Parental Safe Word

Yeah, that's right. I have a safe word with my parents. Pervs.

I was talking to my mom about a realization I had this morning. Shizza as my witness, she freaked the fuck out before I even came close to finishing my third sentence.

ME: "...yada yada...so it got me thinking about him and what my initial reactions were to his situation and I realized..."

MOM (sounding like a cross between Barbra Streisand and the Tasmanian Devil): "GET TO THE FUCKING POINT THIGHS! WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT TO FUCKING SAY?!?!?!"

ME: "MA! Calm down! What the fu-uck?? What did you th..."

MOM (possessed by demons, growling through her teeth): "JUUUUST FUUUUCKIINNGG SAY IIIITTT
ALGJSHVKJASGHIEATBABIESAMHGLAKJCHVBAKLSJDHF..."

ME: "MA! All I was gonna say was that I don't want to be in debt anymore!!"

MOM (now June Cleaver): "Oh. Well, good. Why didn't you just say that!?!??!"

Siiighh...

My mom explained that she just never knows what shenanigans I'm going to get myself into. For Pete's sake, I'm not THAT impulsive...heh heh.

So now we have a safe word. This word will only be used when my parents vehemently disagree with a life choice I either made or am about to make. Since this safe word will replace any verbal ass-tearings, I figured I should pick a word that oozes pure evil, just like my mom does when she's screaming at me. The first thing that came to mind...

Nosferatu.

The Thighs family safe word is Nosferatu. I seriously think she'll raise the dead when she says it.

Uh oh...I'm sooooo tempted to piss her off now to see what happens...must. grow. up!

Work hard for the what?

I was watching a Family Guy repeat earlier tonight when Chris (the son) said something that stuck with me. I can't remember his lines exactly, but the gist was how he appreciates when a woman works hard to look hot.

Ummmm, what? Work hard to look hot? I never really thought about it like that. I just assumed that if you're hot, you were born hot, you'll die hot, or commit suicide once you start becoming un-hot.

Chris' comment didn't make me wonder why DO people work to be hot, I'm perplexed as to why people DON'T work to be hot. Oddly enough it took me a minute to ask the next question (I wrote "oddly enough" because today is the day I finally admitted to myself that my toilet isn't super tiny, my ass and thighs are really that fat)...

Why haven't I worked to be hot? In fact, what the fuck have I worked for anyways??

Now that I am headcold free, I'm finally able to focus on figuring out where I want to go in life and how I want to get there. This isn't limited to career paths either, I'm jumping into 2008 reevaluating the whole she-bang: health, finances, relationships, everything. I'm not sure if I'm asking the right question though. Is it what do I want or what am I willing to WORK for?

I honestly don't feel like I've worked very hard for anything in my life. This is a problem for a couple of reasons. One, I'm still having a hard time recognizing and appreciating my accomplishments. Two, then why don't I actually "work" for things???

I know I worked my ass off at Company. How? Every single day, good or bad, I was determined to do my best. Blood, sweat, and tears from day one. Why? Passion. I have never, ever been more passionate about something in my entire life. Until now.

Now I'm passionate about ME!!! FUCKING FINALLY!!

Tonight is the night I've decided I'm ready and determined to focus my talents and energy on being the best person I can be.

2008 New Year's resolution: work hard at being hot, debt free, and eventually, a creative professional.

Thanks Chris! Fatty fat fatty!

GEEKS UNITE!

My friend's t-shirt business is fully functional...so check it out and buy some geeky tees!!

GO! NOW! GEEK BOUTEEK

Here's my favorite one...




And here's one I sort of helped create. I was bored at work and decided to learn how to read a UPC code without reading the numbers. Each digit is represented by a seven-bit sequence, encoded by a series of alternating bars and spaces. It's pretty interesting...if you're a GEEK!

Death by Boogs

I'm such a fucking baby when I'm sick. I've been fighting off a cold since last week, but it got the best of me Christmas Eve. The past four days have been pretty crappy. I decided I am officially allergic to Jackson, NJ.

The headcold has stopped me from doing much of anything, especially a post-mortem on my last week at Company. I usually have a hard time centering myself when I'm at my parents house to begin with, but the snot-filled noggin made reflecting ten times worse.

I have no feelings, thoughts, or fortune-cookie type phrases to share as of yet. Not sure why I even felt the need to post, except to give an update on something other than my new bra size. Sure the DDs may be a fluke, but at least there's one positive thing about gaining all my weight back. Yaay body for putting the fat somewhere useful!!

UGH UGH UGH. I hate being sick!! Must go out. Must get fresh air. Must stop babying myself. Must rip off nose and vacuum out phlegm. Oooo...that was grosser than I thought...

Blah. I'm gonna go take a nap and hold my boobage for awhile.

Merry Christmas!!

WOO HOO!! I hope you are having the best darn Christmas of all time.

Me, I'm sick! It's to my benefit though. A headcold is the perfect excuse to stay drugged all weekend. Throw some bloody marys and spiked egg nog in there...shit fool, my mom can nag me straight through Wednesday. Yeah that's right. My parents knocked me off the wagon, yet again. Foiled!

Here's an impromptu little ditty, written to the tune of Jingle Bells:

Dashing through Tar-zhay{get},
To buy a new brassiere.
Around the store I go,
Bouncing all the way,
Boobs on my chest swing,
Making quite a sight,
What fun it is to be the star,
Of the clerk's wetdream tonight.

Oooohhhhh....

Dou-ble Dees, Dou-ble Dees,
Why was I wearing a Cee?
Now that I have the support I need,
My breasts are perkier than meeeee!!

And so it ends...

Hello,

I apologize for the mass email, but I wanted to inform all of you that this Friday is my last day at Company.

Company has meant so much to me my entire life. It really was a dream come true to be given the opportunity to work here.

I honestly don’t know what to say (shocking!!) about the past three years, except THANK YOU.

Thank you for making my time here an experience that I will always be grateful for and will never, ever forget.

Thighs

And so it began...

From: Thighs

Sent: Thursday, May 05, 2005 9:24 AM

To: Red; Soaps

Subject: Some quick things before the move

Hey Red,

I have some things I'd like to talk to you about and I realized last night that it might be best to discuss them before the move, which um yeah, is pretty much today.

It's just some concerns and observations I've had since I started working here and now that I just had my 3 monthiversary I realize that I won't be able to present any solutions without talking to you first.

Let me know when you're available. Thanks!

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

What the fuck did I do!?!?!? I'm single, chubby, and as of this Friday UNEMPLOYED!! What was I thinking?!?!?!?!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I have never, ever been this scared in my entire life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My 2007 New Year's resolution was to be stronger. I didn't go into specifics, like ten push-ups or ability to pull myself back into the raft after a class 4 rapid. I thought leaving it open for interpretation would be a cool spin before making a 2008 resolution. So...

Am I stronger? Why or why not? What does "strong" even mean?

Dictionary.com has over 30 definitions for "strong".

Me, since birth:
7. aggressive; willful
9. clear and firm; loud
19. intense
23. having an unpleasant or offensive flavor or odor
30. come on strong, Slang. to behave in an aggressive, ardent, or flamboyant manner

Old Me, prior to recent months:
21. containing much alcohol

New and improved Me:
3. mentally powerful or vigorous
4. especially able, competent, or powerful in a specific field or respect
5. of great moral power, firmness, or courage
10. solid or stable; healthy; thriving
15. fervent; zealous; thoroughgoing

A lot of shit happened this year, both things I did and things I realized:

1. Went to Chicago to meet Fish. While we still chat through email or tex-mexing (as my mother calls text messages), we are by no means dating. In fact, I'm not sure what we'll even talk about once football season ends. That being said, I am so incredibly glad I met him and proud that I took a chance at love.

2. I'm sober.

3. I stopped going to therapy and I hope to stop taking Zoloft soon. (More on this another day.)

4. I'm leaving Company.

5. I decided I want to get married and have children at some point in my life. This is HUGE!

6. I love my parents more than I ever have.

7. I wrote this blog all year.

8. And last, but certainly not least, I found myself.

Wow.

My definition of "strong?" Having the power to face your fears and live to tell about it.

Am I stronger? FUCK YEAH.

Email me!

thighsighs@gmail.com

Just in case Shockey wants to bang, but doesn't want to leave a comment for everyone to read.

Or Jon Gruden.

Or Jason Lee as Brodie in Mallrats.

Or James Woods because I hear he's hung like a horse.

Or Donovan because I have no dignity left.

Or Harrison Ford as Han or Indy. Better yet, threesome.

