I'm a luna-tic.

I love astrology, but I'm hating the lunar eclipse right now.

I have four planets in Pisces: the Sun, the Moon, Mercury, and Venus. In layman's terms this means I'm as Pisces as you can get.

This also means that when the moon is in Pisces, I feel more emotional and intuitive. If there's a full moon in Pisces, quadruple that shit and add in some crazy. If there is a lunar eclipse with a full moon in Pisces as there was this week...well I'm surprised I haven't shaved my head and fucked a chicken yet. Eh, the night is young.

A fellow fishie pointed out that I haven't written too much the past week or so. I blame it on the cosmos. I am a wreck, but not my usual wreck-self. I'm all over the place: I'm tired yet intense, I'm scared yet excited, I'm gassy but not poopie. To go with my scattered sense, here's a random update:

1. Work has been great ever since the whole "I'm controlling" thing. I swear to Shizza, nothing has really bothered me and I'm actually enjoying GP for his quirks. Yaay!

2. My side was hurting the other day, but the pain was nothing compared to last month. I'm still keeping tabs on Cicely though. Let's hope I don't piss her off any time soon.

3. I = fat. Seriously, I'm feeling humongous. While I'm still skinnier than my heaviest days, the mere fact I'm back in that ballpark fucking blows. Low point of the week: I thought I was going to rip my pants so I went out and bought a new pair at lunch. FATTY FAT FATTY.

4. Mosquitoes love me. I am covered in bites and stink like old, minty death from this anti-itch lotion I bought. It works really well, but yeah, I smell like a retirement home.

5. I went to Jersey the past two weekends, first to my parental units to catch up, then down to Spag's house at the shore. I'm going down (heh) again this weekend for the Thighs Family annual Labor Day party. Rippie, I totally wish you could go!

6. I'm also going to Chicago for a couple days on the 14th. This is where the scared yet excited comes in...more on that some day.

7. I had a pretty crazy night last week. I got home after 4am. I remember most of the night, although I totally don't remember how I got the bump on my head. I might be at the point in my life when getting bombed and going to a strip club on a weeknight isn't worth the horrible office hangover the next day. Might.

8. I've joined my first fantasy football league. Draft is next week

9. I heard that some Company peeps are asking about this blog. If anyone wants to read about my personal shit (literally), it's cool. Welcome. I'm Thighs, my favorite color is blue, and I'm a manic-depressive giggler.

Why God, WHY?!?!

Two of my favorite watering holes closed down this month, The Collins Bar and The Blarney Stone.

I frequented Collins Bar once every few months. A small dark pub, Collins was not a hoppin' place, but if you like good beer you knew to come here (rhyme time!). Flying Dog, Stone, Sam Smith, Chimay, Ommegang, the list goes on. Add in some free popcorn and a painting of a hot naked chick in the back corner near the ladies room...well, I don't think there's much more to ask for in a pub.

Bridge and I have great conversation wherever we are, but I sure will miss having them at Collins. I stole this pic from her blog, it was taken the other night when we tried to get a drink there. So sad.

While Collins was a place to get good beer, The Blarney Stone was a good place to get pissed. I went over there tonight for one last pint. Okay, two last pints.

I believe there are about six or seven Blarney Stones in the city, some of which are really shitty. Wait, let me rephrase that. They are ALL really shitty, but there's "fun-shitty" and then there's "I'm-going-to-get-hepatitis-shitty". I believe the one on 32nd was the former.

I'm not sure how many times I've been there, but I realize now it wasn't nearly enough. Every night I went the Guinness was flowing, the old, worn out regulars were bombed yet sweet, and the smell of urine was oh so fresh...good times.

Damn. I've already lost Chumley's and Blind Tiger (I have no interest in going to its new location), what's next?? I'm thinking I need to hit up White Horse, The Ear, and McSorley's in the near future to be safe, let me know if anyone's interested. Stupid fucking condo building douchebags.

There's a new boy in my life!

He is short, bald, toothless, and totally handsome.

He drools and poops a lot which is exactly what I look for in a guy.

It's a shame he's practically 30 years younger than me.

Schmidtface, once Cale is potty-trained I'm taking him out on the town. Baseball games, amusement parks, ice capades (do they still do stuff on ice?), the zoo, everywhere!

I will be the most fun non-related aunt he's ever had!

My Big Fat Year of Weddings!

