Don't cry for me next door neighbor

Friday September 11^th

11:30am

Dear Journal-

I’m supposed to be working right now but how am I supposed to work when I slept with someone I should NOT have slept with? RIDDLE ME THAT.

Let me back up to Taco Night…

After three too many drinks, and one too many renditions of Chumbawamba’s I Get Knocked Down, I was smart enough to call it a night (the only intelligent thing I did). And Big G was nice enough to offer to walk me back before his gallant older brother insisted that he was the one to escort me home.

The two of them shared a glance I didn’t recognize. It was probably some secret sibling code or whatever.

Anyway I walked back with Gigantor’s older brother Larry (oh that’s right…did I not mention Gary’s older brother is Larry? Yes named by their mother Carrie and father Barry. Marie told me while the guys were getting us drinks, apparently they’re not big fans of their family’s name).  He had me laughing the entire walk.

We stopped at my stoop and there was a definite moment. Either that or the alcohol was totally screwing with me. Larry’s mismatching brown and green eyes squinted at me the way my old boyfriend Ted’s used to when he was about to kiss me…except his was a little cross-eyed.

He leaned in and I leaned out. It sort of looked like that shimmy move they did in Grease at the carnival scene on that back and forth machine (you know exactly what I’m talking about).

Why did I do this? The same reason why I love dunking pretzels in cream cheese…because I’m wired that way. I don’t kiss taken guys. It’s not my style.

Larry was not a fan of my Olivia Newton-John impression and decided to have another go, in case I misunderstood what he was trying to do before. I pushed him away but his leather jacket was slippery so I didn’t have traction and wound up falling into him.

The next three things sort of meshed together so I’ll say it the way it seemed hetriedtokissmeGigantorshowedupandlongstoryshorthewokeupinmybed.

I know…. Stop judging.

More to come when my boss isn’t walking by-

Girl who needs to buy a lot more concealer or some new scarves.  

You Would Cry Too If It Happened To You

Wednesday September 9^th

2:25pm

Dear Journal-

Before I tell you who is in my bed right now please let me tell you a little story.

When I went on a camp trip to Canada like ten years ago, everyone had a digital camera, they had just come out and even though their pictures came out pixely and it coast a bajillion dollars to own one, everyone had one. Anyway, so we get to Niagara Falls and we all want a group shot. My group leaders were nice enough to grab all thirty of our cameras and take pictures. Well after twenty shots of them holding the camera away from their faces to see the screen and zoom and focus, they got to my disposable. Henry had a puzzled face. “Wind and shoot,” I called from the crowed. Everyone stared and chuckled to themselves…

So you see, since my mother refused to buy me a digital camera or anything else to bring me into the decade, I was forced to be the kid always behind, never getting what she wanted.

With the new apartment and excitement over catching the mouse and my new friends taking me for tacos and having such a good hair day… I couldn’t help myself.

It’s bad…really bad but…

Oh wait he’s waking up and asking why I’m hunched in a corner writing.

Eek-

Formerly Brave New Girl

To Taco or Not to Taco..?

Tuesday September 8^th

11:30pm

Dear Journal-

Okay turns out Marie wasn’t hitting on me and was just being nice and the Taco Bar was not a crude name for a Lesbian bar but instead a real Taco Bar. Tonight is two-fers.  It took me running into her, literally, in the hallway and almost dropping Mighty Mouse to the floor and letting the bugger escape to find this out.

She told me it was ‘last call’ to come with her to the Taco Bar, and my exact words were, “Sorry I’m not exactly um-er- into tacos…?”

Not one of Genna Willis’s finest moments, I’ll say with confidence.

Marie laughed after staring at me for a moment and told me it wasn’t a euphemism and she wasn’t trying to convert me to the other side, in fact she’s not even a lesbian, she is dating Gigantor Landord’s brother, who watched the whole awkward encounter from inside the apartment. He was so enamored with my nobility to catch the mouse that he escorted me to his brother’s room, and told him about everything he missed.

