I feel guilty for publishing my last post. I was about to delete it when I thought, fuck it, any one who reads this can't think any less of me than they already do. I admit to rubbing off to comics and watching myself shit...calling my mother names isn't so bad in comparison. I think.
She isn't a bitch, although she was being an insensitive one. After class (which totally fucking rocked again) I called my dad to tell my mom I'm breaking up with her. She and I talk every day; I think we need to give it a rest.
When I told my dad to tell my mom that I won't be calling her this weekend (because I am five), he said I was being too sensitive. This is the story of my life. I feel one way, my parents tell me I shouldn't feel that way, we fight about it, and then they tell me how to feel after the fight. Is it any wonder I have no sense of self?? That I look to others to gauge who I am, how I feel, everything?? I only have one thing to say about this...PATOOEY. (That's me spitting.)
So why am I the sensitive one and she's not the insensitive one? I'm actually asking. Someone please tell me.
Thankfully, I'm not angry any more. In fact I feel fine, just a little hurt. I was crying when I wrote my previous post, cried again the minute I walked out of class. I cried from 23rd to 49th street, until something made me stop.
A huge woman with a mannequin head sat down in front of me (I was in the two seater facing her). It was one of those cosmetology heads, the kind used to practice hair-dos. It was pretty funny, both the hair-do and the overall sight. This woman was ginormous.
A stop later two drunk Mexicans got on and stood (or at least tried to stand) directly in front of the big woman and myself. Mexican A was the quiet drunk, head hung low, each hand clenched around the subway poles, looking like he was going to blow chunks at any second. Mexican B was fucking bombed and apparently couldn't control the volume of his voice as he'd go from mumbling to yelling with every other word. He kept moving around a lot too, even did a couple stripper swings around the pole without meaning to. He was so drunk that it was actually kind of sad to watch, but damn I couldn't take my eyes off of him.
The big lady was completely uncomfortable with this scene. She kept making these overly dramatic facial expressions which I translated to mean, "You drunk, bitch. Sit yo' ass down." The best part was that she had the mannequin head cradled in her arms so that each time Mexican B would stagger near her, she'd rock and protect the head like it was her body-less child.
So here I am sitting on the train crying about my mom, my work situation, my life, when Shizza blesses me with a front row seat to the R Train Circus. I quietly giggled for a little while, but by Steinway I was flat out laughing my ass off which I'm sure made the scene slightly more entertaining for someone else.
Thanks Shizza. I needed both the reality check and the funny.
I'm sorry, mom. No she doesn't read this, just sending my apology out into the universe.
Thursday, January 31
I feel guilty for publishing my last post. I was about to delete it when I thought, fuck it, any one who reads this can't think any less of me than they already do. I admit to rubbing off to comics and watching myself shit...calling my mother names isn't so bad in comparison. I think.
My mother is such a bitch.
Harsh? Yep. Fuck her.
I just had a second interview for a job I'm really hoping to land. The interview was absolutely awesome. I was totally on my game, I KNOW the guy liked me. I gotta say I liked him, too.
Right now I don't even care if I got the job. All I care about is that I kicked ass on the interview. Seriously, I felt strong, confident, funny, smart, and even (get this) pretty!! It was just the ego boost I needed after three weeks of no calls.
I was so proud of myself up until about 15 minutes ago. I knew my mom was excited to hear how it went so I called her once I got home. I only stopped back at Delilah for a few minutes to change clothes and grab my stuff for school tonight. I'm so fucking pissed though that I needed to clear my head and write before I leave. I REFUSE to let her ruin my class.
What did she do?? What she's always done my whole life, take a big fat crap on my heart. She hasn't done it in a long time, probably because I'm not as sensitive as I used to be. But after today's interview I was flying so fucking high that I left myself open, open for her to be the sad, sad woman that she truly is.
What did she say?? It doesn't matter. It wasn't what I hoped she'd say that's for sure. In fact it was the complete fucking opposite. Look I know my current situation worries her and my father, but I had to do this. Yes, they have been very supportive. Yes, I appreciate their support. But Jesus effing Christ did she really have to bitch out now? today? when I actually had an interview and felt so good?
Fuck me. I haven't reverted back to 16 this fast in ages. Back then I would have ran out of the house, try to find someone to buy me alcohol, give up, and do bong hits until I passed out. Now, now I draw.
AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!! Where's Rambo when I fucking need him??
Written by THIGHS around 5:07 PM
The last 19 hours of my life is further proof that I am turning into a dude.
6pm to 1am:
Me and a couple of my buds went out to dinner and then to see Rambo. That's right, ladies. While you are trying to see all of the Oscar contenders, I went to see a Razzie contender.
The movie is flat out awful. The dialogue sucks, the actors suck, the plot sucks. The first 35 minutes are filled with the most horrifying images of men, women, and children being beaten, murdered, and raped. It was disturbing and completely unnecessary to take us to that level. The only things that got me through those scenes were a) the ridiculous dialogue and b) knowing the bad men were all going to die.
I love carnage. I really do. The bloodier and more ludicrous the rampant murder is, the better. BUT (and this is a huge, obese woman butt) I only love death and dismemberment when it's warranted, ie the pure fucking evil shitfucks that killed innocent people for no reason. Bad men should die.
And boy, did they die. IT WAS GLORIOUS BAD MEN DEATH. Rambo, Rambo, Rambo. You are my hero.
The rest of the movie was still a stinkin' pile of dog shit, but the action was totally worth my $11. I cheered, I laughed, I cried. I won't ruin any of the good scenes for you, just take my word for it. GO SEE RAMBO. In fact I may have to see it again.
