Good Night, Sleep Tight...

I have a few half-written posts that I never got around to finishing!  I really want to start writing again. I miss it!

Here's a fun story about obsessing over something besides my weight. It started last spring...

During Daylight Savings Time, I tend to get manic because of the light. In May 2018, my doctor put me on Depakote to stabilize my mood.  It is known to affect the liver, so every other week I would go for a blood test.  I was travelling for work a lot at the time, so at some point we both forgot to keep checking my blood levels. Well, HUGE MISTAKE.

AST and ALT levels should both be below 50.  Mine were 800!!  My doctor flipped out and I had to immediately come off the Depakote. The problem was that coming off could cause seizures, so I had to be put on a temporary seizure medication plus up my Klonopin.  It was NUTS. *I* was NUTS. My mind was scrambled. I barely remember anything from that weekend, other than the fact that MD and my parents took really good care of me. It was so scary.

From July 20th - 25th I was an absolute mess.  On July 26th I had horrible insomnia, so I stayed up in bed reading. All of a sudden I looked at the sheets and saw bed bugs.  BED BUGS!!  GAH!

Bed bugs are the worst fucking thing you can possibly have to deal with in a home. You have to throw out your bed and bedding, wash all of your clothes and linens, pack EVERYTHING you own away in bins and garbage bags, and move all of your furniture to the middle of the room so that the exterminator can spray. It is HORRIBLE.  It took THREE exterminator visits between August and September for us to get rid of them. So we thought anyway...

Things were going really well the rest of 2018. My liver levels were back to normal and my mood stabilized by increasing my Risperdal. We spent an amazing two weeks in Hawaii, we had a lovely time in Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving, and a cozy Christmas in New York.

It ALL went to shit when we found a lone bed bug this January. I LOST IT.  Seriously I was next level insane. I wanted to kill myself and burn the apartment down. I wanted to move and get a divorce.  I fucking hated everything and lived in constant fear of getting them again. 

That's the worst part of bed bugs...there's no avoiding them in the city!  Our exterminator said don't ride the bus, don't ride the subway, don't go to the movies, take off all of your clothes when you get home. It was the most ridiculous advice I've ever heard. Basically don't go anywhere or do anything or have people over unless it's an orgy.

Thankfully it's been 9 months now since we've had a bug.  It's been a long 9 months, though. They were on my mind every. single. day. I obsessively checked the sheets every night. I'd scan crowds for people who looked like they had bed bugs, which is ridiculous because what does that even mean? Do I look like I have bed bugs? When I travel, I examine the hotel rooms and never, ever put my clothes in drawers. When I come home from travelling I immediately throw everything in the laundry.  It is EXHAUSTING being consumed by these fucking things. For long time friends/readers, bed bugs were my new stove. I had horrible PTBBSD. 

Finally a couple of weeks ago I decided to put an end to this obsessive behavior.  I needed to face my fear and take back my apartment. On Saturday I cleaned out the bedroom and repainted it. It doesn't sound like a big deal, but for me it was HUGE.  I was overcome with emotion to the point where I sobbed a few times. It really was the closure I needed to move forward.  The bedroom looks great and I haven't been freaking out every time I go to sleep.  It is so freeing!!

There were plenty of other things that happened this past year that I'd like to write about, but the bed bugs were the biggest mindfuck.  I wasn't even that scared about my liver levels, which in hindsight I guess should've been. The bed bugs took over my life. I LET them take over my life. Maybe other people could have dealt with it in stride, but not me. It was not my strongest showing, that's for sure. 

I guess at this point all I can do is move on and remember that if the shit hits the fan again, how I react to the shit can be more detrimental than the shit itself. 

Stupid Scale

I haven't gone to the gym in a week, drank and ate with abandon over the weekend, and somehow lost 3 pounds.

I really need to stop weighing myself. It's not healthy to be obsessed with the scale. The inconsistency definitely takes a toll on me mentally.

I will measure my success by how my clothes fit, how my stamina has increased, and my overall well-being.

I really did feel good going to the gym through August. No reason to let a stupid scale ruin it!

Smile, Fatty!

I'm smiling because I'm so happy I decided to write.  Of course the reason I came on here isn't a reason to smile, although I have to admit it is pretty ridiculous.

I searched all my old blog posts for the word "pounds" to track my weight through the years. Oy vey! 

I am STRUG-GLE-LING with my weight right hardcore.  I tried Weight Watchers last May. I started at 212, got down to 200, went up to 206 around the holidays, then stayed there the rest of this year.  

I don't think WW helped me much because I basically eat all the zero point foods all the time - eggs, fruits, veggies. It's not like I have a Big Gulp and fries every day! 

So I quit WW and decided to start counting calories and get a FitBit.  This past June I tracked every day and got 10K+ steps most days. I didn't lose any weight.

Last month I was so depressed that I decided to go to a trainer for a few sessions. I went to the gym three times a week, plus the 10K steps.  Guess what happened?  According to MyFitnessPal records:

June 25th - 206.6

August 13th - 208.8

Today, September 5th - 212

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  WHY AM I GAINING?  It's the first time I've been going to the gym regularly in like 15 years! Fuck this shit!

