Wednesday, November 28


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.

Tuesday, November 27


Monday, November 26

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

Why South Dakota??


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.

Saturday, November 10



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


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!!


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

Wednesday, November 7

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.

Tuesday, November 6

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 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).

Monday, November 5

Sweet Irony


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'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.


That is all.

Friday, November 2

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.