1am to 2am:
I have a problem. It's not alcohol, although I have been drinking again. When I'm out at a bar I limit myself to 4 beers with water in between. I don't need to be a drunk again. I really don't.
My problem? For about two weeks now, on my home from a bar I have to stop and buy food. Not just any food either. My new late night snack tradition: a carton of milk and a one-sleeve box of Oreos.
The ritual doesn't stop there either. I sit on my living room floor indian-style, my Man Show mug filled with milk, the Oreos laid out beside it. Why the Man Show mug? It's huge and has a wide rim for easy cookie-dunking access.
I ate the whole sleeve. So much for losing weight.
2am to 10am:
10am to 1pm:
I checked email, job searched, pinto rubbed, exercised, took out garbage, went for a walk. I also decided to go to the diner for breakfast. I was craving a cheese omelet and "diner toast," buttered whole wheat perfection.
Why is today man-like? My breakfast was delicious, exactly what I wanted. The best part of it was not the food though; Sudden Death was on the diner's television. And it was without sound, which when it comes to Van Damme movies, is sometimes a real treat. I watched him kick the shit out of the Pittsburgh Penguins mascot without any dialogue, just the close captions reading "grunting" and "grease bubbling."
Written by THIGHS around 12:58 PM
Tuesday, January 29
I am politically ignorant.
When someone asks me who I will or have voted for, my response is usually, "I don't watch American Idol."
If you are a political mo-mo or would like more information on the candidates and issues, check out this website.
It has cool quizzes and stuff for peeps with their head in the clouds or in the sand.
Written by THIGHS around 9:30 AM
Monday, January 28
My head hurts like hell. Some invisible jackass has rammed a corkscrew into each temple, twisting and turning the life out of my skull.
I had an interview this afternoon for a planning position at a car company here in Astoria. I knew going in that I didn't want the job, I just figured it would be good interview practice. Plus it's nice to feel wanted.
The day started off fine. I woke up, made some calls, ate breakfast, reflected on French women's pubic hair, cleaned the apartment, paid bills...pretty average morning. The only thing missing was a gigantic cup of coffee. This is probably the biggest reason for my headache. I'm addicted to caffeine now.
I was going to grab a cup on the way to the interview, but I ran out of time. My coat needed a major lint brushing as my gray scarf has some molting issues. It took a good fifteen minutes to clean the darn thing, but it was worth it. Lint annoys me so to make sure my coat stayed clean I ditched the gray scarf and wore a new white one instead.
A teenage couple passed by me on my walk to the interview. I wasn't paying too much attention to them until I heard the guy yell "Meow!" in my general direction. I didn't look up because really, meow all you want, I'm not one to judge. Apparently the couple wanted a reaction though because I heard them turn around and keep meowing. Whatever, I kept walking. It wasn't until two blocks later that I figured out why they meowed. At least I THINK this is why...my fecking white scarf has a shedding problem too.
You know that scene in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when the cat bursts into flames under the recliner? I shit you not, that is exactly how my navy blue coat looked. My white scarf exploded.
Again I have no idea if this is why those kids were meowing. If it was, HYSTERICAL. I applaud those damn teens for being the witty fucks that they are. Headache reason two? The face-scrunching determination I had trying to wipe the dead cat off of me before the HR lady came to the lobby. I failed.
The last reason for my headache was the car company itself. I thought it would be your average corporate building with average cubicles, offices, and windows. I was wrong. The building was like all the other rundown industrial ones on the 7 train line. Crappy offices, crappy neighborhood, no windows, no circulation. It smelled like every mechanic/car shop in Jersey: wet cigarette butts, gasoline, and tears. The stench was so bad that I think my brain was trying to leave my head. Ugh. No thanks.
Aaaahhh...both the coffee and Tylenol have finally kicked in. Good bye, invisible corkscrewing jackass. You suck.
Written by THIGHS around 3:34 PM
Sunday, January 27
I used to hate pink. I'm very surprised I chose it for Thighsighs' color.
In fact I just spent 30 minutes looking at new template colors and then another 20 minutes writing a post about why I hated pink in the first place.
The post was stupid and the other colors didn't do it for me. So pink it is.
Good night, Ned.
Written by THIGHS around 10:57 PM
Friday, January 25
Last weekend I had my first class at SVA. It was a six hour course on Mac Basics. I now know how to turn on a computer, save a file, create a new folder, and how to change my screen saver. GO ME.
The Mac class wasn't completely worthless though as it's a prerequisite (I forgot this word existed) to my Photoshop classes this coming weekend. Only problem is I AM THE WORST STUDENT EVER!!
I have the attention span of a fly on speed. If the teacher doesn't immediately engage me in the subject I go off into Thighs-la-la-land. Doodling, hair twirling, finger gnawing, quizzing myself on the periodic table of elements LA LA LAND.
Naturally this worried me. Is going back to school the right thing for someone with adult ADHD? Am I retarded to think this will work out? What do I do?!?
Well last night was my Cartooning Basics course. I almost didn't go for two reasons. One, I was worried I'd get so bored that I'd do my taxes. Two, I was scared that I would love it.
That's right. Still scared. I was so scared that I started crying on my way there. I had to do Lamaze breathing just to open the damn door.
Three hours later class was over. It felt like 10 minutes had gone by. The only way I can describe the experience is this:
I felt like yesterday was the first day of the rest of my life.
There have been many moments in my life that, while happening, I knew would change me forever. Meeting PJ, moving to NY, meeting the Petes, getting hired at Company, meeting Red, Rage, and DaQ. I honestly don't recall being this conscious of how those moments would impact me though, probably because I was still a crazed booze-hound. It's different now. I'm different.
