Bud Mud and Bloody Heels

You may not know this about me, but I am an asshole.

Today was my first day in my new position. I love, love, love it!!! I am going to learn so much from Mags AND I get to hang out with Furball all day. Totally rocks.

Unfortunately I wasn't in the best shape though. I am pretty pissed at myself for getting so drunk yesterday. Rockstar, Spaghetti, Spags' sis, Mother Jugs (MJ), Steve-O and I went to Sette (VII) for brunch. Sette has good food, reasonable prices and all you can drink Bloody Marys.

Thighs + all you can "anything" = love.

I don't know if the rest of the gang got as tanked as I did. Shout out to MJ, let me know what happened at the breakfast meeting today. Woo hoo, I remembered something!

I have no clue how many drinks I had. I told Rockstar I didn't remember anything after playing Mega Touch. She said I got all huggy and then couldn't walk any more so she threw me in a cab. Poor cabbie...I really hope all my yak went out the window.

When I woke up this morning I inventoried my belongings and cased the scene. Wallet. Check. Keys. Check (and if not how the hell did I get in?) Phone. Check.

Alone? Yep. Puke any where in the apartment? Nope. Puke in bed? Nope. Puke on clothes? A tad. Leave any food out? Nope.

It's been awhile since I've blacked out like that. By "awhile" I mean December. Or wait, maybe last Thursday. Regardless, this is why I'm an asshole.

I'm also an asshole since apparently I no longer know how to buy shoes. I went to Payless the other day and bought these flats. Cute, right? I'm usually a size 7.5 so that's what I purchased.

I decided to wear my new shoes to work today. New job, new shoes. Yaay me!

Having the next day stupids, I didn't notice that the shoes were giving me huge blisters on my heels. I also didn't notice the shoes ripped open said blisters until I got to the subway. I looked at my feet and nearly gagged. My heels and shoes were covered in blood. It was then that I felt the pain and had to walk on the backs of the shoes just so I could make it to work. At lunch I bought new, comfortable shoes but the damage was done. I had to walk on the backs of them too.

And because I wasn't in enough agony, I got bud mud in the afternoon and had to hang out in the bathroom for about 15 minutes. Courtesy flushes are probably the nicest thing you can do for someone.

So my first day in my new position I had a hangover, the runs, and bloody heels. In case you missed it, I am an asshole.

Fuuuuuckkkk

It's 6:30am. I just woke up and realized I have no idea how I got home.

Our Sunday brunch turned into a full on drinkfest. The last thing I remember is playing Mystery Phrase/Wheel of Fortune at Peter McManus.

Uh oh. I think I was puking out the cab window, too.

Fuuuuuuck....

179.2 reasons to smile

As of this very moment, I weigh 179.2 pounds.

I have decided to take a different approach to losing weight. Bitching and moaning has done nothing besides damage my already tender self-esteem and annoy my friends, most of whom are running a race right now while I am sitting here topless writing this post. Hot.

I am going to be positive about how I look, feel, and weigh starting right...NOW.

I was going to title this post as "179.2 reasons to cry", but then I realized that my life is going too well to cry over anything. I am so excited to go to work tomorrow, I'm meeting those healthy bitches for brunch in a couple of hours (all you can drink bloody marys!), and I got to catch up with an old college buddy last night who I haven't spoken to in about a year.

I'm also psyched because I have a few mini-breaks planned for this summer already. I'm going to visit my brother Rippie in California. He went to school for film at NYU and was working as a PA on the "Brenda" show, when he decided to move to LA with some friends to pursue his film career. Rip, not sure I said this enough, but I am so SO proud of you!! Plus I miss your guts like crazy.

Anyways, back to my skinny ass. (See what I did there?) I am going to visit my brother the last week of July. I haven't bought tickets yet, but the plan is to fly out to San Diego on July 20th to see a Padres game that weekend. Then I'll drive to Santa Monica to chill with my brother and hit a Dodgers and Angels game. Then I'm driving back to SD for the comic con that following weekend. Phew!

So by July 20th I would like to lose some weight. My positive self has decided not to put a goal on there, that "some" is better than "none". It would be great if I felt comfortable enough with my namesakes to not have to wear shorts over my bathing suit, so either I lose a few inches on my thighs OR become so confident that I don't give a fuck about them.

The idea is to not put pressure on myself. I don't have much in my life to rebel against anymore, so the minute I feel defiant I eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's. It's like when I'd stay out past curfew as a fuck you to my parents, but now I'm just saying fuck you to myself.

