I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
A piece I wrote called “The Accidental Chubby Chaser” is in this week’s NY Press.
Here’s an excerpt:
A few dates into what would become our relationship, I determined that the look John gave me was a sort of hungry admiration. Not that he ever let himself get too hungry. The guy had never met a cheese plate he didn’t like.
On Saturday, I was fortunate to get a free ticket to the Magnetic Fields concert at Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM). I’d tried unsuccessfully to buy a ticket at face value, so I resorted to the last-minute date thing. I found two different guys with a ticket they were hoping to put in the soft clutches of a lady who would be friendly, and hey, maybe even cute.
Anyway, both guys were real people with real extra tickets. I went with one, and shared an armrest with another. And they didn’t know each other.
This story might come off as a sort of highly coincidental Memoirs of a Geisha tale, but it turned out to be more like an episode of Three’s Company. (Don’t be gross - I don’t mean it that way).
A good book is a good friend. Some books - the really special kind - are lifelong loves.
But even if you have a briefly entertaining fling, it’s all good. Books don’t start immediately sleeping with trashy girls from Craigslist once you turn that last page.
Well, maybe some library books do.
It wouldn’t be the first time I discovered someone cool online and wanted to reach out and say, “You. Me. Friends for life. Got it?”
Such is the case with Ryan Chapman, this guy I somehow discovered last week. I haven’t had time to Google the bejesus out of him or even to find out if he’s 1) a nice person, 2) not creepy, 3) cool, or 4) no really, I mean it - not creepy at all.
My first and only impression of him is from his blog, where he recently came up with this idea:
Can you summarize your past or present relationships in 140 characters? Valentine’s Day is coming up, which should add to the general cheesiness/vitriol of people’s responses. You can use the #lovetalk hashtag to see everyone’s contributions.
It’s the beginning of a new decade, a time to think of where we are and where we want to get. It’s also simply the beginning of a new year. This January, we vow to be more accomplished, less fat, or whatever the case may be.
And I’ve coined it the Year of the Ass. Because so far in 2010, I’ve felt like ass.
Life has been one pain in the ass. Actually, many. Many pains on one pale, grumpy ass. Some would say I’m even acting like an ass.
So yeah.
How does that story go?
Some woman was attacked back in the 1960’s. It was night. Summer probably. She screamed from the streets and many people heard the commotion and looked out their windows.
And they didn’t do anything. They watched her get killed.
If it truly is the thought that counts, then I guess some people who have given me gifts over the past 26 years were cognitively challenged.
‘Tis time for my third video post wherein I discuss bad presents past.
Warning: May involve something related to puberty.
When I broke up with Cade, he left my apartment without hugging goodbye, walked down Central Park West, and disappeared.
For months, I’d look out for him as I walked around the Upper West Side. We didn’t live all that far apart - my feet must have covered his tracks myriad times. Then he started working at an office downtown near mine.
But we never saw each other again.
Years ago, I bought a pair of Tod’s black leather loafers at a thrift shop. They’re in perfect condition, which makes me wonder what happened that would leave these expensive and handsome shoes unworn.
Did someone die? Did someone live and break someone else’s heart?
Or were they just the wrong size and unreturned?
I’ve been going through some old blog drafts written at various points in the past. Sometimes I’ll save something that tickles me, even if it’s apropos of nothing.
Or sometimes it’s too painfully apropos. For awhile, anyway.
This is from “A Dog Is No Reason to Stay Together” by Damian Kulash, Jr. as featured in Things I’ve Learned From Women Who’ve Dumped Me, edited by Ben Karlin:
