Recently, I've been going through some changes. And no, I am not getting sexual reassignment surgery. I'm quite comfortable with my lady parts. Umm, eww, okay, anyways I've been feel reckless.
Okay, maybe not feeling reckless but I've been doing a lot of reckless things.
I just realized that when I conversed with my friends via bbm and text, I've been spelling reckless with a "w" in front...As so: wreckless. I'm fucking stoopid.
Anywho, for the past few weeks I've been doing a lot. Meeting a lot of new people, going out a lot, buying a lot of things, making spontaneous decisions, freaking out and getting excited about future spontaneous decisions, feeling manic depressive, you know...that sort of thing. I could make a list if you want. Actually, I think I'm going to make you a list right now...
1. Three weeks ago, I went out every single night of the week. No joke. I was the epitome of a social creature - gymed in the morning, worked 9-5, went out, went to bed, and did the same thing over and over again from Monday to Friday. Normally, I would have needed a day to just chill out at home and get things done around the house (i.e. blogging, sitting on the couch to watch television, eat something in my cubbard, socialize with my roommates, update my iPod...in other words, not much).
2. I bought a ukulele. I always wanted to learn how to play. So, I did something about it. I invested $30 into a bright green (with glitter!) ukulele that I ordered online. It came in a lovely box, in a zip-up case and with a tutorial DVD. The first song I learned was the 2-chord "He's Got the Whole World In His Hands." I'm still learning how to transition from chord to chord, along with how to "chuck." I also learned the four chords to Wheezer's "Island in the Sun." This instrument will add to my Hawaiian-like features and wavy beach hair so its kind of appropriate that I learn.
3. I've been posting more mobile uploads onto my Facebook. Clearly, I want the world to know what reckless behavior/random things I encounter day to day. This isn't really reckless but something I've been doing more frequently.
4. I spent a ridiculous amount of money two weekends ago on clothing when I went home. A small start to a not-so-heinous revamp of my wardrobe - just trying to embrace the hipster side of me. I bought a see-through lace shirt, some bandeau bras, random headbands, boob cream, skirts, dresses, shoes, and a new pair of sunglasses. This wardrobe will hopefully add some oomph to my current state and also be an added touch to the personality glasses I tend to frequent on my face. And I just want to see if the boob cream actually works.
5. Socially smoking cigarettes. I actually bought a pack of Parliaments just because. They have these really cool recessed filters. You'll have to look it up because I'm too reckless to want to explain it. But with all these activities that sometimes involve a few drinks, I kind of need a fag to hold me over. Again, I socially smoke - which means I smoke when I drink. Nothing I do too frequently. But I actually gave the pack, or what was left of it, to one of my roommates. He told me he sat on them. I wasn't upset. I've also grown to enjoy hookah, which isn't good because my roommate downstairs has a communal pipe. I've smoke out of it twice last week. The lightheaded feeling ain't that bad!
6. I threw up on my feet. Yeah. Completely missed the pavement and onto my jelly Michael Kors sandals. No worries though, they're plastic! And the vom was rinsed right off. On Friday of my reckless week out (go to example #1 above), I went out to a gay bar with a friend. I met her for happy hour and we thoroughly took advantage of the half-off drinks and great atmosphere. We made some new friends, we were offered complimentary pizza, and had some laughs. This took us to a second bar, where we were each given a free shot. This is when it hit me. I had to leave my friend, who wanted to stay, and make my way back to New Gross. I got into a cab, puked in said cab, lied to the driver when he asked me, "Did you just get sick in my cab?" "Uhh, no?" He proceeded to pull over, open my door and say, "What the fuck is this?!" "I'm sorry okay! I didn't mean to. I thought I made it outside of the window!" After refusing to pay him the $20 clean-up fee, I had to clean up what came out of my stomach, give him the $9 I agreed to pay him and then proceed to exit the cab. "Fucking bitch," he mumbled under his breath. I said, "Fuck you," and went to hail a second cab. This time, I made it out of the second cab before I threw up again, this time on my feet in a little corridor I found outside of Grand Central. I kept slipping in my sandals so I took them off, picked them up and walked barefoot (not my first time, mind you), to the terminal. I had 20 minutes until my train left so I went downstairs to the bathroom (I don't remember if I put my sandals back on or not), and threw up in the bathroom downstairs. Quietly of course. And then went onto the train. It was still early - I found a seat next to the bathroom and sat down in the empty train cart. I thought to myself, maybe I should go to the bathroom before the train starts moving and people start sitting down. I threw up one last time before passing the fuck out. I awoke to the conductor asking me where I was getting off. "Pelham," I said. "Uhh, that stop was a long time ago," he replied. "Uhh where are we now?" I asked. "We're on our way to Stamford." As in Stamford, Connecticut. I simply looked at his face and said, "Fuck!" I came to terms with this "oops" situation rather quickly. And besides, this was the first time ever missing my stop considering I've come home from the city plenty of times drunk off my rocker. An $80 cab ride later, and I was home. Good thing I got paid that week.
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