So there you have it. The next three months I am going to be positive and enjoy myself, with the hopes that I feel great come July...or that during my first swim in the Pacific Ocean I'm not accidentally harpooned by a nearsighted whaler.

Woo hoo!!!

"I’m pleased to announce that effective Monday, April 30th, Thighs will be joining our group as a Sr. Business Analyst. Thighs' wealth of experience in Publishing will certainly be an asset with the work we currently have on our plate. In addition, we expect that her analytical capabilities and sense for solid business/IT solutions will help the company."

FINALLY!! I'm so friggin excited! I get to stay at Company and work for Mags who said, "I will not let you fail." HE ROCKS!

The dilly is that I will be evaluated after 90 days. My key assignments are:

Production facilitation of the manufacturing PO project
Vendor maintenance update
Convert manual P&Ls to an automated solution
Convert manual forecasting system to an automated entry/reporting solution
Acclimate my knowledge of Oracle Financials

If all goes well I will get a decent raise and then another one in January when Company does it's annual reviews. ROCKIN'!

The past couple of months blew. The past week or so I acted like Peter from Office Space. I kind of came and went as I pleased, joked how I was going to gut a fish at my desk. I just needed to turn the volume in my head down and stop letting my impatience get the best of me.

And it worked out! I mean, I think this new job is going to be ridiculously challenging, but I feel totally ready for it. I'm moving up to a more corporate floor, so I have decided to go shopping for nicer clothes, stop partying during the week, and quit telling perverted fart jokes. Yes, fart jokes can be perverted if you do them right.

Mags isn't my direct boss, it's a woman named Fi. I've heard she's great to work with, but unfortunately she's on vacation for the next two weeks so I'll have to wait to get to know her. At least I'll have some time to get used to the new environment.

I can't believe I'm going to be in IT. I'm blonde with a nice rack! How can I be such a nerd?? It's all good though. I'm ready to move on in my career and make some fucking good dough.

I wanted to do that whole "Countdown to 30" thing, so lately I've been thinking about my new life plan. Here's what I got:

1. Kick ass in my new position
2. Get sweet raise in August and January
3. Pay off all of my credit card debt
4. Start saving money for the next 2-3 years
5. Go on world tour around 35
6. Come back from world tour and go to art school
7. Become art therapist, eventually opening my own practice by 45

Oh and at some point before the world tour I want to get married. Some time before 38-ish I want my first child. And at some point between today and May 31st I'd like to get fucking laid. It's been FOOOORRREEEVVVEERRR...and I gave Lost Girls to Janeypants so now I don't even have good masturbation material. Sorry, Bro.

AND get this, the chances of me getting laid in the next month or so without resorting back to my random hookup days has slightly increased. A few posts ago I mentioned that I emailed a famous blogger asking to meet him for a drink. He fucking said yes! He wrote me yesterday and said he was going away for the weekend, but let's touch base next week. I AM ECSTATIC!

I'm trying my best to not think about it. He is so feckin funny that I'm sure it will be a great time. I just hope we hit it off!! Must. not. obsess. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease let me enjoy this and not freak myself out!

Today I have been the laziest bastard. I woke up at noon and since then have been flipping between the NFL draft on ESPN and the ANTM marathon on MTV.

Despite having grown up in Brooklyn, my dad is oddly enough a huge Raiders fan. They got the first pick JaMarcus Russell a QB that has been referred to as the next Elway. Awesome. The Jets picked CB Darrelle Revis, the Giants grabbed CB Aaron Ross. I know the Jets really needed a cornerback, not too sure about the Giants though. I love football and have decided that this year I'm going to learn more about strategies. Maybe I'll sign up for a free fantasy league this year. It seems like peeps learn a lot doing that.

Anyhoo, got lots more to write but I think I need to get out of the apartment for a bit. I ain't doing shit tonight so maybe I'll post again later.

You know what I hate?

Pussies. Big, fat fucking pussies.

I am a semi-chauvinist. I expect men to have balls, be good at sports, beat me at arm wrestling, and drink me under the table.

I do not expect men to be smarter, funnier, or a better dancer than myself.

I'd LIKE THEM to be smart and funny, so this way I'm always laughing and learning something new.

Not necessarily smartER or funniER...smart and funny in a different way then I am.

I don't want them to dance better though, cause that's just gay.

If you are a tripod, please don't be a wimpy pansy ass.