Part of living the spinster life requires one to surround themselves with other spinsters.

In doing so I've only been to about five weddings since college. Having avoided the bridesmaid or maid of honor gigs at all five, my only "duties" were to heavily drink and sweat, two things I've come to master over the years.

2008 is another story. I have four weddings in one year! Four! Well actually the invites haven't come yet, but I know I'm invited to all four. I BETTER be invited to all four!

I love, love, LOVE weddings. Drinking and dancing aside, I feel so honored when I'm invited to share a couple's special day. I love meeting their families and friends, who guided the bride and groom to each other; witnessing the very beginning of their new lives together; and then the drinking and dancing.

To my engaged friends, Carla and Steve, Jackie and Andre, Eronica Monster (Ron and Erica), and now Tom and Julie...congratulations, I love you all, and can't wait wait WAIT for the party....

I am invited, right?

To my non-engaged friends, any chance you can wait until 2009 to tie the knot??

Worst. Vocabulary. Ever.

Just making sure...have I mentioned dictionary.com is my favorite website?

in·sub·or·di·nate /ˌɪnsəˈbɔrdnɪt/ Pronunciation Key - [in-suh-bawr-dn-it]

–adjective
1. not submitting to authority; disobedient: an insubordinate soldier.
2. not lower.
–noun
3. a person who is insubordinate.

Breakthrough No. 8: I'M CONTROLLING!

I get it now...I'M CONTROLLING!!!

I seriously can't stop shouting it. It feels so good to finally realize this. Yeah, yeah I'm sure most of you already knew this about me. Hell you've probably even told me I'm a control freak (Bridget), but at the time I just didn't get it. I do now.

This was a completely uncomfortable week for me. I felt embarrassed, guilty, and nervous about my behavior at work. My chest and heart were heavy, my stomach in knots. I got really depressed the other night and it TOTALLY sucked. Of course now I know it was well worth it considering how great i feel today. Here's the breakdown of my Breakthrough No. 8.

Admitting that I have been disrespectful and insubordinate (Thank you Anonymous, you rattled me once again. Dick.) was the first step. Outbursts and arguments I had over the past couple years came flooding back to me and it wasn't easy seeing them with new eyes. I had to ask myself:

Why do I get so angry?

This happened a lot with one VP. You tell him something eight times and a month later he accuses you of not telling him. I'd get so angry and fight him on it because I didn't want Red to think I wasn't doing my job. In other words, my fear of disappointing my boss made it personal for me, which then got me on the defensive.

Why do I get so defensive?

When I'm defensive I feel like I'm under attack. Being under attack makes me feel like I'm NOT IN CONTROL.

Why do I need to be in control?

Psych 101, because my mom was completely out of control. Growing up I never knew what was going to happen when she got home from work. Would she come in screaming? Would she lock herself in her bedroom and not talk? Would she sit on the couch and not move? Would she actually be happy for once??

My safe place was our basement. I'd put my headphones on and dance for hours. I would daydream about hitting the game winning homerun, having the guy I like ask me out, or going back to school after summer vacation skinnier, prettier and more popular. My imaginary world was so vivid and fulfilling. I loved every minute of it. Oh man, I almost forgot that when someone came down in the basement while I was there, I threw a shitfit. I hated being brought back to reality before I was ready. It was the worst feeling ever.

I realize now that not only did my imaginary world protect me, it also gave me the sense of control I so desperately wanted. Down there I could be who I wanted, when I wanted, where I wanted, surrounded by the people I wanted. It was perfect, but again, imaginary.

I connected the dots to all of this during Therapy Thursday. Cee said I should be proud that I allowed myself to come to these realizations. You know what? I AM proud.

When I finally said, "I really am controlling, aren't I?" it was like lightning struck. Every cell in my body knew it to be true, the heaviness left my core, and just like that, it all made sense.

I really meant it the other day when I wrote I didn't want to grow and become a better person. It's fucking hard as hell and extremely painful. To be honest though, I kind of love this shit and well now I know...

I'M CONTROLLING!!!

Geeky Tees!

Chips, one of my bestest friends, is launching his own online t-shirt business.

They're not really up and running yet, but if you get a chance, please check out the site and vote on your favorite tee.

www.geekbouteek.com

I told Chips I'd help him out with marketing and promotions, so this definitely won't be the last time I write about it.

