MeddyMade's Top 12 of 2010*

This time of year should be dubbed Christmas PMS. Holiday's annual cycle and everyone is fertile with fury. I swear generosity and kindness is just a myth around this time of year. Does no one move on the sidewalks in this city?! I literally have bruises from the amount of shoulder jabs Iv recieved from stubborn pedestrians. But I suppose it's not just this time of year. Reflecting on 2010 I have created a "best of" if you will; a reflection on this year's most memorable Meddy moments. A compilation of comments one would never want to hear at a particular time or any time for that matter. Enjoy.

January: When I first moved to NYC I was pretty desperate for a job. So I contacted everyone I knew. My friend Tyriek, a club promoter who seemed pretty well connected in the city and who took me to the MTV VMA's the year prior (baller, I know), said he knew a woman who ran a catering and cocktail waitressing company for private parties. I said I had never done catering or cocktailing.. he said "ohhh don't worry about it she just wants to know your attractive". I decided I wasnt that desperate yet and wanted to involve myself in things that demanded a little more of- you know, my BRAIN. Five employment rejections later I decided fiiiiine, I was blessed with this face and if I must use it, I shall. So, I called Tyriek. The woman's name was Jaclyn, and Tyriek said all she needed was a picture. I guess I've been told Im pretty.. by people.. ok so they're blood relatives that are forced to love me by association. But still it all feels so vain to think you're attractive enough to be employed solely on looks... I mean what do ugly people do? That day, I received an email response which said "Meredith- We received you’re email and based on your photo we are unable to confirm. If you would like, you can try to submit another picture for further consideration. Otherwise, Good Luck". Sooooo... what do ugly people do again?


February: Ew. This month comprised of horrific heartbreak activities consisting of routine love letter re-readings.. unproductive fb stalking. brutal self criticism. ben and jerrys pints.. "good cries"..bad cries.. cringe worthy cries.. again, ew. .. bridget jones diary viewings..repeatedly (1 and 2). typical breakup playlists on heavy rotation.. my brother walking into my apartment and saying "Meddy I think it's time you took a shower".

March: This month really wasn't memorable.

April: Neither was this one.

May: My friend had curated an art show in a Soho loft apartment. There were some really interesting pieces and some pieces that were pretty difficult to connect to and some pieces that were honestly just.. bad? (can I say that? Sorry JP) As I made my way around I passed a couch with 3 artsy looking hipster boys. I asked who they knew or how they heard about the art show, one of them said it was his cousins apartment. They introduced themselves, Rocko (don’t hold his name against him yet), Everett and Tod (really wish his name was Barney). They all were art students at Cooper Union. They asked me which pieces I really liked. (By the way, talking about art with people who go to an art school where their tuition is already paid is slightly intimidating, especially when I only see colors, not meaning). So I pointed out my favorite piece which happened to be a vampire cake (really.. shit was amazing!).
Rocko was very intriguing and he had a sort of... appeal that was very unassuming- he had the weirdest white-boy hair I have ever seen and he wore one earring with the NY skyline (umm, eww). I sat outside with Rocko while he smoked a cigarette and he told me two hilarious stories, both of which were about being arrested; one was in a canoe in Canada and the other was for "attempting to piss in a parking lot" (charming, I know).

I decided to head back to Brooklyn and they invited me to a warehouse party in Bushwick. We decided to walk over the Williamsburg Bridge and purchase a "bridge beverage" from a certain bodega he and his friends made a huge fuss about finding. I decided on a Diet Coke since I was still recovering from the previous night. I found it highly peculiar that neither Rocko nor his friends got anything, as they had been adamant in finding this particular bodega
Me: Hey, I thought the whole point of coming into this bodega was because you said they had your favorite drink?
Silence...
Me: Do you guys need cash?
Silence.. .
(Strange. We walk outside.)
Me: Guys! Go back in there and buy your drinks! (I say this while waving a $20 bill at him)
Rocko just looked at me with this sheepish expression and opened his coat to reveal 6 PBR's in his pockets...
Me: You stole them?! (I am shocked)
Rocko: God I really feel terrible, you don't even know me and you're offering me money...
Me: Silence. (I’m still shocked- I may be a good time gal, but I do not stand for petty thievery)

The name, strike one, the robbery, strikes two three four five six and seven…for those that can’t do math, that’s one for each stolen Pabst.

