Shunt must die!!
I was so fucking pissed today.
I was so fucking pissed today.
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9:35 PM
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Have I even mentioned I'm losing weight? I was 190 lbs. in January 2008. Yikes, right?
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3:03 PM
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The past couple of weeks were whack. I don't think I've ever used this word before, but it's the first idiom that came to mind. Yes, idiom according to dictionary.com. Check out the Phrasal Verb:
Idiom(s):
whacked out Slang
Exhausted.
Crazy.
Under the influence of a mind-altering drug.
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2:00 PM
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I had to watch this a few times to comprehend what happened. TOO FUNNY!
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12:15 PM
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There's no middle ground when it comes to my manic behavior. It's all about the extremes. Take for instance Friday, the day I needed to get the fuck out of the city, changed my mind, and didn't end up leaving my apartment at all except to get some cold cuts around 8:30pm. I had a hankering for ham and cheese.
I sure as hell made up for my hermitry (word?) yesterday. Here's my day in pictures:
10:00am - Jules and I went up to The Cloisters on 190th Street. It's a branch of The Metropolitan Museum of Art dedicated to mostly European medieval works. I loved the Unicorn Tapestries, even though I didn't take any pictures of them:
1:30pm - Did you ever feel like you're exactly where you're supposed to be? The admission to The Cloisters gets you into The Met as well, so I decided to head over to the UES to get my money's worth. I randomly hopped off the bus on 110th and Amsterdam to take pictures of a couple churches that caught my eye. WELL. It was an amazing experience. The churches were beautiful, but what was surrounding them was breathtaking.
My second favorite statue of all time, The Peace Fountain:
I didn't know white peacocks existed:
Then I found another peacock walking a few feet away. Absolutely beautiful:
2:30pm - Grabbed a slice at Mimi's Pizza on 83rd and Lexington. Not actual slice eaten:
3 - 6pm - Continuing the trend of being at the right place at the right time, The Met happened to be doing a retrospective on an artist I really like, Francis Bacon. I first heard of him a few months ago when I saw the below painting at the MOMA. As sick as this will sound, I find his disturbing images comforting. If I ever do let go creatively, who knows what will come out?

I also really enjoyed Cindy Sherman's photography. I can't find the piece I liked the most, so here's another cool one:
6pm - 7:30pm - DSW in Union Square. I didn't buy anything, but I did snap a picture of what looked like an outlaw (illegal rave) in the park. There were a bunch of tourists clapping and cheering while the kids danced around in their big pants and colorful outfits. I was waiting for an E train, but no luck.
Then I popped by my friend's apartment for dinner and drinks. Sorry no pictures, I was too busy stuffing my face. I didn't get home until 4am...it was a fantastically fun-filled day!
Today I did nothing. Extremes.
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8:37 PM
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1. Always wonder
2. Be a fool
3. Happiness
One will bother me for the rest of time. Two I'll get over. Three, shit. Maybe three is the one I fear the most.
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6:33 PM
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Yesterday was a bit ridiculous with this whole getting out of town thing. Yes, it's nice to go vacation and all, but the urge to run was a little too strong for this to only be about a change of scenery. The fact that I didn't seem to care where I went or what I did was another red flag, too. What was this really about?
I figured it out this morning. It wasn't about leaving the city, it was about leaving Delilah.
I love my apartment. LOVE IT. It's truly my first safe haven and home. Lately I've been feeling really lonely here, though. It really sucks!! I don't remember feeling like this before, so why now???
In the five years I've lived here I haven't had a guest stay more than one night. Bacones stayed with me for around two weeks the end of April. It was so fun having her here! It's been a long time since I had a roommate and while I don't think I want one long term, I miss having a buddy around. It was nice to come home and talk about my day, hear about Bakes', and just hang. No we are not gay for each other, but it was the first time in a long time that I felt like I was part of a We and the first time ever I shared my home with someone other then my imaginary friends. It was nice to know that either is possible. Sometimes I wonder.
I've been talking about needing a vacation for a while now, but the urge to not be home is something new. I don't know for sure if it started after Bakes left, but it sounds about right. I realize now I don't want to leave Delilah, I just wish someone else was here.
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It's not fair why can't I be in a fucking relationship already! I'm a nice person and I'm funny and yes I'm a little off the wall but what the fuck? Look at all the people on Jerry Springer and whatever new show is like Jerry Springer! Is Jerry Springer even on still? Ricki Lake looks good on Charm School, it's funny to hear her voice again I forgot how much I used to like her show. One time I was watching Talk Soup (it was Talk Soup back then) and they showed a clip from her show and I spotted my cousin Tracy in the audience. Tracy is nuts. I wonder if it's Tracy, Tracey, or Tracie. Probably not "ie" she's not an "ie" kind of girl. I think I might be, which is why I like spelling Shannie, Shannie instead of Shanny. That's pretty dumb now that I think of it. Can I just change my name at 31? I wanted to change my name to Blossom when I was seven because that was my purple My Little Pony's name. Did I already write about this? Sometimes I read my old posts and think, wow I'm a good writer or then, did I write this? probably because it's too good to think I wrote it. I never question the ridiculous posts because I am in fact ridiculous.
So back to this lonely bullshit. It sucks! I don't want to feel lonely at home. I love my home!! Do I feel alone or lonely?? I think lonely. It was so nice having Bakes here, obviously because she's awesome and one of my best friends, but it was nice to know I could deal with someone else in my space. I don't mean that to sound harsh, it's just after 5 years of living alone I have to question if I COULD (second time could is in caps lock) live with someone. I think I could. I don't know if I could. I'm always on my best behavior when I have a guest, but let's be honest here. I'm typing at my computer with no pants on per usual, except this time I'm not drunk or hungover. I just like taking off my pants as soon as I get home, I can't help it. There are dirty clothes all over the apartment because, like my pants, if I take something off I drop it exactly where I took it off. My mom used to hate this growing up. At least she always new where I was in the house by following the trail. My sink is filled with dishes, I have make-up all over my desk, my bathroom looks like a science experiment gone wrong, and I have zero food in my fridge, again per usual. Personal hygiene goes out the window, my bed never gets made, I talk to myself, and I had another fucking waterbug the other day, this one flew fucking at me and I squealed like a little girl. The bug sitch has nothing to do with being lonely, except that if the fuckers didn't creep me out so much I'd probably keep one as a pet. My dad said I should get a cat, but the last thing I need is to be a 30 something single girl with five cats, because one cat becomes multiple cats in no time. I would get a dog. I like dogs, I just don't think I want to have to come home to feed it and walk it. Are there any dogs that can feed themselves and don't have to be walked? Ah yes, they're called cats.
Hmmmm. Still don't know what I'm doing today, but at least now I won't freak out if I stay home and watch movies alone. I have to believe it's temporary. I'm temporarily alone, but one day I will have a boyfriend, get married, and be a We. Right?? Right. I hope.
I'm going to a psychic on Tuesday. Let's hope he has some good news for me.