I'm more aware of who I am, what I want, and where I will go in life. Aware and ACCEPTING. My twenties were one big mindfucking internal war with Me leading one side, I leading the other. Both were skilled at the art of combat; neither were going to back down. The war raged on until a few months ago when I finally asked Myselves one simple question:
Why were we fighting in the first place?
You know what? We don't care anymore. The war is over now. Me and I have signed a peace treaty. We are no longer fighting Our true selves.
This is why I know in my heart and soul that last night was a special moment. It was the first day that we were living in harmony. The first day of the rest of Our life.
Written by THIGHS around 10:57 AM
Thursday, January 24
I'm "perking" on a project that required me to do a science experiment.
Okay, that's I lie. It didn't require me to do anything, but I needed to know the truth!
Without going into the who, what, or why here is a picture of my testing:
The result: You can detect one. Neither float.
Bill Nye I ain't. Mr. Wizard? He seemed like a dirty old man...
Written by THIGHS around 12:36 PM
Wednesday, January 23
1. I never get tired of talking to myself.
2. I never get tired of having Living Room Dance Parties.
3. My next-door neighbors live in their bathroom. Seriously, they are always in there yelling non-English.
4. I go through a roll of toilet paper much faster.
5. I took my Microsoft Outlook calendar for granted. I haven't owned a calendar since college! I bought one the other day and today I color coded all of my appointments. Examples:
~ green = plans with friends
~ pink = Petey plans
~ purple = school stuff
~ red = find a job stuff
~ blue = important events such as the Super Boobie Bowl and my birthday
6. Each Rambo movie warms my heart in different ways.
7. I ate lunch during work hours because it was lunchTIME not because I was actually hungry. I've lost 4 pounds so far this year.
8. My doorbell rings all fucking day long. It's either wired to the wrong apartment or peeps just ring my number because I'm one of the few tenants with their name on the list.
9. The mailman comes between 2:00-3:30pm. I'm surprised it's so late.
10. No one works in Astoria, unless their job is to be Greek and eat in cafes.
11. I still hate doing dishes.
12. I still love paying for coffee.
13. While I say I hate the phone, I obviously do not. I upped my plan to 900 minutes so that I wouldn't have a huge phone bill again. Um yeah, there are still 2 weeks in this billing period and I only 150 peak minutes left. As a result, please don't call me M-F before 9pm unless one of the following is true:
~ you have Verizon
~ you'll hire me
~ you'll pay me for sex
~ you wanna give me your extra ticket to the Superbowl or Royal Rumble
14. Delilah is a wonderful friend and home.
15. I like being and writing Thighs.
16. I am a very fortunate person.
Written by THIGHS around 8:34 PM
Monday, January 21
You know the scene in The Christmas Story when Randy won't eat dinner? He sings, "Meatloaf, smeatloaf, dou-ble beatloaf. I hate meat-loaf!"
This quote is the best way to describe how I felt all day. I have the same disdain, same pout, and same whine as Randy except I'm not a cute five year old and I enjoy the meatloaf.
Honestly, I'm not quite sure what I hate today. I hung out with a lot of friends this weekend, the Giants won, I had a meeting with a recruiter last week, and an interview setup for tomorrow. Why am I so damn grumpy??
I wish someone was here to ask me how the little piggies go...or not.
Written by THIGHS around 10:24 PM
Sunday, January 20
THE GIANTS WON!! THE GIANTS WON!! THE GIANTS WON!! THE GIANTS WON!! THE GIANTS WON!! THE GIANTS WON!! THE GIANTS WON!! THE GIANTS WON!! THE GIANTS WON!!
THE GIANTS ARE IN THE SUPERBOWL!! WOO HOOOOO!!! IF I DON'T PICK 'EM THEY ALWAYS WIN!!! GO G-MEN!! GO NY!! GO ME!! WOO HOOOOO!!!
Written by THIGHS around 11:29 PM
My biggest concern of the day isn't the outcome of the Giants/Packers game, it's missing Rock of Love 2 because of the game.
Now don't get me wrong. I love football, love the playoffs, love the Giants, and would even love it if Favre made it to the Superbowl and won the last game of his career.
BUT I like to have my cake and eat it too. I wanted to enjoy tonight's game knowing what trashy shenanigans Bret's girls got themselves into...and god bless VH1 because now I do. To my pleasant surprise, tonight's episode of RL2 aired at 11am this morning.
It's the little things in life that make me happy: peanut butter, blurple, shiny objects, and this whore-ific show. While today's episode was a little bland, I know these ladies will up their game by week four. They have to; Bret isn't take any shit this season.
In just two episodes Bret has already cut his bra-ster of 20 down to 12. Most of the twelve are Iron Women, playing both sides of the field with guts and determination. Only two, Katherine and Jessica are riding the bench thus far. If they want to stay on the team much longer, honestly they really need to start riding Bret.
She-men Inna (turns out it's pronunced 'eena') and Angelique are the cockblocking cornerbacks and cum rushers, having more than enough testosterone to aggressively play both offense and defense.
Daisy, Destiney, and Megan (the hottest girl EVER) are the standout wide-open receivers that Bret is just itching (literally) to bomb it to. While I think they have plenty of catching experience, it remains to be seen if they know how to control the balls. Regardless, their offensive skills outshine their unimpressive defensive skills thus far.
Three more women make up the O and D lines. Not much to report here, except that one of them has got some rhythm. She could possibly move to running back only because Bret would enjoy her touchdown dance. We shall see.
The remaining two players are my picks to make it to the championship. Ironically, one of them is named Peyton and the other spells her name Ambre with the annoying "re" of Favre. These two showed a lot of promise this morning and I expect them to go the distance. Peyton seems to have a strong sense of self and an instant connection with Bret. Ambre is the underdog who was almost eliminated last week, but was given a second chance because another girl quit. Both of these ladies also seem to be the most "normal" of the bunch, too.
