The Movie of My Life

If you've had the pleasure of spending any time with me you would know that I can quite often be found bitching about my relationship status and my job. For this blog we will be focusing on the relationship part. In case you are a little out of the loop, I'm single, as always. I'm always single! I've tried dating, but I'm a little picky/ not good at picking guys that are into me. Classic He's Just Not That Into You. You would think that I wrote that book, I didn't but it's seriously so true! All of it. So anyways, I tend to rip apart the genre of movies called... romantic comedies.

I am a big fan of the chick flick. As cynical and jaded as I am, there is a part of me that is a die hard romantic and a believer in true love, but sometimes, enough is enough! I'm over the "hate each other until the very end, then profess our love for each other, but one of us is still in a relationship so it's sticky, finally come to our senses, drive off into the sunset happy endings" movies. Please show me who that happens to... in REAL life.

In the movie made of my life, the first 24 years can be summed up in a montage of bad dates and me sitting on my couch eating Ben and Jerry's with my parade of roommates. I get so mad that I love these movies that end with 'The End'. Really? Is that really how it ends? I don't believe it! At least not for me! The romantic, crazy and spontaneous things that happen in movies just don't exist in my life. That was until today...



...I was at work bartending and this good looking guy about 5'11'' with blonde hair and a suit came into the bar and wanted to ask me a question. He started off with, "this is going to be the craziest thing you've ever been asked, so please don't get mad." (This is when we cue me thinking, "I've heard that before. What do you want? Change for a twenty?  No! A beer!") He explained that he and his girlfriend just broke up on Saturday (Cue my excitement, like I said...cute), and they were planning on going to the Bahamas on Wednesday. He then proceeded to ask if I knew anyone that would want to go with him.  Mind you this is to the Bahamas, on Wednesday, until Monday, all expenses paid. (Cue me jumping up and down with my hand raised.  In my head that is).

As much fun as this sounded, it wasn't practical for a few reasons. One- when he asked me this, I had to then ask him what his name was. Two- I know I'm lacking spontaneity, but that's a lot to plan for in 2 days. And three- I didn't really want to know the whole plane ride that I was going to die in the Bahamas by some crazy stranger I ran away with. This whole situation could have been so cool, I mean this is what most movies are made of, but who in their right mind is actually going to go through with something like this?





You've gotta give the guy props though for trying. He was either telling the truth by trying to have fun with his sucky pre-paid couple’s vacation dilemma, or was a creeper in a good looking suit with cute eyes! Once again I will say that this could have turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to me if I had taken him up on his offer (that he was making to every bartender on the block, but that's not the point), but why risk death to find out? I know, I'm dramatic. But come on... what would you have done? I guess I'm going to have to keep reading scripts until a better one comes along, because right now, the script for the "love" portion of my life sucks!

You Can Call Me....Svetlana!

There's nothing like a bunch of 12 year olds in leotards and a stomach full of Tasti-D-Lite to make you feel old and fat! This was all before my adult gymnastics class at Chelsea Piers even started. It was then about fifteen minutes into the class when I contemplated throwing up on the trampoline, therefore regretting my stupid idea to 'step out of my comfort zone.' There is a reason why it's called a comfort zone...it feels good to be inside it...everything else is a little scary!


For those of you just tuning into my life, here is a little back story. When I was three years old, my mom enrolled my in gymnastics classes. I then proceeded to make myself so nervous that I puked on the trampoline and was carried out by the teacher where she told my mother not to bring me back! Apparently they didn't have the time to deal with my potential issues on their equipment. Fast forward 20 years and you have the gymnastics drop out (ME), who is mildly retarded when it comes to anything acrobatic (ME), and who decides it would be a good idea to take an adult gymnastics class as part of her New Years Resolution (Yep, Me)! Thanks to Jenny and the staff at Chelsea Piers, I was able to test my skills on the floor and had an amazing time. I'm pretty sure that even my earlobes will be sore tomorrow, but it was so much fun and well worth the pain. We dancers/gymnasts/athletes are masochists in the way that we feel a sense of accomplishment when we are too sore to walk! 