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10:15 AM
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I have a summer Friday tomorrow (thank Shizza we still got them!) and every cell in my body wants to get out of the fucking city. I don't care where I go, how much I spend (lie), or how I get there, I MUST LEAVE NYC.
The "problem" is I can't pick where to go! I don't feel like going to Philly, Baltimore, or DC. Spags has to work in CT. Last minute flights aren't as cheap as I thought they would be. I could go to my parents' house to borrow their car and go to the shore, but it's supposed to rain, plus Jackson isn't much of a vacation for me, although it might be fun to go to Great Adventure and scare the poop out of myself on some thrill rides.
I obsessively searched online for ideas all morning. By 1pm, I had decided to either go to Cooperstown or Providence. I've always wanted to go to the Baseball Hall of Fame and Ommegang Brewery up in Ctown. I could rent a car and drive the 5 hours or take the train to Albany, rent a car there, and drive only 1 hour instead. That's a lot of traveling for an overnight trip by my lonesome. Rippie was the one who suggested Providence. I never would have thought to go there, probably because Rhode Island doesn't exist unless I'm watching Family Guy. It sounds like a nice town and it's only a three hour ride on Amtrak. I almost bought the tickets, but I couldn't make up my mind! This indecisiveness went on until I crashed around 4:30pm. My post-manic frenzy exhaustion is a lot like the end of a sugar high; I could barely keep my eyes open and the last thing I wanted was chocolate or, in this case, to travel anywhere but home.
So here I am at 10pm (do you know where your children are?) and still no plan for tomorrow. I'm less anxious about leaving the city and more anxious to just find something cool to do. I usually have my summer planned out by now, so I guess that's why I feel aimless and bored. What to do, what to do, what to do...
Universe, I am very grateful that my "problem" is a nice one!
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9:11 PM
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One of my new year’s resolutions is to volunteer at least once a month. So far I’ve prepared a meal at a soup kitchen, helped girls at a shelter with their resumes, played bingo with senior citizens, cleaned up the lake in Flushing Meadow Park, and did arts and crafts with kids twice.
The hardest project was working with the girls at the shelter. My heart was breaking the whole time. The shelter was a place where homeless, runaway, or “throwaway” (how awful does that sound?) youths can stay. The few girls I met were in their late teens/early twenties, but something in their eyes made them seem much older. I wanted to hug each one and tell them everything would be okay. The thing is, I have no idea if it would.
I’m not going to pretend I have any idea what they’ve gone through. I was a troubled teen too, but let’s face it; all teens are troubled at some point. While my mom was a rageaholic, she and my dad still supported me. There was always food on the table, a roof over my head, and annual checkups. We had a pool in the backyard, they gave me their old car, and they paid for most of school. Looking back I really did have it all, I just didn’t realize this at the time. I was so angry, so hurt, so confused, so lost. I know I’ve referenced my drug use as a joke, but if it wasn’t for my parents I could have totally ended up out on the street or as a squatter. I never would have gone to college, never came to NY. It could have been me at this shelter having some blonde yuppie do-gooder explain to me the difference between a cover letter and a resume when all I’m thinking about is how I can steal her wallet without getting caught. Hell, maybe I wouldn’t have made it past 22.
As horrible as this may sound, I liked this project because the girls gave me perspective. They made me see my youth in a positive light. The hard part was recognizing once again, I am my own worst enemy.
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The grossest project was cleaning up the lake. GROSS. Like SVU, possibly finding a severed hand with a missing pinky and long fingernails in an “I {heart} NY” bag gross. We were given rakes and gardening gloves. The gloves weren’t waterproof so every time I’d grab something out of the lake the slime would ooze down my hand and wrist. And that wasn’t the grossest part; there were dead turtles all over the place. They were big too, definitely bigger than a football. One was all bloated and stuff…BARFORAMA. Some other volunteers found a dead pig, too. I assumed it was a BBQ meal gone wrong or something, but they said it looked sacrificial. How many times can I say gross in this paragraph! The only good things about that day were everyone was really nice and it was gorgeous out. I will never volunteer to clean up anything ever again. Gross.
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My favorite projects to date are doing arts and crafts with kids and talking to seniors. The casino night at the senior center was a lot of fun, except for the other volunteers. I’ve noticed there are two types, ones that do it to help and feel good about themselves and others who are pumping up their resumes and/or egos. The ones at the senior center were definitely the latter; it was like they were auditioning for Broadway. They sang, they danced, they put on a show. It sounds lovely, but the thing was most of the seniors had no idea what was going on! I sat with three women who were fucking riots, and every time one of the Vegos would break out in song, one of the women would ask, “What is she saying?” “Why is she singing?” “Are we still playing bingo?” “Who is she again?” It was hysterical! I’m not going to sign-up for this project again; the heads in the room were too damn big. I’d much rather sit and have an actual conversation with the seniors and hear their stories, make it about them and not about me.
On the other hand, I am TOTALLY signing up for more arts and crafts projects. I LOVE IT! I love hearing what the kids are into, what they have to say, and watching how they interact with one another. It’s also fun how creatively free most of them are (obviously a theme for me lately), but I find it more interesting to observe the ones that aren’t. Again I guess it all comes back to what I relate to and unfortunately I relate to the kids who seem unsure of themselves and a little frustrated to let go. I try my best to encourage and empower them, but I can’t help feeling like a hypocrite. That’s why I really want to break through my creative blocks and hang-ups because I don’t feel like I can truly help others do it if I can’t help myself.
Here’s a pic of a clay art project me, another volunteer, and an 11 year old girl put together:
Yes it’s weird I took a picture, but I regretted not taking one of the cafeteria I helped paint last year, specifically the man from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs:
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12:34 PM
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Last night I went out drinking with the Company girls. God I miss working there. I obviously don’t miss the drama, but I definitely miss talking about comics all day. I guess I could still talk about comics if I wanted to, but I don’t. Hell I barely even read them anymore. I wonder why that is? Actually that’s not true; I do still read some of my friends’ books…
I guess there’s a part of me that feel s jealous. I’m jealous of the writers and artists. I’m jealous they have the freedom to create. I’m jealous they can put themselves out there. I’m jealous they believe in themselves enough to go for it.
What is jealousy? I think the simple definition is obviously wanting what other people have. As I write this I can’t help but think there’s more to it than that. There’s a sadness in knowing that I can potentially be, have, or do anything someone else is, has, or does, but I’m choosing not to. So for me, jealousy is a reminder that I’m not living up to my full potential.
Ugh. I’m annoying myself. I feel like a broken record.
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12:33 PM
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I don't have too much to report in the boy department. The guy I wrote my dating do's and don'ts post about only lasted, shit was it even two weeks? Eh. I'm over it.
I met another guy right around the same time. Bacon, Jules, and I walked into a pub on Good Saturday*. The guy was sitting at the bar and the minute I saw him I thought we had to make out. Yes, he had red hair. It's a sickness I tell ya! I have Gingervitis!
