What do women want?

According to a cross section of people I have just spoken to, women want the following:


Female, Age 23, Student/Blogger:
"I want an art collector, who is a gourmet chef, plays tennis, doesn't work a lot, and wants to live abroad at some point. That's all."

Female, Age 23, Corporate Legal Assistant:
"I want a man who has a job, who will let me quit my job if I want to, who wants to spoon, holds my hand in public, is tall, and has a sense of humor. I think that's it."

Female, Age 23, Public School Teacher:
"I want someone who can make me laugh and likes downtime."

Female, Age 14, 8th Grade Student:
"Layne, why are you asking me this question? That's kind of creepy. I'm going to tell Mom."

As you can see, I think expectations for potential mates sometimes runs the gamut. I wonder how much expectations are tied to geographic areas? Before I lived in New York, I would have answered the above question as, "someone who went to a really good college, has a good job, is taller than me, has brown hair, is funny/makes me laugh, and in turn laughs at everything I say. Oh, and enjoys things like hunting or fishing, and orders beer at a bar", and I would have thought that a completely realistic answer. But I just asked myself this same question, and my expectations have now become, "Graduated from college and has direct deposit". And yet, this is apparently very difficult for me to find. Go figure. Read more

I am Perez Hilton

Dear All (and by All, I mean, you my 2 readers),

I write to you from a Starbucks on 9th Avenue near the meatpacking district. While the neighborhood is very trendy, I am looking particularly women's college today. I am wearing jeans, a MHC hoodie sweatshirt, and my new balance. Most people go to coffee shops to meet their mate...and I'm fairly certain it's not going to happen for me today. In fact, if I saw anyone who DIDN'T know what I was like back in the "red sweat pants/northface fleece" dark days of Mount Holyoke, I'd probably crawl in a hole and die. I didn't come here specifically to update my blog, but since I am putting off any and all attempts at re-working my personal statement, now seems like the perfect time to update. I will bucketize this post by topics:

LSU Game
I couldn't be happier that LSU won. As I had no one who wished to watch a football game with me in this city, I, in engaging in some sort of whack social experiment, decided to go my local Irish pub to watch said game. Needless to say, I was the youngest person there by a good 20 years. I eventually struck up conversation with some 50 yr old Irish construction workers, who then proceeded to grill me about why I wanted to go to law school, and then bought me 4 beers. It was like Cheers, except Irish, and no one knew my name. By the end of the evening, the told me I should come back again. I'm thinking about becoming a "regular", if only for the stories I think becoming a "regular" at an Irish Construction Worker pub might provide.

Recent Engagements
I logged onto Facebook today, and was, yet again, notified that another one of my friends was engaged. This will make the 5th or so engagement I found out about this week. I thought the average engagement age was like 27/28, but maybe I am wrong. While everyone I know getting engaged petrifies me...I would very much like to be invited to each and every one of these weddings. Not because I have a date (as is clearly evident from the below posts), but because who doesn't love a free party? That probably makes me cheap.

Age
I can't decided if we're getting old or not. Everyday I am bombarded with signs in either direction. For example:
Leelee's 14th birthday party: old
Hearing about people purchasing property: not
Walking around the NYU/East Village area: old
Applying to Law School: not
My parents talking to me about my "inheritance": old
My parents sending me money so I can pay my billz: not

23 as the Michael Jordan Year
I recently heard from a friend that she was so excited about turning 23, because she took it to be the start of her "Michael Jordan Year". I've been thinking about this a lot recently, in a retrospective way, and I've realized perhaps 23 wasn't the best year I've ever had. Reasons are:
- I fell and broke my rib when drunk at a bar in Murry Hill;
- I didn't score a 180 on my LSATs;
- My identity was potentially stolen by some hacker who hacked the Louisiana Student Loan database;
- The ceiling in my bathroom collapsed in the middle of the night;

Let's hope, generally, 24 proves to be a better year. Of course there are still 2 months left of my Michael Jordan Year..so, there is still time, I guess.