June: I was getting tired of my retail job at a boutique in the West Village and I could tell the feeling was mutual- several of the Mean Girl minions I was subjected to wait hand and foot on may have casually asked when my last day was to which I responded coyly, “well I wish it were today”. Bitter on the job is never a good look. So I reached out to every possible contact I could think of in the New York City area and finally I set up a luncheon with a family friend who worked at Polo Ralph Lauren for years. After lunch she had put me in touch with a woman Felicia whom I had been trying to get in touch with for the past five years and was the current beauty editor at Glamour Magazine. The next day on my lunch break, I called Felicia expecting to reach the same voice mail I had become so accustomed to hearing (followed by me leaving the same pathetic-slash-far too eager voicemail). But this time it was a live voice! Holy shit she picked up! She had a classy European accent and she said, “so where are you now Meredith? (Europeans love using full names)” I said, “ohh I live in Brooklyn now”. She said, “No, you misunderstand, I mean where are you right now?” I said, “ oh like right this minute? Midtown!” Annoyed, she said, “yes I know but where exactly where.. give me an address!” I looked up and said, “uhh.. 40th and Madison?” “If you can get to my office in 10 minutes, I’ll meet with you” Shit shit shit!!!.. but my lunch break is over! I said screw it and ran over to the Condé Nast building in Times Square, proceeded to the 16th floor, made it through reception, and plunked down at her desk. She looked at me, asked if I was interested in modeling, and asked me my age. I said I was 23 (which is young, no?) and her face twisted up as if I had just said I was inflicted with some contagious disease.. and she said "ooooohhhh well just wasnt your calling I suppose... moving on."

July: We had a family reunion in Maine this summer as it had been years since my entire family had been together. And it reminded me of summer vacations during high school. Going to boarding school in your home town means
1. the kids you grow up with all go to the public high school
2. when you do actually see them they pretend they don’t know you
3. vacation means all your new boarding school friends go home… far away.

So…. My sister Georgia and I got really creative with our free time. It was the summer Georgia got her license. We would go for little joyrides, make fun playlists, accost innocent pedestrians (and by pedestrians I mean townie hobos.. yes, yes i suppose technically that includes me)…
It started out pretty basic “Hey you!!” then it morphed into creating people, places, events… “Hey Jimmy, ya motha’s callin ya, ya late fa dinna!!” (we also occasionally became old lady New Yorkers?)
One night in particular, we were listening to some great tunes and saw some prime targets. We started repeatedly yelling, “WICKED PAHHHTY ON SOUTH STREET” whilst honking.. we found this hysterical… until police headlights went off and we were pulled over.
Turns out there really was a wicked party on south street and apparently there were about 5 cop cars waiting to bust it.
The cop flashed lights in our eyes and started drilling us with questions about where this “party” was…
Me: “No.. really.. there is no party.. I mean we don’t know about a party..”
Officer: “Rightttt.. you don’t know about any pahhties.” Clearly, he does not believe us- and why should he?.
Me: “Yea. Really, we seriously don’t even know about any parties. I swear… We were just joking around.”
Officer: “Jokin around? You girls drunk? Ya telling me you girls just drive around yellin at boys gettin em to go to some made up pahty?”
Oh god.
Me: “We’re not drunk.. I swear, Really! We don’t even know anyone.. I mean.. we don’t even know them.. I mean we don’t know about any parties..”
Oh god..
He was so confused that these 16 year old girls were actually spending their Saturday night just driving around making up parties with no where to go.. he gave us a warning and told us to go home. I was pitied by a middle-aged balding patrol cop.

Perhaps this is more of a depressing memory and maybe not funny?


August: I had made a contact with a woman named Amanda on Wall Street who had offered to meet with me to offer any connections that might help my job hunt. After our meeting she put me in touch with a publisher. Needless to say, I was thrilled at the prospect. Amanda offered to meet for coffee before the interview. After I had drilled myself on my strengths, weaknesses, passions, vision, future aspirations. I felt nervous but ready. Amanda looked at me and said "Meddy, all you have to do is just be yourself and be confident. You are a pleasure, you look great, but do you mind if I just run a comb through your hair?”

September: It was my birthday and I had sent out an invite to a bunch of people (those of you who did not attend.. you really missed out and you should feel terrible about it. really) So clearly I was pretty excited about myself and my [insert synonym for awesome here] outfit..Afterall, Birthdays are your day to say hey! wow! Im so great! So we decided to continue on with the party somewhere else and pile into cabs. In typical Meddy fashion I sat in front with Amar our driver, so Im chatting it up, he even let me DJ. He then looked at me about to say something and in my vain birthday state I suspected something may come out of his mouth along the lines of a compliment, however as my eyes met Amar's he said... How long have you been out? You really should go to bed. Really. do yourself a favor and go to bed.

There goes your tip, buddy.
Happy Birthday to me.