Gigantor, or Gary apparently (though I think Gigantor is more fitting in a mean giant way), blinked. I was pretty sure he would roll his eyes and slam the door but instead he looked straight down at me and asked, in his booming voice, “Seriously?” The ground shook like the way a car does when ghetto people blast the bass of a song.

I handed him the box. He opened it and saw Chuck E. Cheese for himself.

“She really thought you were hitting on her?” Gigantor looked to Marie who tried to soften the embarrassment and make an excuse for me. Big G and his brother ignored her. “You’re definitely not going to be a boring tenant Genna.” He said the G in my name like he would say guinea or giddy or gullible.

“It’s not Genna,” I said it the way he did, “It’s Jenna… with a G.” I took the box out of his hands dramatically and went back to my room, where my “wood” floors had peeled off and showed the brown linoleum (which were clearly white at some point).

In a fit of rage I peeled it all over and covered my mustard yellow walls with it. In my head it was going to look cool in that accidentally sort of way that it would in the movies. Well Genna Harriet Willis, it turns out, is not living in a movie…unfortunately and now my walls look like something Ty Pennington would cry about.

There’s a knock at my door now, so I’ll write back soon.

Thanks for understanding why I’m still wearing these mittens-

The least boring tenant ever.

Genna vs. The Mouse

Monday September 7^th

10:31 pm

Dear journal-

So my neighbor, Marie, has stopped by three times to remind me of the specials going on at the Taco Bar, I’m not kidding, I couldn’t make that up if I tried, it’s a lesbian bar called the Taco Bar. And the insects I mentioned before, turned out to be mice because the moment I closed my eyes to go to sleep on my squeaky (and I’m pretty sure mold ridden) Murphy bed, I stared right into Mickey’s eyes and probably broke his little eardrums and the sound barrier, with my scream. I know it was loud because my landlord Gigantor came in and asked, in only his tank top and boxers, what all of that ‘hullabaloo’ was about. The guy was no more than thirty and talked like an old man from 1940’s Brooklyn. I decided to tell him just that and he did not find it amusing, so much so that he refused to believe I had a mouse problem until he saw the actual mouse.

In a fit of rage I put on my winter mittens and took a shoebox and literally squatted on top of my bed, ready to pounce like a falcon onto Tom, Jerry style. I was perched for like a half hour before he scurried across my “wood” floors. With an Amazon cry, I leapt and caught the thing.

I’m about to present this little gift to my gracious landlord. I even made a nice bow around it in toilet paper. Ha!

Now if only I can sneak downstairs without alerting Marie “Lady Taco”.

Wish me luck-

Twenty-four and still wearing the mittens

The First Day of My Life

Monday September 7^th

8:04pm

The first day of my life.

Dear journal-

I am sitting in my beautiful amazing studio apartment in the colorful area of Chelsea (no one really warned me how colorful, I mean my neighbor Marie already gave me her number after a wink and flex of her very tattooed arm). Sure when they said studio apartment on the phone I pictured a 10^th floor loft over looking the city and not a fifth floor walk up with one bedroom dangerously close to the fridge in the alcove… I mean kitchen.

But hey… I am twenty-four and living on my own. How many other kids could say that? Not many. Well I shouldn’t say kid, I am a young adult and not the way tweens say young adult, I am actually a young adult. I have a credit card with my name on it to prove it.

And who needs exposed brick I have exposed pipes.

And I’m sure the insect problem my extremely intimidating tall landlord was talking about will be fixed super shortly.

But again, this is super great. I will be the next Carrie Bradshaw. No, not the next Carrie Bradshaw, I will be the new Genna (pronounced Jenna, not Gina or Guhnah) Harriet Willis. That’s right New York City world Genna Willis is taking over and taking names (or however that goes).  

So what if the mustard yellow walls are chipped and the “hardwood” floors are oddly sticky and my bed is Murphy style? I will rock this. I will learn to afford this city and then rock this.

More to come-

Brave New Girl