A tense scene from earlier today @ work — my bosses office, where a careless fuckup on my part has landed me in the hotseat:

I am seated at the desk, fairly nervous. The boss is semi-seated on the corner of said desk, looking somewhat cautious with his phrasing.

“Yeah Chris, so this is the 3rd time this has actually happened and you have to understand that it’s kind of raising concerns.”
“I do. And I understand why it’s serious. It’s really just been an oversight, something I haven’t paid proper attention to, but not something I’m incapable of doing. I feel like I really do my best to stay on top of things.”
“Everyone really loves working with you and you get along really great with people. You have a really big heart and your personality really shines @ the desk… It’s just kind of a bigger issue now b/c we’ve addressed this before and the hotel is going through this whole thing where they’re REALLY LOOKING at EVERY MISTAKE and dealing with them very seriously.”
“Well I won’t try and make excuses for myself. I see my coworkers really putting forth these efforts, paying attention to this stuff and I guess I just sort of dismissed it as secondary to what we actually do. I’m realizing it’s not, so I’m sorry.”
“I know, absolutely. So anyway I’m going to have to suspend you…”
“Ughh… well if — .”
“… until further notice.”
“…”
“You were off until Monday anyway, so why don’t you just call me then.”
“Uh… it’s only Thursday. Can you enlighten me here?”
“Not really, it’s something we’re going to need to investigate further. Do you have any other questions?”
“Am I being fired for this?
“Nooooo, you’re… being suspended.”

OK, trying not to jump to any conclusions. Also trying not to kid myself.

My horrorscope:
A crisis could occur at the workplace today that needs to be straightened out right away, dear Taurus. It could involve money, or possibly a computer crash. If you’re in a position to do so, try to keep colleagues from giving up and spending more time in the coffee room than at their stations. If everyone lets the situation give them an excuse to stop working, no one will get anywhere. And don’t you panic either. Your world isn’t coming to an end.

Isn’t it ironic? Don’t ya think?
No, not hardly the end of the world. Just scary enough to feel like it though. Memorial weekend plans don’t seem as much fun when I’m not sure I’ll have income to fund it. Here I am, mid year, just days into my early late twenties and b/c of a careless (and might I add NONSKETCHY and VICTIMLESS!) mistake that I’m probably (ugh) too old to be making, I’m already facing the possibility of unemployment. It’s pretty terrifying… and dare I say somewhat freeing. It’s amazing how when something is totally out of your hands it almost makes you feel better. Almost.

The day after my big party last week, I was whisked off to Atlantic City for the weekend. I had to be drugged for this to happen — paint it up and add all the glitz and strobes you want, man, but it’s still the poor man’s Vegas in fucking Jersey. It’s Las Vegas: the Outlet. Anyway, it was just for the weekend and somehow ended up being a lot of fun.

We stayed on the boardwalk @ the Tropicana, which just got revamped. I didn’t do any gambling even though everyone kept trying to lure me in, insisting my beginner’s luck would deliver the goods. My horrorscope for the day actually said: Today is not a good day for gambling. Whatever, man. I saw enough old folks there gambling their retirement away @ the slots, they lost enough for the both of us. I’ll keep that extra $50 in my checking account where it belongs and just upgrade my cable account or something. The way they build these hotels out there is just insane, you never have to leave anyway.

Me and J, being touristy.

The weather was gorgeous. I ate insane amounts of food. Wellington steaks, Cuban BBQ, Irish burgers, Mexican desserts, huge Southern brunches, Russian drinks, and LOTS of mojitos. On the first night there, my irish-mexican ass sat @ Ri-Ra’s Irish Pub playing a drinking game called “The Mexican.” A thousand doves were released, my soul merged with heaven, and my two heritage halves finally came together full circle. Who knew shit like that could happen in Jersey?

Pictures from both of my wonderful birthday parties will be up soon! It’s been a fantastic week, winners. I haven’t smiled this much since Nemo got found.

Happy birthday to me! I’m 26 today.

Rather than freak over how officially unyoung I am (compared to being 22 or even 24) or obsess about how I’m on well on my way to 30 — WHAT?! I used to be 19! Can a 30yr old even have a blog? Can a man of 26? What am I doing here with all of you people? — I’m just kickin’ back loving the day. Woke up this morning next to my gorgeous boyfriend, singing to me and giving me warm kisses; the most perfect way I could ever start ANY day … it killed me to have to get up and go to work. The subway came right away @ 23rd St and it was one of those new cars, all white and glowing and electronic, which always put me in a good mood. I sat on the train with no ipod plugged into my head, just taking some time (which I rarely do) to start myself out in a good place for the day.

The day is not over, and it’s been great so far. I’ve got lots of things coming up that I’m looking forward to.

My State ID expired today. This means I’m not officially myself. What else is new?

Click it. Just a little bit.

