Don't Flatter Yourself.

So I went back to the old stomping grounds a few weekends ago. (Did I even tell you about this?) Claire and I headed out to an infamous bar near the old homestead to have a mini high school reunion. Some of our old classmates were not invited, but sure enough were there in perfect attendance making me wish I was cutting class again and not seeing their faces and hearing their stories. Ahh... The good old days.

Needless to say, I took every opportunity I had to duck away from I-Think-I'm-Better-Looking-Than-Every-Girl-Here, I-Am-God's-Gift-To-Woman-Though-I-Might-Be-Mildly-Retarded, and I'm-So-Ditsy-I-Can-Barely-Function-On-A-Daily-Basis.

Sneaking off to a quiet corner to enjoy a cigarette, I spotted an Old Friend (Joe) with his new girlfriend (Tess) and a mutual friend of theirs (Kyle). The girlfriend is cute. She's a little airhead-ish and her voice is a tad too high pitch for my taste, but she's sweet, so I can't hate her too much. Joe is doing well and loving life, looking great, and enjoying the summer. Kyle is rather cute, though other than his build, he's not really my type. In fact, I HATED everything he was wearing, his choice of music, the fact that he doesn't read... ever, and is a few years younger than myself. Basically, in my book, all he had going for him was his witty sarcasm (big turn on for me), merciless behavior towards bimbos who walked in our general direction, and his hair.

He and I decided to retire to the smaller of the two outer decks where we can enjoy our drinks and smokes and avoid contact with people I don't want to see, and people he doesn't want to meet. We chatted a bit. Smoke a lot. Drank even more. And at one point he interrupted me mid-sentence for a kiss. When departing I opted to take his number rather than giving him mine. (I like having the control, though I most likely will never make a move... or phone call/text anyway.)

***************************

Fast forward to two Saturdays ago. Claire and I get matching texts from Joe inviting us to a party at his place that night, pretty much begging us to come. After moaning for a few minutes about the hassle of traveling to such a far location we realize how stupid we're being.

Drink for almost nothing at a house rather than blowing a hundred at the bar.
A place to crash when ready to crash. No subways, cabs of any kind.
Air Conditioning. (Blew a fuse in my apartment and have been too lazy to replace it. Therefore it's too damn hot in there.)
Guaranteed good times. (Because with Joe, it always is.)

So we go.

We're not even in the door more than 5 minutes and Joe and his girly are giggling like 3 year olds. I demand to know what's so funny.

"Kyle's coming." Clearly, they know about the kiss then. And how I haven't called. I turned red with embarrassment. I'm not sure why. "But guess how he's getting here? Tim's driving him."

[Note: Tim is another mutual friend of Joe and Tess's. He and I had a similar make-out session a few months back. I did the same to him as I did to Kyle. Took his number and never called/text him. Ever.]

Awkward.

I know I turned multiple shades of red that time. Everywhere. Not just my face. I felt my arms get hot even.

They arrive, I've had a few beers already. I play it cool. I say hello, casually, and don't acknowledge our previous encounters or treat them any different than anyone else at the party. And they noticed. Tim got upset and gave me the silent treatment all night. He was flirting with all of his might with this tall, young blonde and looking in my direction all night.

Tim and I met once. He doesn't know that I don't get jealous. Ever. It's just not my thing. That, and I don't really give a damn.

Kyle took a different approach. If I stepped out back for a smoke and didn't invite anyone, he would wander out the door just a few seconds behind me attempting to make small talk. I didn't deny any of it, I just didn't look for any of it. So we talked some more and this time it really felt like we hit it off.

Kyle and Tim left the party rather early, somewhere around the 2AM range. I get a text. It's Kyle.

"Hey. Sorry I had to go. I really enjoyed chatting with you. I hope you don't mind, but Claire gave me your number. She said that you would never call, that I had to do all the work. Which I don't mind. ;)"

Sweet kid.

We've been texting each other fairly regularly all week (we don't chat on the phone because our schedules conflict, and it's easier for both of us to text while we're working than get caught on the phone. That, and I'm not really one for chatting on the phone). He asked me out on a series of dates varying in activities and such. All of which I declined due to work related events that required my presence/attention. He seemed alright by it. Everything was cool, he's a nice kid, we have a lot in common... but he pissed me off last night.

I explained to him that Monday night is poker night, so I can't talk. I am the only girl that plays (with half friends, half family) and they all love to bust my balls. Texting while playing poker is grounds for being banished from the poker room for life. He says he loves poker and would love to join our Monday night antics. We've been looking to add some new people to the mix anyway, so I tell him if he has nothing to do, he should come by and play. This conversation happened a few days prior. He seemed pumped and said he would definitely be into it.

I didn't hear from him all day Sunday or Monday. Which is more than fine by me. But if he was really interested in playing, I didn't want him to forget about it. So here's how the conversation went down. Via text.

D: Poker tonight. You in?
K: Oh right. I forgot I'm supposed to go help a friend with something tonight. But if I don't, I'll come by. I'll let you know. What time are you guys playing?
D: Half hour-ish.
K: I said I'll let you know!!!

