Holy Fuck My Butt

I'm at work, writing. Not working. I got home around 2am last night and can't be bothered. I'm getting antsy about it though. It's so quiet here. A little too quiet. A little too Raph. Luckily I'm leaving at 3pm for a doctor's appointment. Gynogirl's Vulvacabulary. My greatest work.

I guess I'm thinking in short sentences. I should just start a Twitter account, but since I don't have the interweb on my phone it seems pointless. I'd like to be able to twat as often as possible. Now I post-it. If I think of a funny phrase I jot it down. Like Holy Fuck My Butt. I said this yesterday and I don't recall why. Today's funny had me crying. Bella and I were making dinner plans and what I meant to say was, "Let's do it later in the month." but it came out as "Let's do it after the teens." Jager shots after midnight work wonders for the talking skillz.

Speaking of z's, Canz in Astoria is annoying because it should be awesome and it's not. The end. Crazy Ass however (my made up nickname for my new favorite bar) is the shitz. I don't know why I feel the need to give it a nickname rather than a real shoutout, but I do. I've decided to trust my gut more. Wishy washy Thighs gets into trouble. Like this past weekend. I had plans to visit Spags up in CT and asked if we could reschedule because it wasn't good timing. She's uber upset about it. I feel really bad. Earlier last week I had a weird feeling about the trip and if I would have just listened to my gut the badness might have been avoided.

Another gut feeling, I just found out my cousin's annual 4th of July party in NJ was cancelled. Now I can do whatever I want this weekend, but something is telling me to be planless. I don't know why. Maybe my commitmentphobia is back? Maybe I'm going to die? Maybe I'm going to sleep? Who knows?? The only thing I'm definitely doing is going to the west side to watch the fireworks over the Hudson. Stupid Hudson. If the show was on the East River LIKE IT SHOULD BE, I could watch from my roof.

Boys update. I'm "breaking up" with Mr. J. We hung out a couple of weeks ago and I saw him last night for a few minutes. He really is a nice guy and totally into me (I rarely have the confidence to say that, but with him I'm sure), it's just that I'm not totally into him. I was forcing it only because I thought it was cool we ran into each other. Same with Mick. We've hooked up a few times the past month or so (maybe longer), but I don't know what I'm doing. I like him, I don't, I really like him, I don't. It's the stupidest fucking dance ever. I can't figure out why this is so hard! Fucking pandas. This is the reason I went back on OKC. I want love motherfuckers! Ha, I should make that my profile tagline. Ha, I don't think I've ever written "ha" in a post before.

The only thing worse than Bud Light is free Bud Light because then I'm forced to drink it. - Thighs McGee, 06/18/10

55 minutes to doctor. Man, I'm useless. At least I got to see Chewie last night. He's my male bestie if you didn't know. Brother from another mother. Gay. He's not gay, "brother from another mother" is gay.

Ugh...hangover is getting worse now that I ate crappy pizza. The joke is I just said how I've never had a bad slice in NY. Oh the irony. EYERONEE. That looks like EVERYONE.

Last week I hit up two Mets games. Wait what did I do last week? Monday, dinner. Tuesday/Thursday Mets games. Friday, Rolo's going away party. SAD. She moved to Boston...waahhh! (If you are reading I MISS YOU!). Saturday, OH MY GOSH, the awesomest bridal shower I've ever been to. It was a surf and turf (this phrase will never catch on). Sunday, Crazy Ass with Bakes. I love being a regular at a bar. It makes me feel cool.

I drink too much. Actually no I don't. I only drink twice a week. Wait that's a lie. I drink Friday and Saturday nights. Sometimes Sundays. Rarely during the week. Why am I still lying?

I haven't run since the race. I freakin' miss it!! I'm so fucking moody lately and I know it's because I haven't worked out. I'm hoping to run this weekend. There, that's a plan! Fireworks and running sounds poifect.

I'm going home to change my bra, wash my crotch, and take a dump. - Thighs McGee, 06/20/10

CJ just came in and handed me a card with a picture of a big-lipped robot. His name is Motor Mouth and "his head's like a bucket, full of metal, wires & computer chips. But his appearance isn't complete without a set of wacko lips!" This is the greatest day of my life.

Shit, I do drink too much. I just remembered I'm going over to Crazy Ass again tonight, which is ridiculous because I've mentioned it three times in this post. Maybe I won't drink. It could happen.

34 minutes. I need a new job. No word from Melba. It's been two weeks since I applied. Look I even gave it a nickname, I should totally work there! I haven't loved my job since Company. I haven't thought very hard since January. I need a change. Updated plans for this weekend: fireworks, running, job search. Oh and batting cages. I love batting cages. Oh and pool! I want to start playing more. Oh and Toy Story 3! I forgot I'm going on Friday. Maybe I'll rent the first two. Netflix has a long wait on them though.

Oh oh oh!! I haven't written about Ken Burns' Baseball documentary series yet. I LOVED it. Another thing to do this weekend. Gosh, now I'm tired.

Facebook told me the Verizon iPhone will be available in January. Yay! Guess I'm hanging onto My Boy Blue another few months. If the poor thing doesn't kick soon...

Two words: greek yogurt. Amazing. Yoplait can go fuck itself. Dannon, well I still like the fruit on the bottom and how it rhymes with my name. It ain't yogurt, though. Fage rules.

17 minutes. Hmmm...my appointment's not until 3:40pm so I could potentially walk the 50 blocks to Soho. Or take the subway to 14th and walk from there to save time. Maybe I'll walk home. I wish I had my sneakers with me. And my camera. Good-bye V train!! I will miss your emptiness.

My stomach just made a loud noise that sounded like pull-starting a lawnmower. Maybe I should go to the bathroom.

Going.