January 23


Well I am going on a second date with this guy. The one from Monday. Some interesting developments have taken place on that front.

  1. This gentleman has a pet snake that lives in his apartment. He informed me that the snake sometimes likes to break out of her cage and roam his living room. Snakes are my single worst fear in the universe. The snake’s name is Zia and it is one of those snakes to which that rhyme applies… you know. What is it? Red next to yellow is a friendly fellow and the other one kills you. I am not sure on which side of this divide Zia the Snake falls.

    So what do you think, is it gonna eat me or what?

    So what do you think, is it gonna eat me or what?

  2. This gentleman had a total freakout on Wednesday where he told me that he liked me a lot and wanted me to be more than a rebound girl to him and said “I know you like me and are fighting it, but I know you can trust me and I will be here waiting for that to happen.” Excuse me, what, we had two glasses of wine.
  3. He invited me to his apartment (in Harlem) to eat dinner with him and his snake and I was like “Maybe just drinks in the Village for now.”

Anywho. You are probably wondering why I am even going to get a beer with him after all of this and the answer to that question is he is really kind and seems to really like me, and the first date was fun, whatever happened since. Everybody gets a second try. If I don’t have fun tonight I’ll nicely end it.

The main adventure in my life today happened after school. I had to run to the Dept. of Education building and while I was over there I decided I needed Chipotle to reward myself for going to the gym for 40 minutes two days ago. There was a lady outside asking people for money and I didn’t have any cash, so I offered to buy her lunch. She came into the restaurant with me and we stood in line. She starts to tell me about her five friends who were also very hungry and wanted lunch. I nicely said that teachers don’t make very much money, and that I would buy her whatever she wanted but couldn’t afford to buy lunch for everyone.

She got the biggest burrito bowl I have ever seen, chips and guac, a tortilla on the side, and a drink. I didn’t mind at all, I’m sure she was very hungry and I was glad to do it. However, after I paid, she went back up to the cashier and started harassing her for more bags of chips. The manager came out and told the woman she had to leave, and she started yelling and making a scene. I walked her out but she was not happy… it made me wish I had just given her the money, but maybe the food was better.

Anyway. Friday. Must go do makeup for date #2. The bar that my date has picked is a (very) gay bar and I don’t think he knows. Doesn’t bother me in the slightest, I go there sometimes and always have fun, but should be interesting to watch him process this information.


Ah, crap. Roomie returned from pharmacy and I accidentally said “yeah” when she said “hi” and I guess the line was really long at the pharmacy and they messed up her insurance and she was telling me this and I was distracted by my blog post. I really cannot do two things at once. How do people multitask?


Must never tell any friends or family or snake-owning dates URL for blog in case they ever make me mad and I want to write about them.

What’s URL stand for, anyway?


Was supposed to have left five minutes ago and am somehow still in my pajama pants reading people’s blogs. Oh, bother.


If I wear yoga pants and boots will he be able to tell? But, like, NICE yoga pants.

I can’t tell if I am gaining weight, losing weight, or just changing shape from all this Miami yo-yo dieting but for some reason all my jeans are sliding off my butt when I sit down and I look like I crawled out of a Mississippi trailer park.

January 20



Roomie and I were cooking dinner and preparing to drink wine and watch the Bachelor when all of a sudden someone starts ringing our doorbell incessantly. This happens sometimes when you live in the hood, so we were ignoring it. Finally, we got annoyed and I went down to check.

It was Roomie’s ex-boyfriend, back from his two-month vacation and looking to reconcile.

This guy dated Trish for 7 months, told her he loved her, but somehow never texted her back within a timely manner and consistently stood her up. Roomie was finally getting better after he just up and left for the Caribbean around Thanksgiving. She was finally seeming happy again. And now he is here.

I hate this. She constantly, constantly ditches me when he’s around. I can think of a dozen times where we have been out and either he has shown up or she just sneaks off and gets in a cab and leaves me to go see him. Or the time right after Sam and I broke up where she left me alone at her friend’s apartment on Halloween. It’s selfish of me to say all of this. I should be a good friend and be happy for her but I’m just not. I was enjoying not being the only single one.

I guess you’ll probably be wanting to know how my date was last night. It was fine, he was really nice. Only dealbreaking flaw was he just broke up with his ex-girlfriend three weeks ago and kept talking about her. And he reminded me of my first boyfriend. Like, a lot. I’m not sure I want that again. He’s really into me, though. We’ll see how it goes.

