Tag Archives: creepy boyfriend obsession

If You Leave a Stupid Ad in a Public Place, We WILL Have Fun with It

Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, fun times on the subway, living in new york is neat
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These are the sorts of things we do on weekends to amuse ourselves:

Zig.

Zig zag.

Zig zag ZOOM!

Kamran’s flailing arms aside, my favourite part of the video is the beginning where I have to tell that woman she can walk in front of the camera. I swear New Yorkers are only polite when they’re being filmed.

Also, I should mention that this is from months ago, just in case you get freaked out by my short hair and the fact that we’re wearing coats in the midst of summer. Because I know our every move affects your emotional health.

From the Poo to the Empire

Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, jobby jobby job job, living in new york is neat
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My boyfriend, Kamran, recently moved from a regular, old associate office into a partner office at the law firm where he does patent whatnot, and late Saturday afternoon, he took me to work to show me how far he’s come.

From the old days in a dark little office where things like this were par for the course:

to this:

The glory! The majesty! Looking out upon the Empire State Building as you write patents and litigate the hell out of anyone who so much as coughs in your direction–that’s how you know you’ve made it!

But even now that he’s sittin’ pretty on top, Kamran will always be a physics-experiments-in-the-lab-lovin’ kind of nerd:

Congratulations, hotstuff.

We’re Never Leaving the House Again

Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, living in new york is neat, music is my boyfriend, narcissism, restaurant ramblings
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Tuesday night, in an attempt to get me to spend time with him before he goes home to The O.C. this weekend to see his family, Boyfriend Kamran invited me to dine with him at Serendipity, the restaurant I convinced him to take me to on our third date right before we went to the Empire State Building for the most cinematic first kiss in history. There was a twenty-minute wait–the shortest amount of wait we’ve ever encountered there, I think–so we sat outside on the green concave benches and discussed the uses of bundle theory and substance theory, which is the sort of thing Kamran’s really good for at crowded restaurants.

As we sat mindlessly staring at the fake cake in the display window, a man in a blue-and-white-striped polo shirt with a shaved head and a very tan body approached the door and attempted to open it from the outside. It didn’t budge, so he pushed harder as an Asian woman with long, frizzy hair approached from the inside, but still nothing happened. We figured that it was a joke, that the two knew each other and that he was trying to keep her from coming outside. But the woman’s face moved from a look of confusion to one of anger as the man leaned on the door with all of his body weight, and we realised he seriously didn’t understand that the door pulls out rather than pushes in. When he finally figured it out, he turned around and looked at us, saw that we were smiling to ourselves about how ridiculous he was, and started laughing, saying, “You knew all along, didn’t you?! You were laughing at me!!!” And that’s when we realised he was drunk.

He came waltzing over to Kamran and–it’s hard for me to use this phrase–bumped fists with him, patted him on the back, and slurred something about a wife and kids while the frizzy-haired lady rushed past us and into her waiting SUV. The guy noticed and motioned for her to roll down her window so he could talk to her, and I was like, No, lady! No!, but she did it, and the guy blew his alcoholy breath all over her, and she chattered on nervously about how she thought he had been holding the door shut just to be mean to her. Kamran and I took his distraction as an opportunity to run for cover in the restaurant, but the guy followed us in a moment later. He shook hands with the man at the host stand, so I thought that maybe he was a regular who was meeting his family there or something, but the host watched him uncomfortably for a few minutes as he touched all of the kitschy items for sale in the waiting area and then quietly asked him to leave.

It’s important here to note that Kamran isn’t the sort of person who tries to get close to casual acquaintances or needs friendships of convenience; he gets combative when participants in reality television shows talk about how much they “love” each other after one episode, and he generally dislikes all other human beings (which is naturally the reason we get along so well). So I could see the “what the hell?!” sweating from his pores when the drunk guy stopped on his way out and full-on wrapped his arms around Kamran’s neck and pushed his body against Kamran’s for a hug. Kamran just smiled out of politeness while the guy buried his face in Kamran’s shoulder and whispered things like, “I’m with you. I belong here.” He stopped on the other side of me and said all surly-like, “That guy’s name is Josh. He looks like a Josh, right?” And I said, “He’s the Joshiest,” because you don’t argue with shaved-headed drunks.

On the way home, we hopped in a cab with a driver whose name was Shiv (awesome!), and he immediately began coughing stuff up from his lungs and spitting it out the window repeatedly. His face was sagging, and his nose was crooked, and the constantly flying phlegm didn’t help matters. Kamran’s stomach was feeling a bit queasy to begin with, so I kept glancing at him with a horrified look on my face, just waiting for him to puke up our Cinnamon Fun Sundae right there in the back seat amidst all those hacking sounds. And then the guy’s cell phone rang. It was this really cheesy MIDI (though it’s decidedly better than this one that I recorded for Kamran and happen to keep on my work computer–what?), and I was like, Jesus Christ, who’s still using that sort of crap as their ringtone? And then I thought, Wait, don’t I know that song? And then I realized that it was the YEAH YEAH YEAHS.

What a frightening, frightening world we live in.

Piggy People

Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, living in new york is neat, my uber-confrontational personality, why i'm better than everyone else
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Last night, Boyfriend Kamran and I had a leisurely yakitori dinner complete with watermelon sorbet in his neighborhood to celebrate a law school A that he didn’t expect but wholly deserved. As we walked back up the hill to his apartment, I looked expectantly at my feet like I do every time I wear flip-flops in NYC, waiting for a cockroach to crawl over my bare toes. I told Kam that I saw a cockroach in our gym that morning, and he wondered aloud when cockroach season is. I said it seems to be at the start of summer and the start of winter and concluded that cockroaches must be adverse to extreme weather changes, but he sarcastically derided me and said that surely they’ve evolved enough to handle a little temperature fluxuation what with their ability to withstand nuclear attacks and all. We started talking about how ridiculous it is that instead of adapting, humans just do things like move to Florida when the going gets too rough, and I argued that things would be so much better if we were pigs; our pores wouldn’t leak, so we’d just have to recognise when we were overheating and find a way to cool ourselves down. We talked about redesigning the human body to have an internal coolant system with a refrigeration pump and selling our upgraded version of man at a steep price.

While we were having this discussion, we passed one of the hand-carved Italian stone buildings next to his, where four women were leaning against a low wall and chatting. They were all in their 30s and wore their long, highlighted hair down despite the heat. They had on atrocious heels and clingy dresses, and they sipped from martini glasses in between laughs. They were the exact opposite of us. When our conversation finished, I asked Kamran, “Did you see that?”, and he said, “What, those women trying to reenact ‘Sex and the City’?” And we laughed and laughed about how superior we are.

The thing is–I’m pretty sure this sort of business is going on every night in Manhattan. Kamran and I know that we’re weird, but isn’t everyone else weirded out by how normal they are?

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Dewy Dripping Boobies

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me: What’s for dinner?
Boyfriend Kamran: I was planning to reheat the remaining chicken and make some more rice and vegetables, but we can do anything else. I’m not 100% sure when I’ll get out of work.
me: Umm . . .
Kamran: Don’t want that? I understand if that’s the case. We could pick up Subway instead, or even go out somewhere.
me: Oh, no, that sounds great. I’m just wondering if I should get something snacky.
Kamran: You should… um… eat some grapes.
me: Do we have some?
Kamran: No.
me: Tease!
Kamran: http://www.mccullagh.org/db9/1ds2-4/red-grapes.jpg
me: Boobies! Dewy, dripping boobies!
Kamran: dot com
me: YES.

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