Monday, March 28

I love copays.

I'm writing on my phone from my neurologist's office. My last visit started with a 1.5 hour wait and ended with a massge and acupuncture another 1.5 hours later, so I have time to type slowly.

I'm a mess again, but trying to stay in good spirits. The lightheadedness and boob/chest pain was really bad last week. My sonogram and mammogram came back fine, which is great and shitty at the same time. There isn't a piece of an implant or, thank Shizza, tumors, but there still isn't an explanation for my pain. My mom said to go to a neurologist and I'm super glad I did.

An undiagnosed/untreated inner ear infection seems to be the reason for my lightheadedness, dizziness, occassional nausea, and inability to lay down flat without getting a headache. YAY FOR AN ANSWER!! Boo for the asshole doctor who said I was depressed. Never going back to him. In fact, I'm done with male doctors. I ain't risking "this bitch be crazy" diagnosis again.

The neuro wants me to go for two MRIs on the brain and ear. Hopefully by Friday the infection will be confirmed and I can get meds and feel good once and for all. Right now I'm in her Chinatown office waiting to do some balancing tests. A kickass martial arts movie is on in the waiting room. Definitely a nice way to start a Monday.

She also thinks at this point my boob is a pulled muscle and needs some physical therapy. I've lost a lot of strength since last summer, so it really is time to get back to the gym. One last snafu of course, because apparenty 2011 and my body don't like each other - my foot spasmed on Wednesday and I'm rocking a sweet pimp limp. I already went to a podiatrist because I'm my doctor nazi mother's daughter. It's not broken, but the doc wrapped it and said to stay off my feet for a few days. Sorry bub, but that's not an option in this city.

My Ruth Clare alter ego is taking over. I seemed to have turned 83 and not 33 this month. My ridiculous amount of ailments and doctor's visits this year are comical at this point. Tomorrow I'll probably wake up with a dick growing out of my forehead. Call me Screwicorn.

Monday, March 21

Ta da!

I'm back! HOLLA!

I haven't felt very Thighs McGee lately. Not in a bad way, I just haven't thought much about writing. This is what's new:

1. My birthday party was excellent. Good times, good friends, and good Guinness. We hung out at Flannery's until about 11pm, then the Astoria crew went over to Crazy Ass for a nightcap. A three hour nightcap. I think I got home at 2:30am. It was the first time in quite a while that I drank a lot. I was a little nervous, but all was well. Too well perhaps because I haven't really stopped drinking or staying out late since then. That weekend Jarv and I barhopped around the neighborhood. This past week included staying out until 1:30am on both Wednesday and Thursday, not going out UNTIL 3am on Friday, taking a break Saturday, then drinking from noon until 8pm today. I feel fine, but Bethany Beergut is back and I'm tired. So tired. I am not drinking this week until Friday when MY BROTHER COMES TO VISIT! It's a last minute work trip. I'm so excited to see him!!

2. Work is getting better!! I wanted to get some stuff done this weekend, but that was a total fail (see above). I feel a bit shitty about it, so no more drinking or late nights during the week for me anymore. I plan on getting in early tomorrow to get ahead. My boss was in three days last week, which was nice and comforting. She said I'm doing a great job and apologized for being m.i.a. Things seem to be simmering down for her, so I'm hoping this is when things will start picking up for me. She made mention of getting me and apartment in Philly for the month of July because I'm apparently going to be spending a ton of time there, so that's pretty cool. Also the Chicago project manager quit, so there may be an opportunity for me to go there as well. WRIGLEY!

Things are really looking up. The birthday drama freakout was a blessing in disguise. I was burying my nerves and trying to play it cool and be patient, but let's face it - patience is not my thing.

3. You know what's my thing? Or things rather? Boobs. It never occurred to me that I'm so boob-centric because of my, what do I call it, plight? Nah. That sounds religious. My situation? Eh. My boob chapter? Yeah, my boob chapter.

I recall being a boob girl before all that happened anyways, probably because as a kid my parents would make me go in the other room when they knew a nude scene was coming up in a movie. I'd naturally sneak a peek, not because I wanted to see naked chicks, but because I was curious as to what I wasn't allowed to see and really good at being defiant.

Anyhoo, my boob chapter is still writing itself. I still sleep propped up, usually wear a bra to bed, and rarely lift my arms or jump around. I've lost so much muscle since July that I suck at arm wrestling now, something I was quite proud of being good at considering I never worked out that much to begin with. I was an altoid, curiously strong and really white.

In my drunken birthday stupor I "accidentally" danced and bounced around way too much. My boob/chest muscle has been hurting ever since. Today's the first day it doesn't feel so bad. I wrote "accidentally" because at this point there is no fucking reason I shouldn't be able to dance, raise my arms, or do anything. It's been seven months since surgery and four months since I hurt myself on Thanksgiving. It sucks.

I don't want to go back to the asshole plastic surgeon ever, ever again so I went to my gyno to get a referral for a breast specialist. I called two of the tops ones and unfortunately they won't see me because I don't have cancer. Yes, it's a good thing I don't have it, but once they heard the word "implant" I felt there was a bit of condescension in the nurses' voices. Fuck you, fuckbag. It's not what you think. After I told them the story they eased up, but still wouldn't see me so I decided to go to for a mammogram/sonogram on my own. This way if something is wrong at least then maybe a specialist will be more willing to help. If there's nothing there I may go for an MRI and see a sports doctor. I read pulled chest muscles are a bitch, so maybe I have to treat it like it's a sprained ankle or something. Who knows. All I do know is I wish this fucking chapter would end.

The good news is the girls are still even. I feel pretty healthy otherwise, except I still get the lightheadedness and back of head headaches a few times a week. Oh well.

