i see no chaaaanges

Everyone hates change. It’s the most cliche and overused clause other than “it’s not you it’s me,” and with company like that, what’s not to love? (warning: overdose of sarcasm coming) I love change so much I want to friend it Facebook and follow it on Twitter. I want to subscribe to it’s blog and get push notifications every time it checks in on Foursquare. NOT.

Change and I do not get along very well. Change is that step sister that came into your life when you were 5 and every single present under the Christmas tree was no longer for: you, love: Santa. Change is also the grumpy neighbor up the block who “mistakenly” ran over your cat, that girl in your English class who slept with your boyfriend before you started dating yet continues you rub it in your face, and the girlfriend of the bartender who refuses to let you in even though you have 39 forms of backup ID and turned 23 in November.

I am 193 percent opposed to change. If it was the health care bill, I would be Rush Limbaugh. Any wizzay chu get the point. So thankfully in the past week, my life has taken a flip turn upside down and quite a few changes have occurred. Let’s review:

1. I got a new job

2. I no longer have a Blackberry

3. I took my first trip to Brooklyn

OK so to all of you who aren’t me, numbers 2 and 3 probably seem like no big deal, bro. Au contraire. Anyone who’s anyone knows that I define myself and my self worth by the number of bbm contacts I have. No I don’t want your phone number the next morning, I want to scan your bar code, bitch! Send me yo pin! Anyway, 2 years, 2 months and 18 days of having a blackberry (or 9 but who’s counting) helped me accrue quite a hefty number of bbm contacts, and chi will miss all 95 of you (especially my New Zealander, Lewis from Dorrian’s) from the bottom of my heart. However, this nifty new iPhone has a touch screen AND a sporcle app most importantly. But lets not get into the blackberry vs. iphone debate..because I will lose…against myself.

Thankfully change came twice today, secondly in the form of Brooklyn. I’ve always heard people talk about this magical place, but never chose to venture there, since, well, most of the time I was brought into a discussion about Brooklyn, I argued that it was on Long Island and that tended to epically upset any and everyone else involved. Don’t try, I won’t budge. Obviously Brooklyn is not considered a part of Long Island. Get your dick out of your ass: we don’t want you either. However, maps don’t lie (unless you happen to be Christopher Columbus and can’t read them). Therefore, Brooklyn is attached without bridge or tunnel to Long Island. End. Of. Story. Accept it or leave. Everyone knows the only important parts of the Island are the North Shore of Nassau and the very, very East South Shore of Suffolk. Brooklyn does not fall into either of those categories, so allow me, here is the door. Don’t let it hit chu on the way out. HOWEVA: After tonight, I will no longer be afraid of Brooklyn, or think that it only consists of the 3 block radius around Peter Luger and the responsibility of breeding such a gem as my next husband, H to the izz O, V to the izz A. Brooklyn: we coo.

Other than my new tele-toy and trek to BK, change brought along this snazzy new yob, which I LizzOVE. But there isn’t really anything fun to write about there, except that I’m getting Chipotle for lunch with one of the girls I work with. MONEYYYY. Chipotle Fridays are back and better than ever. I guess I can now break up with comfort, or at least start an open relationship with change, as it might not be as much of a douchebagging bastard as I previously thought.