True Life-I'm addicted to Diet Coke

OK, I know everyone is awaiting part II of the "AH hah", but bear with me as I side tracks..I have had the diving inspiration of Tori Spelling to lead me to a blog this Tuesday evening, misspelled, spontaneous, unfiltered, uncensored, you-only-think-you-know, but you have no idea (you may very well have a good idea) Greta in New York, blogstop.com.

I came to New York on a Saturday after recieving a job on Friday to start on Monday in a moments decision, against the better judgement of my parents and...most of the friends' partents I know. WEell, it worked out, and I am now writing to you from my beautiful, central park central location in East Harlem.

It's beautiful and diverse here, which I can attest to first hand since my experience spending time with my 5th floor neighbors New Years Eve. You see mostly eveyone I was with on New Years engaged in morally questioable, chemical endeavors an hour and a half before the ball dropped in a squeeky East Village single. The only people who were out of line for the line were me and a boy with a beard in the Peace Corps. Come midnight, the beard and I were making out. Come 12:30 Dave was in an E. Harlem bound taxi cab, whispering not so sweet nothing in my ear. When I had to pay for the cab, I knew it was a bad decision. Once we climbed the six flights to my "loft" I was about to jump off the balcony, or at least push someone.

I heard the techno music eminatting through floor and for the first time it did not bother me. My brazilian, Russian, New York neighbors on th fifth floor were my savior to a not so uplighting New Year, in my new apartment.

My room mates were out in Park Slope. Actually, they were probably already in bed and preparing for their early morning dip in the Atlantic with the Coney Island polar bear club (because they are that awesome).

The beard finally went home at 5:30 a.m. when I found him shouting obsenties at 5:30 a.m. in my too small for crazy, glass covered bedroom. What he filled those 5 hours with, I can only guess was the broken J.Daniels bottle. Bad Decision me, one of the two I've made. (he did make it back to Brooklyn at 11:30 a.m., I was assured.)

The only other regret I've had in New York was arguing with a gypsy cab driver at 1:30 a.m. after a terrible party where I knew basically no one but a Canadian couple I met, who apparently did not make many other friends...anyways the driver refused to drive up to "that 'hood", and I argued with him, which is weird because I never take unmarked cabs, but anyways threatened to "cut me", which could have turned out bad...but I'm o.k.

So now back to my room mates. I know you guys have tuned in for my literary genius..stand by.

My roomates are amazing. Sarah who works at the Met and graduated with me from UConn, but I never met before responding to the Craigslist add is totally chill, in the intelligent/ poised, up-for-anything but classy and educated sense...she is my Connecticut savior in the sea of strangers that is New York. Kim, my lovely, Northwester alumus, cat-lady, professional writer, social butterfly/ date like it's in style (and when is it not?) roomate is smart, including, and fantastic.

People are wonderful and generous when you expect nothing of them...this I find true in the city. People are also sleezy and creepy when you least expect them to be, this I find true when I ride the subway in running shorts.

So here I am, in my chair. It's not comfotable, but somehow the boy with the beard slept in it on New Years. He's probably in a hot humid hut, in a little village in the Domincan Republic as we speak. There have been boys since him, no doubt. I met one boy on match.com (no holds back). I joined Match.com in a flash of "i'm in new york and should do anything to meet everyone I possibly can" mentality that lastly for about ... oh- 2 weeks. His match.com name was "friedbananana"...I thought it might work out. We got tea at Starbucks on a Tuesday and walked a mile around a foggy January night in Central Park. He grew up in Singapore...but that was about as interesting as it got.

I'm not on match.com anymore. After friendbanana monkey I decided to call it quits. I've met guys at other social functions, but as it stands, I'm leaving for Africa in a few months, and I'm pretty sure there'll be hot guys in Tanzania...the spring break capital of the world.

Well, it's about time to get to bed. Actually, I'm pretty sure I heard my room mate say "girl scout cookie".