slip slop slap

My Visa bill this month is $800. Yep. I bit my lip and scanned for possibly fraudulent charges. The universe does have this way of separating me from my belongings you know. No dice. All mine. Most notably a plane ticket to LA for next month. But all in all a lot of me falling back into my old New York City habits. One of which is putting dinner on the credit card and then collecting cash from the mates to avoid a trip to the cash machine. On the upside, i save that 1.75 that i always get snookered into because i really must have that Mango Froze Fruit noooow. And then of course, the extra cash has miraculously appeared in my pocket, yet my bank balance remains the same. Neat right? This is the kind of accounting that gets a girl promoted at Arthur Anderson, but one that doesn’t play out quite as well while opening mail in my vestibule at the end of the month.

Aside: On the Visa bill, below my months’ adventures, in between the reminder that i have no preset spending limit and the blurb encouraging me to give to Easter Seals is this:

Before you step into the sun, remember to SLIP! SLOP! SLAP! (R) Slip on a shirt, slop on sunscreen of SPF 15 or higher, slap on a hat and wrap on UV protected sunglasses – They’re your best defense against sun damage and skin cancer.

Since when did Citibank Visa start caring 2 milligrams of ink worth about the dermatological health of their cardholders? And more importantly, why would anyone register a trademark like “SLIP! SLOP! SLAP!”, much less Visa? Puzzling. I have no theories yet.

So i may be slip-slop-slapping back into old spending habits because i am also slipping back into old full-time-office-job working habits. The coffee and rotating breakfast item from the coffee cart guy, the $7 Soho sandwich, the afternoon snack cause there aren’t any windows and i quit smoking so i need something to go outside for just so i can make sure that the city hasn’t crumbled away or burned down while i was centering and aligning little lines and boxes on a computer screen. Oh, and did i mention i work in Soho which everyday validates my theory that it has the highest density of pretty people anywhere on earth (wearing generally the coolest shoes ever). I suspect this is contributing heavily to the current self-esteem condition.

I never ever thought i’d think this let alone say it, but from time to time i find myself longing for the swarms of blank-eyed, business casual commuter types who filled the narrow streets at lunchtime in wall street. Each neighborhood has it’s own desperation i suppose. In Soho it’s that i just don’t care to see if low rise jeans can rise any lower then they did yesterday. Alas i am in the minority on this one. Everyday there’s some girl who’s on a mission to have the lowest low rise jeans this side of.. well, this side of Broadway.

On the upside, after a very rocky start, i’ve made friends with the godzilla sized Calvin Klien model who stares down at me cockily as i emerge from the Broadway-Lafayette F train stop. At first we didn’t get along. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, and he has this stupid way of tucking the sleeves of the shirt around his waist into the pockets of his jeans that really bugs. But lately we’ve come to terms with eachother’s presence, and even have a chat on occasion. He asks about the coffee today, i inquire if he thinks it’ll rain. And yeah ok, i do think he’s hottie. But we don’t have a future. I swore off billboards years ago.

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