Miscellaneous
There are two men sleeping on a couch behind me. I was going to comment on how tacky I think that is, then I had a flashback to the time that I took a nap in a starbucks in Prague WITH all of my luggage, and I think we even had the nerve not to buy anything. I really miss traveling Europe. I think I will definitely go backpacking next summer. If you want to be my travel companion, please let me know. I am very easy to travel with. I have stayed in the Worse of European Hostels, so it really takers a lot for me to complain. Usually, it takes a complete loss of water and or electricty at the hostel for longer than 24hrs. Read more

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Subway Musings

-This morning on the subway, I started reading the Financial Times over a random co-ed's shoulder. I thought this would be the moment where Random Co-Ed would catch my eye and say, "Here, lets share the paper", and then I would have insta-boyfriend. This did not happen, and instead he turned around, shot me a nasty look, and then folded the paper so that I would no longer be able to read it.
-Who are these women with extra large engagement rings, who ride the subway in sweats?? I have realized that even if, by some off-chance, someone DOES ask me to marry them, I think I will never quit my job. When I took 3 days off to study for the LSAT, circa hour 8, I almost applied for a part time job at pinkberry to kill some time for the rest of my 3 day vacation.
-Who are these people who lean against the pole during rush hour traffic??? I hate these people so much. I've tried fighting back any way I can, but usually my "fighting back" ends up meaning that my hand is crushed behind someones back, and i look like i'm inappropriately touching a stranger.
-Sometimes when I ride the subway, I like to pump the Eric Prydz, "Call on Me", on the IPod, and pretend like i'm in Europe. But then some a-hole in an a-rod jersey pushes me out of the way, I drop my purse and everything falls out, people kick it around and then a mariachi band tramples me. Read more

Random Thoughts

- I've started to watch way too much tv, so now, in lieu of television, I am going to try to try and read 2 hours a night. I will start tonight...right after I watch this ep of Gossip Girl;
- Remember when I used to say, "If I meet a guy who had read Daisy Miller, and would understand a Daisy Miller reference/make a daisy miller reference, I will run off with him immediately"? I thought about reinstating that policy, but then I realized that most of the guys who approach me don't actually know how to read. Sadness;
-I will probably be getting my LSAT scores later this week...so if you see me sitting in the fountain at Wash Sq. Park eating from a take-out container of Saag Panir and gently sobbing, you'll know why;
-It looks like the advertisers for Viagra are getting really bold. I just an ad where the song, "Viva Las Vegas", had been changed to "Viva Viagra". Remember when these ads were like older men in shadowed light whispering, "i've got a secret.."???
-My 14 yr old faux little sister recently wrote a song entitled, "Rejection", about her breakup with the 8th grade class stud. She was very upset about this situation, so I put it in perspective. I told her, "Hey Leelee, you might be writing songs about your painful breakup with the class stud, but when I was your age, my song lyrics were like, "why did you steal my beanie babies, burn them and video tape it?". She shut up. Read more

Begging on the Streets

As my two readers may not be aware....I recently found myself in what could best be described as, "a sticky financial situation". I had...how do I put it delicately...no money. I had heard my whole life, "if you're rich in spirit, and you have a roof over your head...you can never be poor". Whoever told me that was a liar. Having 0 money is terrible. Paying for subway rides with pennies and nickels is terrible. Becoming a dollar menunaire at Mickey D's is terrible. But, like the same person who lied about the rich in spirit BS told me, every cloud has a silver lining. My poverty allowed me to empathize for beggars. Before the week of poverty, I had thought, "HEY GET A JOB. I DID", everytime someone can on my subway train and started, "i'm sorry to bother you..." But during the week of poverty, everytime i saw a beggar, i would tell them, "i hear you, man....I just paid for this ride with some pence from the UK!" . HOWEVER, all of that having been said, I'd like to take some time to give any of my homeless beggar readers out there a few tips:

Keep it nice
I can't tell you how many times i've seen beggars lash out when things don't go their way. One time I was walking home, and there was some woman on the street begging who started out so nice and was like "sweetie..i need money..." -- I did the obligatory "look down and pretend you didn't hear" move. Obiviously Woman on the Street didn't like this AT ALL, and she responded with, "well you look like you've never had to go hungry for too long". Hey, you just called me sweetie -- now you're telling me i look like i've never skipped a meal?? Any shot you had at my turning around and giving you some spare change has flown out the window. Yesterday, on the subway, one particularly aggressive beggar yelled, "SLUT", to this awkward librarian type with glasses who didn't look up from her book to give him money. I, of course, didn't make matters any better b/c even after he got off the train, i turned to the entire train and asked, "wait, did he just call that girl a slut??" Awkward Librarian looked like she wanted to die.

