Fuggedaboutit

Right now marks my ONE-WEEK ANNIVERSARY of living in New York City. In Middle School measurements, that means this city and I are practically pre-engaged.

The night I landed in NYC, I ran over to Bedford to meet Amanda at the Charleston. We're so funny. We can go six months or six minutes without seeing each other and it always feels the same. We just pick up where we left off, talking excitedly over each other and making gross jokes and drinking beers. The best.

Hungover from my first night of being a real, live New Yorker, I woke up late on Monday morning to see half a dozen missed calls on my phone. Crap. One of my other best friends from Seattle, Ruth, was randomly on the East Coast visiting relatives. She had arranged to take a train down to the city to hang out with me on my first full day in my new city. I woke up almost an hour late and didn't get my butt down to the city for another 2 hours. When we finally met up, we wandered around Central Park, St. Marks Street, East Village (where we randomly played beer pong with our fashionista friend Ashley) and finally headed over to Brooklyn to meet up with some friends. By midnight, almost the entire Seattle crew was reunited at Enids: Jon, Liz, Hannah, Ruth and I. So good.

The next few days involved me meeting up with another half dozen Seattle transplants. Seriously, I need to make some actual New York friends. Everyone I know is from Seattle. It's sort of gross.

By Wednesday, I decided that I needed to pull myself together and focus on something other than drinking. I checked my checking account (ugg), cleaned Chris' old/my new bedroom (SO MANY ROGUE HAIRS), bought some sheets, towels and other grown up things, and started looking for a job. Since I am lazy and hate walking too far/taking any sort of transportation, I decided to really channel my energy and effort into looking for a job that was no more than four blocks away from my house. Never mind that quality of the job.

All my time (an hour and a half one afternoon, including 'breaks' for coffee and snacks) of job hunting paid off. On Friday, I began first shift at MRS. KIM'S, a bar (?) on Kent and Franklin. And if you're wondering if a) it's a Korean restaurant or b) if they have Karaoke or c) how I got a job as a bartender, I can answer all of your questions. No, it's not really a Korean restaurant, but they do serve something called a 'KIMDOG.' And no, they don't offer any karaoke but you are welcome to sing along to any of the terrible country music that is constantly being blasted over the speakers. And yes, Mrs. Kim herself (think tiny Korean woman who always wears those huge sunglasses that are supposed to go over a pair of actual glasses and sort of went out of style in the early 80's) hired me to bartend on Saturday nights, even though I have no clue how to make a 'Kim's Mojito' or any of her other specialty drinks. Hilarious.

So here I am. Ready to take Brooklyn by storm, one terribly made cocktail at a time.