Thank you.

PJ

I saw THE ex-boyfriend today.

You can probably tell by now that I'm pretty boy crazy. Always was. I've only had 2.25 boyfriends my whole life. I say 2.25 because my most recent "boyfriend" only lasted about 6 weeks. Psycho Joe lasted about 6 months and I didn't really like him that much.

PJ and I met in college. I lived in the dorms with his best friend Sal. PJ has red hair, big fat freckles, and the most retarded sense of humor ever. I fell in love with him right away.

It was a weird time for us to be dating. I had a huge fight with my best friend that resulted in us never speaking again. I was failing out of school. My relationship with my mom was the worst it had ever been. Horrible, horrible times.

Then I met PJ. He was going through some bad shit himself so we bonded pretty fast. He made me feel so warm, so beautiful. I remember the first time we said I love you. It was only about a month after we met. We were making out in his bedroom listening to U2. There was this moment when we felt completely connected, melted into one being. It was the most amazing thing I've ever felt. I knew he felt it too.

Later on he walked me to my car. We kissed good-bye and he slightly pulled me away from him so that my face was in the moonlight. He looked into my eyes and whispered, "I love you." It was magical.

We were so silly together. Whenever we felt that special feeling again, we'd refer to it as our "Bono moment". Whenever we wanted to say "I love you" in public we'd say, "Chicken pot pie." And the few times we actually studied we'd go to the library and pass stupid jokes to each other to see who'd laugh the loudest.

PJ had moved in with me after only three months of dating. By month six things were getting a little shaky. Peej didn't do drugs which really helped me to stop, so we drank and ate alot instead. He was kind of a shitty drunk. Not mean or anything, but he'd get really paranoid that I was cheating on him or that I was going to leave him. He has real issues with adultery since his stupid ass father cheated for years.

PJ started going to therapy and went on meds while we were dating. (See how perfect we were for each other??) Like I said, it was such crazy times for us to be together. Our baggage totally killed our relationship.

New Year's Day 2000 is when things went down hill. He had already moved in with Sal a few blocks away, so while we hadn't broken up yet I knew it was coming. I had taken an interest to my new neighbor, who in retrospect wasn't that cool, but had one of the biggest penises I've ever seen. Girthy.

Anyways, I would never cheat on someone, but I started kind of mentally cheating on PJ. Like I'd look outside to see if Girth was on the porch or I'd go to a bar when I knew he was there. I told PJ that I think I started liking my neighbor as a sort of defense mechanism since I knew we were having problems. We talked it out, but inevitably broke up about a month later.

The break-up was probably the most painful thing I have ever, ever gone through. I stalked him, called him, wrote him letters, cried myself to sleep every night. I started doing drugs again, drank myself to oblivion, and banged like any guy that came (no pun intended) my way. I also managed to gain 30 pounds eating cheese and crackers. That's a lot of fucking cheese and crackers.

I swear on my softball glove (prize possession), that I lost about five months of my life after the break-up. April to August was one big fucking blur. I had started going to therapy and on Zoloft at some point, but I was drinking and popping pills on top of the anti-depressants that I know I really fucked myself.

By September I quit therapy and took myself off the meds. I still partied alot, but no where near as much as I had that summer. It's funny, I don't know how many times I saw PJ before I graduated. I still can't believe that was 7 years ago.

The last time I saw him or Sal was I think Christmas 2002. Peej was really weird and actually kind of mean. It was pretty shitty now that I'm thinking about it.

I talk to Sal about twice a year. He's a rabid Mets fan, so ever since I moved to the city we always said we'd go to a game together. I called him last week and it turned out we were both going to the game today. They lost, 9-6. It sucked.

Sal hasn't mentioned PJ to me on the phone in probably 3 years. He doesn't offer, I don't ask. I thought Sal would have told me if PJ was going to the game today. I mean I know it's been over four years since I've seen them, but still, a warning would have been nice.

Yeah, no. I ran up to Sal and gave him a huge hug before I realized PJ was standing next to him. I looked at him and my heart sank. He looked exactly the same with that big toothy smile I used to love to see every day and his awesome freckles bursting off his face. We hugged and the three of us chatted like old friends do. Where do you work, where do you live, how's your family? We only talked for about twenty minutes before the game started. We left with a hug, kiss on the cheek, and a see ya soon, most likely at Sal's BBQ this summer.

