La Laci

Laci Fontana: modern day lolita, debonair extraordinaire, socialista and wanderlust, here live to share my 5am rants which consist mostly of adventures, men and the woes that living in the glorious New York City brings. Twitter: @LaciFontana

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Happy Hump Day

Just witnessed an awkward one-night-stand-phone-number-exchange at the top of the subway steps.  Glad to know someone had a successful hump day 

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dreams do come true

So my friend at work and I created the perfect word last night. Today I submitted it to urban dictionary - AND THEY ACCEPTED IT!

best day of my life

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Sisbliss

#sisbliss - get on it

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The Bartender

What is the allure about bartenders? I see girls go crazy over them like they are an A-list celebrity, or the front man to a hit band. Is it the control they possess on your next cocktail? Is it that they encounter many of the opposite sex and you get giddy knowing you're the 'chosen one' for the night or, is it you're drunk, they’re there, and it's easy access...

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You know you're in Bushwick when....

The guy is living on an air mattress

He uses the NYC free condoms

His room is a "treehouse" aka 6 pods built in the 1 bedroom loft with 1 bathroom

Low point. Ask beforehand.

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[eroscestlavie]

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Just no duck face. Please. Thanks.

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Cat Convention

If you are a guy, and the girl you’ve been dating can't come to your best friend's party because she needs to go to a 'Cat Convention' (for those of you who, like me, didn’t know what that all entailed – it’s where everyone dresses up like cats, face paint and all) ....

why the F would you continue dating her?! This is what the rest of the population calls A.Red.Flag.

I'm just here to help.  You're Welcome.

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English Breakfast

I'm 2 for 3 on running into my dreamy british neighbor in the hallway before work. I must say, if every morning started with a well dressed hottie saying "have a great day" - I do believe I would.

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The Carpenter and The Cheek

I broke my bed on New Year’s Eve.  The PG story is I was hanging a rather large picture above it - but that’s beside the point.  Point is I’ve been sleeping on a slant for 2 months too long.  At a Tribeca photography studio party – I encountered the perfect remedy… a carpenter from Brooklyn who was looking for fast cash. A match made in cheap labor heaven.  We made arrangements to assess the damaged bed for the following week. I ignored the texts reading “love to cum check out the job site on Friday night” thinking no pun intended.  Not to mention this guy was about 5 inches shorter than I, grizzly-faced, and had dirty hands. I guess semi cute in the Brooklyn way.  Friday was normal – came to take measurements, sketched down some ideas.  Afterwards, he was going out with some friends from NC, extended an invitation, and I accepted blindly*. Fast-forward 2 hours and imagine this: a bearded yard gnome look alike leaning in, with the facial expression of a creepy uncle, pointing to his cheek as if saying “gimme some sugar.” Out of Nowhere.  All I could think of was a pedophile Santa. I had to leave.  When I politely stated that I was tired and needed to go home, he asked, “Can I go with you?”  1. I have a broken bed and 2. Doesn’t he know you don’t date the help?

Needless to say, my bed remains broken.

*For the sake of my reputation, let me just say the carpenter was 28, not 55 or anything

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New York Fashion Week 2013 - Prep

I've been practicing my euro cheek/cheek*kiss/kiss all week… I think it’s almost to perfection

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Mr. 305

My Xmas Romance with Mr. 305(not referring to self-named "Mister 305" aka the singer Pitbull)

Imagine the awkward nerdy guy in high school, who then got tall and cute in college. Now you're dealing with an awkward cute guy, who is unnecessarily overly arrogant in an attempt to make up for those lost years of his teens. This is an annoying yet comical combination when the person drives a Jetta and lives in the ghetto of Calle Ocho, instead of a Maserati while living in South Beach.

That being said - I decided to give the guy a chance. Hey, 'tis the season.

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Stage 5 Doctor's

Is it me, or is this odd.....

My orthopedist (fixing my broken foot) got my number off my patient chart and started texting me pictures of his dog.

Well, it started with pictures of his dog, then went into updates of his whereabouts.  The most recent being along the lines of: just got off a plane from LA. Was watching ‘How I Met Your Mother’ and couldn’t stop thinking about you and how you remind me of Robin.

