"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.
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!
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!
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.
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.
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
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??"
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?
As promised...more pictures!
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.
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...
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