4. Boys. There's always one. Or four. The Gentleman and I had lunch the other day. I never ended up officially breaking it off and at this point there's no need. We are definitely in friend territory and I'm happy to stay there.

On St. Patty's Day I reached my two guy kiss quota. One was Will from last year. I saw him at the bar, we chatted, no big deal. Then on my walk home he came up on his bike and we walked together for a bit (he lives across the street from me). As I was saying good-bye he rammed his tongue down my throat. It was fine and I laughed it off, but I do not not NOT want to be with that guy. He's fucking nuts!

Even nuttier - the other guy I made out with was the fat member of the Ultimate Dickfuck Dodgeball team. Crazy, right? I didn't recognize him for a while, but I knew he looked familiar. When we figured it out I turned all red and starting yelling about how his team ruined dodgeball for me. Dramatic, much? Fa!

While he's much thinner and handsomer now, I'm not that into him. I'll probably go out for a drink or something just to be sure. One never can tell on St. Patty's Day.

The fourth dude of late is MD. Shocking. We've been spending a lot of time together again. He came out for my birthday, we hung out that weekend, this past Wednesday, and everyday this weekend. Now that I finally know some details about his past relationship and where he's at in his head other than "I don't want a serious relationship" I've become more calm and detached. We're not each other's taco lobster and that's okay.

I decided my soulmate's nickname is Big Red. I haven't met him yet, but I know he's out there. For some reason I'm not quite ready to look yet, probably because of work and boob chapter. I need some more time. I told myself March will be about getting back to Me and April will be about finding my We.

Oh and I'm over the guy Rem at work. I definitely want to be friends with him, though!

Shit it's late...why don't I sleep anymore!?!? Gah!

Wednesday, March 9

Happy Birthday?

Ummm...I just woke up to a horrible burning smell choking me in my sleep.

I heard someone on the roof, so I opened the door and waited a couple of minutes for them to come down. A very hot fireman said the boiler blew up and if I smell anything in my apartment it's okay, just open the windows.

It smelled so fucking bad that I threw on my coat and went outside. Only two other neighbors were down there (I live in a sixteen apartment building). They were all freaked out because they actually felt the building shake when it happened.

I'M freaked because I slept through it all. Why didn't the alarms go off? Why didn't the firemen knock on doors? I guess I should feel safe they didn't feel it was necessary to evacuate the building, but I don't. GAH!

It still smells so bad in here. I hope I can sleep!

The good news is besides my apartment building not blowing up and you know, death, I wasn't born until 5:07am, so technically it's not really my birthday yet.

Tuesday, March 8

I'm smiling.

Rem, the guy I like at work, gave me a birthday present. I can't get over it!! We bonded over discussions of good beer, so he bought me a bottle of Great Divide Yeti because that's his favorite brewery and I told him I like stouts. HOW SWEET IS THAT?

I'll ask again...HOW SWEET IS THAT??

He totally made my day. I haven't stopped smiling, except when I think about how Rockstar hasn't called me back after going for a run in the park with a bum knee. WILL YOU PLEASE CALL ME BACK?

I really, really like his company and am excited to hang out and get to know him better. I like him. I'm sure we'll eventually make out because that's what I do best, but I feel like there's more to this connection. I sense my life is going to be better having met him.


Monday, March 7

No Philly!

Yaaaaayyy! Party on, Wayne! Party on, Garth!

God I forgot about those movies...


Thursday, March 3

Oh bloody hell.

Are you kidding me with this shite? I unsubscribed 89 times! Fuck you and your swirly lamb!

Happy Almost Birthday to Me!

My birthday R2D2 Droid 2! WOO HOO! It makes Artoo noises when the phone rings!

It is my first smartphone, so I'm now turning into one of those annoying people who check in on Foursquare and update Facebook all of the time. (I can hear Juniper yelling at me.) I'm toying with the idea of starting a Twitter account, too. Toying.

Actually I did have internet access on my first cellphone back in 2001, but all I did was check Yahoo seventeen times a day to see if Softball Pat emailed me. I wonder if he's on Facebook...

Anyhoo, I love it. I will leave no seafood restaurant unturned.

Eight Years

MD and I finally talked last night. It went very well. I don't have much time to go into it at the moment (I have actual work to do, hooray!), but I can't think straight. Two words keep running through my head: eight years. He and his ex were together for eight years.

I can't fathom being with someone that long, let alone breaking up with someone after that long.

We are on complete opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to where we are in life right now. I am done with being single while he is enjoying (?) being single for the first time since college. Do you know how many guys I slept with while he was in a relationship? DO YOU? I'm asking becuase I lost count.

I don't know how I feel about this yet. I'm a hopeless romantic. I don't like to think love is based on timing because fuck time. If I truly love someone I would want to be with them no matter what is going on in my life because I wouldn't be able to live without them.

I know "love" wasn't in the cards for MD and I. I felt like I was falling in love with him, but he definitely wasn't falling in love with me. It's just that I've never been serious about someone before. Tat and I talked about moving in together, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. I would have dropped everythig for MD if he asked. He never did.

I find myself wondering what the point was again, sort of like I did with the Banana drama. WHAT THE FUCK IS THE POINT? Why did I have to meet someone who is not ready for a relationship when for the first time in my life I'M ready for one?? Yes I know, even if he was ready it doesn't mean he'd want to be with me. Hell, he could get hit with Cupid's arrow tomorrow and end up married by the end of the year. Kill me if that happens.

Then again, that could happen to me too...

GAH. I hate dating. HATE IT. I'm done. I'm done done done done done*.

*Lie lie lie lie lie.

Wednesday, March 2


That is all.