First reaction? "Ew."

I wasn't being pushy. He did ask what time we were playing, so I told him. It wasn't a big deal at all. It wouldn't have made a single difference to me if he came or not. I'm playing regardless, and having fun no matter what.

I wonder if he thinks I was being clingy? Or if he thinks I'm head over heels for him. (Only because one of the poker guys suggested that.) None of which is true. He's cool. I'm looking more for friendship than anything else.

Was I not clear about that?

Then I get a text mid-game last night from Joe. "Back off of Kyle just a little bit. If you smother him, you're going to scare him away."

WHAT? Don't flatter yourself kid. I only text you back when you asked questions and I declined every date invitation. I invited you to play poker with my friends and I... AS FRIENDS.

That's most likely the end of that kid.

Live Music Obsessed.

Yea, I went to Bonnaroo. I went to Siren Fest this past weekend (not quite the same). I've been to Woodstock, a few Warped Tours, a few OzzFests, and one Asbury Music Festival.

But you know I have a problem when I have had a vacation to the west coast planned for a year, and just five weeks away, I am changing my entire vacation around to make sure I am there for a three day concert at a park.

San Francisco Outside Lands Music & Arts Festival. August 22 through August 24. (Check it out: http://www.sfoutsidelands.com/)

Just SOME of the people I cannot wait to see (Thought I may have already seen them... more than once.):

Radiohead
Beck
The Black Keys
Cold War Kids
The Felice Brothers
The Dynamites
Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Ben Harper & The Innocent Criminals
Primus
Steve Winwood
Lupe Fiasco
Galactic's Crescent City Soul Krewe ft/ Dirty Dozen Horns
M. Ward
Two Gallants
Dredg
Abigail Washburn & The Sparrow Quartet ft/ Bela Fleck
Walkmen
Kaki King
The Coup
Liars
Donavon Frankenreiter
Rupa & The April Fishes
Everest
Jack Johnson
Wilco
Widespread Panic
Rodrigo Y Gabriela
Broken Social Scene
Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings
Drive-By Truckers
Toots & The Maytals
Rogue Wave
Alo
The Cool Kids
Grace Potter & The Nocturnals
Little Brother
The Mother Hips
Nicole Atkins & The Sea
K'Naan
Culver City Dub Collective


San Fran... Here I come. And be on the look out San Diego, Santa Barbara, Ventura, and Vegas. I'm coming for you too.

...In Just Five Easy Steps!!

How to win over this cold-hearted, tough-exterior-wearing, thick-headed, guarded, bastard child of Satan. (Other wise known at me.)


1.) Bring me to a Mets game. No, I don't need to sit in box seats. I'll sit in nose bleed, I don't care. It also doesn't have to be Mets/Yanks (though it's obviously preferable). Cheer with me. Actually give a damn about the sport.

2.) Make me laugh. And laugh with me. I don't care how you do it. Knock-knock jokes, whatever. You can even mock me. It's fine. As long as you don't tell racist/prejudice jokes we're fine.

3.) Take me to the Met. And I will love you forever. I know, I know. I'm a "painter", but I've never been to the Met. What the hell kind of a New Yorker am I?

4.) Pick up and leave at the drop of a hat with me. I don't mean for forever. I'm notorious for leaving work on a Friday evening and saying "Let's go to Canada this weekend." And I'll actually do it. You have to be ready to do things like that with me. Always. Anywhere. For no reason at all.

5.) Beat me in a debate. But don't get cocky about it. At least not seriously. You can tease me about it, rub it in a little, but don't mean it. Debate me on anything. Music, movies, books, sports, politics, religion, whether skittles are better than starburst, why peanut butter and jelly are such a great pair, etc. As long as you don't try to tell me that XBox 306/Wii/PS3 are better than the original Nintendo, everything will be just fine.


[Note: I still have the original Nintendo. It still works. I still get drunk and play it. And I will still kick your ass in Contra, Duck Hunt, Mad Max, Zelda, Mario Brothers, Super Mario 3, Tetris, Ninja Gaiden 2, Mike Tyson's Punch Out, Friday The 13th, Donkey Kong Jr, and Skate or Die.]

Are you flirting with me?

....Because I can't tell.


So I work with this kid. We're close in age and have some similar interests. Mets. Good beer. Live music. Nothing too specific.

We're acquaintances, that's about it. We've gone out for drinks together once or twice, always with other people, but that's all. Once in a blue moon he will drunk text me. (Drunk texting, gotta love it. The new generation’s version of drunk dialing which was a modified version of our parent's traditions of drunk-throwing-rocks-at-bedroom-windows excursions.) Here are some of the texts I have gotten recently:

"You could have come, but you hate me for some reason."
"Are you drinking alone? Because I'll join you if you want."
"Wow, I'm drunk. Wanna hang out?"

Are you flirting with me?! I don't even know. 20-Something single New York woman and I can't even tell if someone is flirting with me or not. Which I suppose explains why I am not very good at the dating game.

Notice how I called it "the game" because that's all it is. A game. And I seem to never win. Which I guess really isn't that bad, because I don't fancy myself a good player anyway. Though, I do play fair and I never cheat.

