I am finally back in the blogsphere. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, but seriously, guys, it's been hard getting my energy up. I feel like Quantum Leap's Scott Bakula, having shuttled through time, with a flight at 10am on Wednesday, landing in LA at 6am on Wednesday, and then getting to NYC at 6:20 on....THE SAME WEDNESDAY.
I am from the future.
Okay, maybe I'm not as cool as Scott Bakula--Sam? Can I be Sam?It is now 12:45am on Tuesday morning and I have more energy than the hyped-up gremlins on my flight from Sydney to NYC.
Seriously. I'd like Qantas to rethink its new "Kids Fly Free" promotion. My plane ride was like a fucking Gymboree.
I'm really quite cracked out. After nice, low-key goodbye drinks Tuesday night in Sydney, I decided the best way to ensure that I slept on the plane (and didn't leave behind any of my stuff) would be to stay up all night. This plan was foolproof, as not sleeping often makes people fatigued. And sitting in an air-o-plane for 15 hours leaves little to do besides sleep.
I forgot that I find it impossible to sleep with a stranger only 2 millimeters away from me.
This left me with ample time to watch such films as: The Changeling, Rachel Getting Married, In Bruges, and Four Christmases.
Yes, Four Christmases.
I'll post some erudite film reviews soon.
I got home Wednesday at 7pm NYC-time to find that my uncle and his 4 children were staying with us until Saturday.
No, no one bothered to tell me in advance.
I wondered if Qantas had some promotion with my house--"kids fly free to Harlem" or something.
I know it's family, but seeing as I'd been on an aircraft for 22 hours and hadn't slept in 2 (maybe 3?) days, I wasn't in the mood for surprise guests.
I was even less in the mood to take all four children to the Museum of Natural History on Friday--which I had to do.
My 12-year-old cousin thought it was hysterical when I fell asleep standing up for a second and almost fell over the railing onto the elephant exhibit below.
The 7-year-old thought it was a great idea to take his dad's digital camera and then make me chase him around the dinosaur skeletons.
At some point during our outing I ducked into the women's restroom and tied my own tubes.
Friday evening, my plans to sleep were broken by the most exciting event ever--a surprise party FOR ME!! Can you imagine? My dreams of mauling my mates like Christian the lion came true, as the small but solid contingent rolled up to everyone's favorite West Village spot, 99 Below, for a "Welcome BLACK" party. I stayed up til 3am, feeling happy to be home for the first time.
My buzz was killed when, on Saturday afternoon, I called up the Weasley twin and learned that he is seeing someone in Canada.
Oh h to the no!
And, the best part--I had to ASK HIM if he was with someone! Can you imagine if I'd rocked up the Canadian tundra with fresh-baked brownies and the cutest outfit ever, only to be introduced to Sarah, boring girl who likes to climb trees?
I played it breezily enough on the phone (after all, I AM a blacktress), but I'm still a bit shaken by the whole thing--mostly feeling embarrassment. I mean, how do you have me come meet your parents, pack your damn suitcase (rollin' up your man-panties and everything!), and within 6 weeks in Canada find someone that you're WITH???
Clearly, he didn't appreciate me. I think I'm starting to understand why New York has her contestants sign a "blood oaf." (more on that here)
And on the phone, he had the nerve to chat like we're friends, even asking me if I met someone on my travels.
Wtf?! Look, mate, we are NOT mates.
I'm trying really hard to break the cycle, but sweet jesus, how many love-corpses must I leave strewn across this globe? This is actually getting to ri-goddamn-diculous!
Sorry. You can tell by my excessive use of italics that the wound is still fresh.
Perhaps, if I truly wanted to maintain the upper-hand and hoped for him to think that it was his loss, I shouldn't have put up this pic of me during my "Lord of the Rings" tour in New Zealand on the interwebs:
Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me???? 
3 comments:
I just did a literal LOL when I saw the caption of that photo. Perfection. Someone should make a LOL-Naomi with that written on it.
I still stand by the fact that if a man can't accept your hobbit ears, he clearly is not the right man for you.
Who knows? Maybe the redhead will see this picture, dump Sarah the tree-climber and run to New York to propose to you. It could happen in a McWorld. Just sayin'.
I-I-I-I think that you look awesome as Frodo. And I second JJS III to say that if he can't accept the hobbit ears, then that red-haired so-and-so is not the right man for you.
I like the frodo ears. I think they are hot and fashionable. And I think he is a dickhead and don't give him another thought. You are home and I'm jealous.
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