All posts tagged: New York

broken heart

Bird Shat and Break Ups

So I’m standing at the bus stop, minding my own business, when my partner in crime alerts me to the fact that I have yogurt stain on my shirt. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a big deal but A) it’s one of my favorite shirts (teal silk, second hand but still…) B) I’m headed into New York for a film shoot thanks to my 30-man, 100-date experiment and C) I haven’t had any yogurt today. “Maybe it’s…” her voice trails off before she can name the unspeakable horror that has landed itself in the middle of my chest. But we both know what she’s thinking.  This is Philadelphia—a city—and there are birds. “It’s good luck!” she concludes. I love this notion of “good luck.”  Its like how they say having rain on your wedding day is supposed to bring good luck.  I mean who decided that?  “Hey, don’t worry!  Your outdoor reception is ruined, and your gown is caked in mud, but you have 50 years of wedding bliss to look forward to!  How fabulous!” I …

After I Quit My Day Job Goes to 30 Rock

Last night, I had a horrible dream.  I was trying to figure out what to wear and my room was a mess and there were clothes all over the place and I couldn’t find anything.  I kept trying to locate the black lace gown I’d intended to wear to Date #7’s brother’s wedding but not matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find it. I’m hoping that the dream wasn’t an indication of how today’s going to go down because I’m on my way to New York for an interview… with a television producer. It probably doesn’t help that I spent all afternoon in the fitting rooms at Jomar’s yesterday trying to find the perfect dress for New Years Eve.  I was planning to be good this year, by which I mean my intent was to simply recycle last year’s dress (there’s nothing wrong with it and I’ve only worn it once) but now that The Wedding Date is coming, the stakes are a bit higher. Granted, he’s never seen me in last year’s New …

It Would Seem as Though I’ve Been Stood Up

Judging by the contents of my table at the coffee shop, I’ve been stood up.  This is because there are two iced drinks at my table: an iced chai with soy milk (my all-time favorite this time of year)* and an iced latte (also with soy milk, although not nearly as good as the chai). Why do I have two drinks?  I wish I could say it was something dramatic—something like having been stood up—but the truth isn’t nearly as interesting.   The barrista simply heard my order incorrectly and thought I’d asked for a soy latte instead of a chai latter with soy milk. Usually I don’t make a fuss when this sort of thing happens; I’ve worked retail and I never, EVER want to be the sort of problem customer who I used to rant about when I worked at The Shop. But it’s hot. So hot that the Philly schools closed early two days in a row last week. I want my iced drink. And I want the iced drink I ordered. So …

A Quaker Serial Dater?

Starting tomorrow, I will have approximately one hundred children under my care for the duration of the school year.  Although “After I Quit My Day Job” would suggest that I’m able to sustain myself solely though my writing, this is not exactly the case.  I have student loans, and I have to pay my own health insurance and while the cost of living in London far outweighed the cost of living in Philadelphia, the American approach to education and health care far outweighs my income as a freelance writer. The thought of full time employment makes me want to slit my wrists.  Sure, a real job would give me an excuse to wear cute outfits every day, but it would completely cramp my laptop-and-coffee-shop style.  I don’t do nine to five.  I’m too creative.  (This afternoon’s outfit, for example, features items from New York, China and Venice-via-a-flea-market in New Jersey.)  I’m also too European.  (Time for a siesta?  Woohoo!)  Finally I’m too… I’m just too damn busy dating, which brings me back to my original …

New Month? New Men!

You know you’ve gone a bit too public with your love life when a family friend pulls a hamburger off the grill on Labor Day and asks, “So Kat, what’s up with Date #4?” I have since decided that it’s time to commence Round Two.  I’m not exactly sure what this will entail (What is up with Date #4?  And do I tell my new “friend” across the state, “I’m sorry but this isn’t going to work?”  Should I forget all about my fairytale picnic with Date #5 and quit angling for one final Rittenhouse rendezvous before he moves to New York?)  I’m not really sure but the way I see it, it’s a new month and therefore it’s time for new men. I’m a big fan of alliteration and when I was thinking what to re-name my blog, the words “Thirty Dates in Three Months” came to mind.  Perfect!  But then I did the math and realized that I’d have to go on ten dates a month in order for this to happen, which …