So there ya have it. In actual football it will most likely be Packers/Patriots in Arizona, but hey, you never know. This season was full of crazy surprises...let's hope that Rock of Love is, too.
Written by THIGHS around 12:05 PM
Saturday, January 19
Friday, January 18
I'm still so uncomfortable about taking the drawing class and I really don't understand why. I pulled out my old sketchbooks to see if they had any clues...
I came up with two interesting thoughts:
1. I seem to draw every 7 years. Seriously. I have some hero stuff from 1994 and 2001. This year would be next in rotation. Weird, right?
2. I think I could be really good. This bothers me!! Am I really that afraid of success??
Written by THIGHS around 10:39 AM
Thursday, January 17
I'm an idiot. I seriously thought my SVA course was on Mondays.
It's not. It's on Tuesdays. Same as the writing course.
I can't believe I screwed up the days. I feel like a silly little freshman who never selected their own classes. And then I froze up because I didn't know what to do about it! "Uh, uh, uh...I guess I'll stop going to the writing class..."
I really like the class! Andy's a fun teacher, I'm digging my story, AND I came up with a whole new story last night. I also have two weekend Photoshop courses coming up, so I decided to drop the color theory course for now. I reluctantly signed up for a different class on Thursdays:
This course will explore the essential mechanics of cartooning, focusing on the art of composition, the nuance of effective page design in black-and-white, and the importance of concise storytelling. This kind of traditional training is beneficial for anyone interested in comics, animation or advertising.
I wrote "reluctantly" because I am scared out of my mind to take this class. So scared. Like ridiculously scared. I'm not sure why...but if I'm this scared I feel like I should take it and see what happens. Oy.
If you see me before next Thursday, please give me a hug. I need it.
Written by THIGHS around 10:08 PM
I've watched the first Rambo movie twice in two days. Technically I wasn't really watching it yesterday (I was distracted by The Mighty Cale), but today my eyes were glued to the television.
There was only one thing wrong with this movie. Know what it is?
THAT I HAD NEVER SEEN IT BEFORE!!!!
I thought you people were my friends!! How could you let me go 30 years without seeing John Rambo take out Jerkwater, USA???
You would think with the amount of Spike, TNT, FX, and HBO I've watched in my life I'd have seen this gem of a movie. Nope. Never.
I can't decide which part is my favorite. "Green berets are bad ass" line is great. When Rambo tells Brian Dennehy to "Let it go." was fucking nuts. Oh and I cracked up when he said to some army driver, "Don't look at me, look at the road! That's how accidents happen."
I think the top spot is between two moments at the end. One, when he's shooting up a building, his left hand slowly feeding more ammo into the M60 machine gun. His face is completely devoid of emotion, his eyes so intent it's as if he knew exactly where each bullet fired. And two, when we see The Outpost gun shop and know he's going to fucking tear that shit up.
Man, I don't know which is better. It's a tough call. Might actually be the hardest decision I've made all day...
Oh who am I kidding? It's the hardest decision I've made all year. Unemployment can do that to a person.
Written by THIGHS around 6:46 PM
I would like to freak out about something that I haven't freaked out about in the past 3 years. No wait. My brain has freaked out about this, but my heart never did. There's a difference.
Holyfuckingcrap I am friends with my favorite artist and my favorite writer!!! In fact both of them emailed me today...BOTH! In one day!! And we're chatting!! And we're friends!! FRIENDS!! I am seriously screaming this at the top of my lungs as I type!!! I AM NOT KIDDING!!
I AM FRIENDS WITH RAGE AND DAQ, TWO PEOPLE I NEVER EVER IN A MILLION YEARS THOUGHT I WOULD EVER KNOW LET ALONE HANG OUT WITH. DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW CRAZY THIS IS?!?!?! DO YOU!?!?!? I AM STILL SCREAMING!! MY NEIGHBORS HATE ME!! I DON'T CARE BECAUSE THIS IS INSANE....
Holy shit. This is the moment I've been waiting for.
This is why I left Company...to hysterically laugh and cry from holy shitness.
I FEEL AMAZING. I think I might pass out...why do I keep wanting to pass out this week!?!?!
Holy shit. Thank you, Shizza...today I became a fangirl again.
Note to self: Don't forget this next time!!
Written by THIGHS around 3:08 PM
Tuesday, January 15
Dear Mr. Garbage Man,
I wish you didn't have to work when it's as cold as it is tonight. Really, I do.
That being said, can you do me a small favor and NOT wear a full-on ski mask to keep warm???
While I don't scare easy, seeing a large figure dart from behind a garbage truck is bothersome. I'm sure it would be for anyone, tripod or non-tripod.
But when that same large figure runs toward me dressed as the stereotypical bank robber and/or rapist, I become not only frightened, but slightly autistic as well. My synapses are so slow to react that I can actually hear the message they are sending to my brain: "Man...in...mask...running...towards...me. This...is...bad."
When I was finally able to comprehend the situation, I found I also do not try to run or cry for help. Instead I create a mental flipbook of the superheroes who should be coming to rescue me.
The joke is that it's not even a flipbook-phonebook of how to reach any of them in an emergency situation (ie The Bat Signal). It's more of a costume fashion mag with pages upon pages of superhero outfits from the neck down. Worthless.
So there you have it. Please don't ever wear the ski mask again. Thanks.
Thighs "Hershey Swirls" McGee
Written by THIGHS around 11:00 PM
Monday, January 14
Is Sylvester Stallone broke? Why is he remaking everything?
In case you haven't heard, the new Rambo hits theaters January 28th. Tagline: "Hereos never die...They just reload."
