Five years ago: I'm 34. I'm single. Dating in New York sucks, and I write about it. The music scene in New York rocks, and I write about it. (well, less frequently as of late) I have a huge but incredibly fragile ego. I overuse sarcasm & self-effacing humor. I haven't been in love for a long time, but I still believe in it. I'm a little bit damaged. I teeter between crushing out hard and feeling numb on a regular basis. I drove a newbeetle, it was green and i loved it, but it went back to germany at the end of it's lease. I like sleeping in. I love my family. I won't pretend to like people. I smoked too much for 10 years. I chew on my fingers. I still love gin, but mainly drink vodka-sodas these days. I can drink most of you under the table. I have been accused of being a MakeOut Queen & a Drama Queen, and both are more than occasionally true. I'm going to live happily ever after someday or die trying.