I'm trying to cool down my aggressiveness when it comes to hitting on guys. I can be a bit much. I impatiently waited for him to approach me for a good hour or so, then gave up and introduced myself when he walked by. We talked, we made out, and we really hit it off. I was excited to see him again.
We were supposed to hang out the next day, but I never heard from him. I psychoedly (word?) texted a breezy "Hey! How was the rest of your weekend?" to which he replied with a "Sorry I didn't call, my phone died." Ah yes, the death of the cell phone. Best-worst excuse ever.
Excuse or not, we ended up hanging out the next night. We hit a couple of bars**, came back to my place, made out, fooled around a bit, and DID NOT HAVE SEX. I'm proud of myself!
I think we both had plans the next few days so we said we'd try to get the following week. He blew me off twice, both by text messages. The last one said, verbatim, "Too hungover to hang out. Sorry." I didn't respond. Another week went by and I got a text out of nowhere saying, "Hey stranger! How have you been?" I still haven't responded. Again, so proud!
I think this is the first time in my life that I'm set some dating boundaries and not for me, for them! I guess I always feel like if I don't call back or put myself out there it means I'm not making an effort. I realize now that setting boundaries doesn't mean I'm giving up on love, it means I'm protecting myself and raising the bar. If a guy likes me, he better fucking call, none of this texting bullshit. We don't need to have an hour long phone call, just a few minutes so that we can have a real conversation and make plans. And I'm sorry, but I ain't no booty call either. I'm the girl, I'll call you if I want to get laid. Punk.
So that's my latest guy story. No real prospects the last couple of weeks, but that's okay. I need a break.
*The day before Easter.
**Funny story, at one of the bars my date was taking a while in the bathroom. I thought and sort of said out loud, "I wonder if he's texting or shitting." I started laughing and accidentally caught the eye of the guy walking by me at the same time. I have no idea if he heard what I said or not, I just hope he didn't think I was laughing at him. Why does it matter? Because the guy was Paul Rudd. I love him, even though he gave me the "You're a freak" look***.
***Keep head straight, look out of corner of eye, crinkle forehead, raise one eyebrow (if possible), sneer without sneering.
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9:10 PM
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Jon Gruden is now an analyst on Monday Night Football.
Spags works for ESPN.
Do you know what this means??
MY CHANCES OF MEETING JON GRUDEN AND RIPPING MY SKIN OFF IN FRONT OF HIM HAVE INCREASED FROM NEVER IN A MILLION FUCKING YEARS TO MAYBE NOT NEVER IN A MILLION FUCKING YEARS!
My whole body is on fire.
Shhh...don't speak....
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10:37 PM
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Blah blah blah blah blah blah. I know why I can’t write or color or do anything that I want to do creatively. I didn’t realize this, but apparently my frequent panic attacks as of late are all triggered by creative projects. Can you fucking believe this? How can I have a creative career if I’m just going to keep panicking every time I try to do something from my heart? I’m struggling to let go as I write this to. What is it I’m afraid of? Do I think if I put something out there that no one likes that this mean that won’t like me? And so what if they don’t like what I put out there. I’m not perfect, and when it comes to creativity there is no perfect, no right or wrong, no anything. Nothing. I think I found my rhythm now. I wonder if my boss can hear me typing this fast. Or slow, according to three posts back. Four? I’m not looking. I should learn how to touch the keyboard ninja style, oooo I’m getting lower now. Lower and slower though. Why don’t I just close the door and then I won’t have to worry about him hearing me type. Can he hear me type over the sound of his crunching potato chips anyways? He eats really loud. I don’t usually hear him but my friend in the next office does. She said it’s pretty damn bad. I can imagine having sat in awful places with awful neighbors. When I moved into this office I immediately told me new neighbor to yell at me if she hears any weird noises. I almost said weird smells too, but she’s religious. I don’t understand religion. I like to believe we each have a different god inside of us and that they all hang out together when they feel like it. Maybe they play pool. I haven’t played pool in awhile, I used to want to be a pool shark but that didn’t work out. I’m typing loudly again. Loudly typing.
I think I should really consider going to a creative camp or something that will help me lift these walls or blocks I have. If creativity makes me anxious, no wait. If my fear of being creative and putting myself out there is making me anxious chances are I’ll never be able to have a creative career. I’ll be too busy clutching my chest and breathing into a paper bag. There won’t be any time to write. No what made me finally make the connection to creativity and panic? A baby shower bow/ribbon hat. For the tripods out there, it’s a cute and cheesy tradition to take all of the bows and ribbons from the shower gifts, slap them on a paper plate, and make a hat for the mom-to-be to wear. I like doing it and offered to do so for my friends’ baby shower yesterday (Congrats M & J, love yous!) and had a panic attack while doing it. Sorry M & J, I would have said something, but there’s really not much to do when I’m in one. I didn’t realize until later that the hat triggered it. How dumb is that??? It occurred to me that’s how I felt the whole time in my Basic Graphic Design class too. I haven’t written about that class much because I fucking hated it. I hated how it made me felt. It highlighted all of my faults!! I’m a bad time manager, I’m scared to let go, and I get so afraid of doing something shitty that I don’t bother doing anything at all or I wait to last minute so that I can fall back on the “I didn’t have time” excuse for it being bad. Of course it didn’t help that my teacher was a prick the first few weeks, actually bashing mine and a couple of other projects in front of the whole class. I felt naked. I felt stupid. I felt stupidly naked. I hated that class!!! AARRGGHH. I’m not taking another one for a while. It’s just too soon.
Okay the truth is I didn’t hate the actual class, I hated what I learned about myself in that class. I learned that I’m scared, stuck, and scared. Scared is twice. Why am I so afraid of everything lately? Is it because I’m getting older and understand what’s at stake? Is it because I care too much? I’m sick of being scared! I was never like this when I was younger, but then again I was drunk and fucked up when I was younger. If sobriety means feeling scared about everything, then bring on the booze. No, don’t bring on the booze. I want to figure out how to unscare myself. Unscare? Is that even a word? How to find the courage to power through and put myself out there without fear. Or is fear a good thing when you’re creative? Is fear what drives people to put out their best work? What about the shit work out there? They’re still better than I am because they’re doing SOMETHING, whereas I’m doing NOTHING but panicking. What is the best way to not panic? I’m reading Tony Robbins’ Unleash the Giant Within. (What?? My profile says all I read are comics and self-help books.) In it he says that the best way to fight fear is through action. I’m assuming this means that if I get into the habit of writing, coloring, etc. I won’t feel so anxious any more. I guess that’s why I’m trying to post in this stream of consciousness type fashion. If I can get used to tapping in here on Thighs then hopefully (it is with hope) that I will be able to tap in my other projects.