Rambo: Enter the Dragon offers 11 episodes of the action-packed animated series featuring the exploits of military veteran John Rambo, a character played in a series of popular live-action films by Sylvester Stallone.
Written by THIGHS around 3:05 PM
My friend just asked me if I had a good weekend.
My response: "My weekend was filled with Guitar Hero, football, and Firefly. Pretty sweet."
Which prompted me to ask myself these questions:
"Why am I single?"
"Have you seen my penis? I seemed to have misplaced it."
FYI, in Thighs world "peni" is plural for "penis." Uses:
Where's all the peni in this bar?
I've seen quite a lot of peni in my life.
I enjoy Cuban peni the most. Missile crisis, indeed.
Written by THIGHS around 11:19 AM
Sunday, January 13
This was the best day of my entire life.
1. I went to my best friend's baptism. I don't care if Cale's only six months old, we are BF 4-EVA.
2. Obviously this also means I went to church today. CHURCH! I think the last time I went was Christmas '05. I can't even remember the last time I received. (This will be a dirty joke free zone, thank you very much.)
While I'm not ready to share my experience yet, I will say this: Shanique, my inner heavy-set black woman, almost made an appearance. She was so filled with joy, peace, and love that she came very close to throwing her hands in the air and screaming , "Praise the Lord, child! Praise the Lord!" and passing out on the floor.
It took a lot of self-control to hold Shanique in. She was LOVING it.
3. I felt so great after church that I decided to enjoy the gorgeous weather and walk from 90th Street down to 14th Street. No typo here. I walked 76 blocks, which is about 4 miles. It was a great little trek. Been a while since I walked that far.
A couple things to note. One, I thought I was going to puke when I got around 23rd Street. I didn't. Two, I walked past Company. Nothing. I felt nothing. Totally weird, but I think it's because I rarely walked through the front entrance. I did feel sad when I walked by City Sport though. Furball is addicted to sneakers so we used to pop in every once in awhile. A tear.
4. THE MOTHER FUCKING GIANTS FUCKING BEAT THE FUCKING COWBOYS!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THE GIANTS FUCKING WON!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!! WHERE'S THE TYLENOL!?!?!
The last 25 seconds were the longest of my life. I was sitting on Spags' couch hyperventilating underneath a blanket. I seriously had a heart attack when McQuarters made the interception to end the game. Now that I think about it I pulled a Shanique, passing out on the floor clutching my chest, trying to catch my breath. Over 3 hours later, I still don't think I'm breathing normal.
GIANTS YOU FUCKING LOVEBAGS!!! OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WON!!
This is fucking awesome because honestly, I will be upset if they lose next week, but SO incredibly happy for Favre. AND since the Cowboys are out, Super Boobie Bowl IV is on!!! WOO HOO!
5. And the last part of my best day ever??? The Rock of Love 2 premiere.
Stripper names aplenty this season: Destiney, Kristy Joe, Daisy, Roxy, Ambre, and get this...Inna. I forget how it's pronounced, but it's still hysterical. In fact they should each be given an "Inna" nickname: Inna' Vag, Inna' Mouth, Inna' Ear, Inna' Pooper...
Bret Michaels, you are my hero. I'd totally rock your world if you didn't have the clap. Ironically, I applaud you any how. Fucking awesome.
Written by THIGHS around 10:02 PM
Friday, January 11
It's probably no surprise to hear that my dreams are fucking insane.
Well last night's dream was more telling rather than off-the-wall. No need for interpretation here (but I will change the font for effect):
I popped into my friend Bucket's office (as I usually did in real life). He shares it with two other people and they all cheered when I walked in. The office looked amazing though, nice new desks, all sorts of cool shelving and artwork everywhere. I said, "Geez guys. If I knew you'd get such an upgrade after I quit, I would have left sooner!" They laugh.
I glimpse into Soaps and Donovan's office next door, trying to see if Donovan's happy I'm visiting. Unfortunately he's not at his desk, it's his assistant. I'm sad for a second, then Donovan comes up behind me, turns around and keeps talking to the person behind him. He ignores me (as he usually did in real life), putting his arm up in the doorway so that his pit is mere inches from my nose. I sigh. He smells like a Blimpie.
I'm sitting at a sidewalk cafe, except there isn't a cafe. Instead the tables are right outside Company's 10th floor editorial offices; the view from my seat is similar to the one from my old cube (not the Pee Cube, the other one). I'm eating some sort of egg salad panini. The waiter is a foreign retard, he keeps handing me glasses of water that I didn't ask for.
I look into the office directly in front of me and every single person at Company (that I like anyways) is crammed in. The office is really dark except for some sort of disco-strobe light. Jungle music is blaring, my friends are all sweaty and smiling, waving me in to come join their impromptu rave.
I sit there, glued to my seat feeling bad that I can't join. (Or is it won't join?) I couldn't watch their fun any more so I ask the retarded foreign waiter for the check. He doesn't know what to charge me so I give him a $20. He gives me $24 back. I take it.
I had another dream that I was driving around in a wheelchair along Madison. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to drive right through a craft/plant shop. Two old ladies were saying stuff like "I'm so sorry you're in a wheelchair." and I thought, "I could totally wreck their craft/plants and they wouldn't care." I think I stole a fake poinsettia.
The best way I can describe how I feel about Company right now? It's like when you wear a hat all day, you take it off, and you still feel like you're wearing it.
Huh. I guess it's also like anal, too.
Written by THIGHS around 12:20 PM
from laughing so hard!!! My friend Joey just forwarded this email to me.
Here are some of the best fucking pick-up lines I have ever fucking heard...
3.) Let's play war. I'll lay down, and you have sex with my penis.