I’m just not over Sam. I’m not. And he treated me like absolute shit. He never once acted like he was into me or wanted to be with me, it always seemed like he was just tolerating me which made me try even harder. I did everything for him. I loved him, I really did. I just keep hoping that he’ll show up at my door and say he made a mistake and that he wants me back but I know that he never will. I shouldn’t even want that. I should be trying with everything I have to move on.

I think I’m just having a really depressed day. It’s all piling up. I didn’t go to work, which was horrible, I just said I was sick so that I could stay in bed. My grandpa fell and broke his back and is back in the hospital. Nobody has any idea where my mother is. Now, Roomie’s boyfriend is back. It’s just all too much right now.

January 19


Have not blogged all weekend because was hanging out at Roomie’s family’s house on Long Island. This basically always means that her father buys me lots of delicious Italian food and I spend two days watching TV, getting fat, and playing with her black labs. Puppy therapy is definitely a thing. Their neighbors just got a little three month old black lab puppy, and it is impossible to be angry, stressed, or sad when you have a face this cute looking up at you.

I know, right???

I know, right???

The only downside of all this is it made me homesick for my own little black lab who lives out west with my dad. The 4 acres is great for her, but I wish I could have her here with me. It really is impossible to have a dog in the city when you have a job. I cannot afford a doggy nanny, so I wound up with The Cat when my depression prompted me to buy something warm and fluffy. If only she liked to cuddle and didn’t hate everyone I would be set!

Speaking of The Cat, I finally bought her a laser pointer. What they say about cats and laser pointers is turning out to be very true. She has gone ballistic. She is a slave to the little red light. As soon as she sees it she forgets everything else. I have devious plans to use it to train her to scratch one of her four scratching posts instead of my door frame, but I am not anticipating much success.

I am leaving here in fifteen minutes for a date with that boy I talked to on the phone the other day. He of the Pokemon and the “I don’t really look like my picture” comments. I am not sure how to feel about this, but I think at least it’s good that I am moving on from Sam. Or trying to, rather. Maybe I’m jaded, but I’m making bets with Roomie on what his OkCupid flaw will be (for those of you just joining me, Roomie and I have a theory that every single male on online dating has one flaw that they do not advertise on their profile that makes them inherently undateable, and it’s anyone’s guess what it will be).

I think I know what it might be, though. I think it’s this (actual texts):

This does not bode well.

I mean, hooray for fitness, but come on. It’s the playoffs. That Packers/Seahawks game was insane.

Not to mention, I’m one of those people who cannot touch her own toes, so I always have to use the special people block when I go to yoga. And then I fall over. This is why I do not do yoga.


January 15


Have just returned from gym. Yes, that’s right, I have gone every day this week. The only hiccup today was when I forgot my gym locker combination, despite opening it successfully 12 times already this week. FYI, it’s 4-6-26, NOT 6-4-26. People kept staring at me as I tried to open my lock 8 times and grew increasingly frustrated. Today was just one of those days.

On my way home, I was struck with the desire to cook. Now, if you’ve been keeping up, you will know that I cannot even hard boil eggs without catastrophe. Nevertheless, I have bought a lot of different kind of vegetables and will be shortly be attempting to create something palatable.



Was in the kitchen singing along to the Wicked soundtrack and happily stewing vegetables in a pot when Roomie poked her head in and asked what I was making. Well, you don’t just tell your Roomie you are making up your own recipe when she knows how disaster-prone you are. Our smoke detector is currently sitting next to the microwave sans batteries because I have set it off so many times we had to disable it. That is not a joke, that is actually true. It seems counter-intuitive, like maybe if I am that bad of a chef we should keep the smoke detector on. However. It’s very very annoying and persistent and there’s nothing in our apartment worth saving anyway. Bring on the fires!

Anyway, I informed my Roomie that I was making “Vegetable Pot a la Mode.” I added the a la mode to sound fancy. Of course I know it means with ice cream. I’m fluent in French. I can eat ice cream after, can’t I?

I think I overdid it on the onions and also Roomie suggested that next time I cut the garlic a little smaller. I should mention that the garlic in Vegetable Pot a la Mode was in grape-sized chunks. I was worried that if I minced it I would cut my fingers.  Anyway, the only actual casualty of this adventure was when I dropped a fork behind the stove. I don’t think it is coming out. A small price to pay for my healthy onion and noodle pot. Ever since I got a good look at the girls on the new season of the Bachelor, I have been obsessed with having thighs like a baby giraffe.

