Raise your hand if you have endured a worse clusterfuck (or is it klusterfuc?) than my ill fated trip to NYC. Everything started out well enough, until we actually got to New York. I tried to check into my hotel and found out that fucking HOTELS.COM somehow bought me rooms for the wrong night and we had nowhere to stay. The hotel manager was really nice about it, but said that we'd never find a room anywhere in the city that particular night due to something called 'March Madness.' This 'madness' must have something to do with what went down... must have something to due with the wierd cloud that I was under in Manhattan. (Ok really I think it has something to do with Basket Ball but it's a good analogy) We had to stay in New Jersey ('we' being July and myself, and thankgod she was there because who do you think paid for the hotel room when mine fell through.) We drove through harlem at 1:30 in the morning and they were collecting garbage and it was really noisy. As we all know, the only reason I went to New York,the only reason I let up on my moritorium on 'the city' is that I was going there to meet Julian, my brother. I'm going to Florida on Thursday and am completely broke because of it. So basically, I spent money I didn't have, to go somewhere I had no interest in seeing... and it should have been worth it, it should have been fun, but did it suck... I didn't mind walking around Times Square, I didn't mind central park. What I did mind was paying like $12 to get into the exhibit at the Whitney Museum of Modern Art where I was to meet up with him, only to see him walk toward me nervously, see me, and walk right past me and down the stairs. I could understand if he got nervous, I mean I was seriously nervous too but fuck we were both there, bite the fucking bullet. It is not like this meeting was my idea. He said 'meet me in new york this weekend, no seriously' I thought it was very cool. We even talked on the phone just before, and then nothing. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think of this, the way it all turned out. I like to think he got nervous but what if he just fucking decided I didnt look worth talking to or didnt like what I was wearing or something. I hope he has some sort of explanation for me, if I decide to talk to him again, if he decides to talk to me again.

So basically let me end by thanking July for going with me because otherwise I'd have slept in my grand am in harlem by myself and then had the preceeding weekend... good night gracie