I have to give all those little 12 year olds I mentioned earlier a serious amount of credit...this shit is hard! I was NOT made for this kind of physical activity.  I watched my instructors demonstrate the moves with such ease that I went "duh; of course I'll be able to do it with as much grace"! Yeah right! There's something so different from being a gymnast and being a dancer, and that's the element of the size up. Ask a dancer to look around the room at an audition and they will be able to size up the competition in 30 seconds. Well, I of course did this before we started our adult class.  Even while we were starting our warm-up I made the assumption that I would be kicking some major ass in this class (not that there was a prize, but I like to win even if it's just in my head- HI, I’m slightly competitive). It was once the instructor went from dive rolls to round-off, back handspring, back tuck, and was serious, that I new I was once again the gymnastically re-tard and not in the beginners class!  Apparently, intermediate does not mean that you can do a cartwheel in both directions, it means you can tumble.  This is something I should have thought more about before signing up for this class!


The class did leave me with a couple of highs. I walked on my hands, did a couple successful front handsprings, I got a bit closer to an unassisted aerial (this is on my bucket list, so I'm working hard) and I did a back handspring (with some help) ... and didn't kill anyone! I also received two of the best compliments a dancer can get: "you are tall, use those legs" (at 5'5'' I've never been tall, but in gymnast world I'm a giant), and "your back is so flexible" (too bad I can't get my arabesque up any higher). One would think that these two things would be helpful to a gymnast, but as I learned, not so much. They don't make champions out of Shawn Johnson for nothing!



I'm very proud of not only my successful class, I determine success in this instance by the fact I didn't die, cry or throw-up, but the fact that I get to cross something off my list! Next to tackle: a date this week...bum bum buuuuuuuuuum!

To prove I actually did this, here's a picture with Joe and my tall drink of water (when you can't remember their name it's best to compliment).
Check out the Chelsea Piers Field House Website for class descriptions, rates and times! Adult Gymnastics

My 12 Step Program

I feel like I'm at the beginning of a 12 step program. No not A.A. I like to think of this as the 12 steps towards improving my mental and physical being. A way to turn the jaded and cynical New Yorker that I have become into the happy and productive New Yorker I'd like to be!



Yes, I know that perky is far less entertaining to read, but far better for those who have to deal with me! But lets be serious, this is me we're talking about. No 12, 20 or 40 steps can possibly stop the stupid shit that always happens to me from happening.


I have realized that what is wrong with a New Years Resolution is that one expects everything to change in one day. Of course then, when it doesn't, because it never does, you get discouraged and quit. This all happens before the first week of the year is over and you then spend the next 51 weeks feeling like a failure and say you will do better next year. So, since re-starting my New Year, I have been taking baby steps so that I don't get pissy, quit and then run to Crumbs.


Step 1: Set yourself up- It's important to plan attainable goals. Outline the things you would like to be successful at in the next year and fill your space with the tools that will help you get to the destination. In my case I filled my fridge with veggies and copious amounts of personalized paper to make my daily to-do lists. I'm OCD!


Step 2: Coming to terms with imperfections- If you allow yourself to be human, the bumps in the road won't turn into giant man eating potholes. Before making the leap into new adventures you must remember that you are not perfect, that things don't magically happen and you can be ultimately be successful, even with little slip ups!


Step 3: Change your thoughts- Make your first day about positive thoughts. Throw out the frustrations, everything that happened before you went to bed do not matter. Negative and pent up feelings are no good to you. You are in control of your thoughts and feelings, so take the reigns.


Step 4: Change your routine- Be active and healthy. Challenge yourself with new and different workouts. Take classes or simply go for walks on different paths. Getting stuck in the dame routine every day can make you subconsciously resentful of all the things you love to do! Change it up and it will make you appreciate the things that make you happy that you can often take for granted!


