From the category archives:
Alex Geana and me goofing off in front of photographer Diana Levine‘s lens at The Webutante Ball hosted by Richard Blakeley and Jessica Amason on the rooftop bar at Empire Hotel for Internet Week. See more photos on my Flickr, at Random Night Out and on Diana Levine‘s page.
Want to know more? Read press about The Webutante Ball on Gawker, MediaBistro, New York Post, New York Observer, New York Magazine, NYConvergence and elsewhere.
As I already mentioned on Twitter yesterday morning, last night’s plans included stopping by Anna David‘s private launch party for her new novel Bought. Kudos to Anna for a smash hit party!!! Damn it seemed like EVERYONE was there. Page Six even showed up. A chick who either was Emily Gould or looked a helluva lot like her was mingling in the crowds. Tons of familiar faces. LA people. New York people. People who know people. Me? I’m probably a horrible networker because, for the most part and as usual, I spent the whole night talking to people I already knew: Jahfurry (I wish I could’ve made it to the afterparty to hear him and his band), Nick (who’s got tons of pics from the party already posted on Random Night Out), Jamye (I can’t believe she’s leaving us and moving to LA!), Anna (who looked GORGEOUS in her little black dress) and Rachel (who, by the way, is soooo awesome because she returned from Europe with a CHOCOLATE housewarming gift for me.) Given the choice between making small talk with people I don’t know or catching up with folks I adore, I’d rather hang out with my friends. Granted, talking to new people could lead to new friendships. I know this and I’m working at getting better.
I like the picture Nick took of me and Rach. Apparently my cardio is working. This red shirt used to be fitted, now it looks like I’m swimming in it. Time to buy a new one and/or stick this in the dryer longer after the next wash.
This Summer: Twanna’s Big Bikini Reveal!!!! In the meantime, if you want to see more fully clothed images, Nick shot great photos of him and Anna, Jeff and Anna, Jamye and me and of course Michael and Anna. Ah, Michael Malice — a Ruskie so deliciously wonderful and PERVERTED he deserves his own FBC post. ;) Okay, enough about the kickass launch party and more about the book. Full disclosure: I know and adore Anna. So, of course I want her novel to sell really well. I haven’t read Bought in its entirety yet, but it sounds super interesting. To get a taste, you can read the first chapter here. How much do I love it that Bought opens with the James Brown lyric / quote, shake your money maker?! :) “Here’s how I see it,” Anna explains on her site. “[I]n the same way we don’t go into an interview, utter brilliant asides, and later think, ‘I really used my intelligence to nail that interview,’ we tend not to give much conscious thought to the ways we use our sexuality to get what we want.” She goes on to say that she’s “worked with agents who have made it perfectly clear that they were far more interested in what was between my legs than in what was between my ears.”
A while ago, I attended the New York premiere of Steven Soderdergh‘s film The Girlfriend Experience at the Tribeca Film Festival. (My article about that is still in the can; it’s one of three on of my List of Outstanding / Overdue Pieces.) Anyway, at that event someone brought up that quote that goes something like ‘capitalism is just another version of prostitution.’ Soderbergh responded, “Life is just a series of transactions. We all want something.” True. Or is it? I mean, yeah, I’ve totally used my sexuality to get my way with men. A short black dress, the right pair of 4′ heels and deep red lipstick opens lots of doors — literally and figuratively speaking. Hmmm … You should take Anna’s “quiz” to find out if you can be bought. Also, feel free to use the comments section below to tell me: Do you think you’ve ever been bought? Have you been buying? And, if so, how?
“Dating sucks,” Time Out New York tells us. <deadpan>I hadn’t noticed.</deadpan> So, I went to Time Out New York‘s singles party at (Le) Poisson Rouge last night, right? I didn’t meet any guys, and I wasn’t looking to hook up. TONY was my first subscription when I moved to the city (gasp, gasp) four years ago. I like the mag. I’ve met a couple of their editors in previous encounters, and a dude I used to work with at Newsweek now works there. So, when my friend “A.M.” said she was going to the party and invited me to tag along, I said sure. To get on the guest list, I had to: text the word “SINGLE” to a random number I can only assume belongs to Satan; receive an auto-response telling me to get buzzd; sign up on said site; receive a response email telling me to calmly wait in purgatory until a decision had been made about my guest list-worthiness; and, finally, I received a text that said something like “oh hai, Twanna A Hines. u’re confirmed. tonight 7pm. show this text to teh bouncer. okaythanksbai.” Ah, New York City.