Much more to come once Geek Bouteek is fully operational.

LONG LIVE THE GEEKS!

Work dilly (continued)

On Friday I was also told to call Mags at his hotel while he is on vacation with his family. WTF? I call, he asks what's going on, I tell him everything. His response was, "Huh. I'm hearing a very different story from you than I did from GP." It turns out GP told Mags I was unsupportive and rude to him in a meeting on Thursday.

I flipped. I had no idea what Mags was talking about. I was so pissed! He told me that my behavior was unacceptable. Are you fucking kidding me??

So now I want to leave Company. Know why? It's not because GP is a douchebag...I want to leave because Mags was right.

I am ashamed to admit that I have been disrespectful to a lot of my coworkers, most of them in upper management. I can give you a million reasons why, but I know now that none of them matter. It's pretty painful to realize this, especially when all I've ever wanted to do is make Company a better place. Oy, I've been thinking back to some of the things I wrote and said over the past couple years...who the fuck do I think I am??

Why does humble pie taste like shit? It's fucking pie! Can't we call it humble broccoli rabe? (I hate broccoli rabe.)

Maybe I've been needing this little wake up call for awhile now. Who knows, maybe that's what Red and Soaps were trying to do a few months ago. Either way, I figure I have two options at this point, stay or go.

If I stay I can admit to myself I've been wrong and deal with the consequences like a woman. I can figure out how to work with difficult people here before throwing a tantrum at my next company. I can continue to try to NOT REACT to every little thing. (I've come a long way, but that's not saying much when you're a bipolar Irish broad.) Lastly, I can focus on learning new skills that I wouldn't be exposed to at a bigger company.

If I go, well, I get a clean slate. No preconceived notions, judgments, history, nothing. I can start over, keep my mouth shut, and just do what I'm told...

The sad thing is I'm scared to death of leaving!! There, I admitted it. I'm afraid to leave and find out that I'm a fuck up. I'm afraid to leave and have the same damn problems with communicating, reacting, and managing myself at the next place. I'm also tired; this is my third company and fourth job in six years. I have plenty of friends, I don't need no' mo!

Shit, maybe I'm also scared to find out that I'm good at what I do and that I drove myself crazy at Company for nothing. Wouldn't that be a bitch?

Work dilly

Okay, I think I'm ready to write about it.

I mentioned one of my bosses GP a few weeks back. He's the one who likes to close projects that aren't finished and/or push things into production that are flat out wrong. He apparently also likes to keep me down, as he's done nothing to help me complete my own projects OR teach me anything new. Basically GP says four things to me everyday:

1. "No."
2. "It's plumbing."
3. "It's reporting."
4. "...well that's out of the scope of this project..."

Answers 2-4 are responding to my question of "Why?" after he gives me a "No." I realize now this is what he's really saying:

1. "I'm pissed I didn't think of it so you can't do it."

2. "You're too dumb to understand what it takes to do this on the backend."

3. "The users are too dumb to figure out that we fucked up so we will just filter their reporting so that they'll never know."

4a. "I don't know how to do this, so I'll pretend we don't have to."

4b. "It's better to hit my deadline so I'd rather put a faster, mediocre solution out there then do it correctly the first time."

BULLSHIT. We argue at least once a week. Three times it's gone to the head of our department, Mags (the one who hired me). And then there's last week...

On top of the usual crap he pulls, GP reached new heights. Not only did he flat out tell users they didn't have to do something that I've asked them to do for six weeks now, he did it twice. And the best one...on Thursday he actually stood outside a conference room to listen in on a brainstorming session I was having with a coworker. Shizza only knows how long he was actually eavesdropping, but during that time he decided that I don't know enough about the project to move forward while he's on vacation. This meant I had to cancel all of my meetings with the users and lose at least 10 days on a two month project.

I found all of this out on Friday...to be continued after The Soup...

Simpsonized!

Okay, I'm done being a baby.

Now I'm Simpsonized!

Hmm...arms folded seems to fit...maybe I really am a brat at heart.

Bite me.

I'm having one of those days when I just don't want to feel anything. It's not good, it's not bad, it's just I'm sick of...AARRGGHHH!!

You know what I'm sick of??? I'm sick of growing! I'm sick of maturing! I'm sick of being a fucking stupid responsible assfuck adult.