I've known that my bipolar medication Risperdal has made me gain weight and will make it harder for it to come off, but GEEZ.  It's not fair!  My doctors told me to go on Metformin, a diabetic medication used to control blood sugar that helps with weight loss, but I really don't want to take another fucking pill.

I'm going to keep working out and watching what I eat for a couple more months. If I keep gaining, I will DEFINITELY take the Metformin because I really don't know what else I can do besides shoot myself.

I miss the good ole days of 2011 when I first got sick from gluten and was afraid to eat. I think my lowest was 156.  So that's 8 years, 60 pounds. I gained a 2nd grader.  Boooooo....

Van Goghnope

I painted this monstrosity. It looks like a vase of weird nipples.

I actually threw it in someone's trash, kept walking, turned around, took it out of the trash and brought it home.

The reason I went back?  I gotta start somewhere. It'll be fun to see how I progress. Maybe?

Van Goghnuts

I can't believe how nervous I am to paint right now.

I'm not going to be any good.

I'm going to be embarrassed to show someone.

I should just leave.

This is dumb. Why do I think I WOULD be any good? I've never been trained to paint in my life. Do I think I'm Van Gogh? Should I be able to paint a masterpiece?

I never allow myself to learn, I just expect to be good at something immediately. Isn't that strange?? How can I have such low self- esteem and high self-expectations at the same time?

Is that WHY I have low self esteem? Because I don't think I'm good enough at anything, even things I've never tried before??

Oy vey.

Something nice at work!

This week was stressful because it's all out in the open that my London project is going to be late.  Management meetings, emails, grumblings, finger pointing, the works. My stomach has been in knots.

Thankfully there were two very nice things today.

My boss Tank is super supportive and is doing what he can to help take the heat off me and hit our last ditch go/no-go date of mid-April.  No matter what happens, I can honestly say I am so happy to have met him. He is an all around great guy.

Another all around great person is this woman, Kay.  We've been on two big projects together and she has always done an amazing job. We were never especially close, but very cordial. The past few weeks we bonded over turning 40. Then sadly, her father passed away, so I'd check in with her to make sure she was okay. Her family is in India, so I felt bad she was in mourning so far away.

Today she came by my desk and handed me a card. She said it was for my birthday, but she kept forgetting to give it to me.

She walked away as I opened it. There was a nice message and a TD Bank gift card inside! It didn't have an amount on it, but still, wow!! It was such a thoughtful and completely unexpected gesture that I was a bit in shock.  I went running over to her desk and thanked her profusely.

A little while later I wrote her an email saying how much it meant to me after a hard week and how kind she was for doing this.  She wrote:

"You are welcome. You deserve to be treated special!"

Whaaa?? Me?? SO SWEET!

I felt weird immediately looking up the gift card amount, so I waited another hour or so.  I was still so surprised by it!! I figured maybe it was a few dollars for coffee or something...BUT IT WAS $50!! What the hell? I can't believe it!

This week really sucked because I feel like a complete an utter failure.  Then Kay just came out of left field and made me feel like I matter, that I'm actually a nice person, not some awful dragon lady fuckup that people hate working with.

Kay gave me so much more than $50. She made me feel appreciated, liked, and worthy.

That is priceless.

Thank you so much, Kay. It was the perfect gift at the perfect time.

Time to go...again

I'm starting to look for a new job again. It's painful because I tried really hard at Harpoon, but it's not working out.

It's also not as easy to look for a job this time around. I don't know if it's because I'm older, have much higher salary requirements, or am medicated. Maybe it's all three. I still get those intense impulses to quit without a job, but now I have a little more self-control.  I definitely want to leave as soon as possible, however I have to be patient. It'll take more time than it did in my 20s and 30s.

Nothing essentially bad happened. It's the same as it's always been with me and my jobs - I have high expectations, they are not met, I become so stressed out that I get sick, and I leave.  I've been in therapy since 2005 and I still can't figure out how to detach from work, how to say "it's just a job".  Work has and probably always will be the trigger to all of my issues because it's the one area of my life I can't control.

Now I don't mean I control MD or my friends or anything. By "control" I mean I actively created those relationships and worlds. I chose my inner circle and thankfully, they chose me too.  At work I can't choose anything.

The funny thing is on paper I SHOULD stay. Here are the pros of my current position:

1. I really like what I do. I've always loved problem solving and helping others. I also love the creativity of coming up with new processes and applications.

2. My boss Tank is the nicest guy in the world and has been very supportive.

3. I am paid well and have excellent benefits.

4. I've been sent to Paris and London numerous times for my projects.

5. I can work from home whenever I need.

6. I basically come and go as I please.

7. Every business person I've served to date is pleasant and appreciative. That's huge when you're in IT.

8. I've come a looooong way with managing my emotions and not lashing out, although I really do want to tell people to fuck off.

9. I learned a ton about business analysis, systems, and project management.

10. Lastly I've made good friends, but this doesn't really lead to me staying at a job because I know I will always keep in touch with the ones who matter.