5.) You can either go out with me or receive the beating of a lifetime. Choice is yours.
7.) Your hair smells like bacon. Do you work at Denny's?
11.) My magic watch says you have genital herpes. You don't? Oh, then I guess it must be an hour fast.
12.) How much money would it take to let me to lick your asshole?
13.) Would you mind not telling anyone that I asked you out? You kind of look like a dude.
19.) "Knock knock." "Who's there?" *Long, psychotic gaze.*
20.) They call me Snowstorm, cause I give you 1-2 inches and make your life a bit more annoying for a week or so.
21.) This bar brings back great memories. Like that time I thought about forced sodomy on you a few minutes ago.
22.) That ass is so fine, I want to abandon you with child.
23.) I was hoping you could settle a bet between me and my friend here. He says your eyes are naturally blue, and I say that you're a filthy, dirty whore.
24.) I'd ask you to dance, but I'd rather save my energy for fucking you later.
30.) I've got a message for you. It's written on my dong.
31.) Sorry but it looks like someone removed the battery from your car. I'm no mechanic but I'm pretty sure we could solve this by fucking.
34.) Girl, if I could, I would write your name on the moon. But only if your name was Sue or Amy because I'm not spending a lot of time on it.
38.) I can make your dreams come true, if your dreams consist of fucking a slovenly German man on a bunch of empty pizza boxes.
40.) I've always wondered what it would be like to get a blowjob from Q-Bert. Do me a favor and jump up that set of stairs.
42.) Of all the women in the bar, you looked to me like the most likely to fuck a stranger.
43.) Cool tattoo. Do you have any on your vagina?
49.) I didn't want you to be the only chick in here tonight who didn't get hit on. It's good for your self esteem.
50.) How many drinks would I have to buy you to get you to come home with me? I'm not employed and I want to spend as little as possible.
Written by THIGHS around 12:08 PM
Wednesday, January 9
I suck. Suck, suck, suck.
Okay I don't suck (unless you're cute, snootch!), but I am feeling down. Today was the first day I felt completely awful about being unemployed. Why today of all days? Because I didn't make a to-do list.
I've been keeping myself pretty busy during the day. I don't want to get into a depressive, daytime-TV-watching funk so I make sure to have a list of things to do during the hours of 9am-5pm. I figure I won't be unemployed for too long (please Shizza), so I want to make the most of this time and catch up on all the things I've been meaning to get done.
Well yesterday I never got around to writing my to-do list, even though I stayed up until 2am. Last night I said fuck it I won't set my alarm, might as well sleep in. It's not like I have anywhere to go or anything to do...
STUPID! I woke up at 11am and stared at my ceiling. Nothing. Nothing to do, nowhere to go. So I laid in bed for a while totally frustrated. Then I cried. Then I got pissed.
I did everything I could to avoid a mental shitstorm. I talked on the phone, wrote in my journal, exercised, applied to jobs, danced. I fought it for as long as possible; it finally got the best of me around 3pm. I hulked out.
I have a 2-drawer storage unit by the side of my bed that I use as a nightstand. The nightstand has two polar opposite uses: in one drawer is the shit I use on a daily basis (make-up, brushes, toiletries), the other is shit I never use and won't get rid of (unopened baseball card packs, pantyhose, my eyeglasses from college).
Within a week of buying the nightstand, my Never Use drawer broke. I put so much junk inside that the bottom fell out. I ripped the front of the damn drawer off in order to fix it, but I never got around to finishing it. This was seven months ago. Since then I've left the drawer wide open, only propping up the front to cover my crap when my folks come to visit. Ghe-tto.
Which brings us today. As I was about to pound my chest and blow a gasket, I took one look at the drawer and freaked. That's right...I unleashed my fury on the poor nightstand.
You know what makes me happy when skies are gray? A hammer. A hammer is my sunshine.
I dumped everything out of the nightstand, grabbed my hammer, and some nails AND BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF THIS THING. Every pound meant I was getting closer and closer to straightening out my life. It was extremely therapeutic....and totally awesome.
About twenty minutes later, the drawer was fixed. It probably has way too many nails in it (and by "probably" I mean "definitely"), but it's all finished. And so is tomorrow's to-do list.
Written by THIGHS around 4:33 PM
Last night I attended my friend Andy's Comics Experience Introduction to Comic Writing class. It was super fun! If you know anyone interested in breaking into the comic industry or just wanting to learn something cool, check out Andy's site.
By the end of the six week course, we will have created our very own 5-page comic script. I had a few ideas for a series already in the works, but there was no way I'd be able to condense it into five pages. During class I came up with another one though...totally corny but I lurve it!!
Once I figured out what I wanted to write I seriously couldn't put my pen down. All of these panels started popping into my head and then the dialogue came after...FA!! I just realized that's the old Marvel Method...
Written by THIGHS around 11:33 AM
Monday, January 7
Yep, that's right. I had such a nice time that I'm tempted to go on another date this year. Holy shit.
Two fantastic things happened tonight that changed my mind about dating:
1. I kept my vajohn in my pants. In fact, I didn't even kiss him. WHO AM I?? Okay granted I'm not really attracted to him, but still. This is huge and completely out of character.
2. Once I decided I wasn't that into him, I did something else completely out of character. I SHUT THE FUCK UP. I actually listened to what he had to say instead of either thinking what I should say next or wondering what his O-face looks like.
Listening is totally underrated. Or it could be properly rated and I well, never listened to how great a thing listening can be.
Anyhoo, I was listening to my date when something occurred to me. Tonight was the first time I understood that every single person in the world has a story. It doesn't matter if it's bad or good, funny or sad, it's still a story. I didn't actually think I had a story to tell until I shared Thighsighs. A manic depressive giggler's story, but a story nonetheless.