Show some creativity
There are some homeless people who really show some creativity -- they sing, they tap bricks on the ground to make noise, they breakdance, they hum really loudl while rocking back and forth. I like to see this, and I am definitely more inclined to give you money if you, in whatever way you can, "worked for it".

Look the Part
I sometimes see beggars with nicer nikes than I have. This makes me particularly livid, as, right now, I have 2 pairs of shoes I continue to wear with holes in them. Now, I'm not saying I *should* be walking around with hole-y shoes, but I don't think beggars should be wearing un hole-y shoes when they are asking me (girl who is wearing shoes w/holes) for money. Read more

I HATE HIPSTERS

I think the title says it all, but I want to reiterate: I HATE HIPSTERS.

Scene: Salon-themed hipster bar next to a "Nathan's Original Hot Dogs".

I can't even begin to describe the parade of individuals I witnessed. I, of course, roll in wearing the ubiquitous "i'mgoingoutandgoingtohaveawildnight!!" black dress. Upon entering the bar, I immediately realize that perhaps I should have done one of several things: a) not blown dry my hair..instead, let my hair embrace its more lion-mane quality, b) worn my jumper, and perhaps, a skull & bone button up shirt, c) gotten a modified bob, and worn my glasses or d) shaved my head, and come in with overalls, stiletto heels and a page-boy cap. To say I looked out of place was probably an understatement.

To me, hipster used to mean "counter-culture". In fact, back home in New Orleans I used to consider myself a hipster because I wasn't a debutante, I wore glasses, I wrote my own plays as a child, and on weekends I used to work the front desk at my parents guest house. All of these things were counter to the normal culture of children and teenagers in New Orleans, so therefore, I was a hipster. Once I moved to New York, I realized, my definition of hipster was vastly different from the one I had conceived of since childhood. In New York, all the hipsters were counter-culture in the same exact way: guys who dress like British School Boys, too much eye-liner, tight t-shirts and vests -- girls who wear skull outfits, suspenders, adidas soccer cleats and one earring. I can't understand how these people don't realize the hipocracy of their existence. Oooohhh..you wear vests..let me tell you something: if everyone wears vests just like you, you are as mainstream as the girls with polos and longchamps that you probably hate on unmercilessly.

I want to re-define the term hipster. I think hipsters are people who work obscene hours, live in crackdens, just want to survive, and just do things that make them happy, even if that includes just staying in and reading instead of going to a bar that masquerades itself as a "former massage spa" or "former salon" . To me, THESE people are the true hipsters. Show me a slightly out-of shape accountant who is picking up his take out thai food to go home and watch the discovery channel on a thurs night, and I will show you a hipster.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this entry....if I don't end it now, I may start going on a rant about my normal topics of rage: florida, my job, the new york city dating scene, and homeless people who proposition me.

And with that, I leave you. Read more

I'm out of ideas

But sometimes when I am bored, I re-read the emails my parents send me. I will call this a "Best Of" Dennis and Joanne emails. I also find it better, when reading emails from my father, to imagine Christopher Walken reading them aloud. Note: I have inserted comments where appropriate

"Layne
for some reason watching the movie about "Miriam" (L: What my father meant here was the Devil Wears Prada -- we all know that the main character's name is actually named "Miranda", but I think that was lost in translation) and hearing you talk of
your experiences at work and in New York---made me laugh about how different we are down here and what the speed of life must be in NY.. I think they would hospitalize me for some type of "lethargy" that is un-explainable. in the diagnostic manual.
I think that once we do visit you---or you visit us there will be such a "cultural lag" that we will have to work on communicative styles. (as if we don't have to already) hot down here-----muggy-----Gatlinburg --very cool in the mountains Dollywood -- kind of cute and friendly---sort of like Deliverance----duh dun a dun dunt don (L: I think this is meant to be the banjo theme song -- oh, and as an aside, one particularly low Christmas Evening, my family watched Deliverance together)-- not exactly the banjo playing --but you get the point--love ya Dad"