For your viewing pleasure I present Vegetable Pot, my first cooking attempt of the New Year

For your viewing pleasure I present Vegetable Pot, my first cooking attempt of the New Year

Also, I forgot to tell you. The guy from the other night finally called. 10:32pm. What does he think I am, some sort of scarlet woman?

It was alright, though, because it transpired that he was babysitting his 7 year old nephew and had only just gotten him to bed. We had a really nice conversation and he seemed too good to be true. If I tell you we talked about our favorite Pokemon, does that make me nerdy?

Right when we were wrapping up, he said “I have two things I have to warn you about.” And here I am in my bed drinking tea thinking, oh, my goodness, this guy is a killer. But no. The things were…

  1. He just got out of a long term relationship, but I told him that was alright because I had too
  2. He said he hadn’t updated his profile picture in a while and looked totally different.

Now, that bit about looking totally different is a scary thing in the online dating world, but he sent me a more recent picture of himself and he still looks cute. He has a nice smile and cute scruffy hair, but you can definitely tell he’s gained a lot of weight since his profile pictures were taken. Not that it matters. Or maybe he hasn’t gained weight and I am just looking for something to freak out about. Okay, he’s probably gained a little weight. Or not. It’s a picture of him from the elbows up, it’s not like I have anything tangible to go off of here.

Anyway, we’ve been texting and we are all fixed to get a drink on Monday. He’s nice enough that I know I’ll have fun even if I don’t end up being attracted to him.

Tomorrow’s Friday and thank goodness for that because I’m totally wiped out and it’s a three day weekend. Cheers to you Marty.

January 13


Did you know that if you get hot pepper in your eye the best remedy is milk?

These are things we are finding out in our apartment tonight.

I was sitting on my bed eating some corn after the gym (two days in a row! I know!) when all of a sudden Roomie starts howling in pain from the kitchen. She’s as terrible as a cook as me, which makes me think she has amputated her hand or similar. Rushed to her aid and she is hysterically screaming and crying because I guess she got juice from a hot pepper in her eye and the whole side of her face was on fire. This kind of pepper was the super super hot variety, evidently, a few million Scoville units past anything I could handle. I danced around for a few minutes because I didn’t know how to help her so finally I went to Google remedies.

Five minutes later she was laying on the floor of our living room while I poured whole milk into her eye and The Cat judged us from a corner.

It’s no wonder we’re single to be quite honest.


Firing up the egg cooker again. Karlie Kloss probably eats egg whites all the time. A dozen a day. No nachos tonight. I already brushed my teeth to avoid temptation of eating anything else but it will probably not work if I had to guess.

Waiting to speak to a promising OkCupid boy, who has asked if he can call me (which my friends think is odd and not in line with standard protocol). We started texting last night and he seems very sweet — he described his teenage sister as “beautiful and complex” and asked lots of nice questions to me. From extensive internet stalking (oh, right, they can see when you look at their LinkedIn) I have deduced that he is considerably taller than me and has a nice smile. I’m coming around to the idea of a phone call because I will be able to tell if he has an effeminate voice or not without having to put on makeup and go sit in a dive bar for two hours.

It is 8:30. Obviously I have other fabulous plans, I am not simply sitting in my apartment tonight awaiting phone calls from mysterious strangers. Also, it doesn’t do to call after 9, I learned this in manners school. Tick tock my dear.


January 12


Bumming around in my jams waiting for the Ohio State-Oregon game to start. My next door neighbor growing up is now a fairly well known football player for Oregon, and he was able to get my family really good seats. They’re all in Dallas cheering for him and Ohio State (Grandpa was a buckeye). I am heading up the NYC branch of our strange dual-loyalty fan club.

This weekend was good but also not. I hung out with the Roomies of Sam. I got to be really good friends with them when I was dating Sam, but now it’s like even when I hang out with just them he’s there, like a ghost. He’s still at the very edges of my life. I cannot separate them from him. I wish I could. I drunk texted him saying I wished I could.  As a result of all of this I felt really miserable after a fun evening with friends.

I drunk texted all my exes that night, to be quite honest. The only one who responded was the one who owns his own helicopter so I suppose it could be worse.

I have now been to the gym twice since January 1st. Today I went to find that my Pilates teacher of last summer has been replaced by a pair of scarily athletic Russians who screamed at me for being weak. Only one month and two days until I have to look hot in a bikini and here I am eating my way through a box of Russell Stover my student got me for Christmas.