Step 5: Change what goes in your body- Stop counting calories and carbs, and start counting veggies. In this case the higher the number- the better! You will feel better and lighter than that bagel with low-fat scallion cream cheese. Yes, I love the way it tastes too, but I don't love the way it feels in the pit of my stomach. It’s ok to splurge (see step 2), but just remember how good the pure and natural gifts from Mother Nature feel and taste!


Step 6: Make plans- Set your sights in fun times ahead. Spice up the goings on with your friends so that you have things to look forward to. Not only will you feel better, but you'll stop obsessing on all the things you are trying to accomplish. If you have no friends, I'm sorry, you can borrow mine- they rock!


Step 7: Keep it fun- Laughter is the best way to turn a difficult day around.


Steps 8-12, well these are T.B.D. They may not even exist. Hell, the first 7 may not even exist. They can be incredibly useless and maybe not even the slightest bit productive, but they helped me. I like to cross things off a list, so by starting with little asterisks I feel accomplished! It's a silly life but someone has to live it!

The Holidays Are Over!

Well, like it says above...the Holidays are definitely over. The restaurant has slowed down. The tourists have diminished. The regulars are back because they are no longer threatened by the crazed tourists. But with all this, it means time to tighten the belt because the money slows too.


You've heard it before - but I'm going to say it again: living in New York City is not cheap. I've always been very good about balancing my accounts, paying bills and knowing what my financial status is (not good), but I've never really put myself on a budget. I'm not gonna lie, I live a little frivolously! For a while my excuse was: I'm young, I live in NYC, and you only live once. But now that I've been here for a while and I have the nice apartment, it's time to start acting like an adult. As much of an adult as one can be living as an 'entertainer' in NYC. Manhattan is basically one big play pen floating on water filled with a bunch of 5 year olds in designer suits and Jimmy Choo shoes!


It's all so overwhelming. This thought process came about when I decided to get a personal trainer at my gym. Boy, do they have NO problem raping you up the ass with their prices, but that's another topic for another time! I know that having a trainer will be worth it, I've seen this guy work out (He's Yummy!), but my excuse was "this is something I need to do for me." Riiiiight! As if everything else I do isn't for me and me alone! Face it- no husband (no boyfriend), no kids (no pets), not one person or thing that I have any sort of responsibility for. So that excuse is NO excuse because everything I do on a daily basis is for me- selfish yes- but that’s NYC!


When I tried to break down my monthly expenses and factor in money for savings as well as significant payments towards my credit card(s), there is NO WAY I'd be able to continue to live the way I do (fun and frivolous and always fashionable). I have no idea how people who work the same jobs as I could possibly afford things such as children, school, houses and cars. AHHHH! I’m nauseous just thinking about the plate I and almost every other New Yorker are eating . . . DEBT with a side of loans. I live in the most beautiful and wonderful city in the world, but all I see are skies of grey and clouds of money that I don't have. I’m in the middle of the desert waiting for the rain!

So I know the numbers. I added up the dollar signs. But what about those things that don't have a monetary value? Things such as sanity? Sure I could work 1000 hours a week (yes, I exaggerate), but would I be happy? And what would all the work be for if I couldn't enjoy the hard earned cash? And why bother living in NYC if you miss out on all the culture and people that are here; the people and things that keep you going?


Can you balance it all with out either going crazy or living in a land of delusion (I am its Queen)? Stay tuned to find out I guess! . . .

Let's Try This Again!

I have decided that my official New Year is starting January 4th, 2010! Yes...the last three days have been in lingo and now I'm ready to officially begin Twenty Ten! I am sitting on my bed with a huge weight lifted off of my shoulder because I have realized that you truly are in control of your emotions, at least when you are not at work!

In the last week I've worked 50 hours. 30 of those hours have been worked in the last three days. 30 of those hours have been spent bitching. And 5 or so of those hours have been spent consuming sweets such as Sour Patch Kids, dark Chocolate bars, Cherry Garcia Ice Cream and frosting off of Magnolia Cupcakes. I've spent the last three days despising my life, ruing my future, contemplating moving to Canada and hating myself for all of this that I’m convinced I'm 200lbs.



