Such a Pretty Face

Happy New Year, y’all! Consensus seems to be that 2009 sucked, but I don’t know, I liked it. New place, lots of writing goodness, new president (huzzah!). But it wasn’t great for everyone (hi, economy), so here’s hoping that 2010 is wonderful and healthy and safe and creative and productive for all.  May it be warm where you are (freeeeeeeeezing in New York right now–headed to friends’ in Park Slope soon for some delicious s’mores and wine and a fire and Wii (I have never played this–I’m excited, so long as it’s not Wii Fit, which I understand makes you enter your weight. If we play Wii Fit, I’m saying I’m 8-feet tall, lest my avatar look like a Weeble.) Whoa, parentheses within a parentheses! Maybe that’s why 2010 will be the year of! That and ending sentences with prepositions!)

xoxo c.

So, this week I am lucky enough to be featured alongside many other lovely ladies in Time Out New York’s most eligible bachelorette feature. For those of you not from NYC, Time Out (along with New York magazine) is kind of like our city bible. (Actch, your city may have its own version of TONY.) Anyway, if you feel like it, please have a look and witness me awkwardly answering questions about what I’m looking for in a mate and explaining why I’m a great catch. Fun!

xoxo.

For all of you celebrating, I hope you have a wonderful holiday. So far, my Hanukkah has consisted of realizing that my electric menorah is broken, having a Neil Diamond sing-along at my aunt and uncle’s annual party and trying (in vain) to find a Hanukkah card at Target (left).

Not to sound like a grump, but I positively despise Halloween. I, unlike apparently a lot of people, do not appreciate what has come to be the one day a year is it acceptable for a woman to dress hoey. (If you wanna dress hoey, go ahead and do it! Why wait until October?) As a self-proclaimed creative type, I also loathe the idea of buying a store-bought costume but find myself in a pinch: I am going to a green-themed party. (If I weren’t, pretty sure I’d want to go as Taylor Jacobson: messy blond wig, dark brows, sunglasses, Starbucks cup, droney voice–LOVE.)

ANYWAY, a green party. My friend is going as corn. Adorable. I thought of going as envy, and still think that would sort of rule, but how does one dress as envy? Leading other top contenders right now include Mother Earth (thank you, friend Rema!), peas in a pod (thank you, friend Jenny!), a visitor from the land of Og (am I the only person who remembers this cartoon?)  and the Green Fairy (as in absinthe). So now it’s a mad dash to pull any one of those off in two days. (Have I mentioned that I hate Halloween?) If I can’t do it, then I’m just going to DRINK the absinthe and call it a day.

c.

It’s 11:30 at night, and I’m at work. Also, I have a cold. Waaaaaah. I bought a neti pot last night and I’m a mixture of terrified and jumping-out-of-my-seat excited to go home and use it. Last night I think I did it wrong–the result was what I like to describe as water boarding lite. I sort of wish I had a picture. Imagine water trickling in a stream out of one nostril (the way it’s supposed to) AND my mouth (the ways it’s not). Ew, right? Like some low-grade horror movie about being possessed or something. Anyway, my mom heard Oprah endorsed neti pots, and that is good enough for me! Also, my friend Todd, who came with me to CVS to get it. (Ooh, we saw Alessandro Nivola and Emily Mortimer there. LOVE. They are the cutest, loveliest, talentyest couple you shall ever see. It was a very starry weekend, actually: Ogled John Krasinski and Emily Blunt–also super cute–Justin Theroux AND Gabriel Byrne all within two days. New York=Hollywood East these days. I don’t mind when it’s people like all of them.) 

Anyhoodle, what do you guys feel like talking about? Suggestions welcome! No, really, put ‘em in the comments section and we’ll talk about whatever you want. Boys? I can always talk about boys. Cupcakes? I have surprisingly little to say about cupcakes. I prefer regular cake. I don’t know what happens when you shrink a cake down to itty-bitty, but something, and I don’t like it.

For now, I’ll continue to suck the candy shell off M&Ms one by one because (as I may have mentioned) I a) am sick and b) am still at work, and those two things combined have led me to believe I DESERVE to eat as many M&Ms one by one as I damn well please.

