Yesterday I almost died. Not in a “life flashing before me” kind of way – but in a cold, painful, this-blizzard-totally-sucks kind of way. I got stuck in the Snowpocalypse.
You know, the Snowpocalypse—the weekend storm that’s currently blanketing the East Coast. I spent Christmas in Philadelphia, DJing an annual Christmas night party. Yesterday morning when we woke up, my friends and I decided that we would try and beat the impending blizzard and make our way home to New York. Only we didn’t beat the blizzard. We drove right into it. Keep reading »
The other night, I was wading through all the junk scattered around my apartment, starting to panic because I couldn’t find a book I needed to review. I threw out bag after bag of garbage and finally decided to get some dinner, my version of which was a prepackaged frozen entree of organic tofu, vegetables and brown rice, plus a bottle of soy sauce. Keep reading »
What makes me most angry about the reprehensible, privilege-denying behavior of Michael Moore, Keith Olbermann and their allies in the whole Julian Assange-can’t-be-a-rapist-because-he’s-a-freedom-fighter ordeal, addressed beautifully by Sady Doyle and a number of brilliant feminists in the form of the #MooreAndMe Twitter hashtag? The fact that, in the likely event I am ever a victim of completed or attempted sexual assault, powerful men (and women!) of liberal privilege may not — indeed, very likely may not — take me seriously. Keep reading »
Have a great time partying it up this New Year’s Eve. You won’t see me there.
Instead of getting wildly drunk and making out with a random stranger, I’m going to do what I’ve done for the last four years: I’m skipping New Year’s.
There will be no wild parties with fireworks inside (yes, something that actually happened at one of my New Year’s Eve parties several years ago, and no, it wasn’t a good idea), I’ve taken to sharing the holiday ensconced in the woods with one of my close friends. Keep reading »
Indian weddings are beautiful. I missed my sister’s by just a few days. I couldn’t make up my mind whether to join her and her Canadian boyfriend in Goa, where I could complete my yoga training certificate in a country where men significantly outnumber women, or to stay home in the Brooklyn apartment I shared with four equally unemployed strangers, and where I was without a car, a boyfriend, or a shred of hope. I had to weigh my options, so I was a bit delayed.
That’s how I missed Leky’s lavish Hindu puja ceremony, where she wed a guy she had actually met years ago at a Buddhist monastery, and who she had run into again by chance half a decade later while she was tooling around India.
Their love is a beautiful story. Mine, not so much. Keep reading »
A few weeks ago my boyfriend and I were doing laundry at his parents’ house when I overheard him talking to his mom about his Christmas present for me. Neither, it seemed, realized how easily noise traveled from the kitchen through the dining room to the living room. I could only pick up a few words, like “reservations.” At a separate time, I told him how my present for him was waiting at my parents’ house to be opened on Christmas morning and he replied that it would be really awkward for him to give his gift to me in front of my parents. On top of this, he started teasing me about my present coming in the mail and forwarding me FedEx emails just to taunt me.
Naturally, I started to think he had bought an engagement ring. And in addition to being in love, I felt like I was walking on air.
Then, a few days later, the FedEx package arrived. Keep reading »