I’m hanging out with friends this week that will ask me about my projects and I will have to say I’m not doing anything. Isn’t that sad? I’m embarrassed. It’s embarrassing to know that I have goals that I’m too scared, lazy, whatever to pursue. I’m trying my best to breakthrough this, but sometimes I just want someone to punch my ass and say, “Let go! You only have one life so do it up, fucker!!” I don’t know why they have to punch my ass. Now that I think of it a good ass punch does hurt, especially if it’s near the tailbone. Why am I so pale? It’s not fair. I’d like to be able to tan so that my I don’t blind people at the beach or in bed. The last guy I slept with was pale too and my bedroom was glowing. It was hot that night. I really don’t want to put an AC into the big window that looks out toward the city because I get a great breeze most nights. The other window has a fire escape so I don’t think it can go there by law. I have to pee.
I peed. I made the mistake of eating Indian food for lunch. I haven’t had it in a long time. The mistake wasn’t really ordering it, it was continuing to eat the palaak panir spinach dish even though the first bite turned my tummy. Ugh. It still hurts. A big sorry to whoever sits behind me at the Yankee game tonight. Oooo…I need to post my pics and thoughts on the city’s two new stadiums. Not sure if I’m traveling to any other ones this year. I have a wedding in Texas in August, but the Rangers aren’t home and Houston is a good four hours away. I might go to Pittsburgh Shittsburgh though. Pittsburgh people are a little banged up looking right? Bill Cowher looks better as an anchor. I miss football. I like going to baseball games and all, but I think I’m more a football fan at this point. How can you not be?? Wow, I kind of can’t stop writing. This feels nice. It would feel nicer if my lunch break wasn’t almost over. Ha, lunch break. It’s almost 4pm, who am I kidding? Oooo…panic attack coming. I wonder if they’re also triggered by procrastination. Crap, maybe they aren’t panic attacks and I have low blood sugar or anemia or something. Can fat people have low blood sugar? That doesn’t seem to make any sense. Is there a new printer over there again, oh no he was running to get the mail cart. My office faces a cube wall. Not much scenery except when people come flying by. My one coworker stares into my office every time she passes. I should sit here with my finger up my nose next time I hear her approaching. I find it funny when 90 pound people stomp like a fucking elephant with a rhino on its back. Its, it’s. I’ve always been good on that. Their, they’re, and there, too. If I get stuck I say it out loud. I talk to myself a lot actually. Do I say actually a lot? I think so. What does actually even mean anyways?
ac⋅tu⋅al⋅ly[ak-choo-uh-lee]
–adverb
as an actual or existing fact; really.
As I suspected. I say realized a lot, too but hey, I’m realizing a lot lately.
Synonyms: apprehend, be cognizant of, become conscious of, catch, catch on*, comprehend, conceive, discern, envisage, envision, fancy*, feature*, get, get it, get the idea, get the picture, get through one's head, grasp, image, imagine, know, pick up*, recognize, see daylight, take in*, think, understand, vision, visualize
I recently became cognizant of my tendency to project my internal challenges through external experiences, ie making baby shower hats or getting lost. If I get to the core of everything I do I seem to find the connection to an old feeling or fear. Or fearful feeling. Like now. I’m excited to be writing, but I am at work and should be working. I’ve done all of tasks for the day so I’m not technically procrastinating, but there are some things I could be doing to prepare the rest of the week. I am choosing not to do them because I am afraid to go above and beyond here because I don’t want to risk losing myself, my mind, and my health at my job again. That being said, Minnow is implementing Oracle and guess who volunteered to be on the team!! I am excited about it, so maybe that’s more my issue right now. I know there will be tons to do in the next forever so I’m taking the small moments of peace I have now and exploiting them as much as possible. Exploiting?
ex⋅ploit [ik-sploit]
–verb (used with object)
to use selfishly for one's own ends
Selfishly? Crap. I am being selfish. I should go.
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4:12 PM
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I was still a little raw after writing my last post when I left my apartment. I wasn’t upset, but I was definitely on edge.
How does the MTA seem to know exactly when to fuck you over? The goddamn R train wasn’t running to Manhattan. Maybe I became illiterate when I checked their website and completely missed the advisory or the dicks didn’t have it posted; either way I was FUCKING LIVID. Like I will push someone off the fucking platform and/or punch their skull in with my flip-flop livid. I was the angriest fucking person in the world during my walk from Steinway Station to Broadway Station. Somehow I managed to get even more pissed off when I transferred to the Q at 57th Street and the “express” train didn’t leave the station for 14 fucking minutes. When I finally did get to Chinatown I stopped wanting to kill everyone and decided to try to kill myself instead because I figured purgatory can’t be any worse than walking through the crowds down Canal St. on a Saturday afternoon.
SOMEHOW I made it to the restaurant without bloodshed. Thankfully I had a great time at dinner (Hop Lee is delicious). My cousins are very loving, welcoming, and funny people; I’m really glad I went and I’m definitely looking forward to seeing everyone again at our annual 4th of July party.
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My mom was very open to everything I said. She listened and she shared her own feelings about what happened. She was a little defensive at times, but I understood why. This wasn’t a fluff conversation; if she didn’t get defensive at all I probably would have checked her pulse.
The whole reason I brought this up to her is because I believe that if I want to find true love then I need to love myself and love everything in my life: family, friends, work, home, everything. To do this I needed to start by confronting my mom and admitting to myself that after all these years, I love her very much.
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I sort of don’t want to admit what happened next, but I will because chances are, I’ll be writing about this a lot.
The day after our amazing heart to heart my mom called:
Mom: “…How long have you been on the pill?”
Me: “12 years. Why?”
Mom: “You ever think about going off of it?”
Me: “Eh, maybe for money, but if I can’t afford the pill I certainly can’t afford kids. Why?”
Mom: “Weeelll…I didn’t want to say it since we had such a nice talk yesterday…”
Me: “Mmm hmmm…”
Mom: “Your hair is really thinning. Do you think it’s because of the pill?”
Me: “Wait, what?”
Mom: “Your hair. It’s really thin. It used to be so full when you were a kid and I know it’s been thin for a while now, but it REALLY looks thin. Is it falling out?”
Me: [silence]
She tried to dig herself out for about three minutes then ended with, “Are we okay?” I said yep, hung up, and cried for about a half hour. What the fuck??
My hair did seem to be falling out a lot the past year or so, but I assumed it was because it was darker and I could actually see the strands now. I didn’t think it was a noticeable problem. Of course now I am completely obsessed with my hair, which will probably make it fall out even faster.
I still can’t believe she said it the day after our talk. What an asshole. Oh and get this, after dinner tonight my dad said, “Are you doing something different with your hair? It looks so thin.” I replied, “I heard.” and changed the subject.
I refuse to let this cloud the effort and progress I’m making to better myself and my relationship with my mother, but it’s hard. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, something gets in my way. Maybe that’s why the MTA pissed me off so much today. I was so angry that I knew it really had nothing to do with the train, it had to do with my mom. It would be nice if I could rely on both of them to help me reach my destination.
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I’m meeting my parents and cousins in Chinatown for dinner at 4pm. I’m excited about it and I’m very happy that I’m excited about it.