The cons:

1. My job relies on development. I design a system, DEV has to complete it.  This is the problem at Harpoon - our DEV department is highly lacking efficient talent.

2. Because DEV doesn't deliver, I have to repeatedly apologize to the business for delays.  That's the hard part of being a business analyst - I have to woman up and accept responsibility if my project isn't going well.

3. My London project isn't going well. We aren't going to hit our deadline. I really tried to get ahead of the DEV issues, but I failed.

4. I do not want to fail, but senior management sets us up to fail. They set unrealistic timelines despite knowing the resource issues.

5. I had success with two projects and never once received the "standard" completion bonus that others received.

6. As glamorous as traveling the world sounds, I'm tired. I don't want to make any plans. I just want to veg out all the time. I miss doing stuff.

7. There is sexism in the department, but that's everywhere. Frankly most men don't know what to do with a strong and assertive female co-worker.  Yes I'm emotional, but fuck you.

So that's it. It's time to go again, but now I'm stuck trying to figure out what to do.

Ideally I win the lottery and go to art school and grad school full-time and finally become an art therapist.

WOW. I typed that last sentence REALLY fast.  I didn't even know I wanted to still do art therapy. WOW. I'm really surprised right now.

Holy shit, that's AWESOME!

Okay, okay. Shit, wow. I don't need to win the lottery to do this. I just need to be financially set.

Alright, what do I need to do?

1. I need savings. Portugal wasn't that expensive, but Hawaii will be. Also we owed a lot on our taxes this year. Step one - save money.

2. I can't sign up for classes if I have to travel this often. Step two - find a job with no travel requirements.

3. MAKE ART EVERYDAY. Even if I'm not in school I need to open myself up creatively.

4. Research programs.

5. Fucking smile because this is awesome. YAAAAAAY!!!

Turning 40!

In 49 days I will be 40 years old. FORTY! That's insane!!

I won't believe it! I can't believe it!*

A couple of months ago I was getting my haircut. I mentioned to the stylist that I was going to be 40 and she didn't flinch! I'm used to the, "No you're not!" or "Get outta town!" the latter of which, no one has actually said to me ever, but I like the sound of.

That was the first time turning 40 weirded me out. I've never been one to care about my age, probably because I've never been this old before.

I couldn't figure out what was bothering me. Am I not the person I want to be at 40? I don't know...did I want to be anyone else by now?

I did a little digging into past Thighs.  Per my blog, there were only two things I wanted to do before 40:

1. Pay off my credit card debt. TASK COMPLETE!

2. Have a kid. TASK DELETED.

When I was around 36 I was very much on the baby train. I even considered asking MD to impregnate me and I would be a single mother.  Since then I've clearly changed my mind and I'm glad. I absolutely love babies. I love toddlers. I love all kids until the age of 13 and then I really don't know what to say to them because in a weird way I revert back to 13 around them and worry they'll think I'm a dork. An old dork.

Anyway, not having a kid was the best decision I've ever made. I have too many mental health issues and too many activities. Sleeping is my new favorite hobby and a kid would get in the way of it.

And here's my AHA moment.

My problem with 40 is not that I didn't have a kid...it's that I AM NOT A KID.

At 40 I am 100% not a kid anymore. I am an adult. Sure some people would say I was an adult at 35 or 30. Not my 20s because well, read this blog from the beginning.

But at 40?? No denying it now. I'm an adult. BLECH.

On the plus side, you know what's cool about being an adult with no debt and no children?

I'm going to Portugal for my 40th!  I'm visiting my college roommate Blancs for a week. Yay!

And then MD turns 40 in June, so we're going to Hawaii for two weeks in September for a double 40th celebration!

WOO HOO!!

I'm sure I'll have a few more "YIKES!" moments over the next seven weeks, but it'll be fine.

The happy truth is my life gets better and better with every decade.

So come on 40. Let's do this.




*That was a Roger Rabbit quote.

The rest of the week.

I have to remind myself that I am not ALL one thing, ALL the time.  I am anger, I am happiness, I am sadness, I am light, I am dark, I am everything. We all are.

Yes, I have anger issues. Yes, they get worse as shit in the world gets worse. And yes, they get worse when I'm PMSing which I was last week and didn't realize it.

The week ended up being pretty strange because I got shitfaced Tuesday night.  I had a work party and I don't know what I was thinking, but I decided I was going to drink. I believe I had three glasses of wine, four glasses of whiskey, and half a cider.  That's a lot, especially for someone who is "sober".

I had a blast. My current coworkers have never known Party Thighs and it was fun she made an appearance. I miss her. I miss identifying as her. I was in my red-faced, giggly, mega-smile glory. I'm told I'm not really different drunk or sober, but I obviously feel different. That's why I drank so much my whole life. I loved being fucked up.