Despite the brouhaha it took to sign up, the TONY party was a really laid back event. Good vibe. Great people. I didn’t ogle the male eye candy because I spent most of the night bumping into random people I already knew and catching up with a girl who recently joined one of my writing groups. Still, I have to admit, I was curious about Time Out New York’s selected 100 hottest singles. A bunch showed up for the singles party, and I wanted to know who these people were. So, at the end of the night, I got home and I checked some of their profiles [waves at Chloé, Dacia & a couple other familiar faces]. TONY included brown chickadees like this one, this one, this one and others. I love that. New York is diverse; it makes me happy when the city’s magazines actually make attempts to capture that. In any case, I perused profiles and found three who seem interesting …
A year or two ago, I probably would’ve emailed each of the guys to e-flirt and, if I encountered any luck, publicly chronicle our date(s). Now, not only am I not typing the blow-by-blow, I’m not even emailing any of the guys. Two things: (1) I’ve actively decided to date less and (2) I’m kind of over putting the guys I do go on dates with “out there” like that. More on #1 in a different post. Let’s stick with #2.
I don’t I mind giving out TMI. I’m still very much an “oversharer” when it comes to my personal life, but I’m re-evaluating how much I talk about my dudes’ lives. Plus, if I’m honest, it’s hard to repeatedly publicly stomach heartbreak. With each first (second, third, …) date, I get really excited to learn more about the guy, find out if he really likes me and discover what makes him tick. So, when/if things don’t work out, it’s frustrating to publicly re-live the disappointment. Anyhoo. Hmm, I guess I don’t really have a point to today’s post. Just random reflections on my ever-evolving relationship with my dates, this site and guys I meet in New York. More coherency tomorrow.
I went to Twestival last night. If you haven’t heard about it yet, it’s a 100% volunteer-organized fundraiser in 175+ cities. All the money raised went directly to support charity:water. So, yeah, basically, a bunch of Twitter folks got together to have fun, dance and support a charity. Here’s a video about the event.
Twestival photos. Pssst, follow me on Twitter if you don’t already. :)
College Humor‘s Streeter Seidell gives good leg hugs. :) And, now, more photos.
 |
 |
Riot (she’s online … by the way, her “where” page is brilliant. I’m gonna add one) and the other photo is of Welcome Mat (website, flickr, twitter) and me (flickr, facebook, website, blog).
 |
 |
Love it! Pink is the new blond. :)
@funkybrownchick @thegirlriot @peteramckay
———————-
Additional pics are on my Flickr. If you attended the Twestival, add your pics to the Flickr pool.
Sometimes I feel lonely in New York City. As I’ve said before, loneliness is about not having one’s needs met and it doesn’t have anything to do with the # of people around you. In my past, the times I’ve felt most alone were when I was in a relationship with a man who was either incapable or unwilling to “be there” for me emotionally when I needed him most. But, he’s a topic for a different day, a different blog post. Back to me. So, if loneliness is about not having one’s needs met, I wonder: what “needs” do I have.
Um, I’m not getting laid on a regular basis. That, of course, sucks. I had some dude / “Facebook friend” I’ve never met offer to give me a massage. Horny as I am, I still declined. I’m not in the habit of making appointments to meet strangers in unknown spaces by myself and letting them touch my naked flesh. I NEED A FUCK BUDDY. Where are my male friends in my hour of need???? ;) That aside, I guess I felt pretty lonely recently because the Chelsea v. Liv’pool game was on Sunday, and I didn’t have anyone watch it with me. My fellow soccer fanatic, Bro, wasn’t in town and I don’t think Irene watched the game. Ro was supposed to meet me at the bar, but she got delayed at home then caught up in parade traffic. I ended up watching the game at Slainte by myself. It was the first time I’ve ever done that. It was great because I was around others who got PISSED OFF when Lampard was sent off for no good reason … and when that smug little fucker Torres slid into a pose after his first goal. But, truth be told, being there also felt kind of strange, like a public declaration: “I’m sitting on this bar stool alone because I have zero friends.” Nonsense, I know. I have friends. I just need to meet more people who actually like soccer — that way, I don’t have to watch games by myself. Thank God for Meetup! I joined the New York English Premier League and World Cup group. Also, I might connect with the New York Blues; they support one of my teams, Chelsea, and they seem even more hardcore than I am.
After the game ended, I met up with Sakes, Angie and Ro for our Beautiful Brown Girls Brunch Club. (Some members pictured below.) Every couple months or so, a group of brown-skinned friends from different ethnic backgrounds get together to talk about our relationships, the black men in our lives, dating, jobs, etc. You know, the stuff that makes live beautiful. Stuff like friendship. “In a 90s 00s kind of world, I’m glad I got my girls.” Anyway. Last time we met up, we went to Insomnia Cookies; this time, we went to Essex. Chatting, Sacred told us Facebook recently disable Sacred’s account because her name didn’t sound real or something like that. Crazy, right? What’s more? This TOTALLY sucks because she’s an international humanitarian aid worker abroad who honestly NEEDS that site to send birthday greetings to friends, view pics of loved ones and do other stuff that helps her keep in contact with the rest of us back home. It’s her lifeline to stay connected to us while she’s living in fairly harsh, isolated, dangerous and, yes, lonely conditions abroad. Thankfully, for now, we’ve got her in New York visiting for a while and my fingers are crossed that Facebook reopens her account before she leaves.