I was still in shock when I got to my seat. My friends asked if I was okay and I really didn't know what I was. It wasn't until I got home that it really hit me. My eyes kept welling up, but tears didn't come out until I spoke to Rockstar. She saw her ex last summer and put words to what I was feeling. She said it's like no time had passed, that everything comes flooding back and your whole life since then was somehow erased. She was right. It was like I didn't live in NY, didn't have a great apartment, didn't have wonderful family and friends, didn't work for an awesome Company. It was the summer of 2000 all over again and that wound was deeper than ever.

It was Rockstar's voice that snapped me out of it. She is my life now, the Petes are my life, NY is my life. Once I came back to me, I felt ten times better.

Now that it's been a few hours I can understand why I was so upset. Sure, it's always jarring unexpectedly seeing a blast from the past let alone an ex-boyfriend. I cried because I haven't had a boyfriend in 7 years. I cried because I haven't loved anyone since PJ. Sure I "loved" Softball Pat, Ohio John, Red and Donovan, but they were never PJ.

It took me 4 years to get over our 10 month relationship. The one summer I heard he had a girlfriend I bought a vibrator and banged two guys at the Beer Garden. Not kidding.

I didn't ask if PJ was dating someone. I'm as extremely NOT dating as one can be. In fact I think I'm negative (+/-) dating at this point; I still have that eharmony account but haven't checked it in three weeks.

I cried because I was damaged goods for so long and even though I really want a boyfriend I am still trapped in my old dating rut. Sure I'm not sleeping around anymore, but I haven't even tried to meet anyone. I'm sure it would have been weird seeing PJ if I was married or proactively dating, but I probably wouldn't have gotten upset though.

I no longer think I'm doomed to roam the Earth alone like the Incredible Hulk, but damn, I really hope I find someone who I love as much as PJ and vice versa...multiplied by a zillion.

UGH where are you you football-superhero-beer-Jackson Five-loving freckled fuckface?? I'm waiting!!

Tonight part 1

Yes I did them out of order. I ate an italian BMT from Subway in between to sort out my thoughts.

Rage is a really good friend of mine. He's someone I admire, respect, rub one off to, and enjoy a good pint with.

He mentioned how he's been reading thighsighs and didn't get why I was anonymous. Obviously if if I tell someone to read my blog they're going to know it's me, so why say I'm Thighs rather then my real name?

I don't know. If you're reading this you are someone I love, someone who I am willing to share my deepest, craziest, dirtiest secrets with, hoping that you'll still love me anyways. Case in point...

sometimes I'll watch myself poop in the reflection of the toilet water.

So again, if you're reading this you know I love you dearly and hope that if you can read the above sentence and still want to be my friend then we are golden.

I'm really enjoying this whole blog thing and I think I'll get the most out of it if I write for myself without much regard to who is reading it. Totally selfish, but it's something I have to do right now. I hope you're okay with this.

Tonight part 2

I was feeling pretty good when I left the bar, good enough to take the subway home even though it was 3am.

I was sitting in the first car with a few random people, ipod blasting, ignoring the world. All of a sudden I heard some screaming. I took out my earphones and saw a young girl getting sort of manhandled in the front of the car.

I went to school for psychology like most nutcases do. One of the many things I found interesting were the case studies about group mentality. Long experiment short, a person is more likely to react to a call for help when they are by themselves instead of in a group.

So here I am sitting near about 4 dudes and a chick, hearing a young girl screaming like she was being raped and you know what? No one did a damn thing. I sat there for a few minutes taking in the screams, observing the reactions of the people around me, and immediately started hating all of us for not doing anything.

It was one of those moments in life when you're like fuckshit, the world is an evil place and this incident is bursting the comfortable oblivious bubble I live in. Awful thoughts ran in my head while I heard her scream. I looked at the people around me hoping that one of them would say something, anything, just so I wouldn't have to. They didn't. And you know what? I was pissed. How dare you not do anything? How dare you not get up and find out what's going on?

Finally I couldn't ignore it anymore. I got up and sat right across from the commotion. I said fuck it, I get hurt, this girl gets hurt, at least I'll go down doing something noble.

I sat there and watched the girl and the two guys around her. The three of them were maybe 20 years old. She was screaming, pushing, and yelling to get these guys off of her. The guys were trying to calm her down. I watched this and immediately wanted to punch the girl in the face to shut her the fuck up. Am I awful for saying that? Sure...and here's why.

That girl scared the shit out of me.