Or Peter Petrelli in Hereos, but like a foot taller. (I met him. He's short in real life. Short and hot.)

I went through this Rock phase at one point, but I think I'm over it.

Oh and Seth MacFarlane because he sounds just like Brian. I guess this means I want to have sex with a cartoon dog. Bygones.

Last but not least, Ultimates Cap. FUCKING GORGEOUS.

Thighs Family Christmas

In most households, special occasions usually mean taking out the good china, the good towels, and being on good behavior.

In my household, special occasions mean only one thing...

NERF WARS!!! YOU'RE GOING DOWN BITCHES!!

The above picture means only one thing as well....

CRAZY PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO LIVE ALONE!!!

My Boy Blue!

Giants, Giants, Giants. It ain't ever pretty, but a win's a win.

Dear Jeremy Shockey,

Do professional athletes still get fan mail? Is there like a team email address or something?

How many children do you have? I feel like you have a lot of kids, but only know half of them exist. I wonder when their mothers will tell them about you.

Are you on anti-depressants? You seem so much more in control of your rage. I must say I am quite proud of you. I know it's rough being a maniac. OH I KNOW.

So I'm really not attracted to blondes, but will you have sex with me? I'm pretty horny and well, I have a feeling you might slap me around a bit, something I don't know if I'll be into, but am willing to try. Any chance you'd be willing to dress up as Thor in return???

Leave a comment if you're game. I'm on the pill.

Thighs

Hello comma exactly.

SVA, here I come!

You have successfully registered for the following classes:

Course Name and Title: GDC-1014-A (38247) COLOR

Start Date: 01/22/08
End Date: 04/15/08

If color is such a simple subject, then why do many of us spend so much time getting dressed in the morning? This course will explore some basic but useful concepts in color theory and apply them to artistic practice and experimentation. We will examine some of the psychology and symbolism of color, and look at how this knowledge might be strategically applied across a range of problems (color on the Web, color in print, colors for interior design). By the end of the course, students should have a solid understanding of how to effectively use and manipulate color in whatever environment or medium they work.

Random Thoughts: Dolby System

1. I have always wanted a dog, but lately I'm not so sure. I've become very grossed out by the fact that it's perfectly acceptable for a dog to piss and shit wherever it damn well pleases.

City-folk have to keep certain thoughts out of their head in order to survive. Just the way it is. Unfortunately for me (and now you for reading this), I can't seem to stop thinking about dog shit. Maybe it's because my own bowels are no longer entertaining?

Next time you see a dog popping a squat, pause for a moment and observe. The owner is usually staring right at it, but what is he or she thinking? Are they happy for the dog? Are they hoping that it's number 1 so they don't have to pick it up? Are they thinking fuck, I'm not picking it up if it's number 2 either? And when the owner does pick up the poop, what do they think about themselves? Are they proud for keeping the city clean? Are they proud of anything in regards to this event? I think not, considering they're now holding a piece of poop wrapped in a Duane Reade bag.

2. When buying Japanese snack items, always read the entire package. I just bought a bag of dry roasted edamame and threw about 10 in my mouth at once. Sounds harmless right? Yeah, not when they are actually covered in WASABI. I no longer have a nasal cavity.

3. The V train turned into the E train today so I jumped out and walked. As I was passing Saks Fifth Avenue, I heard the weirdest holiday music coming from the store. I have no idea what the actual words were, all I heard was this eerie voice. At first it reminded me of the singing blue alien chick in The Fifth Element, then it got creepy...

I swear to Shizza, I think the voice steals souls. I held my breath for a block to be safe.

4. Ladies, don't pee in the shower. It's retarded and you lose respect for yourself.

5. Santa bought me a new coat!! It's a navy blue peacoat with a hood!! I love it!!

6. Okay, that's enough. I need to apply to some more jobs. Stupid Company.

"Good, you're alive. Now I can kill you!!'

Growing up I never knew what qualified as normal mother behavior. **DELETED**

I started to write a whole bunch of bad shit, but I caught myself. I realized I was only doing it because my mom pissed me off tonight. See?? I'm maturing!

Okay, she didn't piss me off, she's just being a mom. A good mom. More importantly, a SANE mom.

I just got back from my GI doctor. This was the follow up visit to my colonoscopy and endoscope.

Awesome news: no cancer, no Crohn's, no ulcers, nothing bad.

Funny news: I said to the doctor, "So I really am just that gassy??" He laughed and said, "I'm afraid so."

Okay news: I have irritable bowel syndrome aka "the common-ass-cold." You can't really cure it, just prevent it. No more beer, no more chili, I think olives may be next. If pizza goes...kill me.

My mom came up to Queens to be with me for both procedures. It was really nice to have her here, especially for the colonoscopy. I won't go into the poopie details (I really am maturing!), but for the most part the prep was fine. I had an awful night though. Long story short I woke up drippping with sweat yet freezing, pale as a ghost (my freckles were gone), nauseous, and doubled over with stomach pain. I have never been that sick or scared in my life! I'm so SO grateful my mom was there.

Anyways, after the colonscopy my doctor went right up to my mom to tell her I didn't have cancer. After the endoscope, he didn't say anything except make a follow-up appointment so we can talk. I was pretty out of it from the anesthesia, so I didn't think much of it. I was just annoyed I'd have to fork out another co-pay.

My mom, on the other hand, totally freaked out. I called her tonight after the follow-up visit and told her the good news. Then she let loose. It turns out she has been so worried for the past two weeks, all because the doctor didn't come right out and say I didn't have cancer after the endoscope like he did after the colonoscopy. She said how stressed out she's been, how she hasn't been sleeping, all she does is eat, how she thought she should come up here again, etc. I HAD ZERO CLUE!

I apologized for making her worried, but she shrugged it off. She said she's my mother and she will always worry. She went on and on about how happy she is, how much she loves me, and how proud she is that I'm taking care of myself.

After a good 30 minutes of gushing, she snapped out of it. In true mother-form, she went right onto the next thing to worry over. Without missing a beat she said, "I'm so glad you're healthy. NOW GO GET A FUCKING JOB."

Sigh. It reminds me of when I'd come home past curfew. "I'm so glad you weren't in a car crash or murdered, but now I'll yell and scream at you for making me worry."

She's right, of course. Which will always piss me off.

Random Diary Entry: January 4, 2001

Well in response to that overly dramatic last entry, I got my period and everything is fine. It's funny how ridiculous things seem in retrospect. I guess that should make me feel better. Reading all my old diaries or notebooks, I realized how much things meant to me and how much things hurt during that time. Then I think about how none of that shit matters anymore. It really doesn't. Even in this book I've forgotten about Shane and forgave myself for having poor judgment. Even Brian and Kristin, I'm not friends with them anymore and I have no idea what they are doing together.

What I do know...well one thing remains the same in all my journals. I am still not happy with who I am and where I am in my life. The year is now 2001? Did I think I'd ever make it this far? I'm almost 23 years old and the same crap bothers me to this day. Different people, different situations, but same crap.

For as long as I can remember my weight has been a constant pain in my ass. I've gained, lost, gained again. Now I find myself to be the biggest I ever was, 185 pounds and a size 16 pant. What happened??? Lots of things. Nothing. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm not healthy mentally or physically and that definitely needs to change.

Is this another entry with false hope and lies? Is this just another stupid year where I won't accomplish anything? What exactly do I want anyways? What are my goals????

My new addiction

I rarely watch prime time television. My TV is always on, but there aren't many shows that I make a point to be home to watch except for ANTM on Wednesdays and The Soup on Fridays. Loser says I.

There are plenty of shows I hear I would love (30 Rock, Pushing Daisies, Rescue Me), but I refuse to jump into a series mid-season. As a result, I am a slightly behind the times so my new favorite show is Heroes.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE HEROES!

I just started watching the first season last week. You would think I'd be all over this show from the beginning, but no. I am so totally glad I waited. I can't imagine waiting a whole week to find out what happens! I think that's why I like trade paperbacks too, with comics you have to wait at least a month. I'm fragile, people! My nerves can't handle anticipation!!

I went through the first three discs at normal speed, then impatiently waited for the next three all week. I got them yesterday and seriously stayed up until 4am watching two of them! FOUR! I could have stayed up even longer, but seeing the sun come up reminds me way too much of my cracked out days so I made myself go to bed.

Today I woke up at 10am, watched the last disc, and then went back to sleep. Now I have to sit and wait for the damn 7th disc which probably won't get here until Wednesday. I guess I could watch the rest of the episodes online...must. delay. gratification.

