girlprywes

two-faced.

eileen1979 — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 20:08:47 +0000

Since up until recently, blogs reminded me of those holiday cheese log thingies more than anything else, it makes perfect sense for me to start two in the past week.

I do what I want.

girlprowess at tumblr

new madonna track.

eileen1979 — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 23:13:53 +0000

The original girl in the world. Man, so much of my life can be soundtracked by this hot bitch. And you know Desperately Seeking Susan is what got you trolling Craigslist’s Missed Connections in the first place.

You like? I do. I can’t believe she’s 50. Love you girl.

Four Minutes to Save the World

meow.

eileen1979 — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 22:27:49 +0000

I went shopping again this weekend, with the RJM. I don’t even like shopping. Not that much. I love clothes though. I love clothes so much and I love trying stuff on and having it fit and looking at myself wearing small sizes (not that sizes even mean anything these days. Vain!) I like to pretend this will be the outfit I’m going to wear on the first date I have with my next true love.

It wasn’t always like this though. Nope. Because I used to be fat (You nevir FAHT, just overvayt, RJM interjects, which honestly sounds a million times worse than fat. Like here is the NORMAL weight, and you are OVER that, WAY over, so why don’t you just go stand OVER there. Ew.) Cute clothes were always something other girls got to play with, and I got to play the smart one who was good at drawing pretty girls, instead of being one.

This isn’t a pity post. I’m glad I used to be a fatty, because as God as my witness I will never be one again. No ma’am Miss Scarlett. And I know all the tricks of the trade. Not like the effortlessly skinny-when-they-were-young-girls, who now bloat over a doughnut and panic over a bulge that never used to be there (cardio, tons of water and no eating after 4 p.m. You’ll lose it by Friday. You’re welcome.)

My latest conquest in the shopping world is a pale silver Michael Kors mini-dress, with two front pockets and a faint leopard print pattern. I love leopard print. I can’t help it. Eastern European roots run deep. Maybe I’ll get my next true love to take a photo of me in it and I’ll post it here sometime.

i actually can completely believe that this is not real butter.

eileen1979 — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 02:29:21 +0000

I just added Lil Leya’s very funny blog about just another non-geek girl trying to make it in a techy world to my blogroll. Mmm, rolls…now with 50% more carbs.

Because Everyone is Doing It

another night with cabiria.

eileen1979 — Sat, 15 Mar 2008 19:24:31 +0000

Being thrown off the proverbial cliff always feels worse when it’s a gentle-eyed lover doing the pushing (if you haven’t seen it, go and rent Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria right now. Don’t even finish reading this post until you do.) If it feels like someone is toying with your emotions, they probably are. Even if it’s not on purpose, even if they don’t have malicious intentions…if something is feeling off, there’s probably good reason for it. If it feels hot and cold from the beginning, a deep freeze is about to set in.

It’s so easy for me to just leap when I like the person. Not that I just fall for everyone. I’m more of a thinker, always in my head. Walls are up. Pleasant and breezy, and hard to know. But when I meet a new someone, it’s either yes or no. I like you or I don’t. I’m not myself around the ones I like. I feel comfortable around the ones I don’t, and distance myself immediately. Too extreme. I keep looking for the balance and keep falling off the beam. Young soul, too new to remember the last disappointment. Wishing on lucky pennies and 12:34 on the clock. I told you I was 12.

Everytime I say, no this time will be different. I’m going to go slow and let him prove himself to me. I will not wear my heart on my sleeve. Everytime it’s a yes I like you, my ice-princess intentions melt in an instant. Lines drawn in the sand are so easily washed away.

I want to be the tough street girl. Instead I’m easily hypnotized with romantic potential, until I’ve managed to sweep myself off my own feet. I want to grow a thicker skin, but all the hurts and snubs just soak right through. They’re all right there, not visible yet barely contained, until suddenly I’m staring out the window on a bus ride home and realize that some guy stopped at a red light is watching me cry from his car. Too soft, too understanding, too hopeful that his heart will open soon.

Will it actually be so much different next time? I tell myself I’ll be more careful, but I don’t know if I’m even fooling myself anymore. If I’m going to go for something, I’m going to go for it all the way, and hope that next time there will be someone to catch me. Maybe that will be the difference.

rjm take on the situation.

eileen1979 — Sat, 15 Mar 2008 02:09:55 +0000

Conversation with my Russian Jewish Mama about the situation.

RJM: Nu. Vhere eez boyfriend? Eh?

Me: Mom, he’s not my boyfriend, I don’t know where he is. Busy probably.

RJM: Aha. You should hev dump heez ahhce… heez AHHCE? Diz is how you say? long time ahgo. Bye bye meester! Dosvedanya malchik! (she waves merrily.)

Me: Jesus Christ Mom.