Oh, hey, I just turned 33. (Can you tell I don’t want to get back to work. You thought I was letting you go and then I turned around and reeled you right back in.) Wee! I love birthdays. Some people hate them. Nope, not me. This is a picture my lovely friend Heather took at our fun birthday brunch. See me gazing at the cake, ready to make a grandiose wish? Yeah, guess what: I forgot to make one. [Sigh.] Can you believe that? Who forgets their birthday wish??? It’s the only official wish you get all year! (Though I did once write a short story in which eyelash wishes played a prominent role. Hey, maybe I’ll go dig that up and post it here. It placed in a contest and everything. Fancy!)

Ok, cold medicine and chocolate candy coating may be going to my head now. Until next time.

xoxo c.

A good friend of mine is producing Punchline Magazine’s star-studded 4th-anniversary show. The entire lineup looks great, but I’m most excited to see Janeane Garafalo. Love. Her. 

Get your tickets here!

Thanks to those of you who gave me a heads-up that Yahoo had included a link to “What the Guys I Date Don’t Know” in a story on Dating Advice. Did I ever think I would have anything to do with dishing out advice about dating? Negatory. Am I thrilled that I am? Yessirree!

xo c.

It’s been a crazy summer since my essay “What the Guys I Date Don’t Know” was published in Marie Claire‘s June issue. Even crazier when AOL picked it up and put it on its home page. Now, every once and a while, there’s a spike of interest in the essay and I find out it’s popped up somewhere else new (someone mentioned it showed up in a Yahoo news feed yesterday?). Just wanted to say thanks for the continued support–of my writing and of me. To have so many people find some sort of inspiration or connection in my essay has been really inspiring and mind-blowing. To all of you who have written to say you’ve been able to relate to my story with your own, rock the hell on. We’ve all got our stuff, and we all rule. Write, draw and sing it out (karaoke or otherwise). Create!

Here’s a photo from last weekend at a Brooklyn hipster party. I didn’t really rate on the cool scale there, but it was fun!

c.

I’m slowly getting the hang of this whole Twitter thing, though it often makes me feel stabby. The RTs and #s and @s…all very confusing. But vaguely fun? Anyway, if you’re on there, please come find me! I’m carlasosenko. 

I’m terrified of birds, and I think the fact that I’ve willingly invited the word “tweet” into my life for the sole purpose of sharing my INCREDIBLY important random thoughts with the world at 140 characters a clip must be a sign of progress. Yes? I actually keep a running list of things that make me nervous. Besides birds, pistachio green, The Honeymooners and outer space make the list (which is much longer than I’m letting on here).

xo c.

Hi, everyone! I can’t believe it’s already the middle of August. Been doing lots of writing and playing and fighting off a few days of 104 fever (HOT!) and all in all, it’s been a good summer. I hope yours has been, too.

No other news, really, so here’s a picture of the crowd at a club I went to this weekend. Yes, a club.  I don’t think I’ve been to an honest-to-god one of those since I was at Boston University—and boy, was this one different. Girls get mighty dressed up nowadays (this picture doesn’t really do the place justice. These people are fairly, y’know, normal and lovely looking). My biggest concern during my clubbing days (and I use the term loosely) was whether to wear my black pants or my other black pants. I’d never survive now! I’m fashion lover, but whoa, nelly. Girls wear skirts that go up to where the sun don’t shine! And they dance on tables! They LITERALLY dance on tables! (Man, I sound old.) It was quite an experience. There were club girls when I was in school, and they were gorgeous and intimidating, but today’s version is much more…polished. They look practically Lucite.

Thankfully, I was there for a friend’s birthday, so we got ushered to the front of the line by the very nice staff (my 20-year-old self is tres impressed with me right now), and the music was pretty awesome (though they only ever played songs in three-minute snippets. We wondered if this was because the clientele had short attention spans, for, um, unknown reasons). Anyway, it was really something. People were knocking back $18 cocktails and ordering bottle service. Can somebody tell Obama that the recession is over? At least on a small strip of clubland in the west 40s.

The NYT Styles section coincidentally wrote up this place for the Boite item yesterday (synergy!), and it actually sounds quite lovely on a weeknight. Nice roof deck, art, less overly douchey clientele. Actch, I shouldn’t even say that—the people were really fine. There were just a lot of them. On top of one another other. And us. Not terribly pleasant on a humid New York night. I’ll take a divey little bar with good jukebox and a Stella instead any day. 

Cheers, y’all.

c.