I have officially replaced booze with superheroes. Woo hoo!

Perspective

There is a hallway on the 11th floor by the freight elevators connecting IT to Finance. On one end there is an office with an “inside” window (meaning you can see in it from the hallway), but this window always has the blinds down.

I've walked down this hallway towards this office a zillion times in the past 3 years. I always look at my reflection and sadly always hate what I see. It’s not that I think I’m fugly or anything, it’s that I look four times heavier in this window than I do in normal life. I’ve always been pear-shaped (Thighs!), but I swear I look like a fucking ping pong paddle.

You would think after seeing my fat ass once I would refuse to look again, but nooooooo. I continue to look every single time. The same thoughts run through my head, “Is this what I really look like? Is the full-length mirror at home and in the 10th floor bathroom lying to me? Does anyone else look bad? Does anyone else even notice?” I’ve even tried to look at Furball’s reflection as he walked toward it to see if he looked gargantuan too, but I couldn’t tell, plus he yelled at me for being all up in his grill.

Needless to say, I hate this window, my reflection in it, and my torturous vanity. That is, until now.

About two weeks ago I was walking down the hallway staring myself down, eyes fixated on my hippo hips sashaying with chubby abandon when all of a sudden I did something fucking crazy…

I moved two inches to the right.

You know what happened??? I looked great. My hips were back to their normal Anjou-selves. It was the damn blinds that distorted my reflection, like a not-so-funhouse mirror. I stopped in my tracks, admired my curves, and cheered.

Three years. Three years to move two fucking inches. Three years of torture to finally see myself as I really am.

A change in perspective is a powerful thing.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER!

Job Schmob

My official-unofficial last day at Company is December 21st.

If I find a new job before then, great. If not, I will make sweet love to you for $100 an hour. (Is this cheap? What are going rates for prostitutes during the holiday season? I'm sure they have more demand around this time of year. Please advise, as I like my turning trick jokes to turn a profit as well. Thanks!)

I had two interviews last week. Both went well, I didn't think I'd be that rusty though. I applied to a couple other places today, so fingers crossed.

The job search added two more items to my Things I Hate with a Passion list though: cover letters and thank you notes.

I love writing, but only in Thighs-speak not professionally mature, grammatically correct speak. I'm very tempted to write "Me job. You hire." and see what happens.

Then again, my mom told me that some jackass sent in a resume with carrots drawn in the margins and THIS RESUME IS PURE 14-CARROT GOLD written up top. Oy.

Dude, if you're that against "playing the game" then you mind as well fart into an envelope and mail that instead.

I'm moving!!!

I totally sucked at posting this month, but I've had so much going on.

As if quitting Company wasn't enough to fill my impulsive ways, I have decided to move!! Yes move!!

Here is my new address:

1 South Dakota Way
South Dakota City, South Dakota
52084

Why South Dakota??

BECAUSE THERE AREN'T ANY PRO FOOTBALL OR BASEBALL TEAMS TO PISS ME OFF!!!

Why New York, why?? What have I ever done to you? Okay, don't answer that because God knows how many alleys and bar bathrooms have my DNA all over them, but still!! I do not deserve this, nor does anyone else.

Jets, Jets, Jets.
I'm about to say what every NY fan is bound to say at least three times a year, no matter what the record is: "It could have been worse." This is in regards to Thanksgiving. I didn't bother watching as I was expecting a blood bath, but it wasn't as bad as it should have been. I'm surprised they scored three points.

I was very fortunate to be at the Steelers game last Sunday. Quick sidebar, why are people from Pittsburgh so ugly? The men are malnourished toothless rednecks and the women are all retired Glorious Ladies of Wrestling. I don't get it.

And honestly, I don't get how the frig the Jets won that game either. Then again, they performed better last Sunday then they have all year. Shocked the hell out of everyone especially the million Terrible Towel wavers who crashed Giants Stadium that day. Take that Unfortunate Looking Ones!

Little Giants
The game was so awful that I don't even want to write it about. Read this instead, it's the joke that keeps on giving.

BLECH. South Dakota, here I come!*



*Yeah right.

Awesome.

Gaaakkkk!!!

Oh my word. I'm paying bills right now and my phone bill is $215.49.

FUUUUUUCKKK!!!

I hate the phone. I've never been over my minutes before. Well maybe once, but only got charged like $5.00 more than usual.

Yeah not this time. My bill is usually, get this, $70.00!! I went over by 284 minutes!!

And guess who I was talking to????

MY MOM!!!**

Dude. I so wish I could go back in time, kidnap a version of me from each year between the ages of 12 and 26, put all Mes in a room and tell them that at age 29 our mom and us will finally be....dare I say it...friends!! And with this new found friendship comes a $200 phone bill!!

FUUUUUUCKKK!!!

**I increased the font of "MY MOM" for emphasis. I thought I should explain this for you slow folk. Cheers!

So gross...even for me.

I'm sitting at my desk putting together some screen shots and documentation.

The loud Licensing bitches, copier, and pee sounds don't really affect me anymore. This is nice.

You wanna know what's not nice???

Hearing a co-worker pee, then loudly fart, and then start singing to cover up any more accidental farts.

I swear to God, I can't wait to get out of here.

Breakthrough No. 9: Ball Busting Bitch

I went out to lunch with Coach, my coworker and friendly acquaintance. Coach is not only a Project Manager at Company, but she's also a certified motivational speaker and life-coach. We spoke about my career goals a few months back and now that my game plan is taking form I figured we should catch up.

I told Coach about my time at Company starting at day one. I can't believe I'm there three years already!! Time flies when you're having... uh...well...issues??

After about 15 minutes of my venting, Coach looked me right in the eyes and said,

"It's because you're a ball busting bitch."

One nanosecond later both my heart and jaw dropped. Racing thoughts do not describe what went through my head...how could I be a bitch I have low self-esteem and fat thighs I could never be a bitch to anyone all I ever wanted to do was make Company a better place and for people to like me I would never want to be the bitch that wait who the fuck do you think you are for saying that I'm a bitch you're a fucking bitch and fuck yeah I'll bust your fucking balls you...

Luckily I didn't say any of the above. My response was, "THANK YOU!"

FINALLY someone looked me in the face and told me what I'm truly being. No passive-aggressive bullshit whisper crap that always manages to get back to me anyways. Aahhh, honest, in your face, balls to the wall truths. That's all I've ever wanted. But the convo didn't stop there:

Coach: "You do realize why you're so happy that I called you a ball busting bitch, right?"

Me: "Yeah because you were honest."

Coach: "No it's because you enjoy conflict."

WHAT!?!?!?! I ENJOY CONFLICT?!?!? What the hell was she talking about??

Coach continued by saying we're a lot alike. People with our personality types are in the minority. There aren't many of us who enjoy a good fight, rock the boat, or tell someone off and move on. Most people will go to great lengths to actually AVOID conflict!!

This made me crack up. Rocks has said this to me quite a few times, but I honestly just didn't get it. See I eventually come around, B!

At first I felt the need give Coach an explanation. I began to tell her about my family, how yelling was the only way we communicated. Then I stopped because really, who the fuck cares how it started?? There's no need for excuses or blame.

I enjoy conflict. I am a ball busting bitch.

HURRAH! It feels so awesome to know this!! And the best part about this realization is:

Now that I'm aware of it, I can choose to be it.

With all the battles I've had at Company, good or bad, win or lose, I never fathomed NOT picking them in the first place. Seriously, the battle just had to happen. Something was broken, something was wrong, whatever, I had to go after it red faced and at full speed.

Today I learned something very valuable:

I always have a choice and from now on, I will always choose wisely.

Thanks Coach. (and Rocks). (and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade).

Sweet Irony

UUUGGGGHHHH...

I've been feeling pretty healthy the past week or so. Synthroid (my underactive thyroid medication) has already worked it's magic. I'm more alert, energized, and stable (!!!) than I have ever been. Absolutely fabulous week.

Unfortunately, some good things have to come to an end. I am seriously tempted to shove my vacuum hose through my belly button and suck all my organs out. I am so nauseous and gaseous again that I can't even open my mouth. I have to breathe through my nose.

What could possibly have ended my healthy week? Let's see...it's something that I'm very fond of. Something that beautifully compliments a cool autumn day filled with friends and football. Something I may never, ever be able to have again. What could it be??

IT'S CHILI!! Mother fucking chili! Aaargghhh!!

Fuck you stomach gods! First you take my hot dogs. Then you take my beer. Now you want my chili!! DIE DIE DIE!

