Another weekend come and gone and another Monday morning rearing its ugly head. This is just getting old, my friends. Real old. And I even love my job. I complain enough as is, so I can't really imagine how much of that I'd be doing if I actually despised going to work every day... yikes. But I guess hating the fact that Monday rolls around every week must mean that I'm having solid weekends that I'd rather not have end - so I guess there's a bit of a plus side to all of this negative Nancy business.
The majority of my weekend was spent watching the madness ensue at different sports bars. Just like half of the American population. But at least I actually had an excuse for bar hopping this weekend since Time Warner Cable decided to suck a big one and stop working for me.
Honestly, how does one's cable channels just decide to up and stop working DURING one of the times I need my cable channels to work the most? Let's just say the TWC operator that got a call from me Friday night didn't have a valuable explanation and I didn't remain too calm when he said the next available time to get a technician out wasn't for another three days. Blasphemy. So hey, Time Warner, you're kind of the worst thing since sliced bread. And hey Verizon Fios, get yourself into more areas of Manhattan, and stat, because I could really use ya.
Oh and in the spirit of talking to people that won't ever even be reading this... hey Syracuse, what in the actual fuck, man? I can't even begin to explain my disappoint in you but I have to say I saw it coming. Looks like I won't be needing this shirt for quite some time.
But downing drafts and watching each section of my bracket slowly become redder from all my missed picks weren't the only things I accomplished over the past two days. Because I also knocked off another thing on that New York City bucket list I made up last Friday. And by made up I really mean made up since I don't even have a physical list or any bullet points on said non-physical list.
But "heading over to Serendipity 3 for frozen hot chocolate" was on the one in my mind, so that's exactly what I did on Saturday. You know, because I wanted to act like I was in the movie and all that.
I only live eight blocks and one avenue away from it, so I took a quick stroll on the beautiful 60+ degree day and arrived around lunchtime. Which, oddly enough, is when every other tourist decides to show up as well. Shocking. So if you ever want to visit yourself, I'd suggest calling ahead if you're with a bigger group. But I got in right away since I wasn't with ten hundred other "I<3NY" t-shirt clad, Dylan's Candy Bar bag holders.
It's the cutest little eclectic restaurant basically ever once you get inside. Trinkets and gift shop items line the walls, crystal gems are scattered along the fireplace mantel, the upstairs ceiling is painted pink, 90% of the waiters are 100% fabulous, and even the menu is as beautifully messy as I'd ever seen.
But then the star of the show arrived in the form of the freaking largest most decadent most amazing most absolutely unnecessary but completely necessary frozen hot chocolate I had ever seen. I'm pretty sure I could have taken off my maxi dress and jumped in to give myself a bath right then and there. It was just that big. That's what she said.
I'm also 100% certain that it might have been the best damn thing that has ever entered my mouth. That's what she said again. It's Monday, just go with it.
And now that I get to this whole part where I'm supposed to describe what it's like, I just can't do it. There simply aren't any known words that will do the experience enough justice. So basically what I'm saying is that you all just need to come to Manhattan and try it out for yourself. It's worth the travel expenses, trust me.