See that? "Loved" past tense. As much fun as I had bonding with my coworkers, I did NOT have fun after I left the bar.  I was fine when I got on the subway, but I was getting drunker by the second. The trains were delayed, so it took me about an hour to get from downtown to 34th Street which should usually only take 20 minutes. I jumped out and took a cab the rest of the way. When I finally got home I said to MD, "I like getting drunk, I don't like BEING drunk." Then I puked my guts out. 

The next morning MD said he hasn't seem me like that in years. There's no reason for me to get that drunk anymore, even if I'm wired that way. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic I guess. Typically I'd beat myself up for my bad behavior, but I let it go. I paid the price anyway, so why make it worse on myself.  

The hangover plus my PMS just made me completely off all week. I was dehydrated, lethargic, anxious, paranoid, and a bit disassociated. I FINALLY feel like myself again today, five days later.  So dumb.

Despite my binge night and resulting hangover, there were two really nice things that also happened last week.

I took my parents to their first basketball game. It was one of their Christmas presents, the other being tickets to their first hockey game, too.  I love sharing new experiences with people, especially them! When they lived in Jackson they rarely went anywhere. It's actually kind of weird now that I think about it. I know they didn't have much money when Rip and I were kids, but I'm not sure why they didn't do anything after we left. I used to think it was just the curse of suburban living, that you get sucked into your home, and there's nothing to do in your podunk town. Then I met people who live in suburbia and actually seek out fun and culture, so apparently my parents were just hermits. I'm so glad they have grown out of it and doing shit now!

The other nice thing was I ran into Rem at the game, my old work husband from my consulting gig. I know I've written about him in the past, but the blogger search isn't great so I can't find all of the old posts.  I started working at Biz January 2011 and I believe Rem left the firm I was consulting at in the fall of 2012.  That might have been the last time I saw him.

In that short period of time, Rem and I became extremely close.  We were also very attracted to each other. At least I think he was...we did make out once when MD and I were on a break. If I hadn't been in love with MD, I probably would have tried to date Rem, if he'd have me. I felt a deep connection with him from the start. Of course the only problem was most of our relationship was me talking about MD, so that wasn't a great way to convey my admiration and appreciation for Rem.

Over the years I've emailed him to keep in touch, but it never really stuck. The last we spoke he was living in Bay Ridge, which is where my parents live again, so I always hoped we'd run into each other.

Man, when I saw him at the Nets game, I was so friggin happy and warm and fuzzy! I probably would have melted had it not been for my raging hangover from the ridiculousness the night before. No ulterior motive or unrequited love feelings, just pure happiness from finally seeing my old friend. He's married too now and I whole heartedly wish him the best. 

It's strange, usually I'd try to make plans with someone I hadn't seen in a while, but I don't think I can with him. I don't know if we'll ever make a concerted effort to hang out, that maybe the best I can hope for is to run into each other from time to time. I wonder if he feels the same way. 

Shit...I just realized I might have told him about this blog. Shit...are your reading this?  

Well, if you are - Rem, I love you, buddy. I look back at our friendship with that same mega-smile I have when I'm wasted, so you know it meant something to me.  As I type this, MD won't stop talking to me about nonsense and I can't help, but laugh. He's my heart and I know your wife is yours, so we ended up where we should be. I am grateful to know you and so incredibly happy to see you. Thanks for being happy to see me, too.

Shanger

Part of the bad stuff from 2017 is my new opinion of the world. 

I used to be a kind and friendly person. Now I hate everyone, I'm quick to judge, on the attack, and looking for a fight. It's not good.

To be clear I've always been one to stand up for myself and call someone out for their bullshit, so that hasn't changed. That's healthy. This is different.

I'm not sure when this started happening, but all signs point to 2013.  I believe that's when I started having regular altercations with people.  One of the first times was when I got kicked out of the movie Gravity for yelling at a woman who would not stop talking. This is a hilarious statement and the whole situation was pretty funny, but at the time I didn't know what was to come.

The fights got worse the following year, most notably when I made a huge fucking scene fighting with some jerk at Lincoln Center after a Tim Burton film concert. The reason for the fight is moot at this point, but picture me and my big mouth, screaming every curse word in existence at the top of my lungs, and also pushing a 50+ year old woman. In Lincoln Center. Classy.

I can't recall any situation as bad as that one, thankfully.  That was around the time I was off the Zoloft and trying out the shitty Lamictal, the meds that fucked me up most of 2014.  No excuse, but I was in a really bad place.

That was the worst to date (thank you current meds!), but I still run my mouth. Some days I yearn for confrontation. Anyone want to dance? You, who wouldn't move in on the subway? You, who didn't say thank you when I held the door open? You, who talked through the whole play/movie?  I'M READY FOR YOU ASSHOLES.

And that's just my day to day anger. There are whole other levels of fury when it comes to the current administration and his shitdick supporters. The past year and a half has been extremely rough. I want to kill everyone, but I believe in gun control so I can't.

So, why write about this now?  I had a really good therapy session tonight.  We talked about how my anger probably comes from a place of feeling threatened and vulnerable. In reality I am not in any danger, nor am I helpless; I just feel this way.

Honestly, I think the reason is self-preservation. If I think the worst in people, I won't be let down.