Of course I really didn't need to eat three or four heaping bowls of MJ's finest chili recipe, so I guess there's no one else to blame, but myself. I guess.

Ironically, today was my first ever gastroenterologist appointment. You would think that with my love for all things bowel I would have like eight on call GI doctors, but no.

I honestly never really thought I had digestive problems. I figured my poopage was the standard repercussion after a night filled with carbombs, meat lover's pizza, and anal.

Apparently I was wrong. The GI doctor said:
"No, it is not normal to shit three times a day."
"No, it is not normal to shit immediately after you eat."
"No, it is not normal to feel like you're giving birth out of your ass."
"Yes, it is stupid to fart in the shower since the heat of the water retains the smell and you'll have to take a second shower after you realize the stench never lifted an hour after the first shower." (Okay he didn't say that last part, but it's something I learned. From a friend.)

Seriously, why the fuck do I think that anything I do is normal at this point in my life??

I am scheduled for a colonoscopy next week and an endoscopy the week after. Let's hope my only problems are the self-inflicted bullshit I put myself through rather than you know, real shit.

I HATE THE PATRIOTS!!!!!!!!

That is all.

Old peeps, old habits?

I always wondered at what point does unacceptable behavior become "senior citizen acceptable."

For example, I'm out to dinner with a friend. As I'm deciding whether to order the steak burrito or seafood linguine (because I always seem to pick the two most opposite entrees to wrestle over), my friend decides to swipe all of the silverware off of the table and throw it in her purse.

Say what!?!? Silverware? Are you fucking retarded? At 29 years old, I would bitch her out.

The last time I stole anything was Valentine's Day 2004. Bombed out of our minds, Gerf and I had a bit of an adventure in the East Village. We ran around knocking down bar signs, we hopped a fence and snuck around an alley, we made some kids on acid eat dirty pizza. Good times.

It wasn't until the next day that I realized I was a thief. When I put on my coat I found two tiny little salt and pepper shakers half full, with the other half dumped out in my pocket. I then remembered that we tried to eat at a fancy-ish restaurant, but we were so drunk that they wouldn't serve us.

I had stolen the salt and pepper shakers out of drunken retaliation. Take that fancy-ish restaurant!!

Anyways, if anyone is sober-stealing after the age of 21 they are stupid assholes. But what about at age 71? Would I still feel the need to bitch out my friend?

Stealing is only one example of stereotypical "senior citizen acceptable" behavior. In my mind, others include:

1. Saving used paper plates, paper towels, or plastic baggies
2. Having an endless supply of Lifesavers, Tic-Tacs, or Chiclets
3. Sending holiday cards for St. Patty's Day, Halloween, or Columbus Day
4. Including a $5 bill in all holiday cards
5. Clipping random newspaper articles to give to friends
6. Wearing pantyhose ALL THE TIME
7. Wearing white socks with black sandals
8. Wearing polyester
9. Being racist (not really, but you know what I mean)
10. Peeing your pants

So the questions are at what age does this behavior begin and at what age does it become okay?

I'm writing about this because the Petes and I were laughing about it the other day. It seems that I'm not the only one in touch with her inner Ruth Clare!

1. 37 year-old woman has a weekly schedule for calling friends and family
2. 33 year-old man carries birdseed in his bag to feed pigeons. His favorite one lives in the 7 train 5th Avenue station.
3. 29 year-old woman hoards daily crosswords and sudokus, ripping them out of coworkers' and abandoned newspapers like if they were winning lottery tickets.
4. 35 year-old woman pays for one movie ticket, sneaks into two additional theaters, spending at least 6 full hours at the movies in one day.

Okay, that third one is me.

Mad Lib Answers!

"I am making my friend a scrapbook of the crazy pictures we have taken through the years. I'm also including pictures of places around town that are meaningful to her.

This required me to buy scrapbooking material. Do you know how much fucking scrapbooking shit is out there?? TONS!!

Truthfully, I'm excited about it. It's totally for a worthy cause. Hope Heather likes it!!

Oh and I fucked a horse and then pooped on it's back and it loved it! Holla!"

Heather, I love your guts.

Ramble On

I did something very scary this week. I told my bosses I was going to start interviewing for a new job.

Hmm. That was interesting. When I sat down to write I thought I'd be pouring out my insecurities, yet when I finished the above sentences I felt strong, confident, and right as rain.

I told Fi how unproductive, unmotivated, and flat out useless I feel at work. For someone with a good work ethic, feeling like this is worse than death. What is the point of "working" 40+ hours a week if I don't feel good about it? Most of last week was spent walking around with Furbie, hanging with peeps on 10, or doing Sudoku in Stella Bumpkiss. Seriously not cool.

So I did what any bipolar person with $30K in debt would do. Quit without actually quitting, without having another job lined up.

There's three reasons I did this:

1. I didn't want to lie to Fi. She's the big sister I never had: funny, smart, and lovingly mean. I like her a lot so the last thing I want to do is feed her bullshit when I go on interviews. Plus she's pregnant and while I've done plenty of things in my life to guarantee a first class ticket to hell, I can't be deceitful to an unborn child.

2. Our department is already hiring so there's a humongous chance they'd find my resume online.

3. I have lots of real doctor visits coming up. Cicely's gone, but the pain's not. I got my blood work back and I have hypothyroidism. I thought only obese smokers had this, but my mom told me it's very common. An underactive thyroid can contribute to a bunch of things like depression (me!), weight gain (me!), and dry skin (I did get eczema last year), but it's definitely not the cause of my abdominal pain. Next stop, gastroenterologist.

So there you have it. I'll be leaving Company in the near future. To do what, I have no clue.

I blame Led Zeppelin. Ramble On was in my head all week.

Leaves are falling all around, It's time I was on my way.
Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
But now it's time for me to go. The autumn moon lights my way.
For now I smell the rain, and with it pain, and it's headed my way.
Sometimes I grow so tired, but I know I've got one thing I got to do...

*Ramble On, And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song.
I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl, on my way.
I've been this way ten years to the day, Ramble On,
Gotta find the queen of all my dreams.

Got no time to for spreadin' roots, The time has come to be gone.
And to' our health we drank a thousand times, it's time to Ramble On.

* Chorus

Mine's a tale that can't be told, my freedom I hold dear.
How years ago in days of old, when magic filled the air.
T'was in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair.
But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her, her, her....yeah.

* Chorus

Gonna ramble on, sing my song. Gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby...
Gonna work my way, round the world. I can't stop this feelin' in my heart
Gotta keep searchin' for my baby. I can't find my bluebird!

Mad Libs!

I'm working on a project. Here's my thoughts mad lib style. Enjoy!

I am (verb) my (noun) a (noun) of the (adjective) (noun) we have (verb) through the (noun). I'm also (verb) (noun) of (noun) of (noun) around (noun) that are (adjective) to (noun).

This (verb) me to (verb) (verb) (noun). Do you know how much (adjective) (verb) (noun) is out there?? (WEIGHT)!!

(Adverb), I am (verb) (adjective) about it. It's (Valley Girl slang) for a (adjective) (noun).

Hope (noun) (verb) it!

Oh and I (verb) a (noun) and then (verb) on it's (body part) and it (verb) it! Holla!

My Lovely Lady Dumps

Theeeyy're baaaacckkk!!!

I was afraid that sobriety would mean the simultaneous loss of two favorite hobbies, drinking and pooping.

I am happy to report that my bowels are back on their regular schedule!! Morning, noon, and night, baby.

Seriously, I was so psyched that I silently cheered and pumped air each time ala Arsenio Hall. (Is he dead?)

Damn...when I leave Company I'm sure going to miss my 10th floor bathroom stall.

I shall name her Stella Bumpkiss. She was my friend.

Hard fucking week.

This was the most fucked up week of my whole life. Of course it's always worse when I'm still caught up in shit. Hopefully all will be forgotten soon enough. Here are the week's events in a nutshell:

Monday
In my last post I explained how I felt so incredibly sick physically, mentally, and emotionally on Monday. I woke up a complete fucking mess, but for some reason made myself go to work anyways. By 11am, I got pissed off at El Dodo, this moronic old school IT guy who has shit for brains. I don't think he would have annoyed me as much if I was feeling better, but this was strike one.

Strike two, Fi told me I had to move out of her office as she was newly promoted. It was a fluke that I ended up in an office to begin with, so moving was not a big deal...at least until I found out WHERE I was moving to. Let's just leave it as "in a cubicle down the hall" for now.

