White Girl Wasted

It's been three years since I graduated from college and, boy, have things changed. While in school, I would go to the bars Tuesday through Saturday and still uphold wine nights on Sunday. If this were my current lifestyle, I would be classified as a raging alcoholic, but this behavior is completely standard in college. In fact, if you're not drinking four days a week, you may as well drop out and pursue a career in freak management. 

Since college, I've become a real adult human with a real adult job and real adult expenses. It's terrible. The combination of being responsible and working 40 hours a week is grueling. My social life has taken a hit, too. Friday nights used to involve kegs, shots and short skirts; now they consist of Seamless web and sweatpants. Sadly, staying up 'til 11:45 is considered a wild night for me. 

My pathetic behavior has earned me the nickname "grandma" by friends, and I'm not even upset about it. First of all, if I'm a grandma then I have the complexion of a 25-year-old and impressively perky boobs -- so, thank you for the compliment. Secondly, I am almost always productive on Saturdays since I'm not nursing a hangover from the night before. And lastly, I'm not on a quest to find a husband, which makes watching Bravo and eating bolognese a completely acceptable Friday night. 

I'm quite positive a 7-year-old has a more exhilarating social calendar than I do -- but when I do go out, I get "turnt up" (is that how the kids are saying it?). Give me four shots of Jameson and I'm your new best friend. Give me six shots of Jameson and I transform into a white girl dancing machine. Most girls try to look sexy while dancing by displaying their moves on a table or grinding up on dudes. Not this girl. I'm probably the only person in the United States who still "raises the roof" and requests Motown at a bar filled with people in their mid 20's. I have about as much rhythm as a mom at a Bar Mitzvah. The worst part is: once that Jameson warms my belly and "ABC" comes on, I am convinced I'm the sixth member of the Jackson 5. In my drunken stupor, I'm certain that my moves are a hit and everyone is digging them -- I mean, why else would strangers be crowded around me taking videos? This is usually the last memory I have from the night.  

The morning after is always agonizing. These are usually the chain of events after I wake up: 

1) Intensely chug a bottle of water

2) Make a vow never to drink again (seriously, this time)

3) Realize there's makeup all over my pillow because I slept on my face

4) Make a vow always to take off my makeup even when I'm drunk (seriously, this time)

5) Whine and moan in bed for 30 minutes

6) Order a bacon, egg and cheese on Seamless

7) Begin receiving texts from friends containing videos of me dancing like a straight up freak

8) Make a vow never to dance in public again (SERIOUSLY, THIS TIME)

I guess the reason I don't go out as often is that I can't bounce back the way I used to. In college, I could drink until 5 am and still be able to make it to my 12 o'clock class and then go out again that night. Now after a night of drinking, I wake up with bruises, muscle aches and a hangover that lasts for the better half of the week. It ain't pretty. 

I always have a blast when I go out and I would go out more often, but the truth is: I don't think you guys could handle it. 

This is me at Craig's sister's black tie wedding

I sure am a classy broad

This is me ruining a really great moment for the bride and groom

This is me practicing ballet at a bar

This is me definitely singing Whitney Houston 

and definitely not knowing who that hat belongs to

This is me dancing by myself without a care in the world

This is me after I stole a banana costume

Craigy No Likey

My boyfriend, Craig, is truly a wonderful fella. He is everything I could ever want in a man - handsome, supportive, kind, funny -- and he puts up with me which is quite the accomplishment. Although we are totally smitten, there are things about your partner that will really irk you -- for Craig, it's the majority of my wardrobe. 

I would say my personal style is a cross between Ellen DeGeneres and a six year old boy. Being comfortable is essential to me regardless of where I am. My go-to outfit is usually jeans (95% spandex), a tee shirt and a pair of kicks. Do I look like an adorable lesbian? Yes, I do. Am I comfortable? You bet your ass I am. Though Craig doesn't mind my standard look, here are some items in my closet that he loathes:

Leather Jackets

Not only are leather jackets the perfect addition to most outfits, you feel like an effing bad-ass wearing one. Whenever I throw on a LJ, Craig will immediately say, "Oh, is Shawn Hunter coming out with us?" He says I even make this face while I'm putting on the jacket as if I own a Harley and roll my own cigarettes. Welp, sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but everyone and their mother's rock LJ's these days so it's time to embrace it. 