The Rules:

• To keep it fair this game should be played with two players.
• Player 1: Flirts with Player 2. This can be done a number of ways; A smile, an offer of a drink, a "hello" or a pick-up line. [Note: The use of a pick-up line earns less points resulting in Player 2's advancing in the game or Player 2's automatic win, unless Player 1's pick-up line is absolutely hilarious.]
• For Player 1 to ask Player 2 for his/her phone number they must first gain enough points to do so using their first move. [First move explained above.]
• A series of (sometimes) tricky moves with then take place between Player 1 and Player 2. They can often be referred to as "phone calls", "e-mails", "dates", and "texts" in which case Player 1 and Player 2 have equal opportunities to gain as many points as they can.
• Finally, The game is either won when either Player 1 and Player 2 agree to continue without the game or when either Player 1, Player 2 or both players agree to forfeit and start a new game with new player(s).

I don't often get past the first step. I will admit that. Mostly, this is because I can't really tell if people are flirting with me. And even if I have a tiny idea that they might be flirting with me, I blow it off and assume that's just the type of person they are, flirting with everyone, or that they're just being nice.

And then the dating thing. Well, I think we've been through this, but in case we haven't, I'll explain it again. Most guys don't like to date a girl like me. In the beginning it's fun because they realize that a date with me does not have to be torturous. I will not force them to go to the ballet, an opera, a fancy (EXPENSIVE) restaurant, etc. I will want to do things that most men want to do, not because I want to be nice, because I want to do them too. A pub, a baseball game, fishing, etc.

Pubs and baseball games and other things like that can be expensive. And I will always try to pay my way or take turns. Some guys don't allow this, I understand, it bruises the ego, etc. But I think it's only fair, so I will my best play it that way. And I will be sincere about it. But ultimately, the men realize that I am not the woman for them. That I make a far more realistic friend than girlfriend. I suppose this should hurt my feelings, but it never does. Maybe I just haven't yet met a man who meant a lot to me that I felt I needed more than friendship? Regardless, this is where myself and Player 2 become great friends. Not a bad thing. Until Player 2 meets a new Player 1 and she meets me. And hates me. [I'm used to it at this point.]

I think I'm going to designate this weekend to "Flirt & Fling" and see what happens. I think I need some practice in the area of flirting (I may be getting rusty) and some practice in recognizing it when its thrown in my direction. I am trusting in my friends to judge fairly and accordingly.

Wish me luck.

Admitedly judging books by their covers.

I admit it, I sum people up by a glance, a look, their clothes, their hair, but most often: by their drink of choice.

Sitting down in an Irish Pub in Manhattan, watching the Mets battle it out with the Yankees for the fourth time in three days, I'm thrilled. Baseball is the greatest gift given to man (and woman).

Nancy sits on a bar stool (my only female friend who not only watches baseball, but actually gives a damn about the sport) wearing her Wright jersey and her long brown hair in a pony tail. I stand next to her with my Reyes tee shirt and Irish Mets baseball cap. (White hat, green Mets logo, small green shamrock on the brim. My FAVORITE Mets hat... Yes, I have many others.) We drank, and we cheered, and we humored the Yankee fans that surrounded us. And we cheersed our BluePoint Hoptical Illusion when we felt it was necessary. Like when Delgado hit a homer off Rasner in the third.

[Side Note: If you don't know what Hoptical Illusion is, it's an amber ale brewed on Long Island and is very hard to get. But I grew up on it, love it more than life, and cherish EVERY sip I get to indulge in when I'm in the city.]

Just as I was ordering another beer a man approached my left attempting to squeeze in between me and the bar. Essentially, he was trying to cut me.

"Excuse me. I was here."
"Sorry, I just wanted to get another drink."
"Don't we all? I mean, that is why we're here, isn't it?"
"I suppose. I just didn't think it was that big of a deal to try and squeeze through."
"It's fine. But you should learn to exercise more patience and wait your turn."

Alright, I know that typing this conversation, I am coming off as really mean. But realistically, I was being sarcastic, I had a small smirk on my face while saying all of this, and was flirting like crazy. And he seemed to notice. And appreciated it.

"Tom."
"Dean."
"So, Dean. If you let me cut the line, I would be happy to buy you a drink."
"Well, if you want to buy me a drink that's one thing. But I require more payment for cutting the line."
"Name it."
"I'll come up with something. In the mean time, I will take a Hoptical."
"You got it. Guy! Can I get a Hoptical for the lady and I'll have an Appletini."
"I hope that Appletini's for your baby sister waiting at a table somewhere for you."
"No, it's for me."
"Thanks for the beer." I tell him as I slip him the $10 it cost and turned my back to him to face Nancy again.

Appletini? Appletini. Guys really drink Appletinis? Christ, I know high school girls who drink tougher drinks than that. I know I'm being judgmental... But a man who prefers a dainty little drink he can sip casually with his picky in the air, is not the guy for me. Not even for one night.

I need a real man.
One with some scruff. A baseball hat. Preferably with a goatee of some sort. And one who will drink a fucking beer, god dammit.