RJM: Dohn say Jeezus. Vee ahr Jooz.

quote of the weekend.

eileen1979 — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 18:21:54 +0000

22-year-old guy: How old are you?

Me: How old do you think? (here’s where I figure out if I’ve been getting enough sleep)

22yog: 21 (don’t get excited, he’s drunk and it’s dark)

Me: No, I’m 29.

22yog: No way! But you don’t look like there’s anything wrong with you!

I am so moving to Europe when I hit 40. I’d much rather be considered a hot old-lady slut, than have little pipsqueaks counting my crow’s feet.

carbon monoxide-gate08, part 1.

eileen1979 — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 20:49:00 +0000

Last night my FirstAlert carbon monoxide alarm went off at 2 o’clock in the morning. It’s strange to admit to even having a FirstAlert carbon monoxide alarm, but I also have a Russian Jewish Mama (RJM) who watches a lot of 20/20. I mean A LOT. Like to the point of calling me every couple of hours to make sure I haven’t suddenly been afflicted with meningitis. She also lets me know on a fairly regular basis how many dust mites may currently be occupying my home. Did I know there could be up to von MEELYON dust mite in apahrtmint RIGHT NOW RIGHT AT DIZ MOMINT, Elina, vhen is lahst time you change vakyoom feeltir?

Anyway, FirstAlert goes off, a soul-piercingly horrific sound. It makes me almost cry. It blinks at me. I stare at it. I call RJM. It was either her or 911 and honestly I haven’t vacuumed in a week, so that really wasn’t an option.

Needless to say, much Russian fretting and praising of the 20/20 ensues. Should I call 911?? I don’t want to wake up all my neighbors though…unless they’re already dead. What if I am the sole survivor of Carbon MonoxideGate 2008? I am getting slightly nervous because I cannot hear my overweight elderly neighbor snoring at ear-piercing decibels like I usually can.

We decide the best idea is to open all the windows, which is not very awesome on a typical San Francisco night. I lay huddled and shivering in a sweatshirt, two pairs of socks, leggings and pants, the innards of a blanket burrito. I text a few people, and Albina immediately calls me back.

I think I found God, I told her. This is usually what happens when you have a near-death experience you know. Um okay sure, she says. We start talking about guys. Yeah really. Gossip girls at 2:30 in the morning, in the middle of a unnatural disaster, and boys are still the topic du jour. Sleepover party with your girlfriend on a school night, only thing missing were the Rice Krispy Treats. When will I not be 12?

my friend keith.

eileen1979 — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 19:49:23 +0000

My friend Keith doesn’t like my blog so far. He says it makes him feel the equivilant of someone calling up a friend, blathering on for hours about nothing and in the end, the friend simply saying, “That’s nice.”

Ouch. And yet…good feedback. And yet….ouch!!! Dammit. I kinda feel like I just told on him. Moooooommmm, Keith doesn’t like my blogggg!!!

I’ve always thought of myself as a writer, so I should be able to write well. Right? Even if it’s about nothing. Let’s face it, writing about nothing provides quite a chunk of change for my boyfriend, Jerry Seinfeld. Have you ever noticed that he looks way better now than he did on the show? Even though he’s like 20 years older? At least he got rid of those horrible white tennis shoes.

Keith probably hates this post.

first time at coffeeshop on laptop working on blog.

eileen1979 — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 17:30:56 +0000

Okay, yes I know, I know. 2001 called and they want their Saturday afternoon activity back. What can I say? Sometimes a little slow on the uptake, I can be. Just wanted to make sure this whole tech thing was here to stay before I started investing. I must say, this is pretty fun.

So I sit down at the coffeeshop and plug my big-ass Toshiba into the wall, not even paying attention to the abundance of tiny, svelte Mac’s. I’m ready to blog. Here I am world, love me! Or just give me a lot of money, I can buy the loneliness away. What?

About two minutes into the experience, the girl who had previously been sitting at the table comes back. Apparently she wasn’t done. So being the stubborn yet helpful person that I am, suggest she just join me at the tiny table, cause I’m not moving. Bitches be blogging all up in here! She seems hesitant at first. I give her an encouraging smile. Go on, we can share. I guess that’s all it takes, cause she is my new best friend right now. And I must say, her vocal stylings to the Mariah Carey song playing right now are pretty good. I’m glad I serve as a comforting and familiar beacon for complete strangers, because right now, RIGHT AS I TYPE, with our laptops pressing back-to-back, she is discussing her sinus issues, her crazy roommmate, how she’s a singer yet still has to play a Bart station for change, the healing properties of honey. I make sympathetic, yet distracted clucking noises. There, there. She tells me about her business. Did I know that she is a feng-shui fairy? She shows me her website; even magikal healers need advertising revenue these days.

You know what would be weird? If she were blogging about me AT THIS VERY SAME MOMENT