Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Hello Strangers!!

Now you're probably wondering..."Who the hell is this?" Let me give you a re-cap....I'm the Naive New Yorker. I have been topless on the subway, had a homeless lady pee on me and learned that the Eiffel Tower is NOT in Midtown. Yes, it's been a while. A lot has happened. Some good, some bad, most a little crazy and absurd. But I'm back and better than ever! (Not really better than ever, I just always wanted to say that-it sounds like I've been on some make over show, which I have not.) So stay tuned! And I promise I'll start posting regularly. Tootles!

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Strawberry Daiquiri

As I’ve briefly mentioned before I am 100% substance free. This includes alcohol, cigarettes, pot and any other drug you can imagine. In fact, I don’t even drink coffee and rarely do I consume carbonation.

Last week I attended a friend’s show at a basement theater off of Times Square. It was a warm spring day and something inside told me to let my hair down and get a little crazy…so I ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri. I have never had a virgin strawberry daiquiri before so I thought the bold taste that burned down my throat after my first sip was odd but probably normal. I set the drink in front of me and forgot about it for a while. After a bit I remembered how hot and thirsty I was and mindlessly downed half of my drink. That’s when I came to the conclusion that the burning was not a normal sensation for a virgin drink. My head wasn’t supposed to feel that hot, my ears certainly weren’t supposed to be on fire, my eyes were involuntarily wide and I couldn’t wipe that surprised expression off my face. I sent the drink back and continued the evening feeling warm and relaxed.

And that was my first experience with alcohol. I definitely understand what it means now to “take the edge off” and it was actually quite delightful.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Granny Panties

One more quick story about my operation that proved to be one of the more awkward experiences of my life:

Nothing is better than a nice, anesthetic induced nap. I woke up in my mom’s hotel room post-op feeling absolutely refreshed. I flipped on the tube and stretched my body over the entire bed and felt something foreign around my mid-section. Bewildered, I felt on my stomach an elastic waist band that wasn’t there before. I flipped up my shirt to reveal, a giant pair of granny panties…that I hadn’t gone into the operation with. I was mystified. How on earth do you wake up one morning (or afternoon in my case) wearing random underpants up past your belly button? I called my mom demanding answers to my mystery drawers.

As it turns out, my drug induced self demanded that I needed new underwear after the operation. My mother, trying to get me back to the hotel, had a hard time getting me in a cab and watched me march straight into CVS. I walked directly to the Hanes and picked out some briefs, debated on a pair of socks and proceeded to check-out. She tried to convince me that I probably didn’t want that kind but I insisted that they were perfect and made the purchase.

So, lesson to be learned…anesthesia makes me want to change undergarments. I should carry an extra pair next time I have an operation so I don’t end up in a drug store with over-sized grandma underwear.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Survey says...

Is this a cat or a human in heat? It sounds here like a cat, but there are other times I question...

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Those Pesky Painkillers

Recently I had a (mild) operation. My doctor gave me pain relievers to help out post-op and I used that to my full advantage.

Last week I went to Prohibition to blow off some steam with friends. It's one of my favorite places to frequent with a fun atmosphere and great music and as usual, hilarity ensued...

I've been hanging out with this guy Chad for a bit now. I am intrigued by him and have decided that I would like to figure out how he feels too. The problem: as I've stated before, I am a little awkward and shy when it comes to expressing myself and unlike most people who eventually swallow it up, I often find myself concocting elaborate schemes to get myself a beau and unfortunately they have about a 40% success rate. And why should this be any different? So in usual form I thought that I could pretend to be a little high on my pain-killers (I am actually 100% drug and alcohol free) and let him know that I'm interested.

Upon arrival I did my best 'high' act which includes: slight drowsiness, low eyelids, a smile and an abnormal amount of giggling...I think. I should've realized that about 20 minutes into my scheme I'd come to the conclusion that this was a bad idea, I always do but by then I'm too far in to back out.

So I went for the gold. As he wrapped his arm around me, sitting in our booth, I turned to him and said in my slightly 'stoned' voice, "hey, hey...I like you." He chuckled, I held my ground and for some reason though that repeating myself would really get my point across. "Hey, hey...I like you." Pause. Pause. Not a good idea.

Luckily, gal pal swooped in to save the little bit of dignity I had left and whisked me home. I was actually more relieved to drop the whole 'baked' act then anything and have vowed to myself that the scheming must come to a halt. Until next time, there's always a next time.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Keeping It Casual

It's safe to say that while I'm a dramatic person of sorts, I'm actually painfully shy when it comes to my feelings.

Case in point:

I spent a fabulous six months dating this guy named Jared. We had a great time together and we laughed all the time. He let me talk his ear off about my obsession with Musicals and David Bowie's hair from Labrynth and I think he actually enjoyed it.

At one point in the relationship I left the city for a month to visit family. During this time things got weird so I'd do some Facebook stalking (you all know you do it) and noticed this girl commenting on his page all the time. While sitting on my parents couch, cotton balls in between toes and bag o' chips in tow, he asked me if I'd noticed this girl writing on his wall. Instead of the obvious answer (YES!) I decided to be the 'cool girl' and lie, lie, lie, lie, lie. So I said no. He told me that it was nothing anyway and not to worry if I ever saw it.

Another few weeks goes by and it gets increasingly awkward, so I finally ask him in my most casual voice what is going on. I get the story from him that he doesn't know, feels bad, wants to work it out, blah, blah, blah and I suggest that if there's anything going on with the FB girl then he should explore it, I don't want to hold him back. He said that he had no desire to and that's when I said what I didn't mean, and nobody wants to hear. I said "Well, I can go either way." Silence on the other end.

'I can go either way?' as in, "Hey, wanna go to the movies tonight?" "Oh, I don't know, I could go either way." Or "Hey, how do you feel about Mexican or Chinese for dinner?" "Hm...could go either way." NOT "I really like you and want to work this out," "Well, I could go either way."

Sheesh. Brilliant Shelley, Brilliant.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Is This Seat Taken?

New York City is known for its torrential downpours of rain and often I’ve been caught without an umbrella. Every time it pours I think of one particularly awful experience I had…

About five years ago I attended The American Musical and Dramatic Academy. After leaving a dance class one evening I found myself caught in the rain. I was running to meet friends and decided to hop on the crowded train to get me there faster and dryer.

Once I got on the train I did what I like to call “the seat scan” where you scan as quickly as you can for an available seat and then high tale it to claim the seat before anyone else can get there. I was happy to notice one available seat in the whole car, so I wove myself in and out of people to sit. Upon arrival I realized that the reason it was an available seat was because there was a very smelly, very loud homeless lady one seat over. But I didn’t care. I was sitting and that’s all I wanted. I discreetly put my hand over my mouth to mask the smell as the lady got up to walk through the car. And that’s when I saw it…a puddle on her seat, a puddle that was leaking its way over to my seat. I bolted up to reveal homeless lady urine all down my sweater. I ran off the train at the next stop, tried not to vomit and threw away my favorite sweater. When I finally arrived to meet my friends I was soaking in nothing but a leotard and jeans.

Oddly enough, I was applauded for my bold fashion sense by my friends and kept the secret to my style until now…