But no more! I'm ready for a new start. I still need to clean my space, but tomorrow I’m cleaning my diet, revamping my exercise and calming my mind! I'm surrounded by idiots on the streets and in my work place but as long as I'm aware of this and the fact that there is nothing I can do to change this...I might as well accept it and move on!



My New Year’s resolution on a whole is to be a better me. I'm going to challenge myself, step outside the box, and do my best to spend minimal time bitching about things that are out of my control. (Notice how I didn't say all together! I want to be a better person, but I'm definitely not perfect!). I'm truly blessed to have such wonderful people in my life, a supportive family and a great apartment on the upper west side...so all I have to do now is follow my heart and my dreams and allow myself the opportunity to be happy!



Here's a preview at some of the things I intend to do in the next year. Call it a life list, call it a set of challenges and obstacles, but don't call it impossible!

* Take a trapeze class
* Take ballroom lessons
* Run a 5K
* Sing karaoke in my Pjs
* Sky Dive
* Date more
* Take a baking class
* Throw a dinner party
* Have a weekend getaway
* See a taping of a show filmed in NYC
* Take gymnastics at Chelsea Piers
* Take a photo shoot of my girls
* Paint my apartment
* Ice Skate
* Go kayaking
* Get a new job
* Do something charitable
* Showcase my choreography


Want to join me? There is definitely more on my list...but some stuff is better left unsaid! So here's to a Happy New Year! Here we go Twenty Ten!

Happy Freaking New Year!

On January 1st, 2010...I thought...I was going...to die! And if I didn't, there was a very big possibility of my having to flee to Canada in efforts to escape from the mass murder of 1000 idiots! First of all, New Years Day should be spent in bed, in your pjs, watching movies, drinking hot chocolate. It should NOT be spent gallivanting around New York City especially the Radio City/Rockefeller Center vicinity, where I work!

My New Year started like any other twenty year old living in Manhattan...HUNGOVER! The difference between me and every other person was that I had to get my ass to work. So lets put this equation together: copious amounts of vodka + no sleep + possible food poisoning + 8 hours having been spent in 6 inch pumps = migraine + fever + chills + movement of a glacial pace + an incredibly sore and tense body. Therefore what do we have? Nothing less than an incredibly unhappy, non social Ashley who has to pretend she loves her job and life as a bartender! This could have been a possibility if we had been dead like expected and closed early. But you know what happens when you assume... you get your ass handed to you!



We new decade inspired employees began the morning with Bloody Mary's and shots (I made them...did not drink them), we made plans for an early dinner and talked about the possibilities for the New Year. We then watched our bliss swirl down a massive toilet while we were shit on by the worst foreigners and tippers of last year. These jerks didn't get the memo that bad tipping was SOOOO last decade. My first tip of the New Year was a solid 25 cents. This was either an omen for things ahead, or God's little joke than means the best is yet to come. I took it as the later, and then I got a ten cent tip and almost chucked it at the person's face!



There was absolutely no way in hell I could move at a faster pace. We were three people deep at the bar, the tickets were spewing out of the service bar, and people were ordering things in single increments every 5 minutes. Things such as Buttery Nipples. Really??? Do I look like I have time for a Buttery Nipple? Not to mention I was being required to do all this on an empty stomach (everything that had been consumed the 24 hours prior was on Tenth Ave), and the chills from what I could later label as food poisoning were kicking in. For people to expect me to run around any faster only proves they never leave the house except for once a year, and obviously they never went out on New Years Eve.



If you are out on New Years Day, at a bar, you should expect that your bartender and servers were OUT the night before. And they are going to be moving a little more slowly, but they are going to ask that you have a little bit of patience and start the New Year off Karmic-ly right by over tipping! So the moral of the story ladies and gentlemen: if my January 1st, 2010 is any indication of the coming year- I'm screwed, but there is always the chance that that was the worst and that it can only get better! I'm once again going with the later!