I used to think people are inherently good. I used to give people the benefit of the doubt. I used to think that love was everything.  Now I don't. It sucks.

I don't want to be a bitter and mean person. I don't want to think people are horrible.

I also don't want to be disappointed in people either.  And lately, that's what I feel I am, constantly disappointed by small inconsiderate actions affecting my daily life to the larger and more heartbreaking wrongs that don't affect me directly, such as racism, homophobia, or xenophobia.

That's a weird jump, but I wanted to acknowledge that I know most of what sets me off is trivial. I have perspective when I'm calm. Who gives a fuck the bitch with 14 tote bags keeps hitting me with them when there are WAY more serious things to be enraged about? 

My concern is I have turned into someone I don't want to be.  I hate...and I hate that hate.

Rah, my psychiatrist, said I should keep track of my angry thoughts. From 13th Street to home took about 45 minutes. I had five angry thoughts. I meant to write them down as soon as I got home, but I forgot. Here are the two I remember:

1. Train went express, so I had to get out at Queensboro Plaza. I stood by window and a girl sitting inside looked at me weird. Sort of a smirk, but maybe not?  I thought, "Bitch, what do you want?" Then I laughed at myself for being crazy.

2. I got off train and walked from 39th Avenue to 36th Avenue. (The MTA closed my subway stop for the next eight months, which also infuriates me.) The sidewalks aren't completely shoveled, so I took it slow through the slush. I could feel someone pretty close behind me and I thought, "Fucking asshole, just go around me. I'll fuck you up."

The good news - these were only thoughts. The bad news - WHAT IS MY DAMAGE?? 

Why am I so damn sensitive? Why do I think I could beat the shit out of someone?  Why am I so angry goddamit???

2017, yo!

Happy New Year! 2017 was great on a personal, inner circle level.  The rundown:

1. Our first year of marriage was...I don't know what word I want, but I have a HUGE smile on my face. Things were the same for the most part, although I do love saying "husband".  There's definitely a new bond between us. Maybe it's the...

OMG. So while I'm smiling and happily thinking of MD, he wakes up and I want to kill him. We've had a fly problem the past two months and couldn't figure out where they were coming from. This morning I realized the super installed a new ceiling light in our bathroom right around the same time. I used the fly swatter to feel around it and found a gap. I'm 100% sure that's where they are coming from. MD was like, "No, I don't think so." and walked away. YES YOU SHOULD THINK SO. Then he changed his mind and agreed with me, so we're fine and I love him again. This is the perfect glimpse into our marriage.  I love him and I want to strangle him.

2. My parents moved back to Brooklyn in 2015 (not sure if I wrote about it since then). I am really enjoying this new chapter in our relationship! I see them at least once a month, usually meeting in the city for dinner or a fun activity. For Christmas I bought them tickets to their first basketball and hockey games. They never really went out in Jackson, so I'm excited they are broadening their horizons and interests.

3. My absolute favorite moment of 2017 was St. Patty's Day with my dad. Last summer his best friend Philly passed away. He got sick pretty quickly and died in July. His funeral was on my dad's birthday. It was so upsetting. I think they were 13 when they met. They were both so excited to see each other more often once my parents moved back to NY.

The only day they did see each other for the past 30 years was St. Patty's Day. My heart broke thinking how upset my dad would be his first year without Philly. I thought we should do something really special for him, so we secretly planned to fly Rippie out and surprise him.

We killed it!! My parents were already at Smith's. I walked in and Rippie waited outside for about 10 minutes. My dad had his back to the door, so Rip walked in behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. I will never forget the way my dad looked at him, turned away, and looked back again and screamed. We all cried. It was perfect and we all had such a great day together.

4. Another great moment - Rippie and Veev just got engaged! I was in Pittsburgh when they called and I sobbed with happiness at a Panera Bread. Honestly the tears really surprised me. This was a deep soul cry. I was overcome with joy and now that I'm thinking about it, pride. I'm so proud of Rippie for opening himself up to love, nurturing that love, and now uniting with his love.

I am a fucking sap in my old age.

5. Travels! As I wrote in my last drunken post, I travelled a lot for work this year. It's exhausting and stressful (more on this later), but it is also cool as hell. Another favorite moment of the year is meeting MD in London. It was ridiculously expensive for him to take the same flight as me, so he flew in the night before. It was so fun to get to the hotel and have him there waiting for me. We're fancy!

6. Food! So much good food! For our anniversary we splurged and went to DelFrisco's. It was an amazingly expensive and delicious meal.

7. Entertainment! I read 96 books this year.  No one thinks graphic novels should count though, so as far as prose books go I read 45. That's a lot!! I also went to 22 plays, 24 movies, and two Mets games.

8. Money! I have a healthy savings, no debt, and my 401K is in good shape again. MD has some debt we're paying off together and we should be completely debt free by the end of the year. Woo hoo!

9. Health! I'm doing well! I had a handful of manic episodes, a few sinus infections, and a couple of back spasms, but it wasn't that bad! And this is coming from a negative and dramatic hypochondriac, so you know it's true!