After this realization I was hanging on my date's every word. I became absolutely fascinated by his life, his choices, his goals. It was so nice to just sit back, relax, and listen*.
That's when it hit me. Dating doesn't have to be something I despise or freak out over. If I dated I could hear more stories!! Hurrah!!
Dating = Storytime. I finally figured out how to approach dating without wanting to barf. And it only took 30 years. Go me!
*So fucking close that I actually have this shit stuck in my head...
Ice ice baby (x2)
All right stop collaborate and listen
Ice is back with my brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop yo I don't know
Turn off the lights and I'll glow
To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle
Dance go rush to the speaker that booms
I'm killing your brain like a poisonous mushroom
Deadly when I play a dope melody
Anything less than the best is a felony
Love it or leave it you better gain weight
You better hit bull's eye the kid don't play
If there was a problem yo I'll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it
CHORUS Ice ice baby vanillla (x4)
Written by THIGHS around 11:33 PM
I seriously can't wait to be a freelancer. I'm sitting here applying to jobs, listening to some Zeppelin and enjoying that I'm a) home, b) wearing nothing but Spongebob Squarebriefs underwear and a Polo Sport fleece, and c) not around people.
The only thing that is bothering me at the moment is the goddamn date I have tonight. I HATE DATING!! If there was a way to skip dating and just be married I. would. do it.
I go on one date a year. One. I'm glad I'm getting it over with in January. Why didn't I think of this before???
Ex-slutbag that I am, I only get laid a handful of times during the year at this point. It sucks, but whatever. Not the sex, the lack thereof. It's not like I can't get any, I just want more than that. Sure I can go out and be like "You're cute, let's fuck." (this works every time), but I don't want to do that anymore. I want a relationship. I want love. I want someone to watch football with, bang during halftime, go out to dinner, and then watch five episodes of Family Guy. While banging. Or not.
Thinking about tonight makes me want to barf. Barf, barf, barf. I may actually puke, but I'm sure that has more to do with the pot of coffee I drank and the Living Room Dance Party I had shortly thereafter.
I've already convinced myself I don't like this guy, for no particular reason. He's really eager about hanging out!! Word to the wise, you want me to like you don't ever ever EVER act like you like me back. EVER. Then I will love you for life. I = dick.
I used to quote Groucho Marx all the time by saying, "I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member." I realize now this is extremely retarded.
The thing is I totally want to join the club, I just don't want to apply, pay membership fees, or have to do any actual work to be in it. Isn't there a club that let's anyone join???
Ouch. As a wrote that I cringed. What am I saying?? Do I really want to be in the YMCA of dating?? Ummmm, NOOOO!!!
Ugh, ugh, ugh. Will someone please just marry me and end this dating crappootie??
Written by THIGHS around 12:36 PM
Sunday, January 6
I'm sad. On the plus side, it's nice to be able to feel only one emotion at a time. It's hard keeping them all straight.
I saw some Company people last night before the Guitar Hero marathon. Most of them are and will continue to be my friends; it was good to see them for a hot minute.
I haven't been around any Company peeps since I left though, so I guess it's only natural that I'm a little weirded out. Then I read this article on Yahoo. Here's the section that made me feel better:
Your Health Is Failing
"If you tell someone you're in an abusive relationship with a guy and he's making you physically ill, they're like, 'Get out, get out,'" says Trunk. "But, if you tell them your job's making you sick, they say, 'I know, I hate my job, too.'"
As Trunk implies, we're freakishly loyal to jobs that beat us down. Either that, or we're utterly complacent. But it's a safe bet that there's no rule in your employee handbook saying you have to put up with work-related migraines, insomnia, and ulcers. If Sunday night dread is costing you a small fortune in doctor's visits and prescription drugs, it's high time you got out of Dodge.
Bridget always said that Company was my abusive boyfriend. I feel Company was more like the boyfriend I desperately loved and obsessed over, even though he didn't meet my expectations. Instead of getting out I made myself sick trying to change him, rather than accepting him for who he actually is.
I know in my heart that leaving Company was the right thing to do, but it's still sad. I guess it will be for a while. Let's hope my next gig is equivalent to a rebound boyfriend with a huge penis and a trampoline.
Written by THIGHS around 11:51 PM
Eli's first playoff win...I feel like the proud mother of a mentally challenged kid.
Giants better fucking kill the Cowboys next week. If the G-Men keep playing like they have the last two weeks, I think they'll have the chance. Plus, I swear to Shizza I REFUSE to have a Super Bowl party if it's Cowboys/Patriots. Absolutely fucking refuse.
Jon Gruden is still the hottest man alive though. He's so hot that I want to tear my skin off. Thank god Shockey wasn't playing...seeing the two of them during one game, oy vey. I think my crotch would have exploded.
In other news, Guitar Hero might be the funnest game of all time. Bridge and I stayed up until almost 6am last night playing. 6!!! AM!!! No drugs!!! It is seriously a blast to both play and to watch. I highly recommend checking it out, even if you're not a gamer.
Me, I can't handle the pressure of video games. I used to hysterically cry over Super Mario Brothers and have been known to gnaw a controller or two out of frustration. Issues much?
Written by THIGHS around 4:16 PM
Friday, January 4
Having worked in Publishing for seven years I have quite the collection of books that I will never, ever read. I've donated tons of them to both the Queens and Jackson libraries. There's no point in keeping them if all they do is collect dust and/or act as a table while doing crosswords on the toilet.
Today I did what I assume most New Yorkers have resorted to when strapped for cash: I sold some books at The Strand. I lugged about twelve pounds of them from Astoria down to Union Square, trying not to think about how much money I'll make. I didn't want to get my childishly unrealistic hopes up, ie "I never have to work again! Yaaayyy!!"