Is this flyer cute or what? Yes dudes, my apsiration to be a Japanese partyboy is finally taking anime form. 26 is a grown-up age, so I’m taking it on full force, breaking my tired little tradition of spending a quiet birthday with my own damn self, and am throwing a self-congratulatory bash! An old hookup of mine is hooking me and about 50 of my peeps up with the Rear Room @ Viscaya next week and I can’t fucking wait. My actual birthday is Sunday and I’m doing something secret and wonderful with a tinyass group that involves bodies, sweat, and BBQ sauce… (ok, ok it’s a just a dinner party on a terrace but I’m not ruling an orgy out)! Anyway, I’ve never really had a birthday party before — except for my 13th, which involved a traumatic birthday spanking that went too far and a go-cart accident that I believe is to blame for why I will never be able to live in a city that requires me to drive… but we won’t go into that repressed shit — so yeah, this is really exciting!

Now the flipside to all of this is that I’m RACKED with anxiety over whether or not anyone’s actually going to show up @ the lounge. See, I have casually blown off SO MANY PARTIES, just kinda been like, “Aw, I’ve gotta work tomorrow! We’re friends anyway and I’ll see them later on, they’ll be cool if I can’t make it…”, so I’m convinced karma’s going to bitchslap me and that no one’s gonna come to mine. Thus, the Bad Karma Backlash. I’m waking up in cold sweats over it, dudes, hearing voices in the dark that say: Even if you make it, they won’t come… you’re a loser. Ugh, the only thing scarier to me than the idea of no one showing up? would be if like, 4 ppl showed up, cuz then there’s 4 ppl in the world who knew they were the only fools who came to my birthday party. Ugh, I would die. Fill up the bathtub and bring out the razor blades.

So for the record… To those I know who wanna come and especially to everyone I’ve specifically invited and who FAIL to show up or (EVEN WORSE!!!) leave at way too early an hour? I’m going to fuck you up. Seriously, I’ll have your phone, lights, and water cut off and then I’ll set fire to your head. Yes I know it’s a Thursday night but we are New Yorkers; we don’t party on weekends with the Bridge&Tunnelers, we kick it midweek despite our morning jobs. So, call in sick on Friday, take a personal day, show up late, stumble in hung over, quit your fucking jobs, whatever — you bitches just better show your faces. It’ll be FUN! We’re talking remix-happy uberDJ’s, angrily thrusting go-go boys, Amazon-sized drag queens, flirty bartenders, fully loaded drinks, a slew of sexy party people, and your freshly-26yr old host.

PARTY UP. Do as I say. You know you want to.

Went sailing on The Adirondack today a lovely 2hr sunset tour of the Hudson. It was free through work, but normally only costs $40 per person so everyone should totally try it sometime. They served us hor d’oeuvres (I had fried green tomatoes!) and champagne and beer (and soda for weird folks like me who just can’t get with fizzy drinks unless they’ve got vanilla flavoring) and took us along the Hudson towards Liberty Island and then back up the west side to Chelsea Piers. It was a gorgeous, gorgeous afternoon.

Psst! See that cute smiley guy in that picture with me? The Colgate-y one who, especially in that lower left corner pic, looks like an ad from Dillard’s Spring Catalog for Men? That’s J, my boyfriend… yeah, BOYFRIEND. What the hell? This could definately ooze into a much more in-depth post about the ongoing progression of things with him but I’m not doing “adorable” today. Still, he’s amazing and he makes me wanna shoop shoop shoop!

My cell kept going off in my pocket all morning @ work, but I was far too busy to answer. Spinning dizzy in a whirlwind of directions, helicopter tours, phone calls, dinner reservations, bottle service lists, and theater ticket orders. Now I’m home where it’s still, I’m bored and hungry. In a rare instance, I’m returning vmails, emails, and IM’s but no one can talk for too long. It sucks. When people have to hang up on you first, you feel kinda sad.

Just got back from Texas, my G’ma’s service was peaceful and lovely. All 5 of her younger sisters were there. Everyone kept telling me how important it was to the family that I had come down, b/c I was the apple of her eye… what do you say to that? But I didn’t realize till I got there how important it was that I went. I felt silly that I’d just gotten my hair hackedup with hi and lowlights, and I didn’t know what to pack for the ceremony, all my black clothes seemed too clubby and urban and stupid to wear… so I wore my uniform from work. I wore my Hudson garb to see my G’ma off, and I think she would’ve absolutely loved it. Still seems silly, though.

When I was going through the house, I noticed the livestrong bracelet that I’d given G’ma sitting on her dresser. It caught me by suprise. I’d sorta figured maybe a nurse had snipped off her wrist after I left, and that it’d been tossed into a wastebin somewhere… but there it was, next to her wedding ring and brooches. She’d kept it, and brought it home with her after getting outta the hospital. This time, before I left, I took my G’pa (her husband) aside and explained what it was, how I’d worn it, then she’d worn it, and now he could keep it with him. I put it on his wrist and he cried. But it made me smile.

This post is a little broken apart, uneven — even for me. I blame it on Rosie’s blog (currently one I’m strangely addicted to). I’ll catch my rhythm sooner or later, just waiting for things inside my head to shift.

I wish my phone would ring.