Chrissy's Blog

Happy Friday the 13th!

I was covering a shift for my boss and unfortunately had to work this day. However, it was kind of an awesome shift to work. My boss wasn’t there, and the unpleasant vets don’t work on Fridays. It was slow, and we listened to Billie Holliday and laughed.

I had plans to go out with my friend Kayla that night to see a band play in the East Village. She texted me mid-day to let me know that a tragedy had happened to one of her friends, and she wasn’t up to going out. I totally understood, but I was also in a panic. I didn’t want to spend Friday night alone in my apartment. I was worried I’d feel lonely and sad. Plus, not going out on a Friday made me feel like I wasn’t living up to this new, exciting life I was creating for myself.

Within an hour, the gentlemen from the bar the other night (who had bought me a bevy of drinks and raffle tickets) started texting me. I knew where it was going, but I was just so afraid of being alone on a Friday night. Finally the text came asking me out to dinner and a broadway show.

There it was. Something to do on a Friday night. A really amazing date that I would never be able to afford on my own. But my stomach cramped up and for a moment, I thought I was going to throw up. I was conflicted about wanting to have something to do, but being PETRIFIED of ever dating again after having my heart completely smashed. I talked it out with my co-worker, and I decided I just couldn’t. I had to face my fear and instead of frantically texting people to find something to do, I had to enjoy my own company for an evening. I texted the guy back and just told him the truth, that I just got out of a long-term relationship and was not up to dating at the moment. He texted me back that he understood, but I should know that I am a “super cool chick.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

I stopped by a Taqueria by my apartment which was pretty legit. They were watching “Ratatouille” in Spanish, and there were quincenera cakes everywhere. I got a burrito and a homemade ding dong or is that a ho ho (pictured above.)

My night home alone? It was pretty awesome. I played music and wrote until the wee hours. It wasn’t depressing or scary or lonely. It was actually, dare I say it, fun.

Last winter, I found a book called “1001 Things to do in New York.” It’s the perfect touristy guide, because it is written by two New Yorkers. While it includes some of the obvious things like Rockefeller Center and Times Square, it also lists a lot of insider things to do. One thing it mentioned was visiting night court in Chinatown. I mentioned it to my co-worker, and she was super gung-ho about it. So after work on Thursday, we met up with her Australian friend and went. We were so excited for drama and chaos.

It was actually kind of dull. The main issue was that we couldn’t hear anything. While the judge had a microphone that was very low, no one else did. For the most part, we had no idea what was going on. Plus all the cases we saw were run-of-the-mill and not very exciting. I still want to go again another night. Maybe it was just a boring night in general.

My UW alumni group invited me to a charity event at a bar called the Australian. I’m still not clear on the charity, something to do with kids and diseases and summer camp. All things worthy of monetary support. Plus I was hoping to meet some new UW alumni people.

It was $20 to get in and that included a free drink ticket. I got myself a whiskey and ginger ale and looked around the bar for my alumni group. I searched everywhere and didn’t see a soul that I recognized. At the last event I went to, they had their own section at the bar with a sign. This time, I realized, I was just invited by someone from the alumni group, but this wasn’t actually an alumni event. Unsure of what to do, I leaned up against a wall, drank my drink, watched some baseball, and decided once my drink was done, I would head out.

I was not two sips in when a big guy with a huge smile appeared before me. He thanked me for helping the kids and we got to talking. He owned a large finance company based in Connecticut and was friends with the charity’s organizer. I told him my situation, that I didn’t know anyone, and he took me under his wing. He introduced me to all the people he was with and ordered them to buy me drinks and raffle tickets (they were his employees after all) and put it on his tab. It was a surreal experience, and I constantly had a fresh drink in my hand and new people to talk to. I felt myself get drunk quickly though and didn’t necessarily want to be with strangers in that state, so I slipped out.

I headed toward Grand Central, excited about the leftover Pad-See-Ew in my fridge when these two girls flagged me down. I thought they wanted directions, so I stopped to talk to them. MISTAKE. They wanted to inform me about God the Mother, who is apparently God the father’s better half. They pulled out bibles and showed me where there was proof of her existence. I told them that I was raised religious, but that religion was not a factor in my life, and I was perfectly happy that way. They wouldn’t stop! They kept telling me that I only felt that way because of how stifling and patriarchal the Catholic Church is. I told them I was not raised Catholic, and I just didn’t need religion in my life to make me feel whole. I respect that some people do, but not me. They would not let me go. I couldn’t be rude enough to walk away, but I was so frustrated that I just wanted my THAI food. Finally, I got away and headed home to the delicious noodles and veggies I had been craving all night.

A couple of things about this picture.

1.) My nails. I got them done at Beauty Bar the past Friday, when I was drowning my sorrows about my bed frame. They have a deal where they offer a cocktail of choice and a manicure for $10! I usually am not a big fan of manicures, but these are really basic ones, and the girls that give them are awesome, and I kind of love chatting with them once in a while. I told her to do my nails whatever color she liked best. All week I got insane compliments about how stylish and trendy my nails were. That is something I NEVER hear. From now on, I’m just going to let them pick the color.

2.) My Ikea mattress! I got sick of the airbed and just stuck my QUEEN mattress on the ground and started sleeping on that. It’s not super comfortable, but it gets the job done for now. Plus I had a super awesome mattress pad on the way.