Strike three, 11am meeting with old division has become pretty painful as of late, basically because it's become more of an update rather than the creative and collaborative brainstorming session it once was. Again, if I wasn't sick it wouldn't have bothered me as much.

By noon I had it so I left for the day and came home. I was hysterical to say the least. My mind exploded, my mood swings more violent than ever. It was so fucking bad that I not only called Cee to see if I could come in for an emergency therapy appointment, but I also...wait for it.....

CALLED MY MOM AND TOLD HER TO COME TO QUEENS.

Say what!?!?!?! Yep, I was so fucked up that I wanted my mom with me. I was hurting all over: head, chest, back, Cicely, everywhere. I felt as depressed as I was before I started taking Zoloft and I couldn't stop crying either. We spoke for a couple of hours and she (thankfully) calmed me down enough so that I would call the gyno and get checked out. I felt alot better after making the appointment so my mom decided to come up early...

Tuesday
I called out sick. Mommers got here at 9am. We hung out and talked for 5 hours until the gyno appt. I don't think I've felt closer to her than I did that day. It was wonderful.

The only good news of this week: Cicely's gone!!! No more cyst! Apparently my only issue downtown is that my right ovary is ultra-sensitive. I tell ya, I haven't been right ever since that other doctor poked me hard. (Heh.) The problem now is that I'm back at square one, still in a lot of pain all over but don't know why. I scheduled a checkup at my regular doctor for the next afternoon.

Wednesday
Body still feels like shit, less depressed, but still teary. First day back at work I go to sit "in a cubicle down the hall." This is what's wrong with my new seat:

1. Old person's shit wasn't totally cleaned out so I had to move it.
2. Apparently someone went through all of my personal drawers and files, removed everything from my old desk and placed them into my new desk. Yes while everything is technically "owned" by the company, I find this extremely invasive and completely fucking rude.
3. I sit by five sales people who SCREAM AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS on speakerphone.
4. The world's second loudest copier is right behind me.
5. There's a onesie bathroom right behind me as well. Now I love peeing and pooping. I do. Know what I don't like? HEARING OTHER PEOPLE PEEING AND POOPING.

I had to listen to my Ipod on the loudest volume to drown all the above out. I left at 3pm to go the doctor's with a new headache on top of the old headache.

Since Cicely is no longer a problem, my doctor gave me a referral for bloodwork. He now thinks I either have a thyroid problem or digestive disease, move likely gastritis. Me? Gas? Naaah...

Yesterday and Today
Got the bloodwork done Thursday morning. Fingers crossed that everything is kosher.

I had a great therapy session last night. I discussed everything that happened this week and made some great realizations:

1. I quit drinking for good. I was so fucked up this week because I haven't had a beer in almost a month. My body was finally getting used to the Zoloft without alcohol in my system and when I drank on Sunday it totally fucked me over. Getting drunk is just not worth the pain.

2. The desk situation is sort of a blessing. As a guy in my department was taking a wicked leak, I thought about where I would like to sit if given the option. It took me a while, but I finally realized that I didn't want to sit anywhere at Company ever again! Hallelujah!

For the past 2 and a half years, I have eaten shit for that place, trying to make it better because I felt like I "owed it" to Company. My motivation was always to make Company the best, well company, it could be because I love everything it stands for. I love the stories, the characters, the creators, everyone. I thought I had to fix Company to show my appreciation, but I was wrong. All I have to do is keep reading.

I'm leaving Company for real this time. I am going to find a 9-5pm job that I can do with my eyes closed, so that I can go to SVA at night. That's right, I've decided to go to art school and become an art therapist. Who knows, maybe I'll just have to draw a couple comics along the way.

Upchuck your love.

I want to puke on all of NY. No wait, all of the world. Better yet, I want to vomit on the universe.

What is making me so nauseous? Drumroll please...

~the fucking Jets

~fucking Cicely and her dull pain

~the fucking scheduler at my gyno's office for giggling when I said I needed an "inside" sonogram because I couldn't remember the medical term. (Actually I was laughing too but fuck her. Me laughing wasn't an invite for her to laugh.)

~my fucking therapy session last Thursday which was the hardest one to date

~and the biggest fucking reason why I want to fucking vomit all over the fucking universe:

MY OLDEST AND DEAREST FRIEND IS A SCUMBAG DICKBITCH.

Who is my oldest and dearest friend, you ask???

BEER! MOTHER FUCKING BEER I HATE YOUR STUPID FUCKING GUTS.

I, Thighs McGee, decided to stop drinking the day after Labor Day. I drank about five beers one night three weeks ago, got a little buzz on, no big deal.

Yesterday at the god awful disastrous Titans of New York game (throwback Jets team bullshit which I will discuss at a later and less pukey date), I had five beers.

Those fucking piece of shit beers have fucked my skull. I am not only physically nauseous, I am mentally and emotionally nauseous as well. I want to fucking kill the whole world. No, first I want to puke on the whole world. Then I want to kick the whole world's ass and rub it's face in the random puddles of puke surrounding us. Then I want to kill it. Then puke on it again.

And while it's possible I am just sick to my stomach from gorging myself for 11 hours yesterday on hamburgers, shish kebob, pasta, and knishes at the tailgate then a pulled pork sandwich at Spanky's BBQ you know what??

I. AM. DONE. My bff can smd.*

Dear Beer,

We've been through a lot. Between you and Drugs, the last 15 years were fucking balls out crazy. I've shared some of the best times of my life with you, but let's be honest, our relationship has been pretty shaky since "Auntie D" was prescribed.

There was a time when I thought I could never leave Drugs. As you know, I pretty much left him when it was legal for you and I to be together. Of course there'd be the occasional booty call from Drugs now and then, and I must say, it was much appreciated how you were always willing to join in instead of get mad. Hot, in fact.

I am a different person now though. Beer, I know this is harsh but the truth is I just don't need you anymore. I don't think I've needed you for a while now, but I was well, too drunk to notice.

So now it's time for me to say goodbye. I would say I'll miss you, but you know what? I won't.

Sincerely,
Thighs



*smd = suck my dick

And then there's Mom emails...

I just got this email from my mother:

Sent: Friday, October 12, 2007 5:28 PM
Subject: NY Post

Corinne left a message to look at the NY Post. There's a naked guy that looks just like Richie ....

Also click for the story...there's another picture of him....It does look like Richie. Although she said she knew it wasn't him since his pecker wasn't down to his ankle!!

Love Mom

It took 30 years, but I've finally made peace with how much she and I are alike.

The guy has Rippie's old Irish afro, but other than that I don't really see a resemblance except in this one:

Check out the rest of the naked pics, they're actually pretty funny.

The real question isn't "Why'd he do it?" it's "What the fuck made him keep the friendship ankle bracelet on??"

Junk email

Company didn’t have an email filter for awhile so we used to get some pretty junkie emails directly in our inbox on a regular basis. We now have a Postini Spam thingie (yes I am in IT), so we have to sign in to review and delete them. I checked it this afternoon and I must say there are some pretty good subject lines this week:

Come get it!

Safely enlarge and enhance the size of your penis!

2 pills a day got me an extra 2 inches.

A bigger cock will always be better.

With Manster you can look forward to the good times sexually.

Now I’m 2 inches bigger in my manhood. I have all the confidence.

I was looking for a method to improve my size. By size, I mean overall length and width of my penis.

Your longer penis will probe deeper searching those special nerve endings.

The added width to your penis fills and presses her from side to side to give your partner the most exhilarating sensations.

My wife complains about my small cock ALL THE TIME!

Who thinks to write this shit? When can I date them?

Say "photog" and I'll slap you.

As promised...more pictures!

This last one is the view from my bedroom window. We can bang doggy-style and stare at the ESB if you want. Not like I did that before or anything.

You mean you don't know him?!?!?

I've unfortunately had this conversation quite a few times:

Me: "...I went to Rutgers."

Idiot: "Oh you went to Rutgers? I know this guy Joe that went there. Do you know him?"

Me: "Um well, Joe what?"

Idiot: "I don't remember, but he has brown hair, kind of tall, was a PoliSci major, grew up in Jersey..."

Me: "Oh you mean JOE! The guy with two arms and two legs!! Riiiight..."

I've heard this kind of moronic question is not limited to alma maters. For example:

Idiot: "Oh you're gay!! You must know Christopher."
Idiot: "Oh you're black!! You must know Terrell Owens."
Idiot: "Oh you're blind, deaf, and mute!! You must know Helen Keller."

Well folks, I'm afraid to admit that I was the idiot today.