She screamed from a place where I hope no one ever has to scream from. It was fucking awful to hear and even more awful to watch since no one knew what was happening. I asked one of the guys if she was okay and he said that she gets like this when she's drunk. I believed him. I like to think I'm a good judge of character and I have to say, the two guys looked like good kids. The girl was angry and plastered...I honestly don't think the boys were hurting her.

It was weird to not defend her. Even worse, there was only one reason why I confronted them in the first place. I'm embarrassed to admit that it wasn't saving the girl that got me up...it was sticking it to the people around me that didn't.

When I stood up and started walking towards them, something inside me fed off of the other people's fears. I used their energy to fuel my own and as horrible as it sounds, it felt good. It felt good to make the other people feel bad not getting up, more than it felt good to save the girl.

I feel like an honest to god asshole...but at least I'm honest, right?

End of May

End of mother fucking May. That's what Soaps told me today.

I am so fucking pissed right now. If all I was to Soaps was a fucking number cruncher than I am TOTALLY sure he easily find someone to replace me. Why are they doing this??

On a happier note, Melissa S. got kicked off of Search for the Next Pussy last night. She was so mean to my girl Chelsea that I cheered when she had to hang up her boa. I thought it was odd that no one seemed to remember that Melissa S. was on Making of the Band 3 and lost that too...

um...is that a happier note or an even sadder note? LOL!

Fat itchy cow.

I am a fat itchy cow.

I keep breaking out in hives, drinking a lot, and eating my weight in crap food. Bethany Beergut is back in action. I haven't seen that bitch in three years and here she is, silently mocking me by spilling over the top of my pajama pants.

I'm trying to be positive, but if saying "Hey, I can still see my vag!" is the best I can come up with then I. have. problems.

So, what am I going to do about it? Easy. Bitch and moan.

I still haven't heard anything about the job. Mags keeps saying he and Red are working out the timing. I totally believe him, but I can't take it anymore. The vibe between Soaps and I is so fucking toxic (sans Britney) that all I care about is moving upstairs as soon as possible. I'm not good in negative environments. I become a fat itchy cow.

I talked to my mom earlier to blow off some steam. She's been really supportive, especially since she transferred within her company a few years ago and understands how annoying it can be. I think she sums up the frustration with this comment:

"I know how you feel, Thighs. When I was waiting to transfer, all I wanted to do was bring in a rifle and blow their fucking balls off."

The apple most certainly does not fall far from the tree, folks.

Here's an impromptu sing-a-long: (sang to Farmer in the Dell)

Fat itchy cow.
Fat itchy cow.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
Fat itchy cow.

The cow has an itch.
The cow has an itch.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The cow has an itch.

The itch wants a beer.
The itch wants a beer.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The itch wants a beer.

The beer makes you fat.
The beer makes you fat.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The beer makes you fat.

The fat wants some lovin'.
The fat wants some lovin'.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The fat wants some lovin'.

The lovin's enjoyed alone.
The lovin's enjoyed alone.
Oh no, you stupid ho.
The lovin's enjoyed alone.

Judge Dread

I am dreading going to work tomorrow. I feel like I'm in high school again and one of the following has or will happen:

1. I am going to get beat up by my locker.

2. The guy I like found out I like him.

3. The guy I like has a new girlfriend and I'll see them together all day.

4. I didn't study for a test and will fail.

5. My best friend and I are mad at each other.

I'd love to go into work tomorrow and beat the shit out of everyone. I've got a lot of rage, people. I am curiously strong for someone who doesn't work out and curiously angry for someone with a good life.

I think I need to hang out with my Company friends this week to remind myself that there's a lot of good people there. We can go out for lunch, dinner, or drinks. Maybe I should just start drinking now. It's 1:30 on a rainy Sunday, I could have a drink and not feel like a loser. I could have a few drinks and not feel anything.

Or even better, I could do something nice for myself like workout, read a book, do some logic puzzles (which I lurve!), rub down the pinto, color, watch a movie...

YEAH! I'll stop thinking about work and do something positive for myself today. Yaay for me!

Random One-Night Stand: Maple syrup

You can thank Rockstar for this post. I mentioned this the other day and she said I should write about it. It's with this little anecdote that I have decided NOT to share this blog with my parents. EVER.

And Brother Thighs, stop reading. It's like about sex and stuff.

I went out for drinks with this guy at OTW, one of my favorite bars at the time. The date was boring so I decided to hit on the bartender because really, who doesn't flirt with other people when on a date? Let's call the bartender Old.