How I think I look in a leather jacket

Oxfords

Ladies oxfords are a huge hit right now. They're casual, comfy and oh, so cute! For months, I have been on the hunt for the perfect pair but couldn't decide if I should get them in metallic or a bold color. I showed Craig the two pairs that I was deciding between and his response was, "gross." My initial reaction was to show him a pair with a tassel but then I realized he was referring to all oxfords in general. He said they make him "uncomfortable" and can't stand when he sees women wearing them. He also said if a pair were to arrive at our apartment he would burn them, throw them out the window and reimburse me. 

Blazers

Blazers are ideal for a casual or formal outfit and are extremely flattering for most body types. I have enough outrageous blazers to be the next Liberace. Craig detests blazers so much that he calls them sports jackets. I incessantly tell him the difference between the two, but he refuses to correct himself. What's most embarrassing is when we're in public and he'll loudly make a comment like, "you got food on your sports jacket" or "it's hot, why don't you take your sports jacket off?" Let me be clear: Craig Sager wears sports jackets, women do not. 

Okay, maybe I see his point

Face Time

Yesterday, I treated myself to a facial at Bliss. And by "treated" I mean I had a gift card. Usually for my birthday, I will ask for a Bliss gift card because: 1) it's my most favoritest spa, 2) it's two blocks from my apartment and C) it smells of lemon and sage...yummay!

After checking in at the front desk, I was led into a locker room that I imagine looks very similar to heaven. It was all white and light and very spacious. If I was capable of doing a cartwheel, I would have. I then put on the robe and slippers they provided and went to unwind in the waiting room. 

If the locker room is heaven, then the waiting room is a blissful afterlife (see what I did there?). The peaceful, dim-lit room was fully equipped with citrus ice water, tiny snacks and a speaker playing a jazz rendition of Hall & Oates "Sara Smile." I poured myself a glass of water and took a nibble of cheese, barely restraining myself from eating the entire plate. I was in a fancy spa -- I needed to be Fancy Ari. I then took two slices of cucumbers and placed them over my eyes as I sat and waited for my facial. 

I heard another spa patron enter the room, so I took the cucumbers off of my eyes. She was giving me a weird look, and I knew it was a weird look because it's the same exact look I give whenever I think someone is acting like a freak. I felt really insecure and figured it had to be the cucumbers. I knew I should have just eaten them. But then, I realized why she was looking at me that way. My robe was WIDE open and my left breast was nonchalantly hanging out. I was giving this poor woman an unwanted peep show. Just when I thought I couldn't embarrass myself any further, I muttered to the woman, "sorry about my boob." SORRY ABOUT MY BOOB? WHAT? WHY? Why do I do this to myself?

Luckily, I didn't see her again after my facial. So, I went back into the locker room, stole enough samples to get me arrested for a felony and then headed home. 

Way to go, Fancy Ari.

I should probably stick to at-home spa services

The Future Mr. and Mrs. Klein (woah!)

Remember in my last post how I said I never wanted a sister growing up? Well, I was lying. Good news for me though -- I finally have one! Yesterday morning, my brother proposed to his longtime girlfriend, Ali, and let me tell ya -- it was AMAZING!

Although they are officially engaged, I always knew Ali was here to stay. Ever since they started dating over 5 years ago, she has been a part of our family. I'm really glad he put a ring on it (and a GAWGEOUS one, might I add). 

Jesse and Ali a day before their engagement. She had no idea--muhaha!

Here's how it all went down:

For years, Ali and Jesse have shared a love for Gramercy Park. For those of you who are unfamiliar with GP, it's a beautiful private park allowing key access to surrounding residents and guests of the Gramercy Park Hotel only. To say this park is extremely exclusive is an understatement. Having never been inside, the two viewed the park with mystery for years... that is, until yesterday morning. 

Originally, Ali thought they were meeting my family for brunch to celebrate Jesse's birthday a few weeks early. Since my bro is a badass real estate broker (email him for all of your real estate needs: jklein@pp-nyc.com), he told her that he needed to stop by an open house in Gramercy before brunch. As they walked alongside the park fence, he "noticed" someone was exiting the park and "pleaded" to let them in for a few minutes. At that moment, I expect Ali was thrilled to finally be entering the beautiful Gramercy Park, whereas Jesse was sweating profusely and crapping his pants. 

After strolling through the secluded park and taking "selfies," Jesse led Ali to the spot where he would ask her to be his wife.

Gramercy Park 

This is the exact spot Jesse got down on one knee

If you don't have tears in your eyes -- you're not human and I don't want to know you

Ali said yes, of course, because she is a very smart lady. Now remember, Ali thought she was going to brunch with just my family. Much to her surprise, Ali's entire family was there waiting outside the park. 