I never felt like I belonged to anything in my life. I never thought my mom or brother liked me very much. I thought my dad liked me, but by the time he’d get home from work my mom and I would already be fighting so there wasn’t much of an opportunity for he and I to connect.
My relationship with my extended family was like this to; we didn’t seem to have the chance to really get to know each other. My mom and all her cousins grew up in the same building in Sunset Park and everyone ended up staying in either Brooklyn or Staten Island. We were the first ones to move out to Jersey. North Jersey probably wouldn’t have been so bad, but buttfuck Jackson was in the middle of well, buttfuck. I never really felt like I was “Cousin Thighs”, more like “The Cousin from Jersey.” I have no idea if this is what my family thought of me, but that’s how I felt.
Family means people I feel uncomfortable with, unconnected to (not disconnected, since I never felt connected in the first place), and misunderstood around. Get this, my cousins thought I was the shy and quiet one for years. SHY! QUIET! ME! It sounds crazy, but it’s true. I really was shy and quiet around them because I didn’t feel like I belonged. As I got older I felt like we connected more, but I don't think I'll ever feel like I truly belong until I sort things out with my mom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I went to my parents’ house last weekend. My mom and I had a talk, the kind of talk you have on someone’s deathbed. It couldn’t wait.
I told her that I realized I don’t know how to love or be loved. The one person I really needed to love me and wanted to love back was her. I never felt either of these things happened. It’s the awful truth. I wasn’t sure if I actually did love my mother.
Then it hit me. This huge tidal wave of emotion, warmth, love, everything, came flooding out of my heart. I did love my mom; I just had to hide it for all of these years as a means to survive her rage. She hurt me so much growing up, made me feel so unloved and unworthy that the only defense I had was to pretend it didn’t matter. I always knew it did matter of course, I just never realized why. It mattered because I loved her and wished she loved me as I am.
I cried one of the deepest cries of my life. The tears came from the bottom of my heart, a place so heavily guarded that it felt like the universe shook when I opened the door.
I’m crying as I write this, so I think I should end here. I need to sit with it for a while.
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1:37 PM
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I can’t even bring myself to finish a post about not posting. I don’t understand how or why I lost the connection to Thighs. Looking at the number of posts per month they obviously started to decrease back in September. God September sucked. I can’t help but wonder if it’s related to me stopping the Zoloft. Maybe it really was helping me stay involved with my projects. I feel like I had so many plans and ideas back then; now I feel like a lump on a log. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing with my life. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I’m just not one of those people that set and achieve goals. The only goals I ever really had was to move to NYC and work at Company. They came true, but now what? Seriously. Now what?
I’m pretty hungover and I have to go volunteering. I really want to hang out with the kids, but I feel bad going and not being 100% with it. I don’t want to be a bad influence. I hope it goes fast. No first I hope it goes well, then fast. I’d much rather go to bed then go downtown. What am I going to do when I get down there? Where am I even going anyways? Is this how a real writer writes? Just a stream of consciousness without worrying if things make sense or if there’s any structure to the story? I like writing like this. I say like too much. I wish I could write like this and get paid for it. I wish I could always stay in this zone and get my thoughts out on paper and not worry about the format or what I’m saying or doing. I think in run on sentences, why can’t I write in run on sentences. I wonder if I actually do think in run on sentences or it’s just that the speed of my racing thoughts is so fast that they mash together. Like a circus train. I wish I remembered to watch the elephants walking from Queens to MSG. I was even in the city at class until 9:30pm that night! Totally forgot. So annoying. I wrote Ringling Brothers an email (that sounds so funny) asking them when they’ll be walking back over and they said that the trip back isn’t a public event. How the hell do you stop the public from staring at elephants walking back to Queens?? Oh, wait. Maybe she said “publicized” event. As in they aren’t publicizing it. I needed to clarify the definition to myself.
Only 49 minutes left. Summer hours started this week. I can’t wait to have off on Friday. I can’t wait for Jane and bike riding and Sangria! I can’t wait to go to bed. I really need to do laundry. I should have bought that underwear at Duane Reade today. I may have to tomorrow on my way into work. I don’t think I have any clean pairs left. What the hell am I going to wear tomorrow? I hate my work clothing. I only have three pairs of pants and they’re all falling apart and the butt area is really saggy. NY&Co and Express stopped making the pants I like, so now I have to find new stores to shop at. It’s so friggin frustrating finding (fffffffff) pants that fit. I HATE IT! I know I’m overweight with ginormous thighs, but I’m not obese! Why can’t pants fit me right? I’m a good person gosh darn it! On the plus side at least NOT fitting into pants is motivating me to work out again. I went to the gym yesterday for the first time in forever. It felt good. I need to make it a habit again. I need to make posting a habit again too. Why did everything stop once I started taking the meds?? Maybe I have ADHD. Maybe I need a pick me up. Maybe I need to stop being a commitmentphobe. What is it with me and commitment? Look jerk, just fucking DO things. Stop thinking about doing them and just DO them.
There was a woman on the subway that looked like a ladybug. I miss her. Here’s her picture:
Hmmm…if I’m writing “Here’s her picture.” I guess that means I’m going to post this. I’m going to post this. My god 41 minutes left. I thought I typed faster than that. Writing emails to the Petes made me a better typist. I guess I’m still not that great though. Maybe I should walk to volunteering. Where the hell am I even going? {{LOOKING}} Brooklyn Bridge stop! Not walking. I would if I had sneakers. I have my softball sneakers from last year here, but I don’t have socks.
Celebrity Autobiography is really funny. I should watch SNL on Hulu. I have no more use for work today. I can’t figure out how to keep my brain in my head. My boss left for the day. I like when he leaves. What else do I have to write about?????????? I like staring at a Starry Night on my office wall. I let my eyes go wonky so that the painting moves. 
I left a jar of peanut butter on my desk last night. I wonder if the cleaning people put their fingers in it. I came in one day and someone had been using my computer to listen to music. I used to lock my computer when I sat in a cube; it never occurred to me to lock it with an office. Lock it now that I sit in an office. Most people have offices here. I don’t understand companies with mainly cubes. It doesn’t seem very nice. HOLY CRAP I totally forgot how awful the pee cube was at Company. Yuck.
31 minutes. There’s something in the left center of my brain but I can’t get to it. Is it something I forgot to say? What are you? I should go to the printer and pick up the map for later. {{WALK TO PRINTER}} Oh yay! I’m getting excited now. I like volunteering. I should write about my experiences thus far. Thus.
25 minutes. Sheesh. I should just leave now. Maybe I will. I think I’m done writing. What did you say, spot in the left center of my brain? Peanut butter? No.
Oy. I’m going home.
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5:28 PM
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This pic was taken on the overpass at 31st Street and Astoria Blvd. 278 flooded after a summer storm.
The Empire State Building was blue and orange for the Mets home opener on April 13th.
That same night I had two shadows. Kind of weird!
