Skin is apparently tasty.

I have this awful habit of chewing my fingers.

I used to have nice long nails that offset my man-hand sausages. I went for my first manicure right after high school and the nail technician (heh heh) introduced me to cuticle cutting. I bought my own cuticle scissors and would go to town every night before bed. I was obsessed.

I smoked cigarettes back then and would quit from time to time, usually right after getting bronchitis or a chest cold. I guess I needed an oral fix during those breaks so I started biting my nails. Not sure what made me start chewing my cuticles. I think it was something to do when I was cracked out after partying all night. Now I do it all the time to the point where my fingers are always red, puffy, and bloody. It is so fucking gross.

I would like to write myself a note:

Dear Me,

STOP FUCKING EATING YOUR OWN SKIN. In fact don't eat any one's skin you disgusting cannibalistic douche.

Here are acceptable things to put in your mouth: food, beverage, medication, cock, toothpaste, toothbrush, tongue, floss, and mouthwash. THAT IS ALL. And to clarify, DO NOT CHEW THE COCK OR TONGUE.

Love,
Me

You know what I consider "doing my nails" now? Applying Neosporin to my wounds and wearing band-aids on each finger. Lovely.

So let's make a pact ol' blogosphere. If you should see me either examining my fingers getting ready for the kill or full on gnawing in masochistic bliss, for the love of god, stop me. I don't care how, punch me in the face if you have to. I must be stopped at all costs.

I'm what?!?!?!

I thought I:

hated drama
liked changed
was ugly
was less than
was nice
was non-confrontational
was organized
was not worthy
didn't have a story worth telling
would die alone
was unlovable
was CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY
was scared of both success and failure at the same time
was weak
was average
was self-sacrificing
was butch/masculine
was simple
was unmanipulative
was uncreative
was assexual
would be dead by 22...was that an MTV show?
would do drugs forever
would fuck one guy in every state instead of collecting those stupid quarters
would always "damn the man"
would never wear sneakers with work clothes
would never amount to anything
would always be a bridesmaid and never a bride
would hate my mother for all of eternity
couldn't kill someone
wasn't racist, sexist, ageist, or chauvinistic
was a bad cook
would never stop crying
would be able to do 10 (boy!) push-ups and 5 pull-ups by now
waswaswaswaswouldwouldwould...I think that's it.

Today I realized I was completely wrong.

I am/have/did/will do OR am not/haven't/didn't/won't the complete opposite of everything above.

I don't really love vodka.

But it sure as hell is making me happy right now.

I have decided to deal with my work troubles by getting drunk every night this week. I end up being so preoccupied with my hangover the next morning that I don't think about anything else.

Sometimes when I'm really really hungover I have to keep checking that I'm wearing pants. Thankfully I am wearing them every time.

And thankfully TNA is on. I used to watch wrestling during college, back when the WWE was the WWF and Raw and Nitro were fun. I hate Kurt Angle. He should shove his olympic medals up his ass. Stephanie McMann was a hot dirty whore then, too. I miss college.

Grey Goose is my friend. I decided a year or two ago that I shall aspire to become Karen from Will and Grace. Just be a drunken, snarky, perky breasted biyatch. I'm TOTALLY on my way. Bloody Marys have become my favorite drinks ever.

Who the hell is Conan? I hear him yelling, but I never heard of him...

I have decided to leave Company, for no other reason than to save my liver. I hate stupid.

CW11 shows rock

Okay, I just watched America's Next Top Model and The Pussycat Dolls Show: The Search for the Next Doll. I really wish they called it The Search for the Next Pussy.

I like watching reality tv gameshows more than anything else right now. They show me how to communicate, the difference between working hard and working smart, and how perception is everything.

My perception of the last couple of weeks is that my bosses want me out. Soaps said I'm difficult, a bad communicator, and a slacker. I'm told all this six weeks after getting a sweet raise and a huge bonus. Hello mixed signals.

He also said that my goal to be head of the division one day will never happen, that I was hired as a number cruncher and that's all I will ever be.

Ugh. I hate everyone.

