The Luck of the Fortune Teller
St. Paddy's Day 2007, NYC
On St. Patrick’s Day, I was wandering around with a friend of mine, dipping my face in random pints of beer at whatever bar we could squeeze ourselves into. They say it’s a holiday for amateurs, I say screw them. I’m from Boston (located in the state that the most Irish people call home, second in Irish population only to Ireland itself) and was raised by (random fact number one:) an Irish-American woman for 2/3 of my life.
My grandmother decorated our house for St. Patrick’s Day like it was Christmas. The name of our church was St. Patrick’s. My grandparents helped build it with their financial contributions. I may not go to church anymore, but I still worship at the bar on St. Paddy’s.
Taking into account the number of beers and shots of whiskey I consumed that day, it’s not much of a surprise that I found myself getting my palm read for $10 inside some storefront next to one of my favorite bars. I can truthfully say it was my friend’s idea. The fortune teller was saying things that were oddly accurate for my friend, so I decided to throw her a few coins and call her bluff.
Here’s what she said:
1. I’m a very lucky person. I’m blessed and God basically follows me around, showering me with good things. TRUE
2. Within three years, I’ll be signing my name on a house or a business. WHO KNOWS (St. Paddy’s Day 2010 update: True. See Mouth Of The Border. Laying groundwork to launch business in 2011.)
3. I’m going to have two children; a girl and a boy. (Considering I want about 47.5 children, I can only hope this is FALSE.)
4. I’m going to live for awhile and die of natural causes. WHO KNOWS
5. My last relationship tainted me and I carry around some serious emotional stuff because of it. I need to do meditations to cleanse myself of that. TRUE, although I don’t know about the meditation thing.
6. At the end of the year, I’ll make an unexpected move to California. HIGHLY DOUBTFUL since, uhhhh, I just f*cking moved – and since the b*tch told me, it ain’t so unexpected now, is it?
PARTY PLANES, AKA New York vs. Boston, Part One
(Random fact number two: I’m a Red Sox fan) I was crossing the street from the train to my office last Friday and I saw a big man in a shiny Yankees jacket. Reflexively, I almost spit on him. No lie. Then I thought to myself, “Holy sh*t. I’m in New York.” I forgot myself. Baseball season is going to SUCK for me this year. I have to go out and grab more Sox gear.
I was back in NH/Boston for the weekend for two of my friends’ birthdays and I noticed a lot of little stuff that I probably took for granted when I lived there.
1. 1 point for New York – NH, your liquor laws suck. As soon as I boarded the bus from Boston > NH, some dude asked to borrow a cell phone. He gets on the horn with his boy and says, “I’ll be in at 11:15. Hey – grab some beeah before you come ovah.” I got in at 11:15 and my best friend was a little late picking me up. Why? Because she had to swing by the store and grab a six-pack of Blue Moon for us to celebrate her bday. You can’t buy beer past 11:15 or 11:30 anywhere in NH. Including bars.
2. 1,000 points for NH/Boston – NY, your men are (generally speaking) not at all what I thought they would be. At all. From a purely statistical standpoint, you should have hot men flowing out of every nook and cranny. And the problems is there are a lot of hot men. But most of them are either gay or dating one of my friends. Either way, totally off limits. When I was back in New England for a mere 72 hours, I talked to two hot men.
One was a firefighter sitting in his big ol’ firetruck right next to our car as we drove to Boston. I didn’t talk to him so much as yell out of my window to him about how hot he was. The other one I’ll get to in a minute. Again, generally speaking, New England men are heads-and-shoulders above you grungy, brooding New Yorkers. They’re clean-cut, seem to shower often, do not have hipster haircuts and seem to be in a much better mood. They’re too busy drinking to wonder if they’re acting cool enough for the ladies, and I will take their no-bullshit attitude to your New York game any fucking day.
3. 567 points for NH/Boston. God damn, I miss my girls. Whatever we did Saturday night, I can’t wait to do it again. There’s nothing like arriving at a hotel to see 10 of your closest friends, a few 12-packs of beer, a table loaded with bottles of booze, chips, dip and a whole night ahead of ya. Whatever new friends or lovers I may make in New York, New England has my heart. And that’s real.
Different Animals (For BG)
Speaking of game and guys, I’ve grown leaps and bounds since my last relationship, and I didn’t really realize how much until this weekend. I met a guy. Not usually something I’ll talk about, but this time it’s worth mentioning. Regardless of what happens, I know dating is going to be a different animal for me now. For instance, when we got into the “what happens now” conversation, one of the first questions I asked him was, “Do you have any problems with bisexuality? Because I kind of am.” It was never an issue before my last relationship, so I didn’t even think to bring it up then. Lo and behold, it was a problem.
I’ve always been upfront, but I changed a lot during my last relationship for the sake of the guy I was dating and I shouldn’t have. So I’m just going to put that shit on the table from now on. You can take it or leave it.
I also told him point-blank that I don’t think I can date him because I don’t do long-distance unless there’s an end in sight. I don’t plan on moving back to New England, so I’d rather he know that now instead of later. I can’t afford to spend time with someone who’s got a problem with who I am or how I live. The next guy needs to just deal with the whole package instead of trying to return the pieces he doesn’t like because they don’t fit. If the pieces don’t fit, he should get a whole new outfit instead of trying to f*ck up my flow.
My Dealbreaker Questions: (And here are the rest of your little known facts.)
a) Have you ever been married?
b) Do you have any children?
c) Do you smoke?
d) Do you have a criminal record?
e) Are your parents still married, and are you close with them? (Or at least someone in your family, if not your parents.)
f) What kind of music do you listen to?
g) Do you like football?
h) Do you eat seafood, onions and garlic?
I think that says more about me than any guy I date. Who bases their choice of mate on food preferences? I am insane. (But then again, so is he, if he thinks he can date an Italian girl without enjoying onions and garlic.)