3.) My wrist. I thought this picture would show it more, but it doesn’t. I’ve lost somewhere between 15-20 pounds since my break-up. I was already relatively slender to begin with, so it’s not really a good thing. I was stressed, upset, and once I got over the initial can’t-eat-phase, I just got so stressed out about so many things that I basically forgot to eat. It’s not all bad. When people go through difficult situations they can either gain or lose weight. I’m glad I lost weight, because gaining it back will be so much fun! But right now, it is kind of strange. My manager at work pulled me aside and told me I was getting too skinny. I’ve never had THAT situation before. My eating habits have been getting better, but it was a strange thing to watch happen, almost like it was happening to someone else.

I took a lovely stroll around my new neighborhood. This sign was posted outside some sort of Asian church. Wise words my friends.

This is a really sad story. Please have your tissue ready.

I had been sleeping on an air mattress for longer than I ever thought I would have to, and before that I spent over a month sleeping in the bed that the ex and I had shared for a year and a half. Needless to say, I was anxious to have a new bed.

I had the day off and was sleeping in when I heard the door buzz. I flew out off the air mattress like a kid on Christmas morning. My bed had arrived!! I signed for it and quickly went to work. I really enjoy building Ikea furniture, because it is simple, but I always feel industrious after I have constructed something new.

I spent hours putting it together, breaking only to shower, head out to buy a hammer at the hardware store and grab a cup of coffee. I had such a smile on my face the whole time, thinking “Look at me! I’m strong and independent. I am making my bed, and I can’t wait to lay in it!” Roommate Shannon came in to check on me a couple of times and marvel at my progress. Finally, the frame was complete. I asked for her help to add the bed slats on top. As we are laying them out, I realize that they are much to wide. Worried, I call Ikea. I give them my order number and everything, and then all I hear is laughter. LAUGHTER. The Ikea phone-lady was laughing at me. Between chuckles she said, “You ordered a FULL size bed frame, and a QUEEN size mattress, and QUEEN size bed slats.”

“Can I exchange?”
“No, that bed frame only comes in a full.”
“How do I return it?”
“You have to ship it back.”
“But…..I already built it!”
**********Laughter************

Long story short, I had to order another bed frame, a Queen size one. Sadly their cheapest Queen size was not nearly as cheap as the Full size which I sold on craigslist. I was so frustrated at more money down the drain and no bed to call my own. I left it there, all constructed and shit. I went out and drank about 3 Manhattans with a friend of mine. I had to drown my sorrows.

Our little darlings are growing up so fast! At this point, we have an exam room just for them that we put them in during the day so that they can play. I used to take little breaks in there, but it is almost too wild.

One time I stepped into the room to text my co-worker about our paychecks and when I looked down there were three kittens attached to my jeans meowing up at me. It was cute, but it was odd having to rip them off of me.

Pictured is Oona (my favorite) who I brought up to the front desk to play, but she was very very tired from her long day of frolicking in exam room 6. This was her preferred sleeping position, which I found oddly endearing. As I write this (on May 24), she has been adopted out to a nice young couple. They picked her up today and kept saying how much they were in love with her. I am very happy for my little Oona, but goodbyes are never easy. I’ll miss her dearly. She was so darn sassy. But, as one of the doctors said recently to me, “They’re looking less like cutesy kittens and more like responsibility.” Too true. I’ll have a kitten one day, but right now, my life is too all over the place.

Also, happy belated Cinco de Mayo! I came home and found my roommate, Shannon, with a bottle of tequila and limes. We took shots and had some roommate bonding. I really like my roommates, and I am thankful every day for that.

This is the nervous picture I took driving across Queens Bridge into Manhattan. My new roommate, Kier, had rented a U-Haul truck, but unfortunately, they wouldn’t let him drive it since he only has an Australian driver’s license and a Korean one. (He’s a very interesting guy!) So I agreed to drive it for him in exchange for “breakfast,” which turned out to be coffee and a pseudo Egg McMuffin from Dunkin Donuts, but I know the guy is broke so I took it very graciously. Plus driving a U-Haul in Manhattan is kind of fun. I like driving. I don’t really miss having a car and all the expenses that go along with it, but I miss driving around. I had work at 10, and we had to return the U-Haul before 9. I believe we got up at 6. Actually I got up at 6. He returned from his other apartment at 6 to meet me. He hadn’t slept in two days! Kier passed out in the seat next to me, and I happily listened to NPR while driving through the downpour.

I used to love every puppy I passed on the street. Living in the Upper East Side, it happened a lot. Dogs are symbols of wealth in this city more often than not. At the clinic, we rarely actually see the owners, because the owner’s have a fleet of dog-walkers and housekeepers to take care of their pets. A lot of the pets are really small, fancy, breed dogs. While at one point in time, I thought they were cute. Now I often think of them as dull, like live stuffed animals that just sit there. No personality. Nothing. Just another silly status symbol.

This Yorkie’s name is Melina, and she is NOT one of those dogs. She was dropped off in the middle of the night when her owner started to worry about her not eating. I passed her on my way to the break room the next day. I usually try to not look into the crates, because a lot of the time, the dogs are in a sad state, and it just breaks my heart too much. But I couldn’t not look at Melina, she is feisty. She has these googly eyes and does little spins in the crate when someone looks her way. She was soooo cute. So much energy for not having eaten anything in days. Eventually they got her eating again, and she went home.