Old practically splooged in my eye the minute I said I wanted to kiss him. When my date came back, Old and I slipped off to make out in the corner. We exchanged numbers and went out the following week.

Old and I met at OTW then to an awesome steakhouse for dinner. He went all out: oysters, lobster, steak, few bottles of wine, the works. I knew it was expensive so naturally I decided to bang him as a thank you.

I don't recall discussing sex during dinner, so at some point during either the cab ride home or the joint we smoked at his apartment we must have talked about it. I say this because when we were in bed Old decided to go look for honey.

Now I'm a tri-sexual (I'll try anything once) and I gotta tell you, I HATE mixing food and sex. Whip cream, chocolate syrup, bananas in the cooch, it's retarded. I can't imagine telling Old I thought pouring honey on ourselves would be hot, but yeah he ran to the kitchen like a man on a mission.

When Old came back we started making out so I didn't notice what he brought back with him . He gently poured the honey on me and then with his nervous Old-self managed to spill like half the bottle on my breasts. Then I realized it wasn't honey...
it was fucking maple syrup. I won't go into the details. All you need to know is that it was the grossest thing ever.

The Cab of Shame home was awful. I smelled like a Waffle Whore-House. I never wanted to talk to him again, but despite being 10 years my senior (hence the Old) I don't think he had many sexual experiences so he wouldn't stop calling me.

When I couldn't avoid him anymore I answered and said to please stop calling me. He said something like "I spent $400 on dinner and you won't go out with me again?" I said, "Sorry HONEY but no fucking way." and hung up.

It was this little incident that made me keep my dick in my pants. (I don't actually have a dick, but what should girls say, keep the car out of the garage? hot dog out of the bun? plug from the socket?) I stopped sleeping around after my night with Old. Well maybe not completely, but I definitely slowed down.

Ironically I think me and my friends are going to drink at OTW tomorrow. I haven't been there in over two years. If Old is still there I will laugh my ass off...and pray to god he doesn't have any syrup behind the bar.

Breakthrough No. 7

I go to therapy every Thursday. Today I had a breakthrough.

I obsess, exhaust, beat down everything. I do it with guys, with work, I even used to do it with friends. I never understood where this came from. Was it fear, anxiety, or both? I never asked myself this question:

What would happen if I don't do it, this, or that?

What would happen if I didn't flirt with Donovan? What would happen if I didn't tell the whole world I love him? What would happen if I didn't imagine our wedding and our two children, a boy (eventual Eagles fan) and a girl (eventual Giants fan)?

I mentioned in a recent post that I was offered a great new position at Company. It's in the IT department and just happens to be the exact position I wanted, but didn't know how to get. Seriously, I was on the subway thinking about what I would say to Red and Soaps, but with the current climate I figured they wouldn't help me. Then the head of IT called an hour later offering me the position. I couldn't fucking believe it. I found my flow.

This was last Wednesday. Mags (new boss) said he wanted me to start this past Monday, that HR and Red already knew. I was like shit yeah! Well, it's eight days later and I haven't heard anything.

I sent Mags a follow-up email last Friday. He responded on Monday saying he was working out the logistics and timing. He'd follow up with me on Tuesday. It's Thursday and nothing, so I emailed him saying please let me know if you need anything from me. He said he's still working on it.

I've been so angry all week that I actually took a mental health day yesterday. I hate feeling like this and needed to figure out what the fuck my deal was. I did.

So the questions: What would happen if I didn't follow-up with Mags? What would happen if I didn't obsess about the details of the job?

Before I answer, in my defense I still don't know when I'm moving offices, what my actual job duties are, nor what my pay increase will be (if any). So yes, even a normal person would be a little anxious right now.

BUT, this is a huge self-defeating pattern for me so I need to fucking end it.

The answer: B-L-A-M-E.

My mother blamed me for everything. I was blamed for all the fighting, for her mania and depression, and her unfulfilled dreams. I was blamed for her unhappiness, stress, and lack of self-confidence.

Now I'm sure you're wondering if that's true, but I learned in a recent communication seminar that it's not what you say or what you do, it's what people perceive.

I perceived my mother hated me and that I was to blame for everything wrong with my family. Shit man, it wasn't hard thinking that since I was called a bitch, smacked around, screamed at, and overall dumped on since age five. Maybe even younger.

So what does this have to do with work and guys? I realized today that if I don't think, do, or say something it will be all my fault for it not happening.