I was sitting on the V train in one of those sideway seats, you know, where you're looking straight at the people in the regular facing seats. There was this white haired old woman sitting in front of me, two people next to her. When the seats next to her cleared a white haired old man sat next to the white haired old woman. In my blonde mind, my first thought was:

Me the Idiot: "Oh you're both old with matching white hair! You must know each other!"

This seemed like a perfectly logical conclusion to me. I sat there wondering if the woman decided not to dye her hair so that she and her husband would look like twins. I wondered if their children thought it cute. I wondered if their friends called them "Mr. and Mrs. Cottonball Heads". I wondered all sorts of things like this, until I slowly started to noticed something odd...

Smart Me: If they know each other then why aren't they talking?

Me the Idiot: Oh they must have had a fight.

Smart Me: Okay so they had a fight. But they don't even look comfortable around each other. In fact the woman keeps nervously playing with her bag like she's just altogether uncomfortable. Why isn't he calming her down?

Me the Idiot: Maybe it was a really big fight.

Smart Me rolls eyes at Me the Idiot. Time passes. Me the Idiot senses Smart Me thinks I'm an idiot. Me the Idiot starts to rant.

Me the Idiot: Maybe they're tired. Maybe they've been together so long they have nothing to say. Maybe...wait now she's getting up. Oh she's getting off the train. Wait, why isn't he getting...ooohhhhh...gotcha...

Smart Me: Yeah. You're fucking brilliant.

Siiiigh...

Slackin' off.

I always carry a notebook with me. A fresh book starts off as my diet tracker where I note something along the lines of:

B-Kashi 120 cals, skim milk 80 cals, banana free, coffee
L-LC Panini 300 cals, Soy Crisps 140 cals, diet coke
Sn-apple
TSF (total so far)-640 cals

Then I pig out after work so I barely ever write down what I had for dinner.

The notebook eventually becomes my on-the-go diary, usually venting about work or something stupid. Lately it seems to be my on-the-go blog as well, jotting down ideas or the day's events that I'd like to share. I wrote a few posts on the subway last week, but I don't know, I'm bored with them already. Here's an update:

1. I pretty much stopped drinking since Labor Day. I still go out once or twice a week, but I maybe had 10 beers the whole month of September. I'm so proud of myself!!

2. I also stopped using my credit card too! It's amazing how much crap I would have bought if I could charge it. It's crazy, I actually say to myself, "Okay, you can buy the fifth season of Family Guy on DVD right now and just not eat for the next four days OR wait until your next paycheck you fucking moron."

I have never, ever done this before. Duh...Captain Obvious says I didn't get $20K in the hole by showing some restraint.

3. Rock of Love finale was last week, the reunion tonight. While Jes is the hottest and coolest girl I may never meet, I didn't want her to win. Despite Heather's trashy behavior in the last episode, I thought she and Bret had a nice chemistry. Apparently Jes agreed with me because on the reunion show she told Bret he should have picked Heather. Awesome. Drama to the end. Damn I'm going to miss that show.

4. I expected the Giants to beat the Jets today, but I was pretty upset with the Jets performance in the last half. They're 1-4 now and no sir, I don't like it. I'm going to the Eagles game next Sunday, hopefully I'll still be their good luck charm!

The Giants actually have a shot at a 6-2 record before their bye week...let's see if they can keep it together.

5. Work is going well, but I need to think about some things.

6. Now that I'm not drinking I don't shit as often. My farts still stink though.

7. I'm finally getting a new oven. I'm excited to learn how to cook!

8. I can't figure out what I want to be for Halloween. So many options...

9. I wasn't lying about gaining 20 pounds. I weigh 190 now. Meh.

10. R.I.P Mets 2007 season

Padiddle!

In high school my friends and I used to play padiddle. A "padiddle" is a car with one headlight out. If you're driving around with your pals and see one you simply scream out "PADIDDLE!" and hit the roof of the car with your hand. That's it.

For us it was just fun to scream really loud, but apparently some peeps would take the game a little farther by making the person who did not see the padiddle take off one article of clothing. Sluts!

Speaking of sluts (or at least recovering ones), yesterday I went shopping with Spags. As I was leaving my apartment I noticed that my right nipple was hard, my left one soft.

I thought okay, maybe it will go down if I warm up a bit so I rubbed it while walking to the subway. No such luck, instead it just got harder. (I'm sure some of the old Greek men sitting on their stoops did too as I walked by, fa!)

Then I thought okay, maybe my left one needs some lovin' to even things out. I began rubbing lefty as well. No luck there either, is it possible to have whiskey nips?

By then I gave up, figuring the right one would eventually cool it's loins, hopefully before I poke someone's eye out. Yeah, no. It stayed like that all day.

I, my friends, was a walking padiddle. See?



Best thing about gaining 20 pounds this year (yes twenty, more on that when I finally stop eating and/or crying)...my breasts are HUGE!!

Book of Job

I went downstairs to chat with Bucket this morning. I didn't want to bring up the hot dodgeball guy, Job (his alias) but Bucket knows me too well...

and told me that JOB'S SINGLE!!!! WOO HOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Happy 33rd!!!

Happy 33rd Birthday to Mr. Megkefel. Can't wait to see you and my ladies later!

Happy 33rd Anniversary to my mom and dad. Not like they read this or anything. Please God.

Doges of Dodging!

Tonight I played dodgeball for the first time in oh, I don't know, 20 years maybe?? Still fucking rocks!

Me and a few Company peeps joined an intramural league. We play once a week for the next six weeks. It is so totally fun. I wish we could play every day.

Our team name is Doges* of Dodging. Leave it to Bucket to pick a name I don't understand. Damn editors. The movie Dodgeball was on FX the other day. I actually took mental notes for rules and strategy. It didn't pay off though, since all my balls kept getting caught. Fa!

Despite Manic Monday, this was a pretty good week. I got really anxious today though and I'm sad to admit that I was nervous about the game!! Yes. Me. Nervous over fucking dodgeball. I'm really glad I powered through the stupid nerves because I had an absolute blast. I can't wait to play again!

Besides being the funnest thing ever, there is a totally hot guy on the team. He's Bucket's friend, I think I met him once about a year ago. He had a girlfriend back then and I'm pretty sure they lived together. Oh well, he's still delightful to look at.

Donovan's on the team too, which is really nice. I hope that he and I can finally become friends. I still want to ram my tongue down his throat, but other than that I'm over him. Or not. No, I am. I'm over him, I just ya know, I'd sit on his face if he asked me to.

I'm shaking my head and rolling my eyes at myself...

*doge (dōj) n. The elected chief magistrate of the former republics of Venice and Genoa**.


**Genoa's a salami, right??

Let it ride.

I'm coming out of a panic attack. My mind is empty, my chest hurts, my arms and hands look separate from my body. I'm watching my fingers type, but I'm not quite sure who's controlling them...

Panic attacks suck. I don't get the "breathe into a paper bag and suffer a heart attack from guilt" kind, I get the hippie "I did too much acid and now either Jesus or Jimi is calling me" kind.

I left work around 6:30pm and walked to 59th and Lex to catch the R train. When I got to Astoria I picked up a couple of things at the grocery store and then ate dinner while watching reruns of ANTM on MTV. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Around 9pm I was feeling weird, so I turned off the television. I started to feel the fog coming over me. In this early stage of an attack I give myself two options, beat it or join it.

I've learned to join it by meditating for however long "it" needs. If I keep myself calm and positive, this can be a very rewarding and cleansing experience.

Tonight was not like that. I actually tried to beat it, which never works out. I jumped off my couch and began pacing around trying to do something normal to keep myself in reality. I closed my bedroom window. I put my dirty clothes in the hamper. I washed dishes. This is when I began to lose it because the only way I could finish them was by doing a play-by-play: "I'm washing a bowl. Now I'm washing a spoon." etc.

In my case, fighting an attack really makes things worse. The anxiety becomes too strong and turns to fear, the fear goes black, and a silent pain takes over.

No matter how used to it I become I always wonder, "Is this the end? Is this the moment I finally lose it and never come back?" All I can do is close my eyes, have a good cry, and wait.

At this point my chest still hurts, but luckily my hands and arms have been reattached. I have some idea what I just wrote...

and it's fucked. I'M fucked, but truthfully I've never been any other way.

I guess I could go back and rewrite this now that I'm back to "normal."

Fuck it. I'm letting it ride.

NFL Week 3 Early Recap

It fucking worked!! The Giants have their first win!! I will never pick them to win again...

Jets and Raiders won today too, so it was a great day for Thighs family football teams. Very happy right now!