In other news, I am currently messaging two cute guys on OkCupid, but am nervous to meet up with them due to aforementioned “everyone on OkCupid has some dealbreaking flaw that is not immediately apparent from internet conversation” thing. The memory of Miley Cyrus Voice, Eyes-Too-Close-Together, and The Shorty is too fresh. We’ll see. I imagine I’ll crack and meet up with one or both this week. I’m bored. I’m thinking one might be slightly effeminate in person, but the other one has real potential.

These are the updates from Brooklyn.



Ate a filling, healthy meal of salmon and brown rice for dinner at approximately 6:00 pm (after the gym). Was feeling healthy and righteous and at peace with the world. Thought perhaps would only have fortifying mug of green tea between dinner and bedtime. Night eating is for the weak.

Was not satisfied, so just made and ate a colossal plate of nachos.

Karlie Kloss does not eat nachos. Taylor Swift does not eat nachos. Jennifer Lawrence pretends to eat nachos but does not actually eat nachos.


January 10


It is freezing in the Big Apple and I have no heat. This means that I have been laying in my bed wrapped like a burrito in all of my blankets unable to move. This has led to a lot of unintentional naps on this snowy Saturday. Basically, I…

11:00am: Woke up, thankfully not too hungover from my friend’s birthday party last night

12:00pm: Mustered the energy to go outside with Roomie to find some breakfast

12:15pm: Returned to my bed. So cold in my apartment I had no other options. My plan was to get up and go to the gym at 1, but somehow…

12:30pm-2:30pm: Unintentional nap.

I wasn’t even tired! I just texted my landlord again to complain about the fact that we have radiators which are not functioning. I don’t think the one in my room has ever worked, but maybe he can turn up the one in the bathroom and the one in Roomie’s room and the heat will somehow reach me. The Cat is shivering in her bed and I want to go shower but I’m worried my hair will freeze solid when I get out of the shower.

Naturally, I could not be expected to gather myself and go to the gym. I’ll go every day next week. Probably.

January 8


Encountered my arch nemesis before 8am this morning and it is throwing off my whole groove already. Very cranky on the way to work because NYC Public Schools has this horrible thing called quality review where all schools get evaluated and bad schools get shut down.

Which, to be fair, doesn’t sound bad. We probably should be reviewing our schools for quality, no? But you’re not a teacher, are you? For us, it means principals breathing down our necks and us never getting it exactly right. Anyway, today is just a dry run before the real thing, which is in March. We’re all pretending it is real, at any rate. I was up until the wee hours lesson planning and making anchor charts.

So I was on the subway on the way to work, already in a mood, when I come across my arch nemesis. Doesn’t it always happen this way? When I am at my most stressed with spilled coffee on my pants I see significant exes and frenemies and all manner of unpleasant people. I am Murphy’s Law personified.

This chick is the worst. She goes to graduate school with Sam and Roomie and I so I have to see her all the time. And we simply loathe each other.

I started up with Sam in the Summer of 2013. About a month after we became “something” (in the style of the early 20s) it emerges one day at grad school that they live in the same building. What a hilarious coincidence. Give it three more weeks and Sam stops texting me back and I suppose he and she become some sort of an item. Neither her nor Sam nor any of our mutual friends mention this to me. This resulted in a horrible showdown at a grad school party where we were all sort of drunk and she prisses up to me and is all, “Oh Sam and I are SEEING each other, we thought you knew.” I run out. Tears. Drama. Both of them are Persona Non Grata for the rest of the summer.

Whatever, their very strong relationship lasted about one week after Sam moved in the fall and they were no longer in the same building. It was a matter of convenience, we all always said. Sam and I started up again a few weeks later (Oh, I went so wrong there. So many warning signs). We dated until October of 2014,  when, ten months later, he decides he is “not ready for a relationship” and dumps me. What he thinks ten months was if not a relationship is beyond me.

Takes about a week for that news to get around that we are broken up before this girl is sniffing around again. And the absolute worst bit? She teaches in the same building as me (different school, same building, welcome to New York) so I have to see her all the time.

She is the Kryptonite to my Superman.

Actually, Roomie and I call her the Green Goblin (I, obviously, am Spider-man). She’s very short, very manipulative, and is fanatical about the environment. Fine, love the environment, but put on some deodorant and do not jump all over me the one time you see me with a plastic water bottle. Also, the GG is a superfeminist of the type who spells it “womyn” and posts articles from Jezebel on Facebook every thirty seconds. This makes me sound like I do not like the environment and feminists. Now, this may come as a surprise (especially to the GG) but I’m environmentally conscious and a feminist myself. Some people simply take it to a whole new level.