Let's contrast this email style with the sort of email from my mother:

"DO YOU NEED TO GET YOUR HAIR DONE? HAVE YOU BEEN GOING TO CHURCH? YOUR FATHER HAS STARTED WRITING FICTION, HE WROTE SOME SORT OF POEM ABOUT THE TICK-TOCK OF DEATH, SO I SLEPT IN YOUR ROOM LAST NIGHT. I BAKED A CAKE AND MADE LEMONADE, AND NO ONE CLEANED THE DISHES. GO FIGURE. XOXO MOM" Read more

"You shouldn't quit your day job"

Today, I discuss a particular breed of New York Man: The "Entrepreneur".

Last night at "Ubiquitous Ibanker meets B&T Bar X", I was chatting with one of my friends, when all of the sudden I notice a gentleman caller has sidled up next to my chair. I go through my mental checklist: Brown Hair? Check. Taller than me? Check. Employed? Well, if he's at a bar, and purchasing his own beverages, he must have *some* money, so, for all intents and purposes that's a check. That is when I spot it. Gentleman Caller is wearing a black graphic tee with a:



You Got it. He was wearing a graphic tee with a Koala bear on it. It was like the entire bar went silent with a screech upon my noticing this tee shirt. I had a visceral reaction, and I screamed, "WHAT ARE YOU WEARING??????" Joe Gentleman Caller breaks out in a wide smile, and says, "You like it?? It's from my new graphic t-shirt design company!" I stood there silent with a horrifyed look on my face for a couple of minutes. I remembered that this is New York, and I am a single 23 yr old living in a crackden in spanish harlem -- I probably shouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth. So, I decide I shall continue talking to Koala Joe. I asked him what the name of his company was -- he tells me, "It's Rare Unlimited". I continue to have a horrified look on my face -- I figured that if you're going to have a company that sells graphic tees of cuddly animals, the name was going to be at least a tad bit ironic -- something like "Ghostface Gangsta Killaz Bearz" or something. Koala Joe obviously picked up on my skepticism and continued to smile, "you see, it's like an oxymoron..like, oxymorons are two words that are sort of different, so like how can something be rare, but also unlimited, you know?" As he was telling me this, I thought to myself, "thank you, Koala Joe, for telling me what an oxymoron is -- I only studied English Literature, and Literature of the British Empire in college..I must have just *missed* the lesson on oxymorons", but then i remembered: single, 23, crackden, SpaHa -- so I told him, "That's witty", and I turned around and chugged the rest of my drink.

At this point, I am slightly intoxicated, so I figure, maybe I can turn these lemons to lemonade. "Hey Koala Bear" I yell, "What is your advertisement strategy?" Another look of pleased legitimacy. He comes close to me, as if he is about to impart the secret to business..."Myspace. And the best part? It's free." (Shots appear at the table, and Layne takes one), "KOALA BEAR", i slur, "I think your tshirt would be better with a smaller bear, perhaps in the corner, perhaps like a polo?" Koala Joe's look of legitimacy turns to anger. "Why wouldn't someone buy a tshirt w/a large Koala bear on it -- it's cute, its cuddly, it attracts the ladies, it's great." I'm Silent. "Also, I'm not trying to be polo...this shirt is golden." I continue to be silent whilst sipping my drink. Finally Koala Joe gets so worked up that he tells me, "Honey, you shouldn't quit your day job." and he walked away.
Another successful evening out in New York. Read more

Another Night Out

C'est 3am, and I am back from another unfulfilling night in the NYCDS (new york city dating scene). I did, however, meet the love of my life. He was a cab driver, he was nice to me, and he told me he thought I wasn't very drunk. In New York, this equates to love at first sight. In college/abroad, love at first sight meant a tall geeky awkward guy with brown hair and glasses....but sometimes, I suppose, you have to manage expectations. So, in short, if anyone has Nadim the cab driver's phone number, please let me know.

In other news, I went to go get my post-drinking slice of cheese pizza, and the man said, "everytime you come here, you get the same thing, so many times, by yourself..." I yelled something about living far uptown, in a studio...but i've decided I will never be going to Zesty Pizza again. Read more