Taking a page from Grateful Dating, I should probably spend more time focusing on the things for which I’m grateful. Today, it’s friendship. How about you? What makes you feel grateful today?
Okay, so 50% of this post might actually be useful. The other 50% is a public profession of my adoration for 1-800-FLOWERS and my newfound crush on Robin Thicke. Useful stuff first. As some of you know, I used to live in The Netherlands — home of the tulip. I love houseplants and fresh-cut, brightly-colored flowers. (Red, orange, purple and yellow tulips are my favorite springtime flowers.) Anyway, so, I’ve typically used 1-800-FLOWERS to send deliveries to random platonic friends. However, non-occasion / “just because” flowers are very sexy gifts for lovers, too. White Dendrobium Orchids are perfect for this time of year. I’m not a fan of red roses. Too trite. Calla lilies, nerine bowdenii, narcissus and Amaryllis are good choices. Last night’s party gift bag included an incredibly useful, AWESOME book called a “Year of Flowers” or something like that. TONS of useful advice about flowers. It’s at home. I’ll get it later and update this post with a link for more information. Speaking of last night’s party … THANK YOU to 1-800-FLOWERS for inviting me to their private little shindig Robin Thicke and 1-800-FLOWERS Present an Evening of Rhythm and Romance at Gibson Guitar Showroom. I almost didn’t go. Because, typically, when I get an invite that says “VIP” or “private”, I assume it means “we’re douches and we put words like ‘vip’ and ‘private’ on our invites so you and the other 8,000+ people attending will think you’re special.” Not the case with 1-800-FLOWERS. They honestly put on a killer, class act last night for a very tiny handful of people. I even met Jim McCann; he’s got a great sense of humor.
GOOFY LITTLE ME: Thanks. Seriously. This event was awesome!
AWESOME CEO DUDE: [joking] Oh, we do parties with Robin Thicke every night. You didn’t know? You must be on the wrong list.
Funny! :) LOVE THEM. What’s more? The gift bag was 500 shades of amazingness. Old-school style 8 X 10 glossy of Robin Thicke, free copy of his CD, chocolate, cookies, books, etc., etc. AND they fed us cute little heart-shaped sandwiches, champagne, strawberries and chocolate fondue??? When did 1-800-FLOWERS get so awesome?!?! Seriously, I think Robin Thicke loves them, too. At one point he actually clapped his hands and excitedly chanted: “Let’s hear it for 1-800-FLOWERS!!! HERCULES, HERCULES, HERCULES!!!” Fun party. Extra TV was there too, so you can watch his performance on the Extra Raw Channel. Last time I checked, they hadn’t posted the video yet. I’ll update the post with a link once it’s live. And, finally, of course, THANK YOU Robin Thicke for placing his sexy drop of deliciousness next to me. (I didn’t bring my camera, so the random fuzzy pics from last night are via my Blackberry.) Interestingly, he’s even MORE attractive in person. Hmmm …. I smell a new crush. ;)
———–
Credit paid: Image of flowers, Passionate Tulips by Jane Packer, appears online at 1-800-FLOWERS.
I’m still in Connecticut for the holiday weekend. Trust me; that sentence sounds much more bougie than I actually am. Before I moved to the east coast, words and phrases like Martha’s Vineyard, Manhattan, New England, The Hamptons and Connecticut sounded so rich, white and preppy. It’s weird to actually live and work in this region now. (Sidenote: I saw Trey Ellis — the dude who wrote The Inkwell — read at Rachel’s series, In the Flesh, the other night. He’s actually pretty funny!) But, back to CT. One of the weird things about this place is this: they don’t sell booze on holidays. Seriously, we went to the grocery store to buy a bottle of wine to go with dinner, and a big fucking green curtain blocked all alcohol in the store so you couldn’t even see it. What the fuck is that??? Seriously. What did they think would happen if people actually *looked* at a six pack of Corona?? I miss Manhattan — home of liquor stores that not only sell booze in single-size servings 24/7, they also deliver. Whatever. Anyway. Because we couldn’t buy wine, we bought sparkling cider to go with dinner … and we polished off a bottle of leftover rum hanging around the house. See how that works? Stupid blue laws barred us from buying wine, so we were forced to drink hard liquor instead. :) Such bullshit.
I hope you all had good Thanksgivings. Last night at dinner, we did the traditional thing and went around the table saying what we were thankful for. I said I was grateful for my life in New York. The first three years were really shitty at times, but the most recent one is going well … so far. Best wishes that life is going well for you, too. By the way, I kinda sorta wanted to live blog my Thanksgiving holiday. In the end, I only posted a few things. The transcript is below if you’re interested. Be well. Sending love e-booze from Connecticut …
The 2009 NYC Sex Bloggers Calendar launch party took place Friday, November 15th at White Rabbit. In case you missed it, pics are below. If you didn’t already purchase a calendar and you’d like to, here’s the link to buy one online.
 |
 |
———————-
Additional pics are on my Flickr.
Copyright © Twanna Hines and Funky Brown Chick, Corp. 2005–2012