I haven't really watched the Cowboys and Bears tonight. I had to watch the Family Guy Star Wars episode instead. Hysterical!! They showed clips at the SDCC and FG Live shows, so I had already seen most of the funny parts. Totally didn't matter though because I still laughed my ass off.

So with two games left I'm 8-6. I think I'm going to quit writing these posts...I'm starting to feel embarrassed.

Is it just me or does Al Michaels sound like Howard Stern's and Casey Kasem's lovechild?

30th Birthday Trip

I've wanted to plan a 30th birthday trip for the past 7 years now. Of course back then no one cared to think about the "dreaded" three-oh, so it wasn't until the past few months that the Petes and I began really discussing ideas.

I wasn't too sure how to go about pleasing at least 10 chicks (bedroom skills aside, fa!) so I laid out a couple of guidelines.

1. Affordable (perhaps even all-inclusive)
2. Convenient travel
3. Something for everyone (ie beaches, spas, clubs)
4. A zipline (This is for me. I've always wanted to do an adventure trip where I can fly through the forest zipping from tree to tree.)

Well I found the perfect spot, Puerto Vallarta. It has everything: all-inclusive packages, a direct flight from NY, and all the relaxing or adventurous activities you could ask for. I was TOTALLY sold, but then too many exciting things happened this summer!!

The engagements, new homes, new jobs, new outlooks, new everything...I must say this has been such an amazing year for all of us. 2008 is shaping up to be even better.

So between all the money, stress, and limited amount of vacation days between us, I have decided to condense the 30th birthday trip into a long weekend somewhere with the hopes that anyone who wants to come can make it. Not sure if tripods are invited. I'll have to consult the ladies as this was going to be a girl only trip. We'll see.

My first thought of course is VEGAS BABY...phone lines and email are now open for ideas!

WHOOOOA THIRTY!!

NFL Week 2 Recap and Week 3 Picks

I wrote up this whole explanation as to why I was a shitty 8-8 last week, but I can't find it anywhere. There were a lot of upsets though so I don't feel too bad, but I've decided I'm not going to pick the Giants all season. Hopefully they'll win some now.

I have nothing witty to say for this week's games. I'm too annoyed with NY NFL teams thus far and to jump to baseball real quick, don't even get me started on the Mets...

Week 3

Sunday, September 23
ARI @ BAL: Ravens
BUF @ NE: Patriots
CAR @ ATL: Panthers
CIN @ SEA: Seahawks
CLE @ OAK: Raiders
DAL @ CHI: Bears
DET @ PHI: Lions
IND @ HOU: Colts
JAC @ DEN: Broncos
MIA @ NYJ: Jets
MIN @ KC: Vikings
NYG @ WAS: Skins
SD @ GB: Chargers
SF @ PIT: Steelers
STL @ TB: Rams

Monday, September 24
TEN @ NO: Saints

Hibernation Season

My mom used to wake me for school by saying, "Thighs, get up. It's **insert weather condition** so you'll need a **specific outerwear or accessory**."

For example:
"... It's 58 degrees out so you'll need a light jacket."
"... It's raining out so you'll need an umbrella."

She did this until I was probably 14. It's funny that I almost forgot. Nowadays I watch NY1 for Weather on the Ones, mainly because I'm a streetwalker (hee hee) and getting caught in a storm sucks. I wonder if I'd still watch it if my mom called me every morning...oh wait, then I'd have to talk to her pre-coffee. Yikes.

My mom is also famous for explaining illness with "It's the change in seasons." The sniffles, a cough, the flu, backaches, any icky feeling was always blamed on the time of year. I could be bleeding from my eyeballs and she'd still say it.

It used to annoy the shit out of me, but then there was a point when I practically convinced myself I'd be sick when the seasons changed. Granted this was back in my cigarette and drug days when I always seemed to have bronchitis, but it really did seem like clockwork. I think Winter into Spring-sick would hit me the hardest. Ugh, I just remembered when I used to try to smoke a Marlboro with a sore throat, swollen glands, and disgustingly furry mucous.

Anyways, this week I'm feeling kind of poopie. Not sure if I'm feeling sick-poopie or just poopie-poopie. One thing's for sure, I will not be telling my mom I don't feel well because I have a sneaky suspicion she's just waiting for it. Take that, Mommy!

So the past couple of days I've been a good girl by laying low to recharge my batteries. I'm feeling really heavy, but not like fat-heavy, more like dense-heavy. Ooo that's it...I'm dense and tired. I could sleep for the next month! I don't have plans this weekend either and I'm pretty psyched about it...

MUST...SLEEEEEEP...

FYI, in the Blogger spellchecker "poopie" isn't a word. Instead they offer "poo pie". HAHA!!

And all that jazz!

My weekend in Chicago with Fish...

Gosh, I really don't know what I want to write and I REALLY don't know when I started using the word "gosh," but I've been saying it a lot lately.

The main reason I went to Chicago was because I was scared shitless to go. With that I realize this trip was not just a test for Fish, but for myself.

Fish met me at the hotel on Friday. As cliche as it sounds, as soon as I saw him it was like no time had passed since San Diego. I instantly got all warm and fuzzy inside. It felt really good.

Saturday we ran around Chicago taking pics and being silly all day. Completely random, that night Family Guy Live! was in town, which was hysterical since the Family Guy panel at the SDCC was technically our first "date." Seth MacFarlane now gets to hump either Fish or me the next time we see him.

Sunday was cool for the most part, except of course that the FUCKING GIANTS SUCK MY ASS. (More on this when I recap my shitty picks from last week.) I was sort of grumpy after the game and Fish wasn't feeling too well either so I guess you could say we were cranky wankers all day. Sadly we were so cranky that um, yeah, by the end of the night we actually had an argument. An argument!!!

I won't go into specifics, but let me tell you it was not the kind of argument two people who barely know each other have. Words like love, selfish, pushy, hard (not penis hard), sad, bad, compromise, etc. were yelled at each other in the middle of the street...gosh, hearing it now I think we sounded like we were friggin' married. Scary.

I just counted, Fish and I have only breathed the same air for approximately 59 hours in a seven week span. That's less than six cycles of America's Next Top Model! Fuck!

So where does that leave "us?" I have no clue. How do I feel? Well I totally passed my test because I realized something very important this weekend...

I'M NOT BROKEN!!

I'm actually able to like someone who's real, not a fantastical version of who I want him to be like Donovan or FB or Ohio John or who the fuck else. I like someone enough to fly across the country to see him! I like someone enough to argue! I like someone so much that I cream my pants when I think about him!! And the greatest realization...I like someone so much that I want to be the best person I can be, not for him, but for me!!

I get it now! I won't be much good for anyone if I'm not good to myself. I am so proud that I faced my fears and went to see him. I feel wiser, stronger, and better than I have ever felt. It really was an amazing weekend, argument and all.

So shit, I didn't just pass my test...I got an A+ with a gold star on a yellow Success Card!

NFL Week 2 Picks

I'm leaving for Chicago tomorrow night (WOOHOO!) so here are my early picks. I feel pretty good about them, just as long as none of the star players get arrested for dogfights, cockfights, bullfights or child pornography before Sunday.

Sunday, September 16

ATL @ JAC: Jaguars
BUF @ PIT: Steelers
CIN @ CLE: Bengals
DAL @ MIA: Cowboys
HOU @ CAR: Panthers
IND @ TEN: Colts
KC @ CHI: Bears
MIN @ DET: Vikings, although I'm not too sure about it.
NO @ TB: Saints
OAK @ DEN: Broncos (Sorry Dad.)
SEA @ ARI: Seahawks
SF @ STL: Rams

GB @ NYG: Giants. This matchup is the reason I'm going to Chicago. Fish's a cheesehead so I thought it would be cool to watch the game together. I'm picking NY because the Eagles looked like shit last week, so I think the Packers win was a fluke. Smack talk starting already...

NYJ @ BAL: Ravens. Is it "the best defense is offense" or "the best offense is defense"? Either way, where the fuck was NY's offensive line last week?

SD @ NE: Patriot Assholes. NE cheating is like a chick with double D's stuffing her bra. What's the point?

Monday, September 17

WAS @ PHI: Iggles

NFL Week 1 Recap

Week 1 is over and I'm 11-5. I might suck at this. Highlights:

1. The Patriots are a fucking powerhouse. Brady looked good and since he doesn't have enough star rushers/receivers (sarcasm), they just HAD to sign Randy Moss who had 9 catches for 183 yards (TOMMY!) in his first start with NE. Damn you Belichick, you shabby genius!

