I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
My friend Jeremy refuses to evolve past the social networking dinosaur Friendster. I think it’s a little weird to be of typing age and not have a Facebook profile and a network that includes at least six people you’ll never actually talk to again. How else do you stalk people? Or put yourself out there for others to stalk?
Jeremy just responds that he’s past all of it, that he was a social networking O.G. (original gangsta), and can thus, rest on his Internet laurels.
They say you can find everything in NYC, but that’s not true. You know what you can’t find? The same scent of Caress body wash that your family in Theylivethurr, Texas uses. The one you fall in love with when you visit and then never get to experience again.
You call out its name in the middle of the night. Eventually, you forget if it smelled of water lilies or jasmine. But oh, how it moisturized!
This is the stuff of ballads.
Without a doubt, English bulldogs are my favorite canines. Little dogs tend to irritate me, as do dogs with boundless energy. This is pretty much the same reason I once chose to teach middle and high school students over those cute elementary school ones. I prefer droopy spirits, laziness, and body odor over “I heard a noise! What’s that noise?! Did you hear the noise?! Let’s explore the noise! NOISE!”
My friend Elizabeth’s two Pomeranians challenge me to the core. I visited her in Connecticut last weekend and got to play with Bogie and Fergie before I left. And my God, those dogs are cute.
Poms Wonderful from Amanda Green on Vimeo.
I started this blog a few months after I turned 22. By the time I finish writing this post, I’ll be 26.
That’s a social media savvy way of saying I’m getting old.
My friend Jeremy teaches me something new each time I see him. We were hanging out earlier this year, and he mentioned that white dogs are more likely to get cancer than black dogs. I don’t remember why. Maybe I’m getting it wrong, but he said something like that.
Another time, he said Cher was not actually a blow-up doll, which I later confirmed on Wikipedia.
We had dinner Saturday night, and he dropped a bombshell: Not everyone’s pee smells funny after they eat asparagus.
I stopped by a Bank of America ATM center in Chelsea a few weeks ago and was delighted to see an inky bramble of graffiti above the little table with deposit slips, envelopes, and the obligatory crappy pen on a metal leash.
After withdrawing some money from my account, I paused to admire what a few average vandals had decided to share.
Three things that happened today:
1. I accidentally knocked a chart stand over, and it hit a kid in the head really hard. The kid is notoriously nasty, but I felt bad.
Hi, everyone.
I’m getting up at the crack of the crack of dawn tomorrow to fly back to NYC, so I don’t have time for much of a post. I would, however, like to tap the mic here to find out if this thing is on.
I find the idea of spring cleaning my apartment a little daunting. Manhattan apartments get dusty like none other, so the results of a weekend scrubbing and scouring are undone in about as much time.