Should I be flattered by this ‘doctor stalking,’ or does this mean I need a new doctor?

In his defense, the dog was really cute.

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Blind Date & Broken Foot

It's been awhile, I'll catch you up. One wild Tuesday in September I broke my foot. It was Karma’s way of punishing me for "pretending I was sick" and calling out of work. Maybe fueled by pity, a co-worker set me up on a blind date – due to boredom, I accepted. 1. He was way hotter in his picture, 2. lacked chivalry, 3. personality of a stone and 4. he lived in queens. It was a total bust.  I mean, who doesn’t hold a door for a gimp?! Also, who stares at you blankly during conversation? For his sake, I hope he was high.  Lesson learned: going on blind dates with a broken foot is no-go in NYC. Maybe if I lived in the south, surrounded by door-holding, kind-hearted gentlemen it would be a different story.

Pluses about broken foot: I’ve met all of my cute guy neighbors by blocking the whole stairway attempting to climbs stairs at a snail’s pace with my moonboot-foot-cast-thingy – Gimp Pimpin.

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Matchmaker Matchmaker

Every once in a while I leave the comfort of my beloved neighborhood (East Village) and venture West.  The West Village is like the East Village except it possess ambition, seersucker, cable knit sweaters and relationships. Think the perfect neighborhood post Greek life (not to be confused with Murray Hill – the neighborhood if you’re preppy, fresh out of college, and your parents still pay your rent).

So here I am, in the W.Vil, being sophisticated with my Margarita – no salt, and I’m approached by a high end matchmaker.  According to her I was “a perfect candidate” for her millionaire clients; it must have been the no-salt.  Anyways, I’m considering taking her up on it since this morning I woke up spooning my new MacBook Pro. If anything, I’ll do it for the stories and the possible helicopter ride to a first date in the North Fork vineyards.  

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The Closet Insecure: Masked by Extreme Levels of False Arrogance

Ways to tell a closet insecure man:

1. Constant Self-Promoting

2. Puts everyone else down, not even their best guy friends are spared when it comes to a competition over a female

3. They claim they are dating/have dated someone who looks JUST like ___ (insert someone off Maxim's top 100 hottest women list including all super models and top actresses) yet will never actually show you a picture of them

4. Will cock block you (a female) whenever you're speaking to someone of the opposite sex

This basically sums up my weekend.  I might (dare I say it) need a break from the Brit's and all other one-man-only-cheer-squads

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the universe is haunting me with ex’s:

Last weekend: Out of the entire train to Bridgehampton, my Ex1’s best friends feel the need to sit next to me (I broke up with ex1 the day after Valentine’s day. No I’m not a heartless btch. I thought guys didn’t care about ‘girly holidays.’ Apparently I was wrong, and they do.)

Wednesday: Run into Ex1’s friends again at a bar in Nolita (note to self, Nolita is now on the ‘neighborhoods I shouldn’t frequent list’)

Thursday: Run into actual Ex1 getting off the subway, yet immediate halt, and slowly walk backwards.  Pretty sure he didn’t see me (fingers crossed)

Friday: Ex2 texts me that he a. loves me b. is now applying for jobs in NYC (moved away in August to ‘find himself’) c. hopes to move back by the end of summer and d. plans on us dating (news to me).  This is how sociopaths think Background: after having an intervention from all my close friends, it was decided (however not confirmed via psychological testing) that Ex2 was a sociopath.

Saturday: Ex1 calls me to hang out and suggest a ‘catch up drink.’ (DMNIT I guess my backwards walk wasn’t at smooth as I had originally thought)

I’m going into emergency hiding all week.  Maybe I should hideout in Hoboken, lord knows none of my ex’s will be there :)

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Real Life Problems:

In an upcoming trip to Europe, do I see Christophe in Germany or Romain in France? Both dreamy, both European, both amazing kissers. Maybe Germany will win this face-off simply due to fact that I haven't been to his country yet...

Is this what they are referring to when they hashtag whitegirlproblems?