2. I can't believe the Packers won. Good for Favrererer.

3. Bears/Chargers game ended up being on FOX. LT is insane. He scored a TD and threw a TD pass. Awesome.

4. It's awful what happened to Kevin Everett. I know that's the chance players take, but jesus, it's scary and such a shame.

5. Why am I both a Jets AND a Giants fan? Oh that's right, I'm a masochist with low self-esteem that grew up in the Tri-State area.

It was not a fun day for NY fans. Chad's hurt, Eli's hurt...my stomach hurts just thinking about this season. Oy vey.

Random Diary Entry: May 5, 1986

In 2nd grade my teacher had us write in our Daily Diary. I found it the other day, so here is a glimpse into my mind at the ripe young age of 8. Nothing's really changed 22 years later.

Today is Monday, May 5, 1986. Today is the 146 day of school. I would like to tell you about Saturday and today. Saturday morning my mother had to go to work. So she did. It was elven fourty-five, so my father took a nap. My brother was hungry when it was twelve zero five. Then he went into the refridgearator. He took out the potato chips. I only took two. When he put them away he saw that I changed the channel on the televisoin. Then he smacked me. I said that he was a doodoo brain. He said my breath smells like a chicken. When he turned around I kicked him. Then he started punching my cast. [Ed note: I had broken my arm.] It did not hurt me, it hurt him. Do you know what I did? I took him by his foot and pulled him into our room. I took one of his toys and I was going to hit him, but when he was about to yell to my father, I put the toy down. He was going to say that there was someone trying to kill him. He was going to say that to my father. I had fun.

The best part about the diary is that most of my entries end with "I had fun." or "It was fun." Silly girl.

Mean Streaks

Face it, we all have one. When I'm feeling mean I rarely act out on it, but man, when I finally do it will. be. GLORIOUS. Here are my go-to meandreams.

When someone is:

1. bending down to tie their shoe, I push them over, point and laugh at them.

2. walking their dog my scenarios vary between grabbing the dog and running or kicking the dog in the face and standing there, waiting to see what the owner would do.

3. taking up the whole sidewalk by walking side by side with someone else, I either clothesline them both or tackle one of them to the ground, with the hopes of cracking their skull on the pavement.

4. walking and then suddenly stops short, I pull out a megaphone and say "THERE'S NOTHING TO SEE HERE. KEEP MOVING."

5. talking really loud on their cell phone I take said phone and shove it down their throat.

This morning I came up with a new meandream. I can't tell if it's funny, dumb, or a sign I've seen the Breakfast Club too many times. I'll share anyways.

Today I kept imagining going up to people and screaming "I'M THRILLED _____!" Examples:

I'M THRILLED you can blow cigarette smoke in my face as I walk by.
I'M THRILLED you walk slower than my dead grandfather.
I'M THRILLED you didn't fucking shower today and smell like spicy eggfarts.
I'M THRILLED you stuck it to the man by blocking the train doors.
I'M THRILLED you think I have a black woman ass Mr. Delivery Guy.

And last but not least, I'M THRILLED that today I hated everyone for no reason.

So that was my day. It ended on a high note though because I finally saw Superbad. Oh my hell, it was fantastic. Go see it as soon as possible.

Siiighhh...I'M THRILLED to go to bed and start fresh tomorrow.

I Love New York!

Last week I was all about New York baseball as I was invited to both a Yanks and a Mets game. Thanks Megkefel and DaQ!

Mariners vs. Yankees, 09/04/07. Yanks won 12-3 and a squirrel warmed our hearts.

Oh, Yankees Stadium. I hadn't been to a game in at least three years. I was a hardcore fan back in the 90s when I guess everyone was. It started wearing off a bit by college with the Subway Series. My best friend and roommate at the time was a huge Mets fan so I became more interested in the underdog rather than the front runner.

But damn do they still have talent. Jeter and A-Rod really are amazing to watch, so I'm glad I went. The stadium? Well now that I've been on the tour it's pretty shitty! And Yankee fans? I hate to say this, but the vibe was shitty too! I think there are two types of Yankee fans, the ones that are baseball fans and the ones that aren't. I like anyone who respects and appreciates the sport, I despise the fans that are mean-spirited Yankee starfuckers.

I must say, while I had a blast with my friends, I think I'm ready to be a full-on Mets fan. Here's why..

Astros vs. Mets, 09/07/07. Mets won 11-3 and DaQ's family warmed MY heart.

We've got heart! (Yes I'm already using "we" statements.) The minute we walked in the stadium was electric, the vibe was all things good, and the fans were positively pumped. Sure there are dickheads in the mix (it's NY after all), but it was such a difference than the Bronx. Maybe it's because I've lived in Queens for over three years or maybe it's because I subconciously chose the Mets long ago. Whatever it is, every game I go to, win or lose, is always a great day of baseball.

New stadiums for both teams? Yay or Nay?

I say "Yay". I'm excited for both teams to get a new home. I'm sure it will suck to get tickets at first, but weeknight games are rarely sold out so I can understand the drop in available seats. Here are some pics of both. I didn't have my camera at the Yankee game, so I had to make do with my camera phone.

Are you ready for some football??

Instead of doing fantasy, I think I'm just going to post my picks each week. I really should get HBO for the season. I love the show Inside the NFL.

WEEK 1

Thursday, September 6
I swear I picked the Colts.

Sunday, September 9
TEN @ JAC: Jaguars
ATL @ MIN: Vikings
PIT @ CLE: Steelers
KC @ HOU: Chiefs
PHI @ GB: Eagles
NE @ NYJ: Sadly, Patriots
DEN @ BUF: Broncos
CAR @ STL: Panthers
MIA @ WAS: Redskins
TB @ SEA: Seahawks
DET @ OAK: Raiders for my dad.
CHI @ SD: I wish I had the NFL Ticket, too. Great game, I pick Chargers.
NYG @ DAL: The NFC East is my favorite division. I hate the fucking Cowboys almost as much as I hate the Patriots. If there's ever a Dallas/New England superbowl, I will boycott and have an Anti-Boobie Bowl party that year. We'll watch Beaches and Steel Magnolias or something.

I'm pissed now. I'll pick the Giants so that if they lose I can be even more angry. AARRRGGHHH!

Monday, September 10
BAL @ CIN: Bengals
ARI @ SF: Niners

Put the camera phone down!

Word to the wise, taking pictures of your own breasts is harder than you'd think.

Yes, I'm sober.

GP

GP was let go today. I feel an incredible amount of guilt for three reasons:

1. GP really is a good person. I wish he would have let people help him out more.

2. My problem with him was definitely not the deciding factor, but most likely a contributing one.

3. Part of me really wanted him to be fired.

I feel awful. I wonder if I'm making myself feel bad so that I won't imagine how he feels.

What did I learn from GP?

1. The importance of good communication (both verbal and non), charisma, loyalty, and personal responsibility.

2. It's okay to be wrong or to just let. it. go.

3. Documentation is a good thing.

4. Silence is golden.


I wish him well.

I'm ready.

I'm ready to write about Fish. It's about fucking time, especially since I'm going to Chicago in 11 days to see him. The interesting part about it is, I have less to say about how I feel about him and more to say about how I feel about myself in regards to him. Does that make sense?

The day Fish and I spent together in San Diego was one of the best days of my life. Why? Because on that day I was my best.

My insecurities, my negative thoughts, my hurt, and my sadness were only parts of me instead of my whole being. I allowed my light to shine through my darkness and it was beautiful.

I was beautiful. I was strong, confident, and at peace. I knew who I was and who I was meant to be. Everything about myself made sense and had a purpose. I was whole and it was wonderful.

Fish did something that no one has ever done before. He made me fall in love with Me.

Best. Day. Ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wish I could say the weeks since I began dating myself have been filled with those same positive feelings, but it's been pretty rocky. Honestly, all I want to do is barf.

Every time I think about Me, the chunks rise in our throat, I clench our teeth, and hope to God We don't blow chunks. We're nauseated right now.

What happens if I continues to make Me sick? Am I in a position to pursue Me so that We even have a chance? What happens if Me and I run out of things to say to ourselves? Do I even know Me well enough to be asking these questions?

My family is concerned that both I and Me will get hurt. I don't think it's a possibility considering that for Me to think it, I would know it, so there shouldn't be any surprises. Even so, I have been down that road enough to know We'll eventually be okay. It's the road where things go well that scares the shit out of Me...

I wonders if AAA gives Trip Tix to Good. Me thinks I already know Bad like the back of our hand.