I guess that's the year in a nutshell! I'm just really enjoying my time home. I didn't even go out last night for New Year's Eve. I did a puzzle all day, wrote in my journal, watched football, and stuffed myself silly with Indian food. MD slept through the ball drop. It was perfect.

Now there's a whole other not-so-perfect parts of 2017 to write about, but I don't think I have it in me right now. To be continued!

Old Friends and Orgasmic Pees

Hello old friend! This is addressed to you, my blog, and to my inebriation. Hello Thighsighs and Drunken Thighs McGee! It's been a while!

I had a delicious dinner at an Astoria steakhouse called Christos. This was probably my fifth time there and it never disappoints. Neither does the company - Pirate 1 and Pirate 2 (P1 and P2) are wonderful steakmates, Crazy Ass mates, and good mates in general.

So where have I been for 2017?  Actually mostly New York, but a good portion was in Europe. I've been traveling to London and Paris for work almost every month this year. What's that like, you ask?

First, IT'S AMAZING. Honest to gawd, I can't believe it when I say, "I'm working in London and/or Paris for this week." Whenever I tell someone I go to either city I smile to myself in disbelief.

Second, I'm travel beat. I barely took any trips for myself this year because I'm so tired traveling for work. The only personal trips I took were within driving distance - Pittsburgh in January, visited Rolo in New Hampshire in May, spent a week in Seaside Heights with my parents, then took a staycation (!!) the week of Thanksgiving. My last week of vacation starts tomorrow at 5pm. MD and I are heading back to Pittsburgh for Christmas, then Rippie and his girlfriend Veev are spending a few days with us in NY. I miss jet-setting for myself!

Last, I'm work beat. The Europe projects aren't going well and I continuously have new projects added. There is zero support from upper management, so basically it's a stressful shitshow on a daily basis. That said, I am mature and self-aware enough to realize that I am in control of my own stress and have yet to master managing it. It is not a toxic environment like Minnow, it's not a mindfuck like Company. It's just that once again a job does not live up to my high expectations. See, I've grown!

I'm so happy I'm writing. I've been thinking about this for a while. It's funny I decided to post while I'm drunk considering this is an occasional thing nowadays. I "quit" drinking back in 2014, but this year I've slowly started drinking again. Well, not that slow - after the election results in November I took up drinking sort of hard through January, then it's only like once a month. Not like I used to drink of course, but enough to get a buzz and occasionally drunk like tonight. It only takes me about three drinks to feel it now, so I'm not that concerned. I was concerned about drinking over the state of the world. Today I drank because I just felt like it. That's a better reason.  Wine and sangria only. It's the Raisinet mindset; it's healthy because it's made with fruit!

I don't think I have much more to say. The reason my blog has been on my mind is I'd like to write about approaching 40. ACK ACK ACK! Holy dirty fucks! 40!

So hopefully you'll hear from me again soon.

Oh and in case you're wondering, I had one of the top 10 pees of my life before I wrote this.

TTFN!

Ambition

am·bi·tion
amˈbiSH(ə)n/
noun

• a strong desire to do or to achieve something, typically requiring determination and hard work.
• desire and determination to achieve success.

Ambitious people always seemed to be cutthroat, selfish jerk-offs to me.  I never really looked at ambition as a positive trait, grouping it along with materialistic or petty or mean.

So it was pretty funny last night when my psychiatrist Rah said, "Well, you've always been ambitious."

Wha-wha-wha???

I had a similar reaction a few years ago when a friend said I was confident. Confident?? Me? What the hell are you talking about?  I have low self-esteem, I am vulnerable, I obsess over what people think of me.  That said, most of the time I don't give a fuck, but that's not the same as being confident...is it?

I am ambitious.

I am confident.

I can feel my heart fill as I write these words. It's the strangest thing.

How have I gotten this far in life without knowing who or what or how I am?

What else am I missing??

2016 Year of Death?

I know, I know. It's not over!! Gah!

I'm very sad about Carrie Fisher passing. I love her!! And I think I'm even sadder because I realize now I love her more than I thought I did.  I guess that's how death works. Or is that how life works?

I am curious about 2016 being the "year of celebrity death". Is it possible we are just reaching the age when the stars we love pass? I'm not sure and really, it doesn't help anyone feel better, but I looked at the numbers.

I used Wikipedia to find famous American or British deaths (I'm not very familiar with other countries' celebrities or notable people) of 2005, 2014, and 2016. If I heard of the name, I marked them as "known." My findings are that 2016 was a bad year to be a musician and that I only knew 6 more notable people who passed this year vs. 2014.

Take it for what you will.

BORED

It's dead in my office. DEAD. There's plenty I could be doing, but I'm not doing any of it. I don't know why I have a successful career. I am the worst procrastinator. I am horrible at hitting deadlines, so I make sure I don't have any deadlines. It's sort of ridiculous. I'm sloooooowly cleaning out my inbox. There's 300 emails in there, which is a lot for me. I typically use my inbox as my to do list, so I rarely have more than 50. I am email OCD, but since the wedding I've let it get (relatively) out of hand.

