Whitney feels things.

Sorry I haven’t written in so long. You guys have no idea what it is like in this f***ing city! First, this girl with lip gloss took credit for my ideas at work, and then I found out this guy doesn’t like me enough to get a haircut or NOT go on tour with his band. Then, to make matters worse, this model friend continues to wear this post-apocalyptic eye makeup as if I don't have to look at her face! OH, WAIT. I’m confusing myself again with Whitney on MTV’s The City. Sometimes I forget we are two different people leading two different lives because I, too, am learning to navigate the tear-stained streets of New York City. Here is a list of what I have to deal with on a typical day:

Problems:

-Do I try on the affordable skinny jeans at Uniqlo and, if I buy a pair, what color do I get?

-Which side of my black and white cookie do I eat first?

-Which Brooklyn dance crew do I join, or do I start my own? And if I DO start my own, is it one of those all-girl sexy groups or all-girl tomboy groups where everyone wears a plaid shirt and a jauntily skewed trucker hat?

-Is it socially acceptable to cry on the subway (a "friend" wants to know)?

We finally saw Whitney cry for the first time, and I was relieved because it might mean she has realized how bad her show has become OR it might mean that she is STILL able to feel. Sometimes after people live in NYC a long time, they lose that ability. (That has happened to one of the doormen in my building.)

I still have feelings but I have to suppress them because I’m the only girl at my job and if you cry it makes the boys feel weird inside and before you know it, you are f***ing fired.

Busy weekend ahead! I’m going to a Hoda and Kathie Lee Marathon Brunch and I am going to Duane Reade so I can spend $70 on hair spray, blue nail polish, and (hopefully) some Native American-inspired headbands. New York City!!!