Journal

The Other B Word

New York City.

I've been dreading this entry for awhile. I mean, what can I say about New York City? Anything and everything really. I feel like a Shangri-La's song when it comes to NYC. He's my rebellious boyfriend that lets me wear his leather jacket when he gives me a ride home. It must be the hypnotic smell of hobo piss and kabob stand smog tbh.

My nick name for New York is the devils playground and I've been playing in it since I was born. I was born uptown but my parents 'ditched' the city life and hopped over the bridge where we lived in New York's shadow. I'm sure my parents had no idea what impression NYC would have on their youngest kid, but New York took advantage of my naïve-ness during my teen years and uh, I liked it. It taught me the really bad things and the really good things. I have truly seen it all, I've been on the 99 cent pizza diet and have entered the twilight zone also called the port authority bathroom multiple times and survived.

When people come here from other states and countries, they are either in love or completely disgusted. I mean, I think, people expect Mary Tyler Moore running around like a happy idiot and everyone else just following.

As I read other female online publications, I would get a little confused on their interpretation of New York. Most of it is stuff I know I sure as hell don't worry about or other girls I met over the years. I always think about when I was about 18, my boy and I went to some skate party/show. On the way there, we saw some girl with a really great, super rare, descendants patch on her jean jacket. My boy was insanely obsessed with them so he was completely taken over by it and her. We introduced ourselves and invited her to come in which she agreed. We went, got really drunk off bud light, and roamed around the Lower East Side until about 3am. We walked her home which was a shelter somewhere on bowery. My boy and I were stunned that such a fantastic person lived in such unfortunate situation so we offered her some McDonald's and stole some things from the local bodega for her survival.

I guess we got attached and started coming to see her more often, my boy in particular, as he crushed on her. We would steal for her, a lot, from tampons to ramen noodles. I wouldn't care for the petty charge I would get if I were to get caught. I just couldn't fathom the idea that I couldn't help her out so I did in the best of my ability. This five finger discount binge lasted a good two months and then she disappeared. I have not seen or heard fromher ever since. I do keep a look out on the street we found her, in hopes of seeing her again. I do still think of her and hope she's alive, at least.

New York City is raw, and I don't want to sugarcoat it on my site. It's important not too, at least to me. It's a fucking insult to completely dismiss the people that taught me bigger lessons in life than any bullshit sitcom or façade about New York ever could.

That's why the Bettys is based out of New York City. It's my playground/teacher/therapist/boyfriend. The diversity here has made me the open minded girl I am now. In which is a strong value of the Bettys, and super important for the development of any human being on this planet to be open to any idea, situation or person. Now, just because it's based out of NYC doesn't mean that it's strictly for New York girls. I want any girl from the 3rd planet from the sun to collab with us. I want to meet every single girl on planet Earth, naturally, because that's what New York City taught me.