As part of my New Year’s purge of my Facebook, I unfriended her. And then I thought she would notice, so I blocked her for good measure. Which she definitely noticed. And saw her for the first time this year today when we rode the subway together. I had to pretend to be asleep so we wouldn’t have to pretend to like each other.

In the words of the wise Miranda Lambert, “everybody says you gotta know your enemies, even if they only weigh a hundred pounds and stand five foot three.”


Quality Review test run was alright. All male teachers wore ties and all teachers regardless of gender used bribes to ensure well behaved children.

In the first five minutes of my third period four very important people came into my room to evaluate me. They questioned my kids and went through my papers and typed on their iPads for a half hour. I think I did alright. Tomorrow (Friday) I have a Big Scary Meeting to find out for sure.

Anyway, somehow, someway, after all this trauma, I made it to the gym for the first time of the new year. It’s January 8. Not too bad, on balance, could be worse. Some people don’t go at all.

And I paid $20 dollars for a monthly locker rental so I’ll feel guilty if I don’t go. And I discovered a machine (that probably has a real name that is not The Buttcruncher, which I call it) that I am convinced will create the booty of my dreams in just one short month.


The Cat continues to scratch my door frame despite presence of new $40 dollar scratching post. Sweet.

January 6


Well. I spent hours and hours giving feedback rough drafts of papers for my students, handed them back on Monday, and today the little rascals merrily handed in a heaping stack of final drafts to be graded. It never ends.

All that can be said for today is that other than going to the bathroom, riding the subway to and from work, and eating, I worked from the moment I woke up until the moment I laid down. Grading. Lesson planning. Calling parents to try to gently break the news that their children are failing. It eats away at a person’s life.

I am trying to cut down on pre-bedtime snacking because I have a tendency to consume two-thirds of my calories after 8pm which is supposedly terrible for your metabolism but after all of this i’m simply too cranky not to have a snack before bed, Miami beach body be damned.

Must keep strength up during these troubling times. Will stick to healthy snack like an avocado wedge and two walnuts.

Or, rather, pop-tarts.

Gym visits thus far this year: 0


January 5


First day back at work after vacation. Teaching middle school is somehow even more exhausting when I am supposedly well rested from a two week vacation.

I spent most of my planning periods daydreaming about my upcoming trip to South Beach. I was supposed to go to Costa Rica with Sam in February, but then when we broke up of course I had to plan some stellar vacation that same week to show him that I don’t need him and all that jazz. Whatever. Going to the beach with my best girl friends will be way better. I can drink margaritas and hit on cute boys with reckless abandon.

The fact that he’s not going to Costa Rica anymore doesn’t hurt either. Have fun sitting in freezing New York in February, loser.

After work today my work husband asked me the age-old question “Nap or Gym?” (At least it is age-old when you have been work spouses as long as we have). Having turned over a new leaf of not napping (did I include that leaf in the original resolutions? Should have done) I told him I wasn’t going to do either. It’s my first work day of the new year. No gym. I’m pacing myself. Besides, I spent at least 20 minutes trying to corral Alberto into his homeroom, and that’s some pretty intense cardio.

Must go tomorrow. Will go tomorrow.

Must also find a way to get cat to stop scratching the shit out of my door frame when I’m at work.



One unfortunate thing about me is I cannot cook a thing without having some sort of kitchen disaster. Isn’t there a saying about people who can’t even boil an egg? It sounds vaguely familiar, but maybe that is just because a few weeks ago I tried to hard boil a dozen eggs. I put them on the stove, promptly forgot, and was reminded about them an hour later when all the water had boiled away and the eggs were exploding all over the inside of the pan.

As a result of this, my hilarious Roomie got me some sort of idiot-proof egg cooker for Christmas.

The blue one!

The blue one!

I am about to attempt to boil eggs. She is safely away getting her nails done but I am carefully reading the entire instruction booklet nonetheless. I have to puncture each of the eggs with a sharp spike and place them in the cooker with the required amount of water. There are all sorts of accessories.




Eggs are bubbling merrily away inside my little pot of “impossible to fuck up” and The Cat is gazing reproachfully at the steam coming out of the hole. I should mention that the egg cooker is on the floor of my bedroom because we only have two outlets in our tiny NYC kitchen and they were both in use.

That’s a somewhat odd smell. Is it supposed to smell like this?

I don’t even have to turn this thing off. It has a SENSOR.



New lows: I have just realized I am using an egg cooker to get out of grading my students’ unit exams.



Eggs appear to be fine. No explosions, at any rate, but one very startled cat. I’ll chalk it up as a win.