If you look at the top left corner, about 11 o'clock, there's something green. I was convinced it was pair of my underwear that got thrown into someone else's laundry by mistake, so much so that I stood in front of this washing machine for a good seven minutes trying to get a shot. I found the underwear in my dresser drawer a few minutes later.
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7:02 PM
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Everything feels really hard lately. It's hard to get out of bed, hard to get to the gym, hard to go to work, hard to focus, hard to find jeans that fit, hard to find love, hard to blog, hard, hard, hard. Know why everything feels really hard lately?
BECAUSE I KEEP MAKING IT HARD!
For the last fifteen years I've tried to make my life easier by running away from my troubles. Obviously this had the reverse effect and I've found myself back where I left off: sixteen years old with the weight of the world on my shoulders and no fucking clue.
PAUSE.
This is why I haven't regularly posted in so long. I get bored with what I'm writing, confused as to what I really want to say, and then I Save as Draft and never publish the post.
You know what I really want to say?? I want to say that I'm scared out of my fucking mind. I want to say that I still have no fucking idea what I'm doing with my life and unfortunately I'm not sixteen anymore I'M THIRTY-ONE!! It's not cool for a WOMAN to say she doesn't have a fucking clue. I'm embarrassed to admit that lately I feel no better off than I was fifteen years ago, except now I know how to get around on the subway and put on a condom in the dark. Woo fucking woo.
I feel more self-conscious now than I ever remember feeling. Hell I could have always felt this way, but this is the first time I'm really facing it. Is it possible I'm dealing with unresolved teenage growing pains? Yikes. No wonder I hate everyone.
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5:38 PM
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I am running an analysis that has 625 columns and 30,000 rows broken up over 6 excel spreadsheets. For non-nerds, this is a huge report.
I wish I was outside! Wah!
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1:12 PM
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I thought I should write since I'm buzzed, online, wearing shorts (if Bacon wasn't here I'd be pantsless), and haven't posted in a while. Slackin' dackin.
How do I sum up my life lately? The word of the day...freedom.
I don't feel free at all. I feel bound by my poor decisions of the past 10 years in regards to finances, men and my health, bound by my self-consciousness and paranoia, bound by my career path, bound by everything. I say/write all this knowing full well that I'm not really bound by any of these things (except maybe my debt), it's just an epiphany I had today that I'm still making sense of.
What do I consider freedom? Waking up on a beautiful day like today and not having to go to work. Wearing a bathing suit without shorts (it all comes back to the thighs). Writing, drawing, creating without self-constraint or fear. Traveling. Buying things without worrying about my budget. Not having to think about finding a boyfriend. Not wondering if this is what my life will be like for the next 40 years.
Do you see the common bond to all these things? They're almost all negative statements! Without and not. Where's the with and will?? I have to consciously force myself to say positive things. It's positively annoying.
I'll end with Tourette's:
fuckshitbitchcocksuckingmotherhorsefuckingdipshitassmonkeyfistfuckingshitwaddicklickingcrabappleumbrella
Sometimes it's just nice to curse it out.
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12:15 AM
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The interweb is all a buzz with Miss California's answer to whether or not gay marriage should be legal. I actually caught it live last night as I was flipping around waiting for Rock of Love Bus Reunion to start. Ironically, Miss C's answer was more shocking to me than anything Bret's ladies have done all season, except for maybe the vag shot.
Basically she said she believed marriage should only be between a man and a woman. It was pretty fucked up in my opinion, especially since she started off saying how great it is that people have the right to choose in this country, but in HER country, no one should have any rights.
I assume she said this because of her religious beliefs which always makes me wonder, if you were truly at one with your god and religion, why would you care what anyone else believes, who they love, or how they live?
I will never understand why legalizing gay marriage is such an issue for people. Unfortunately, they will never understand why this is such a non-issue for me. Sucks. So do pageants.
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10:40 PM
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Wow. I can't believe I barely posted this month. I have about four or five half-written ones that I never got around to finishing, so I'm going to cheat by publishing them with a back-date this week.
Hmmm...is it really cheatin' if it's my own blog? Whose rules are these???
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10:35 PM
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What, me worry? This made my week:
Subtle Butt, the disposable gas neutralizer
A company called The Pond Inc. is now selling a product called "Subtle Butt", billed as a fart neutralizer, to eliminate smelly flatulence.
It's an activated carbon fabric pad, measuring 3.25" x 3.25" square, and adheres to the inside of your underwear with two self-adhesive strips.
As the wind breaks, Subtle Butt filters the flatulence, absorbing and neutralizing its odor. Now you can eat as many burritos you want and still have a social life.
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4:59 PM
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Minnow let people go yesterday. No one knows what's happening, no announcements have been made. Just a whole lotta rumors and closed doors. It's pretty bad.
I was really pissed off at this one department today. They're the group that says, "Not to pass the buck..." every single time they want something done, but don't want to do it. I can't stand them! The one guy walks like he has a closet pole for a spine and the other guy is gay. I didn't think I had a problem with gay people, but today I found myself repeatedly thinking, "Fuck you, you fucking fuck. I want to punch you in your gay face!"
I couldn't understand why they bothered me so much today, so I stewed until I figured it out. My anger sat in my chest growing and growing until it became a Zeloch fireball. Once it becomes a fireball I either launch it out of me like an evil Care Bear Stare or keep it inside and find the core. Today I decided to dig.
I turned my anxiety and the anxiety of those around me into anger against these two dickwads. Being angry is usually my first emotional reaction to a stressful situation. I get angry because initially I really am angry, but I STAY angry only when I don't take the time to figure out what's truly bothering me. Today it was worry, stress, disappointment, and guilt.
Worry - I'm not as worried as I should be about losing my job. I feel like things will always work out. I'm more worried about the unknown. What will happen? What will my role be? Do I even care? If I don't care, why am I still working here?
Stress - I took this job because it was an easy paycheck. Now that my health is in order and I have my life back, the role has served its purpose. The stressful part is figuring out where I want this role to take me, if anywhere.
Disappointment - This round of layoffs was poorly handled. I think a good company makes sure the people who leave have their dignity and those that stay know what's going on. Minnow should know better.
Guilt - I feel guilty that I don't try my hardest at this job. Part of me is really afraid I'll make myself sick again. I've grown up a lot the past year so I don't think it will happen again, but it's still in the back of my mind. I have to remind myself to not lose sight of what matters most: my friends, my family, and my well-being.
Disappointment 2 - I'm also disappointed that I'm not trying my hardest. This is so unlike me when it comes to work. I deserve better than this. I should allow myself to shine.
Worry 2 - Now that I'm writing about this I AM worried I'll lose my job. I got bills to pay! At least I'm not a financial ignoramus anymore.
Blah. This sucks.
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9:18 PM
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Holy crap, I actually had a second date. And holier crap, my list of things to do/not do FLEW out the window. At least I'm learning!
1. Do not go to a loud bar after dinner, especially one that is on an Argyle-sweater-wearing-golfer pub crawl. It is too easy to say okay to "This sucks, let's go to your place so we can hang out alone."