How much did I make?? A whopping $25. The only other time I felt like this much of a loser was the Karaoke Rumpshaker Incident of '03.
Seriously, $25? I don't know what I was expecting to get or, for that matter, what would have been acceptable. Maybe $50?
I feel like I'm 19 again, back when I sold my CDs and charm necklaces to buy E.
Christ almighty. Self-humiliation rocks.
Written by THIGHS around 12:53 PM
Thursday, January 3
Yesterday was the first day it hit me. I was walking down 6th Avenue and noticed that it was about 1:30pm. I immediately thought of Furball eating his damn frozen noodles at his desk. I started cracking up. I laughed so hard that I was almost crying. I think I frightened some tourists.
So the $64,000 question: what the fuck have I been doing with myself? Well a whole lot of everything actually. I've been writing like a mad woman, reading, cleaning, job hunting, walking, shopping (exchanging really), and thinking. Lots of thinking. And get this...sort of, kind of, well, dating. I met a guy at the Jets game on Sunday. We talked on the phone a few times and we're going to meet up for drinks early next week. Weird.
I have to say, everyone should take a break at some point in their lives. While I definitely am not doing it the responsible way (I = broke), I am having an absolute blast. Today I did something I have always wanted to do: sit in Starbucks writing for two hours bra-less, smelling like someone who hasn't showered in three days (since I haven't). I am totally living the dream...
What's next? A job is a must, that's for sure. I need moola. My SVA class starts in a couple of weeks AND I'm going to attend my friend Pandy's writing seminar. I also have a few book ideas floating around in my head so I'll be crankin' them out the next couple of weeks, too.
My biggest decision this month...
Should I buy a Mac so that I can start fucking around in Photoshop and Illustrator?
I want to be a zillion things right now: a writer, an artist, a colorist, a children's book author, a graphic designer. The writing part is easy enough, but I have zero experience with a Mac or design applications. Bridget can vouch for my lack o' Mac skills. I'm annoying to watch when using one. Just answer me this, why aren't there two mouse buttons and a scroll??
Since most designers use Macs I figure I need to go for it and buy one. The problem is that I don't have the cash; I'll just be adding more to my mountain of debt. I need to decide a few things.
Is buying a Mac completely necessary? If so, is it "debt" or an "investment" into my future?
I am stumped. Any advice out there?
My mom definitely doesn't want me to buy one because of my finances. She didn't get too evil about it either; her argument was sound and (more importantly) at a normal pitch. She hasn't really understood my career path and I don't blame her. My parents' generation got a job and kept it forever whether they liked it or not. Gosh I don't know if they ever questioned liking their job in the first place.
Both of them really do try to understand what I'm doing and eventually come around. The best part is not when they have a change of heart, but why. My favorite one with my dad: I was going to move in with a guy friend during college. My dad was soooo totally angry about it at first and said no effing way. The next day he changed my mind. The reason? Three's Company. If Chrissy and Janet could live with Jack and not have sex, I could live with Noah and not have sex.
Know what usually makes my mom change her mind about things? Horoscopes. The Daily News Horoscopes to be exact. Mine for today:
To make money, you have to spend money, and this will become apparent to you in the first few months of the new year. Putting money back into your business or career will be beneficial on all levels. Whether it's investing in your mind, additional study or in the equipment you need to perform your job, it will be important to spend some money on this level.
Thank you Jennifer Angel. While I'm still on the fence about buying a Mac, you just saved me from hearing any complaints about it from my mom for awhile. Much appreciated.
Written by THIGHS around 4:24 PM
There are some words that make me extremely happy. Top five:
There are also a bunch that make me cringe. Top five most despicable words:
3. tit, tits, or titties (love boobs, hate tits)
5. and the newest...work
The word "work" leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Drinking grapefruit juice didn't help, so I'm just not going to use it anymore.
"Work" will be replaced with "perk" from now on.
Written by THIGHS around 12:01 PM
Wednesday, January 2
Today is Tuesday, November 12, 1985. Today is the fouryth day of school. I would like to tell you about yesterday. Yesterday I had my cousin Cheryl's jumper on that she said I can keep it. And my brother was wearing his p.j.s and my mother was wearing her p.j.s. All of a sudden the lights were blinking in my bedroom. My mom said turn off your lights. So we did. Then I was making a book, and my brother was playing with the stapler. I grabbed it out of this hand and I stapled my thumb. Before my mom could clean it, the lights were blinking even the TV and VCR. Now it was 10 minutes after 6:00 and it was really dark. So, then my mother grabbed my brother and me. Now remember, my brother was in his p.j.s and beer feet. And I had beer feet and my mother had her jeans and one red sock and one brown sock and her p.j.s top on. Then she was going to go to the landlord to tell her about it. But when we were in the hall, everyone else lights were blinking. The landlord said that the U.S. gas was on fire in the man-hole! One of the cars were on top of the man-hole. Then it blow up. There was a big bomb. All the lights were blinking on both blocks. So we went to my Grandma's to eat over until my father came to pick us up.
Written by THIGHS around 5:45 PM
Tuesday, January 1
is so I can watch the ENTIRE America's Next Top Model New Year's Modelthon!!
Cycles 1-9, over 70 hours of bliss. Joy to the world!
AAANNNNDDDD....my most bestest Christmas gift this year????
ROCK OF LOVE IS BACK!!
Do you know how trashy the women are going to be this season!?!?!?! DO YOU?!?!??!
Oh. my. hell. The first girl on the left looks like her crabs are itching something fierce!!!
2008 is going to fucking rock.
Written by THIGHS around 2:10 PM