If I don't tell Donovan I love him and he secretly loves me and doesn't tell me, it will be my fault we don't get together.

If I don't follow-up with Mags even though he said I'd start four days ago and hasn't followed up with me, it will be my fault that I'm still stuck with Red and Soaps.

My mother never took responsibility for anything growing up. I feel like I was to blame for it all, but who knows, maybe my brother and dad think they are to blame, too.

I felt responsible for everything growing up and I still do now. I feel responsible for fixing Company, I feel responsible for making as many attempts as possible to get someone to like me. Any why? Because I would hate for any one else feel responsible or to blame.

In some weird fucking twist, I have allowed all the nimrods at my job be irresponsible by me acting like I'm fully responsible.

Donovan doesn't like me, never did. I liked him because he's a man's man. Doesn't a real man want to feel responsible, the one that wears the pants, keeps me safe, and puts food on the table? He'd never feel like that with me, so why should he bother?

I've respected and knew I would learn a lot from Mags the minute I met him. Do I want him to feel like I don't think he'll follow through? That he talks out of his ass or that he's too stupid to remember that he offered me the position? He's a fucking CIO, he can certainly take the responsibility to make sure I'm informed.

WOW. I have a lot to think about. And no, I don't know if this is actually the 7th breakthrough, I just though it sounded good in my head.

My favorite joke

Two ducks are taking a shower.

One duck says, "Pass me the soap."

The other duck says, "What do I look like a typewriter?"

Gets me every time.

I'm fine, just venting

I am so fucking pissed off right now but I don't quite know why. I hate everyone and everything. I'm so angry that I can't even watch Wheel of Fortune.

fuckshitcrapbitchcuntshitbaghorsefuckingdickwadcoochface

Hmm.

I feel better already!! Curse words are fun!!

FUCKETYFUCKFUCKYOUSTUPIDSHITKICKINGDOUCHELOVINFUCKBAG!

Fuck your face fuck your ass fuck your mom just go fuck everyone.

Fuck my keyboard fuck my hulk hands fuck the eight pounds I gained this winter.

Fuck Alec Guinness for not wanting to be associated with Star Wars, fuck people who put ketchup on their hotdogs.

Fuck me for not finishing sewing my bedroom curtains, fuck me for not reading Fables even though my friend wants them back soon.

Fuck me for still chewing on my cuticles, fuck Netflix because they haven't figured out how to read my mind and mail whatever movies I think of directly to my home the minute I think of them.

Fuck my laundry (yet again!) and fuck people who spell curse words wrong on bathroom stalls.

Fuck people who say one thing and mean another and fuck people who think I mean something other than what I say.

Fuck the fact that it's April and cold, fuck the nerds on eharmony, and fuck me for my latest act of desperation which was emailing a rather famous blogger asking if we could go out some time because I think he is funny.

Fuck patience and fuck that I don't have any. Fuck my limbo job and ex-bosses. Fuck the fact that I have no fucking clue what the future holds and I am angry because things are spinning out of control when the sad thing is the things that I do have control over I don't do anything about ie losing weight, getting healthy, paying off my debt, writing a note to my landlord to fix the hole in my bathroom, living room window, oven, and handle I accidentally ripped off of my freezer door the other night.

Fuck the fact that there are so many things in life that I haven't even thought of doing because it just never occurred to me to do it.

And the last and biggest fuck you goes to Shizza. Fuck you for giving me the best friends, family, job, and experiences ever. It's fucking annoying to be this blessed and makes it hard to abuse myself, something I've been so comfortable doing my whole life. Being out of one's comfort zone whether it's negative or not is fucking scary!!

My cheeks hurt from smiling right now because I know I sound like an insane bitch (which I am), but I really needed to vent in order to come to the realization that life is fucking good so I should get over myself already and shut. the. fuck. up.

Furball

When I was nineteen I worked at the local mall. One day this woman came up to me and said that she could feel I was surrounded by a lot of negativity. She explained that she was a psychic and offered to do a reading. I was intrigued, so a couple of days later I went to her house with a friend. She said three things to me I always held on to.

1. My boyfriend and I wouldn't last. I knew she was right, my family still calls him Psycho Joe.

True.

2. Psychology and computers would play big roles in my life.

I always had a passion for psychology (all nutbags do). For my first two years of college I was a Comp Sci major. Then I failed Calculus 2 not once, but twice since I never did my homework or went to class. I ended up with a BA in Psych instead. I eventually want to go back to school to get my master's and become an art therapist. I love coloring with crazies.