We're off to Pittsburgh Thursday night! I'm excited to see my in-laws. I wish they were local. I'm sort of burnt out from plans and travels, so it would be great if we didn't have to drive so far. Luckily we don't have to go further! Last trip we drove halfway and stayed at a hotel. I like breaking it up a bit. Then we're not exhausted the day we get there. It's really only a six hour drive, but since I can't eat fast food and I pee a lot, it ends up being about a nine hour trip. Oops.

I was going to make this my year end review post, but I think I'll wait. This is my "I'm bored at work and there's no one to IM and even though the internet has LITERALLY millions of things to read I don't feel like reading anything especially because a lot of it will be about Trump and he and his supporters can go fuck themselves so instead I will write about nothing and will challenge myself to make this the longest sentence I have ever written but now that I just wrote that I am bored by the challenge and shall stop" post.

I'm rarely bored. I always find something to keep me occupied. Not today though, apparently.

This is going to be a very long day.

What now?

The past month has been a whirlwind of emotions. The wedding prep, the wedding itself, being married, losing a friend, and now the election.

I can't stop crying. I can never stop crying, but now these are tears for my country.

I am white, I am straight, I am both agnostic and polytheistic (if that makes sense). I am terrified for non-whites, for LGBTQ, for anyone not Christian. I am scared they are going to be more abused than ever now that the president condones hatred, racism, homophobia, Islamophobia, anti-semitism, the list goes on and on.

I am in the upper middle class. I have no problem paying more taxes to help people survive. I am scared that things will get worse for the less fortunate.

As a 38 year old woman, I am worried for my reproductive health and rights. What happens if I get pregnant at 42 while on Klonopin? It's a class D drug, which means there is a high chance of birth defects. While I hope I never have to be faced with the decision to abort, I can't believe I may not have the choice.

For the middle of the country who feels ignored, I do not understand your logic. You supposedly want small government, you want to dismantle welfare programs, you think people should take personal responsibility for their life choices. If you're homeless, get a job! If you're poor, get a better job! If you're a single parent scraping to get by, you shouldn't have had kids! Why aren't you looking into the mirror and saying the same thing to yourself?  Your coal mining job went away, well then, why did you go into that industry?  Why didn't you go to college and get a white collar job?  Not so easy, is it? The reality is, you want the government to help YOU, but no one else.

I do not want to be friends with a Trump supporter. This is beyond regular Republican vs. Democrat ideals. This is giving power to those who will use it for hate, for violence, and for shame. I am not open-minded or tolerant of those who selfishly voted for this man for their own personal gain. You may not identify as a racist or sexist or anything-ist, but you sure as fuck are okay with it and that means I don't want you in my life. Before the internet and social media, I wouldn't befriend you, so why pretend I have to accept you now?

I am at a loss. I don't know what to do, how to help, how to protect the Muslims in my neighborhood, or any of my minority and gay friends. Do I run for office? If this piece of shit can win, maybe a bipolar woman with a sordid past can?  Do I quit my cushy job and work for non-profits? Do I take self-defense courses to ward off the pussy grabbing?  Do I get my tubes tied so I don't have to worry about my reproductive rights? Do I bother trying to change the mind of those who don't share my values? Do I open up my home to people living in fear in red states? How do I handle my relationship with my in-laws who most likely voted for him? How do I go to work in a female-dominated industry, but male-dominated senior management, where all of my white and rich bosses were joking and laughing like nothing happened because to them, nothing did happen? How do I explain to my well-meaning white, straight male friends that posting "The people have spoken." or "Better luck in 2020." or "Stay positive." shows how privileged they are?  How how how??

Last night I got really drunk for the first time in two years. It wasn't the best idea as I feel like shit today and I shouldn't be drinking on my meds at all, but I needed to be fucked up for a bit.

My head is out of the sand, my eyes are open, my life is changed forever. Now I need to figure out what to do with it.

It's My Wedding Day!

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

It's my wedding day!

I'M GETTING MARRIED! WHAT THE FUCK? HOLY SHIT!

I'm on the train to go get my hair done, then go to Spags' apartment to get ready.

This is crazy. It's here so quickly. That was the point, but I can't believe it's October 20th already.

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think. I'm on the verge of tears and a big post-coffee dump.

I just want everyone to have fun. I want to have fun. I want MD to have fun. FUN MOTHERFUCKERS! MOTHER-FUN-KERS!

This is crazy. I'm so excited.

Three Days to Monego!

Wootie woot!! In the home stretch now!

The weekend was good. Well, sort of.  On Saturday my mood swings were on overdrive, so that kind of sucked. I was happy, excited, cranky, irritable, overwhelmed, calm, cheerful, sad, and HUNGRY. All I did was eat.

MD and I went to Crazy Ass that night. I looked up at the sky and it was a full moon!! No wonder I felt so off! (Juniper is going to groan reading that sentence.)

Yesterday I felt much better. I walked around all day, watched the Giants pull out a win, and had a lovely dinner date with MD.  We went to the restaurant we ate at the night we got engaged. Fun fact: we got engaged eleven weeks ago. Ha ha!!

