numbers.

Then, last night’s cab ride from Manhattan just cinched it. A sweet Muslim man drove me home during which he inquired about the difference between boyfriends and boy friends, and interrogated me about the sexual behaviors and overt promiscuity of young American girls [who, us?], revealing that such, err, openness about premarital sex, condoms, etc. made his distraught and yearn for more spiritual and moral guidance in today’s youth. I don’t know what is it about me that makes people want to rip their hearts off their sleeves and hand them over, but they consistently do it. Whether it’s drunks pouring their hearts out to me while pouring another beer, or cabbies looking for an Oprah of their own, I am always on the receiving end [that wasn’t meant to sound that dirty], always the holder of their secrets, who is now publishing them worldwide on her blog. Good job. Ciao.

Random Bits

1. Sneezing with iPod headphones is very awkward. You can't hear if anyone says "God bless you", and therefore cannot say "Thank you" unless you want to look like a tard if no one actually said it. But, if someone did say "God bless you" and you don't say "Thank you" because you didn't hear it in the first place, you look like a bitch. These are the thoughts that wrack through my brain at night.
2. What genius decided to make women have their periods all at the same time? Fontbonne almost literally burst in equal parts blood and bitchiness. Fucking Eve and her fucking apple.
3. Shopping for a prom dress is worse than Brazilian bikini waxes and your favorite bra's strap snapping combined [Random side note: However, your favorite bra's strap snapping is a close second. You know the bra, the one that lifts and separates and gives you the kind of cleavage that usually means you're not paying for your own drinks that night? There has been many a time when I've tried to salvage a good bra by stapling or duck-taping the straps back on. I'm so classy.] I literally needed a machete to get through all the chiffon. Devil.
4. My friend Laura showed me this a while ago and it's the most Blog de Chree-worthy piece of Youtube Love that I've ever seen:

Raw Foods and Ice Cubes

Spring Break is officially here. WOOT! Okay, so I’m not on some Caribbean island with a boy attached to my arm and a beer funnel attached to my face as hoards of coeds bond with the rally cry, “Chug!”, but so far, vacation in grey, grungy New York beats a beach bum hump fest any day. Plus, exposure to sunlight transforms me into a 5-foot-three-inch lobster. Shit happens.

Saturday after an excruciatingly long day at work [I’m about to quit. I’ve been saying that for the past two years so don’t pay any attention to me.], went to Bay Ridge to hang out with Mike, Justine, Chris, Desiree, Alex, Will, Zain and Gabby for a sober but fun evening. Partook in such dangerous events as car tag [one car is “it” and has to “chase” the other car around the neighborhood…yeah, don’t try it at home], set to an amazing soundtrack of The Transplants and Ricky Martin [Livin La Vida Loca!], hood surfing [Alex and Justine clung to the hood of the Cruiseship while Mike looked for a parking spot. Again, not recommended if you somewhat value your life], and trying to steal jello cups from senior citizens [Do not ask]. Then played the name game for a while, and had a sing-a-long to old school Good Charlotte with Desiree on the way home.

Sunday, my parents proved their already established insanity by hosting a Dinner Party Competition in my house. Aunt Carm and Uncle Steve judged as the Usuals divided themselves into five teams and each threw their own dinner party to see whose sucks least. As a direct result of this absurdity and in protection of our own dwindling mental capacities, I, Hootie and Steph escaped the mental asylum to go see a movie. Randomly ran into Mike, Justine, Zain and Gabby so I decided to be a fifth wheel and tag along with them to see the mind-exercising masterpiece, “Blades of Glory”. Um, yeah, if you didn’t realize that that last sentence was drenched in sarcasm, you will have to leave the premises immediately. Just so you understand.

Monday was a completely pointless school day; I had four frees and religion. Useless. Tuesday, decided to start vacation early and skipped school so I could do my first on-camera interview for UrGuide. Me, Omar and John the Breathatarian[who is actually just a vegetarian who really enjoys oxygen. Oh well, the name works] went to the Apollo Theater in Harlem for the premiere of “Are We Done Yet?” the sequel to “Are We There Yet?” Me walking through the streets of Harlem is definitely a sight to be believed; they probably thought I was an albino, I’m so melanin-ly challenged. But it was awesome just being on the stage of the Apollo, it’s so historic. I got to interview Ice Cube and Alicia Allen, who were both really nice and took the time to answer all of my questions, even though it was pretty clear that I had no idea what I was doing.

We didn’t stay to watch the actual movie because, frankly, the first one sucked harder than a Hoover and history tends to repeat itself. Instead, we met up with John’s friend Marcello, who is a photographer and is hilariously violent; especially towards slow pedestrians [“I WILL hit you! I will go second gear all over you ass!”]. We schlepped over to Chelsea so me and Omar could have our raw-food cherries popped at this all-raw restaurant Bonobos. We gorged ourselves on walnut pâté, sprouts and coconut chai, which, even for this butcher’s daughter, were surprisingly good. Afterwards, we parted so John and Marcello could finish a screenplay they were working on and I and Omar could finish editing UrGuide.

Yesterday, skipped school yet again because it was only a mass and apparently missed a very entertaining pony tailed Holy Roller with a guitar tortured the Bonnie congregation with Jesus-lover songs. Damn. I was enjoying my day of pistachio-inhalation and old school Will and Grace episodes [I’m talking old school, like when Karen didn’t have her whiny voice yet], when I realized I had completely forgot that I had planned to see “Curtains” with Winnie and the Broadway Bonnies so I had to cancel my plans with Jess and haul my ass to The Boner to meet up with everyone. I’m glad I did because the play was hilarious; David Hyde Pierce has exquisite comedic timing and the talent of the supporting cast more than made up for the unbearably grotesque woman sitting next to me chomping her gum like a cow and distracting me from the magnificence. Obviously, I highly recommend. Go see it. Now. Today was normal, although the morons at work were way more annoying than usual. Just finished up my way-delayed driving lesson and luckily I’m not that tragic so hopefully I’ll have my license for the summer. I think this is long enough. QAF is coming on and I need my Spunk! Fix. Ciao.