http://www.bitch-sessions.com/ New York, Los Angeles, and everything in between. en-us 2004-06-27T14:01:43-05:00 2005-08-23T19:58:54-05:00 Wurd of the Day Popcabulary - Phenomenon in which the names of pop artists creep into the personal and business vernacular. Popcabulary is usually observed in the written form, in such examples as the following: Example 1: Interoffice email Stevie: I don't believe she wanted to express that in the meeting - such an opinion would make her a bit of an outkast. Example 2: Instant message Julia: i was JUST thinking the same thing Jen: OMG we are SO N'Sync Example 3: Instant message Dan: should we get dinner first Gina: nah. just polished off a bag of peanut... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2004/06/popcabulary.html Wurd of the Day Mail Basher - Woman who forwards every email she’s ever received that portrays men in a negative light. Because of her, her friends' inboxes are sullied with the likes of such missives: Butt Measurements >> >A man and his wife were working in their garden one day and the man looks over at his wife and says: "Your butt is getting really big, I mean really big. I bet your butt is bigger than the barbecue." >> >With that he proceeded to get a measuring tape and measure the grill and then went over to where... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/06/mail_basher.html Wurd of the Day Deja Brew - The act of going to a bar for the first time, but upon arriving, realizing that you have been there before. Those who suffer from this syndrome begin the night teeming with anticipation of a new experience, which palpably deflates once they recognize the bar. Number of times this has happened to me this month: Three.... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/06/dejabrew.html Last week I visited a friend in the Dominican Republic who is serving in the Peace Corps. After a treacherous week at work, the vacation was an opportunity to gain perspective on what little right I have to complain about my life. Stationed in Barahona, a seaside town in the southwest region of the country, my friend Dustin lives in a steamy apartment with no running water. From noon till midnight Merengue and Bachata, the dance music of the region, play at full volume from the colmado (a tiny store where people gather and drink alcohol) across the street. The... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/06/the_english_lesson.html As the seven year anniversary of my move to New York approaches, I find myself reflecting on how much the city, and I in it, has changed. It is said that life is a series of seven year cycles -- what we like to eat, our career paths, and who we are as people are supposed to change significantly every seven years or so. Even marriages and romantic relationships are challenged at the seven year mark (although I would argue that these days that happens a lot sooner.) When I moved to the city in the summer of ‘96 I... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/05/the_seven_year_bitch.html I don't know anything about cars. I mean...I drive one, so I know how to do that. I can put gas in it, though I've proven that I lack skill at that as well. Carba-what-a-rator? Transmission who? I'm absolutely clueless, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before this cluelessness was put on display for all to see. Hence my little incident last week. At about 9:30 PM last Wednesday evening, I pulled into my parking spot at home. I turned off my car and started to head off, dreaming of a nice calm night of... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/05/chivalry_is_dead_and_i_am_an_idiot.html Wurd of the Day Premature Articulator: A person who, when engaged in conversation, incorrectly finishes the sentances of the person they are conversing with. The motivation behind this varies, but usually is a result of a failed attempt to seem more intelligent and informed than they actually are. (Wurd courtesy of Gxxp.) My new manager is the WORST premature articulator that I've ever run into, and is actually the inspiration behind this wurd of the day. Every conversation we have reads like a Saturday Night Live sketch. It's frustrating, extremenly annoying, and ridiculously time consuming...and it's driving me insane. An... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/04/premature_articulation.html A few months ago, I was on a cross-town bus headed towards the East Village. When we got to Astor Place, a young couple boarded. The girl – young, blond, and barely 21 – did not have enough money for the fare. As she scrounged through her purse and her boyfriend emptied his pockets, I leaned across the aisle and offered her some coins. She enthusiastically thanked me and paid her fare. As the bus plunged ahead down 8th Street, I gazed out the window, pleased with myself for my good deed. The girl was pleased too, and I overheard... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/04/three_times_a_lady.html Wurd of the Day IM-nesia: The act of receiving a reply to an instant message so long after your original message that you have absolutely no idea what you were talking about in the first place.... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/04/imnesia.html Wurd of the Day Neigh-ho (pronounced NAY-ho) - a person who refuses to leave the confines of her neighborhood, limiting her existence to a 10-block radius because she believes it's the best place on earth. Symptoms include evaluating social invitations based on their cross-streets and insulting anyone who even mentions the Upper West Side. (Wurd courtesy of the Goal Girls.)... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/04/neighho.html A few years ago while on a road trip to a friend’s wedding, I happened to pass through one of my many formers towns of residence, Virginia Beach, VA. Feeling nostalgic, I decided to drive by my family’s old house. I had fond memories of that house on Wivenhoe Way. I remembered it to be a grand, luxurious two-story home, located on a sprawling, beautifully manicured lot. It’s amazing what 18 years can do to a memory, as the house that was a palatial estate in my mind, turned out in actuality to be just an ordinary home, in an... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/04/the_notsomagic_kingdom.html Ten months ago I joined “The Widows Club.” Now this is truly one of the shittier sororities to belong to. For months I walked around feeling as if I had a huge black “W” tattooed on my forehead. Being the extra person at dinners and movies at the insistence of your friends is both a wonderful and an awful thing – wonderful that you have friends willing to drag your ass out of the house and awful being an intruder in a couple’s world. I never imagined myself in this role, let alone at 54. Take it from me –... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/03/the_thong_and_i.html A victim of overly-ambitious scheduling, I dashed out of class a few weeks ago, late for a concert. I hailed a cab on 6th Avenue and 12th Street, and proceeded north ten blocks, where we were halted by a stoplight. A 50-something Asian woman approached the passenger window, and the cab driver lowered it. The woman shouted something unintelligible and motioned with her hands as if she were expecting something. I thought nothing of it, until my driver responded. “No! I know you! You do this to me before! Remember me?!”, he shouted in an accent I can only describe... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/03/the_stiff.html The day after my father died I searched for a sign - a sign that he was okay; a sign that I would be okay; a sign that any part of the whole damn universe was still okay. In the midst of all my terror and confusion, I’m pretty sure any old sign would have done. But on that day my Dad sent me an honest to God S-I-G-N. A sign too real, too pure and too sacred to try and put into words. But from that time on, I have known my Dad is with me. I feel him... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/03/my_dad_made_me_shit_on_my_favorite_national_monument.html At 10:15 AM yesterday morning I arrived at the Department of Motor Vehicles on Hollywood and Vine in Los Angeles. I had taken care of my registration and license on previous visits, and was only there yesterday to perform what I thought was the simple (and quick) task of "picking up my new plates." Turns out the task was as I had originally thought, quite simple. It was unfortunately about as far away from "quick" as one could ever imagine. "I'm here to pick up my new license plates," I told a gruff looking woman sitting behind a gigantic sign... http://www.bitch-sessions.com/archives/2003/02/a_dmv_diary.html