2. When specifically asked about leaving Company keep answer short and sweet: "Oh it was just time to go."
3. When specifically asked if I like my current job, say yes and leave it alone.
4. I realized for a negative person like myself, being positive means a whole lot of lying.
5. Listening to my tummy is a good thing.
6. I'm strangely attracted to lower lips. Nice, kissable, full ones. Or maybe just his.
7. Take Nyquil if he snores.
And the biggest thing I learned on my second date is that I am still a commitment-phobe. I like this guy, but I'm ready to walk away. Why though? What am I afraid of? That I'm going to get my hopes up and he won't like me back? Helloooo...been there, done that. See two posts back for christ sakes. What happens if I'm afraid he WILL like me back?
I don't like letting people in. Yes it's ironic to write that in a personal blog, but it's the truth. My "in" is too crazy for me to handle sometimes, how can I expect anyone else to handle it?
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8:24 PM
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I am love challenged.
Or maybe I’m not love challenged, maybe I’m making love A challenge. You know what I’ve been doing ever since the date I had on Tuesday? I emailed Job, I looked up Krull on Facebook, checked to see if Long Red had been on OKC, and thought about Donovan. Then today my friend from work mentioned this guy she wanted to hook me up with a few months ago and now I’m sitting here bummed out that he didn’t like me.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I just enjoy the fact that I had a nice time with someone? Why do I constantly bang my head against the wall thinking about guys who don’t like me? Why aren’t I strong enough to say fuck them and move on?
Why, why, why. The "whys" are killing me! Why didn’t they like me? Why wasn't I the one? Why didn’t it work out?
The joke is I'm not sure if I even want an answer!
I always figure the reason is because I’m overweight. I can deal with this because that’s MY hang up. But what happens if it’s not the reason? What happens if it’s because I’m not funny enough or smart enough or interesting enough? What happens if it’s because I said an obnoxious joke about sucking dick and they were turned off? What happens if I was too clingy or too boring or too into them or…
ARGH. Enough. My head hurts.
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3:07 PM
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An OKC guy asked me out and suggested we go to my usual pub. How weird is that?? We went out tonight. I had a really nice time!
I'm actually keeping a log of all the things I should/shouldn't do or say on dates. I think this one went well because I:
1. kept my vag in my pants.
2. was positive about my life even though I have no idea what I'm doing.
3. didn't talk about Company. Sadly I still make it sound like an ex-husband.
4. listened instead of waited to speak.
5. relaxed.
6. ordered something that was easy to eat and hard to make a mess of, even for me.
7. wasn't sarcastic. Some guys don't seem to get my sense of humor.
8. didn't offer to pay. I'm not sure if this matters or not, but the Millionaire Matchmaker says it does. Yes I'm pathetic, but at least I'm trying!
I think it also went well because he's super nice and personable. Cute, too! We have plans to go out again on Saturday.
Cheese, please!
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11:03 PM
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There's a Daisy May BBQ cart right outside Minnow. I had a pulled pork and coleslaw sandwich with a side of rice and beans for lunch.
It was mind-blowingly delicious.
Breen said I look like I just got laid. I feel like I smoked a bowl, THEN got laid.
Food coooommmaaa...
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1:36 PM
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As promised last year, my birthday celebration kicked off with seeing Watchmen.
I liked and disliked it. Visually it was all there. Emotionally it wasn't. I realize now the overwhelming feelings I had at the theater came from me and my love of the book, not from the movie.
At this point, all that matters that Watchmen is getting more mainstream recognition. I love seeing people read it on the subway. I love walking past B&N and having a blood stained yellow happy face smile back at me. I love DC's After Watchmen campaign, a guide for people who would like to read more graphic novels, but aren't sure what to buy next.
I know there are some who would disagree, but I think all comic movies are good for the industry. Was I worried Watchmen would get fucked up? Of course and I don't think it did, but in the end, who cares? It doesn't change how I feel about the book and the characters. Even the worst comic movies don't stop longtime fans from reading. In my mind a comic film was a success if it gets one non-reader to buy his (or her!) first issue or graphic novel. Watchmen is doing just that, which is why I'm glad it was made, even if it didn't end up being one of my favorite films. Being one of my favorite books is enough for me!
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8:25 PM
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Minnow has a children's format description called "BOARD BOOK/SUPER CHUBBY."
Hee hee.
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10:11 AM
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From: Thighs
Sent: Thursday, March 12, 2009 3:00 PM
Subject: Snicker-less
I’m finally out of Snickers and now I really want chocolate.
From: Thighs
Sent: Thursday, March 12, 2009 3:01 PM
Subject: RE: Snicker-less
PS I can’t focus today. I need to do documentation but I do my best work at home. I guess I’ll just coast until then…
From: Thighs
Sent: Thursday, March 12, 2009 3:01 PM
Subject: RE: Snicker-less
PPS The long redhead guy from OKCupid hasn’t asked me out yet. We’ve been emailing pretty regularly, but I’m getting impatient.
From: Thighs
Sent: Thursday, March 12, 2009 3:02 PM
Subject: RE: Snicker-less
PPPS I’m gonna go poo.
From: Thighs
Sent: Thursday, March 12, 2009 3:10 PM
Subject: RE: Snicker-less
PPPPS Successful, but rushed. Not sure why.
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3:12 PM
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I just did a cheer to a Hillshire Farm commercial.
The ad ends with: "When I say Hillshire, you say Farm!", "Hillshire!", "Farm!", "Go Meat!"
I was writing my brother an email when all of a sudden, without even realizing the commercial was on, my right arm shot halfway up in the air on the "Go", then punched straight up on the "Meat".
Help me.
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9:41 PM
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Last night was Jules and I fifth joint-birthday celebration. It was so great to see everyone. Love yous and thanks for coming!
I had a really nice time, except for one thing. I was SICK. Like really sick. I didn't want to tell anyone, but I could not stop puking. I don't know what happened!! I only had four beers!! I don't know if it was because I had the flu all week or I ate something bad or the Guinness was stank (was anyone else drinking it?) or I finally broke my liver...it was so gross!
The last time I threw up at my birthday party was when I turned 24 (I think). We were somewhere on the UWS. I did three shots as soon as we got there, made out with some guy who said I needed chapstick (I did), and made myself (MADE myself) go throw up so that I could keep drinking. I used to do that a lot actually. Issues.
So again, I really did love seeing everyone, I just wish I felt like myself. I hope you all had a good time, though!
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12:23 PM
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It's 7:30pm. Class was cancelled due to the snowstorm. This is awesome timing because I'm not feeling too well and didn't want to get home late.
I'm tempted to go to bed right now.
Ooo, maybe I'll watch Wheel first.
Geez...am I turning 31 or 91?? Must. Fight. Urge. To. Act. Elderly.
Ah screw it. Ruth Clare wins.
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7:26 PM
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OKC guy already wrote back! I didn't even write anything whorey!