Computers play a huge role in my job right now. I'm actually not leaving Company anymore, I was offered an awesome gig in the IT department. My focus is on system and business process evaluations. I am super excited about it for lots of reasons, one being that I no longer have to work for Red or Soaps.

So this is true and true.

3: A guy named Furball would have a major impact on my life. I'm 60% sure she used the word soulmate, but I can't remember. Over the years I met probably 5-6 Furballs and each time I always think "Is this the one?" Then I got to Company and met him.

I had only been there about a month when we met. Furball had built a few databases that I needed to use so he came to train me. We hit it off right away. He's really cute, completely sinister, and has lady fingers, one with a wedding band. I didn't think much about it at first, then one day he invited me to a Weezer concert. He said his wife and brother couldn't make it, so would I care to go. I said sure and immediately called my friend Rockstar to ask if I could go to a concert with a married man. She said yes of course, as long as neither of us liked each other. We didn't.

When the concert was over we were walking to the subway so naturally I asked where he lived. It turned out he was living with his brother, his wife and he had separated two months prior. I was like say what!?!?! It was hard enough for me to wrap my head around hanging with a Married, let alone a Separated. I was only 27 for crying out loud, that shit's way too adult for me to deal with. Well, the details aren't mine to share, but the relationship was pretty bad. Furball was seriously thinking of getting a divorce. It was awful.

Furball and I soon became project managers of an implementation so we spent a lot of time together in the office. We'd be in at 8am and sometimes wouldn't leave until 9pm. If we did leave early enough we'd go out to dinner to brainstorm or unwind. We became very close really fast, I was happy to be there to help him through the mess.

It was about six months later that he came over one night to hangout. We snuggled up to watch a movie together and finally kissed when it was over. The kiss was nice, short and sweet. We looked at each other and both agreed that it would never happen again.

Fast forward to today. Furball and his wife are back together. He helped me through some really rough times of my own. Our friendship is one of the best I've ever had. When I thought about leaving Company I realized I didn't want to leave him.

And then I watched My Super Ex Girlfriend tonight. It was good, but motherfuck, why can't I watch a movie and not reflect on my life? Just once I'd like to not be impacted by it. I saw Grindhouse today too (FUCKING ROCKED) and I came away from it wanting to lose forty pounds and learn to throw a mean punch. And make out with Rosario Dawson and Rose McGowan at the same time.

In My Super Ex Anna Farris and Luke Wilson work together. The way they talked, touched, and looked at each other is so similar to Furball and I. By the end of the movie Farris and Wilson confess they loved each other, so what did I immediately start thinking???

I'm in love with Furball. I thought that and then started crying. I love him so much that my heart gets warm once I think of him. I love that he's a cynical grump, I love that he's got a sneaker fetish, I love that he drinks ridiculous amounts of coffee. I love that he talks with his hands, I love that he gets on my nerves, I secretly love when he jiggles my arm fat even though I pretend I hate it.

And then it hit me. What I love the most is that Furball "gets me". That's it. He just gets me.

It wasn't until he said it the other day that I realized that I've never felt that way before. I'm blessed with lots of great friends and have met a ton of people through the years, but I never ever felt like anyone got me. He's seen my light and my dark, my good and my evil, my sanity and my insanity. While he probably couldn't tell you my parents' names or my favorite beer, Furball knows me better than anyone else.

That's why I think I'm in love with him. I wouldn't have let him in and see me raw if I wasn't.

There will never be another kiss and that's okay, my love for him is bigger than that. He's impacted me in more ways than he'll ever know.

True.

Warrior goddess

I've begun to imagine myself as a warrior goddess. My hair is mid-way down my back in beautiful blonde curls. I'm wearing an iridescent blue-green robe that flows as if it was made of water. I carry an adamantium shield and sword (snootches), sometimes switching the shield for a glowing orb if I feel a heightened sense of intuition.

Once I've fully imagined how I look, I immediately feel my heart and soul change. I carry myself taller, I walk stronger, I radiate this warmth and beauty that I have never, ever thought possible. I begin to feel how we are all connected and understand that to know myself within this connection is where I'll find peace.

I imagine this on the way to the office, in meetings, whenever I feel the need. I'm actually doing it right now. I know there will be a time when I don't have to consciously put on my imaginary war garb to feel this way.

You know what? I can't fucking wait.