yesterday I saw a tranny make a balloon-animal vagina

So today I was going to ride the subway with no pants on (because of Improv Everywhere, not because I’m crazy), but then I realized that the only things I could wear where these little lacy panties that do NOT cover my gigantic tuchus, or opaque black stockings that, when I take my skirt off to ride sans bottoms, would LOOK LIKE PANTS. So instead of riding the subway pantsless, I spent a good portion of the afternoon bawling on my boyfriend’s bed. Because apparently not being able to participate in this event was the last straw that led to my “I can’t do anything right and I have no place to live and probably no job anymore and what am I DOING HERE NEW YORK HATES ME” breakdown.

And right after I calmed down, and got up to wash the runny makeup off my face, his parents (who I haven’t met yet) buzzed the apartment door because they were here for a visit from Long Island. So they walked in the apartment while I was in the bathroom combing my now wet hair (I had realized that it all dried sticking straight up while I was having my breakdown, since I had just got out of the shower. You can’t mess with a wet Jew fro. Nothing can touch it while it dries or it lashes out in all directions) and frantically trying to reapply my makeup.

So Avi’s parents walk in and his dad tries to use the bathroom and Avi’s all like, “Someone’s in there.”

“What do you MEAN someone’s in there?”

“Michele’s in there.”

And then I walk out of the bathroom with wet hair at 3pm, red eyes, and half-done makeup, at which point Avi is all, “Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend, Michele.” and he’s probably trying to telepathically communicate to them that despite how it looks, I am not a crazy homeless person and I’m standing there trying not to look as bashful as I feel. And then there was an awkward silence.

His parents are really adorable though. His mother is very energetic and tiny with a shock of frizzy curly hair (now I know why he’s the only person who likes my Jewfro) who is a bit scattered. His father is very even and seems to really like beer. Good people.

I realized that I understand Seinfeld a lot more now that I live in New York. Also, somehow most of the people I’m friends with and hang out with up here are Jews. Not frum Jews. Not like when I only hung out with the kids from chabad. But Seinfeld Jews. Like the everyday, culturally Jewish, Jews with Long Island accents and we eat pickles seriously every other day. Not only do we eat pickles, but we discuss the intricacies of the particular flavor of each batch as if it was fine wine.

Also, bowling alleys in NYC are way too fancy. People a little too old to be comfortably single or those just out of college swimming around looking for that special girl from Jersey who’s wearing her five inch heels to the bowling alley gather together in a dimly lit alley decorated with blacklights and fake leather furniture to swarm around the bar and get too drunk. There where so many times I wanted to yell, “Go back to the upper East side, dude. You need to learn your limit, because apparently five cosmos is a little too much booze for you.” to the guys wearing bowler hats and waxed mustaches hitting on everything with a vagina.

Bowling itself it really fun, though.

I need to learn how to consistently bowl in the lane though. I have this great talent of rolling the ball into alternate gutters. I scored a 23.

~ by Michele Leah on January 10, 2010.