It’s been three years since I’ve started blogging. How nuts is that? I can’t help but reminisce where I once was and where life has taken me. Look, my first blog! Not that well written, but pretty entertaining..it was around the time when I first moved to Hoboken and drinking heavily.
“Just Your Typical Tuesday”
Without fail, Tuesday nights in Hoboken seem to turn into a ridiculous time, with even more ridiculous characters. And yes, last night was no exception. I started off with dinner and drinks at this awesome tapas place in my neighborhood. Since going to the tapas place Savannah, or the artist formally known as The House of Coffee, I have been skeptical of this whole tapas thing. Savannahs was poorly priced and insanely meager. But the place in Hoboken is mm. mm mm mm.
Anyway after dinner, I met up with my friend E and we decided to go out and about for cocktails. For the past month or so, we have gone to the same place (The Goldhawk) for open mike night, so figured it was time to mix it up. Where did we go you ask? The Greenrock. The Greenrock is the type of place you have to love because it has dollar drafts and…well… ok, fine that’s it. It is always super packed, the music it way too loud, and the people who go there are generally a sideshow. The girls were dressed up in their finest clubbin’ clothes and dancing with eachother sexually, in hopes of getting the attention of the late 20’s finance men that were surrounding them, discussing who was taking whom home.
And then there was me and E, who were dressed like elementary school teachers compared to these chicks, and kind of standing to the side.
Within minutes, a dude in a blue collared shirt, whom I probably would have found attractive if he wasn’t so wasted, staggered over to me, kind of tap/pointed on my arm and said, “Hey. I’m John. I work in finance and make six figures. Whah do you do? Isn’t it great that even though I’m so young, I make so much money!”
The conversation continued with me asking if he liked his job, which he said no, to then why did he do it then, with a reply of, well because he made so much money, from which I replied with, I’d rather do something I loved and enjoyed and make less money than waking up and hating life everyday.
He made a fist with his hand and went into a dramatic monologue about how there was SO much more to him and MORE that he needed to give, blah blah blah. What he was doing now was to prepare for his future. He didn’t know what he was going to do, BUT SOMEDAY he will make an IMPACT. Then, he looked at me with bewilderment, probably because he wouldn’t usually show strangers this side of him, and rushed off to the bar for another drink.
pff. So there.
Meanwhile, E was talking to one of weird blue shirt finance’s friends, who was cute, oh so tall, and seemed normal. I moved over closer to them to get out of the middle of the room and happily people watched for a few minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw weird blue shirt whispering something to his friend, motioning for him to talk to me. Obviously, they either wanted to keep me entertained so his friend could continue talking with Emily or that I was the “weird – bad conversation – pathetic – left over friend” that could easily be taken home by just about anyone.
yay.
SO up comes this guy who looked sticky and smelled like a dirty grandparent basement. From here, without a scrap of eye contact, proceeded to give me one of the worst and stale conversations I have had in a long time.
So where do you live? Where are you from? Have you lived anywhere else in NJ?
10th and Willow Middletown Yeah, New Brunswick
Why? Where do you work? Where did you go to college?
I went to Rutgers A magazine I just told you. Rutgers
At this point, I leaned over and said, “Hey E. Lets finish these drinks and go?”
I went to the bar to close out while she said her goodbyes with nice friend, and moved on to the Shannon.
Usually, the Shannon is great. But I guess on Tuesdays it consists of old men playing darts. Whatever. We could actually sit at the bar without someone yelling in our ear or trying to push us out of our seats.
At this point, we figured it was late and should go over to the Gold hawk (surprise surprise) for last call.
Walking up, it looked insanely dead, so I said to E, “dude, what time is it? I wonder if is too late to get a drink…”
umm its 11:30.
So we walked in and sat down at the empty bar, ordered beers and lemon drops, and bullshitted a bit. And yes, apparently I was drinking beer last night (?).
Within two minutes, one of the locals spotted us and talked with us the rest of the night. I think about his music, movies we love and hate, and so on. hm.
Last night must have just been one of those nights that I wasn’t on or something, because next thing I knew, E & local were in deep conversation (ha, which today she has absolutely no idea what it could have been about), while I drunk texted a guy I used to date.
Awesome. So then a random ukelalie and mandolin player in a snow flake sweater appeared out of nowhere, talked to him for a few and went home.
Time for Bed. End of Tuesday.
The Aftermath.
7:00 Alarm goes off. Um. no. how about you re-set til 8:25.
8:30 began the scrammble of showering, breakfast and lunch planning, getting dressed and so on. Makeup free and badly work dressed, I rolled in around 9:30. Not bad.
Gotta love Hoboken 
I miss Emily! Here’s her on one of our drunky Hoboken nights circa 2007.
Oh boy, 23 year old me in all my glory.
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New book by Augusten Burroughs! How didn’t I know this? How could this have happened?
And a new one (finally) from the chick who wrote “Eat, Pray, Love”…the book that absolutely inspired me to take my own travel adventure.
The journey to Auckland is absolutely beautiful. It’s mainly country roads with perfect scenery and lovely water views. Definitely a nice chance from the New Jersey Turnpike.
Living Room (and where I am currently sitting).
Bedroom. Woohoo a big bed!
Some of the backyard, grille, and sliding door to our bedroom.
The babies! Look how big they’ve gotten! We began to dig up an area in the yard for a garden, so they’ll be going into the ground soon enough.
And even a real clothes line!
Themocracy