I want someone else to do everything for me. I want to fold my arms and stamp my feet and pout. I want someone else to pay my bills, do my laundry, go food shopping, go to my job, and get me in shape without me actually having to do anything. I don't want to think about my feelings, I don't want to be a better person, I don't want to think about the future.

You know what I DO want??? I want to drink all the time and not get hangovers or ruin my liver. I want to eat whatever the fuck I want and not gain weight. I want to beat the shit out of someone everyday. I want to go on my roof and scream really fucking loud.

I want, I want, I want, goddamit!!

Shit. I really need to get laid.

Work is called work for a reason.

I'm thinking about leaving Company again.

Yes I did just get a great raise, but I don't care. I hate one of my bosses with a passion.

Ugh, I don't even feel like writing about it...

I think I'm done.

Stupid Asshole. Literally.

I had to courtesy flush six times in one sit-down the other day.

Furbie and I had gone to the bar to watch the Mets game during lunch. I ate a corned beef sandwich with fries.

Figures. Fucking Irish.

Since most of these posts are about my bathroom habits, I've created my very own color-coded poop chart for your reading pleasure.**



Less than an hour later my Pooper Alert went from blue to orange, so I ran down to the tenth floor (still can't go on 11) and bombed the hell out of porcelain harbor.

I groaned, I sweat, I nearly cried. It was one of those painful I-am-going-to-die moments that I'm sure you've all had at some point in your lives. If not, you're missing out.

Stupid asshole!


**I also just downloaded a free trial of Photoshop, so this was my first project. More to come, I'm sure!

Happy 19th Anniversary!!!

To me and my P-diddy!!

Yaaayy!

The Police

No I didn't get arrested again...I went to The Police concert Sunday night at Giants Stadium!!

IT WAS AWESOME. One of the best shows I ever went to.

I was probably around 17 when I first heard of The Police. My friend asked if I liked them and I said I didn't know who they were. She laughed, said I was a moron, and popped a tape into the car stereo. Lo and behold, I knew every song.

I am the anti-Rainman when it comes to music; I never know which band sings what, who's even in the band, or what a song's called. If I ever go on The World Series of Pop Culture I pray to Shizza I get all of the television and movie questions. (And then pray even harder those questions are limited to the garbage on VH1, MTV, CW11 and movies that have not been nominated for Oscars.) So despite being musically challenged, both educationally and most definitely vocally, I know what I like...and I liketh The Police.

The concert was friggin awesome. I've never been to a show at Giants Stadium and I'm so glad this was my first. The weather was perfect, the seats were chill, and the music was superb. Sting is fucking gorgeous and sounded better than he ever has. Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland were fan-fucking-tastic as well. It's a shame they don't get along, but honestly you couldn't even tell that night. Each of them looked like they were having a blast.

I can't find the actual set list anywhere, but here's what I remember them playing:
Message in a Bottle
Every Breath You Take
Roxanne
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
Don't Stand so Close to Me
So Lonely
King of Pain
Wrapped around Your Finger
Walking On the Moon
Can't Stand Losing You
De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da

I didn't bring my camera with me, so I did the next best thing. While waiting in line for the bus back to NYC I noticed the guy in front of me had taken pictures with his iPhone. I tapped him on the shoulder said something like, "Hi. You don't know me, but can you email me your pictures?"

Total renob moment...but it worked! Here are a couple of my new best friend Terry's pics from his 4th row seats.

PS Apparently it's a renob week as Terry wasn't the only person I randomly attacked. I wore a dress to work today and couldn't zip the back up myself without dislocating a shoulder and since I'm not as cool as Riggs I can't just slam it back in so I left the apartment hoping I'd see someone I knew along the way, but decided to ask the laundromat lady who was sweeping the sidewalk if she would zip me up instead. She did.

PPS Thank you Terry and laundromat lady!

90 days later...

I got my raise! WOO HOO!!!

As Rockstar said, this sure is a kick ass way to come back from vacation.

Californication Finale: Saved as draft

I actually wrote this final part first. I kept reading and revising it all week to get it right.

I realized today though that there's nothing wrong with the post itself, I just don't want to share all of the details yet. I'm going to keep them to myself for awhile.

The original version is saved as draft, so maybe I'll post it one day. In the meantime...

His name is Fish.

We spent our last day together in San Diego.

It was the best part of my vacation...and quite possibly the best day of my life.