Entered the park as boyfriend/girlfriend -- Exited as Fiancés 

(I know you guys hate that term, but tough noogie's) 

Jesse, I am so proud of you. Your plan to sweep Ali off her feet was executed beautifully. Good job, you little romantic, you! Thank you for allowing me to be such a huge part of the process. I will always be your sidekick through out every endeavor and I was honored to witness the best day of your lives so far. Even though you keep fighting it, I will always consider myself as your best man. I love you beyond words. Also, I would just like to point out that you confided in me 3 months ago about proposing and I didn't spill the beans -- I rock!

Ali, I honestly feel like nothing has changed except you now have a sparkly new friend on your left hand. I have always considered you and loved you like a sister. You are such a bright, generous and beautiful little toad and we are so lucky to have you officially join our family. Through out the years you have been one of my biggest supporters, cheerleaders and often times, my therapist. Thank you for dealing with me regardless of the dilemma. I am so happy you had such a memorable day and i'm REALLY happy I didn't blow this surprise for you. I love you madly. 

Mr. Craig and Mr. Klein 

MAZEL!

    

National Sibling Day

I'm almost positive 'National Sibling Day' was created by Buzzfeed, but I don't mind acknowledging it. I'm sure most of you think your siblings are the greatest, but they have nothing on my brother. Although Jesse is older, we like to think that we're really twins born three years apart. I'm also pretty sure my parents' initial plan was to have a second son named Steven -- but hey, shit happens. It turns out, little sisters are even more fun to torment than little brothers, anyway. 

Plotting our next evil venture.

I can't recall a time when I wanted a sister. I was always happy to be Jesse's sidekick. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for him. I still have memories of Jesse telling me his troll doll was his real brother and I was adopted. I wasn't even upset about possibly being adopted -- I was more concerned with the fact that this troll looked nothing like Jesse or my parents. 

As we got older, Jesse didn't mind my existence as much. He would let me tag along to watch him and his friends play roller hockey and sometimes he would even let me be the ref. I had no idea what I was doing. 

"The Denim Duo"

Don't be fooled by those adorable punim's. We. Fucked. Shit. Up. If I had a dollar for every time our parents said, "what's wrong with you?" we would be retired. 

I can go on and on about my favorite pastimes with my brother, but I don't think you really care that much. 

Jesse, if you're reading this (which I know you are because I just told you to), thank you for being such an unbelievable role model and human being. I am so incredibly lucky to have a bright, funny, loving brother and I hope to be half the man you are one day. You will always be my very first and best friend. I love you more than Dad loves saying, "I sneezed on the truth."

Klein Kidz 4Eva

Happy National Sibling Day, Jman!

Love,

Your liddle sisder

GET IT WHILE IT'S HOT!

I must warn you in advance -- this will not be my only post on the topic of food. Although I don't consider myself a "foodie" or use the hashtag "eeeeats", I've had a love affair with food since the day I was brought into this world and first latched onto my mum's nipple.

There are many contributing factors to why food rules my world:

• I am Jewish

Jews love two things in this world: money and food. But mostly food. Whether it be a baby naming or a Shiva, you better believe there will be a lox spread. I'm not talking about just some bagels and shmear, I'm talking about enough white fish and macaroni salad to feed the entire lower east side. When I walk into my parent's house, the first thing they ask is, "are you hungry? you want a little snack?" Of course I want a snack. I think I've turned them down a total of five times in my entire life.  

• Friends

All of my friends LOVE to eat. I mean, if they didn't they sure as heck wouldn't be my friends. Our obsession with food is borderline psychotic. For example: One of my friends received a wheel of brie for Christmas last year. That's not even the gross part. My initial reaction was, "sweet! when can I come over and destroy that bad boy with you?" Another instance of our food craze was for my birthday this year. I was eating pizza with a different friend when she handed me my gift -- a ticket to a food festival in Brooklyn. Can you say "best gift ever?!"

• Living in New York

"The city that never sleeps." More like the city that never stops fucking eating. Where else in the world can you get wine, burgers AND warm cookies delivered at any given time? Seamless Web is slowly killing me. They just make it so damn easy to get a quick order of cheese fries delivered at 9:30am. Also, we have events like restaurant week and food fairs -- I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. You must be wondering, "well why don't you try to have a little self control?" Why don't you mind your own darn business, Jillian Michaels. 

Bottom line is: I eat because i'm unhappy and i'm unhappy because I eat.