I'm working from home today, which is good because I'm moody again. Lots of little things keep popping up - more people are coming, some aren't coming (thank god I don't have assigned seating, that must be a nightmare), questions, and what have you. Nothing crazy, but I feel a bit overwhelmed. I just told Bakes that I'm going to mentally picture myself in catcher's gear, so that I can field all the fastballs, curveballs, and wild pitches flung at me over the next few days.

My to do list is super short:

1. Tonight is dinner with my mom and her best friend who I haven't seen in years.

2. Tomorrow I'm dropping off everything at Houston Hall

3. Clean the apartment because MD's brother, sister, and her boyfriend are staying here while we're at the hotel.

4. Pack for hotel and pack a separate bag for the Wedding Day.

5. Practice make-up because I'm too cheap to hire anyone and the only trial I did made me look like a hooker clown.

6. Try try try to enjoy this week! It'll be over before I know it!

Vodka soda splash of cran, hold the vodka.

I don't know the last time I had a drink. I mean, the first last time. The last time I had a drink was Monday at a dinner with my friends who were in town for comic-con and won't be back for the wedding.

I slowed the drinking down a bit in 2014, the year of mental illness hell. In 2015 I believe I had five drinks - two glasses of wine on Christmas, three on New Year's Eve.  This year I've drank more - a glass of wine on Valentine's Day, a couple of glasses of sangria on my birthday, a glass of sangria in California, two glasses of sangria on the day we got engaged, a couple of glasses of wine...obviously there's a pattern. For some reason I believe drinking sangria and wine are okay. They're fruit, right?  I'd say maybe once every couple of months I have a glass, although I have been drinking a bit more the past few weeks to take the edge off.

You know what else takes the edge off? Weed. It's great. I don't smoke often, but I am stoned now and feel mighty fiiiiiine...

My favorite alcoholic drink pre-wino '16 was vodka and soda with a splash of cranberry. Now all I drink is water, coffee, and seltzer with cran.

For the past hour I've tried to get myself off the couch to go get seltzer.  Braless and pajamaed, the odds were pretty low I'd go anywhere. I texted MD to see if he'd leave the bar and bring me some:

          ME: Can you bring me seltzer? I don't want to get up.

         [one minute passes]

          ME: Don't ignore me.

          MD: Haha! No!

          ME: Now I gotta put a bra and pants on. Thanks Obama!

          [one minute passes]

          ME: I'll give you a hundred dollars.

          MD: NO.

          [two minutes pass]

          ME: Can you bring me seltzer?

I FINALLY put on some jeans (no bra) and went to the store. I bought two 20 oz plastic bottles.

I kid you not, it took me 7 minutes to open one of those suckers. I twisted and twisted until my hand stung. I was going to use my teeth and thought, "I'm getting married, I don't want to crack any!" Then I used a knife and thought, "I'm getting married, I can't cut myself!" Then I tried tongs, but there was no grip. I twisted again and still couldn't open either of them.

So then I used my teeth...






and I'm fine. Nothing happened. Cap came right off.

My drink has sat on the table for the 20 or so minutes I've been writing. I forgot all about it.

Weed.

Six Days to Monego!

I picked up my dress Wednesday night and had a little meltdown. The back looked really baggy for some reason. I brought it home anyway because I didn't want to deal with another round of alterations this close to the wedding.

I cried to my parents and they were amazing. They came right over yesterday morning (I worked from home) and fixed it. Apparently one of my EIGHT layers of tulle was bunched up inside, so now it looks perfect.

Four of those layers were of this big puffy slip I was pressured into buying. I totally fell for the upsell. I already ditched the corset because THEY ARE AWFUL and now I ditched the slip, too!! I feel SO much better with none of that shit underneath. Unfortunately my gut sticks out now, but I like to think of it as "a pot" a la this scene in Pulp Fiction:



Last night Juniper helped me put the favors together. They're perfect! I won't say what they are in case anyone still reads this shiz.

Today after lunch I went to Century 21 to buy some pearl earrings. I'm not really a pearl girl - necklaces maybe, snootch - but the hairclip I bought has some pearl in it, so I thought it might look nice.

I totally had a mini-anxiety attack. I'm on so many meds now that I don't usually go full blown. ACK ACK ACK ACK. I'm getting married in six days! ACK!

MD has stayed out late every night this week and probably will next week, too. I'm trying not to take it as a personal blow off, but really dude?  He's only been going out twice a week for months, but ever since we got engaged he's been out all of the time.  I know that's his way of blowing off steam and stress, but I'm annoyed. Blerg.

I don't have any plans this weekend and I can't tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe having too much time on my hands will make me go mental. Maybe I should go drinking with Cuba Gooding Jr. until 3am one night. (That was MD's Wednesday, not kidding.) Maybe I should be wasted from now until Thursday! Fuck it, I'll be wasted from now until eternity!! E-TER-NI-TY.

BLAH. (I just said that out loud while sitting in my open-floor plan cubicle. Oops.)