October: A creepy encounter...
Time: 1:30 Am Weekend before Halloween
Location: Manhattan Ave. Walking home from work

(Feel a tap on my shoulder.. turn around and see this long blonde haired weirdo staring at me)
Long blonde haired weirdo: Hi, Im Dean (Yeah, more like Throtmorton, a nickname my grandmother gave to the unfortunates crossing the street too slowly when she was driving. Such a fond memory.)
Me: Hi... (walking more briskly and turn onto a more busy street)
Dean: So.. I saw you walking and I was like wowww you must be like European or something.. you got this like whole European thing going on.
Me: Oh yeah, thats interesting
Dean: So.. where are you from?
Me: Not Europe
Dean: Halloween is coming up.
Me: Yep..
Dean: You gonna be some sort of sexy bunny or a sexy Lady Gaga or a sexy... pickle?
Me: (I can't stop laughing.. which I think makes him think Im interested in him... he will not stop saying the word pickle.. ok im not laughing anymore and now im thoroughly creeped out)
Dean: So can I call you sometime?
Me: I don't give my number out
Dean: But I just gave you all these great costume ideas. You owe me!
Me: No, Im sorry I dont give my number out
Dean: What the F%$^ you stupid Bitch....
Oh my god.. I start running home..

So that was a strange encounter.. well cut to first week of December I get off the L train on Bedford Avenue and I hear a guy come up next to me..
"Hey are you from Europe? You have this whole hot foreign thing going on"
.. before I even look over.. I recognize the voice.. Dean.
Me: "I think we've had this conversation before, and I think that line is really terrible"
Dean: Really? Like we have met before?
Me: Unfortunately
Dean: Well what happened? I mean did we keep in touch?
Me: Clearly not
Dean: Well I have a twin brother.. we're like 6 minutes apart. Look, can I get your number?
Me: No!
Dean: Come on, stop being such a bitch.
Me: Leave me the fuck alone!!!

I thought there were 8 MILLION people in New York and I have the exact same confrontation with the exact same person twice. FML.

November: I've been working two internships during the week and since one has been unpaid I waitress most nights. This makes for a very long week. It was Thursday night at my restaurant in Williamsburg and usually it's pretty busy. So I had a rather large table of guys who were particularly obnoxious; "I'll have the enchilladas with no cheese.." (that's essentially a taco) "What were the specials again?", "Ill have the burrito but can i just have veggies no rice no beans.. and guacomole.. yeah wait. actually with rice and can i get the sour cream on the side?" I almost yelled you sound like a bunch of fucking girls! So about 10 Tecates later they finally asked for their check. As one guy was paying he said "Look, I'd ask for your number if it weren't for your unfortunate nose" Outraged (clearly.. and to think all those years my grandmother Mimi told me I was perfect in every way) I said excuse me?! He said What? I walked away, he then had the audacity to follow me and say "Look I heard that if you harp on a girl's flaw it will make her like you more because she'll want like your approval.. and like.. stuff.."
Harp on her flaw?! You've got a lot to learn buddy... a. lot. to . learn.
Pff…Douchebag.

December: Oh the holidays. They were so great growing up, all five of us crammed into our car. 12 hour drive from Maine to Virginia, it was so fun back then, playing the wave game... this was when my sister Georgia and I put up signs on either side of the windows that said "PLEASE WAVE" and waved at people.. then tallied how many waves we got..sometimes we'd even break it up by state to see what was the friendliest state!! (Zach wanted nothing to do with this, so poor guy had to ride bitch with me and Georgia comfortable in the window seats)... Oh man, it just brings a smile to my face just thinking about how creative we were... sigh.
Sadly this trip is now done on the bus from New York and this year I unfortunately came down with the flu and therefore could not partake in the Hurd holiday festivities. Instead I was bed ridden in Brooklyn doped up on ny-quil. Christmas Eve I decided it would be a good idea to go to the grocery store and stock my empty apartment to at least pretend like I had something to make on Christmas. A few steps out of my apartment I was out of breath and sweating.. ew. When I got to the grocery store the line was out of control and I could already feel my entire body slowing down when the all too familiar taste of acid began to form in the back of my throat. That's right people, I was about to vom. I dropped my basket and walked out the front door and all of the sudden everything went black. I felt something resembling a wall behind me and slid down so that I was sitting. I could not even concentrate.. I dont even know how long i was sitting there. Next thing I knew, a woman was waving a dollar bill in my face and snapped "Mami, ya lips are turnin white." I realized I was sitting on the nasty sidewalk up against the wall of a liquor store, being mistaken for a vagabond homeless person. I managed to stand up and stagger back to my apartment empty handed.
Merry Christmas to Meddy.

*Special Thank you to Jaclyn Little for finding this entertaining enough to edit!