Dreams can come true

My worklife has been a mess since my birthday. That stupid shit with Red escalated into a whole week of misunderstandings, arguments, and negative vibes with Soaps. It's so bad that I am ready to quit. I've always said that Company was my dream job, but why did I think that before I got there?

I thought I would:

1. get paid to talk about characters I love.
2. get paid to work in an industry I love.
3. get free cbooks.
4. meet my favorite writers and artists.
5. meet Stanley (no I'm not stupid and I know you're not either).

You know what? I got all five. That's awesome, but Company just flat out makes me feel like shit most of the time.

AARRGHHH. ***DELETED PARAGRAPH***

Oh and V.P. at Company stands for...

Vagina-less Person.

Not only did my therapist laugh out loud, she also wrote it down on her notepad to share with the other mentals.

Enjoy!

I love beer.

Sincerely. I love it with all my heart.

I'm home, it's snowing, and I'm drinking some left over Brooklyn East India Pale Ale from my Super Boobie Bowl party.

I have a stupid grin on my face, left my brother a retardedly long and nonsensical voicemail, and "Closed Match" with about 20 guys on eharmony. Rockin'.

Have I reached the point in my life when Friday nights consist of solo beers and giggling at inside jokes between me and my multiple personalities?

Nah, I'm just gearing up for tomorrow. Yeah yeah, St. Patrick's Day is for amateurs....blah blah blah...

My nationality hasn't influenced my life until recent years, despite my name being pretty darn close to Kelly O'Shamrock. I just never really thought about it. My mom only made corned beef and cabbage on St. Pat's. My dad's specialties were, oddly enough, stromboli and lasagna although he did go on this Irish soda bread kick for a while.

I went to Ireland early 2003, sort of on a whim. And by "on a whim" I mean "against my mom's wishes since I had no money and moved back home yet somehow decided I could afford to go on a two week vacation." I kept saying I was going to our homeland, but yeah, for some reason that didn't stop her biyatching.

Ireland was amazing. I felt like I was plopped into a huge family reunion. Everyone seemed to have my dad's nose, my uncle's long face, my brother's sarcasm. I have never felt a connection like that before...it really did feel like home.

I'm pretty sure it was right after that trip that I began to consciously identify myself as Irish. Trust me, there ain't no hiding my nationality. I got the freckles, the mouth, and the beer belly to prove where my ancestors came from. I realize now though none of that mattered; I just had to feel it.

Well I feel it now and am proud to be an Irish woman. For the life of me I can never remember why St. Patrick's Day is a holiday and I can't tell you anything about the country's history or how my own family ended up in America....but I'll be damned if anyone thinks I'm going to miss a day celebrated with lots o' beer drinking and red-faced fun.

Get to know your friends.

I just filled out one of those "Get to know your friends" chain emails. Questions range from "favorite flower" to "what did you have for breakfast" to "beavers or ducks." That last one is aching to have a dirty joke attached; oddly enough I can't seem to squeeze one out.

I have the best group of girlfriends of all time. Growing up I had some pretty crappy friendships. I was always The Third Girl. You know the group: two girls are best friends who dress and talk alike. One is the bad egg, the other follows since she can't think for herself. Then there's The Third Girl who is either tall or fat or both, connects The Two with The Others, and inevitably has to sit next to a stranger or by herself on roller coaster rides.

Of all the friends I've had over the years, I never met anyone that I connected with on all levels. It wasn't until my first job out of school that I met the Petes, seven lovely ladies who absolutely mean the world to me.

When we first started hanging out we were all about drinking, dancing and getting laid (at least I was!). Over time we started blacking out less, remembering conversations more, and eventually becoming really close. There have been plenty of good times and thankfully only some bad. Regardless, somehow everything we've been through has made our connection stronger.

It's exciting to be a part of my friends' lives right now. We are all growing into ourselves, finding our path, figuring out what the next step is. One of the girls is now married, another just got engaged, two more will probably get engaged soon. Us singles have been pretty focused on our careers lately and thankfully we are all successful, kickass power-women.

I love my ladies and am forever grateful to have them in my lives. Thank you Shizza for sending me the Petes!