WOO HOO!
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10:06 PM
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It's here! Yaaaayyyy!!! Oh my gosh, it's so new and clean!!!
The first thing I'm making is a birthday cake for myself. Well really for my parents, they're coming here on Saturday. Oooo...maybe I'll make dinner, too!
Culinary genius, activate!
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3:12 PM
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My landlord came through and ordered a new stove without a fight. I am so, so grateful!! While I do like to get my Irish up every once in a while, I really didn't want to drag this shit out. I love this apartment and don't want any negativity in or about my home.
Unless of course, it's MY negativity. The fucking delivery guys are such assholes! I called them on Tuesday and the owner said that his driver is in court for the next two days. I was like okaaayyy, how about Thursday. He said sure, he'll call me in the morning for delivery.
By 11am I still didn't hear anything so I called them. The owner said this time his driver was at the mechanic and wasn't sure when he'll be able to come. I could hear the bullshit dripping off his words. I get this feeling he's one of those guido/gruido (greek version) tough guys who gets all of his product off the back of a truck and thoroughly enjoys jerking locals around. Fuck you, you wannabe mobster piece of shit!
He got back to me at noon saying the guy will be here "some time before 3pm." It's fucking 2:45pm. What the fuck? You're like 10 minutes from my fucking apartment! And now I'm supposed to fucking tip you??? ARGH!
I'm perturbed. Yes it's nice to be home from work (especially this week), but waiting for someone sucks.
DOUBLE ARGH!
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2:32 PM
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Oh my god, I just fell in love with a guy on OKCupid. I'm serious. Like really serious. Well, as serious as I can be about falling in love with someone's online profile.
Why am I in love? He has long red hair. I HATE guys with long hair, but fuck me, I have no self-control when it comes to gingers. My heart is going to beat out of my chest!!
Fingers crossed he writes me back!
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2:26 PM
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I know I've mentioned a few times that I never cook, but I don't think I ever explained why. I hate my fucking stove. Using it scares the fucking shit out of me.
When I moved into Delilah I thought I was getting a new one. Turns out my old super swapped the new stove for a pretty banged up one. The first time I used the oven my whole apartment smelled like burning rat poison. I immediately turned it off and never used it again. I occasionally use the stove top, but even that is a bit sketchy. Boiling a pot of water takes at least a half hour, the burners always go off, and sometimes it smells like gas is leaking. A couple of years ago I asked my landlord for a new one, but she said since the stove was "working" it wasn't a necessity and she'd have to raise my rent. I didn't push the issue.
As I was making eggs this morning, the smell of gas filled my kitchen and I became really nauseous and faint. I freaked out. I had no idea what to do, so I turned off the stove, opened the windows, and laid down. My head was spinning with thoughts of the apartment building blowing up and me being responsible for killing my neighbors all because I didn't feel like having cereal. I couldn't stop thinking about it so I did what any overly dramatic paranoid hungover moron who was about to pass out would do...I called the fire department.
They got here in like 15 minutes. No leak, although they did shut off my gas to be safe. I was so embarrassed. They told me I did the right thing and that my landlord should get me a new stove, but god, I was mortified. I still thought I was going to pass out so they offered to call an ambulance, but I declined. I just wanted to crawl back in bed and die a lonely death.
About a half hour later ConEd came. The guy opened up the stove and flinched. He said I wasn't smelling gas, I was smelling the carbon buildup that was all over the inside. He said this was dangerous and could make me really sick!! I couldn't believe it. I told him how I felt faint, he said that sounds about right. Then I realized this wasn't the first time I've felt woozy in my kitchen, I just always assumed it was me getting up too fast or a hangover or something stupid. Now I know it could have been my damn stove this whole time!
The guy wrote a ticket for my landlord saying that while this stove could be cleaned and fixed, I should really have a new one. Thank Shizza!! It will be nice to not have to worry about the stupid thing anymore. It's also nice to know my weird paranoia over it was validated.
I still feel a bit out of it, though. At this point I don't think it's related to the stove, I'm just emotionally drained from today. It was uncomfortable to ask for help. I didn't know what to do, so I called people who would. That's what they are there for, right?
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8:05 PM
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I liked it! I really did. I'm not quite sure how I feel about the message yet though.
This is probably because today I accidentally emailed an OK Cupid guy with a "Hi! I like your profile!" before realizing I had emailed him a "Hey! I like your profile!" three weeks ago and got no response.
It's also probably because I'm going on a date on Saturday. I met him at NYCC last weekend and we've been chatting all week. When I told him I was free this weekend he asked if it would be weird for us to hang out on Valentine's Day. I said I didn't think so, but now I'm not so sure. I guess it all depends on how the date goes!
Date. date. datE. DATE. DaTe. It's still weird to write no matter how I write it.
Oh I actually had one a couple of weeks ago, too. Yada, yada, yada, I got laid. It was okay. It confirmed the fact that I am Just Not That Into meaningless sex anymore. I'm glad.
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10:08 PM
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Last night I watched an amazing East River firework show from my bedroom window. I'm pretty sure they were in celebration of the Chinese New Year. I found this video online. Yaaaay fireworks!
I plan on going to Chinatown next weekend and checking out the parade. Here's a list of all the upcoming events, let me know if you're interested!
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11:22 AM
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I am currently flipping between NFL Countdown on ESPN and an America's Next Top Model rerun on Oxygen. I'll throw Rock of Love Bus into the mix at 11:30am when the early show airs.
Sports, beauties, and smut. Sounds about right.
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11:07 AM
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I totally wiped out at the bar tonight. All it took was three margaritas, two worn down flats, and one slippery floor. I did the non-limber fatty cheerleader split where the front leg is straight and the back leg is bent at a 90 degree angle. That was the landing; I managed to bang my knee pretty hard on the way down. D'oh!
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11:46 PM
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Most of my memories are associated with emotion. When I go back to Jackson I immediately feel self-conscious and disconnected. A couple of years ago when I saw THE ex-boyfriend I immediately felt a rush of love, passion, confusion, and pain.
I'm assuming this happens to most people. I have to ask though:
Is a memory worth remembering without emotion?
Tonight I was reminded of a very painful and upsetting period a few years back. The interesting thing about it was I didn't actually remember the FEELINGS associated with this memory, rather I simply acknowledged having felt them at the time. I sat there thinking, "Wow. This is weird. Am I uncomfortable hearing this? I don't think I am. I am completely devoid of emotion right now. Who am I??"
And my question includes positive memories as well. Most of the things I liked in my youth still rile up some good feelings. I'm sure if someone threw me a pack of Big League Chew I would beam for hours while I stuffed the whole bag in my mouth in one shot. (Eating it this way is practically mandatory.) In fact, I can't think of anything I used to like that doesn't still make me feel a flicker of joy...
I don't really know where I'm going with this. I'm buzzed and perplexed and in the mood to write. I just find it so interesting that my mind remembered something that my heart forgot.
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10:59 PM
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I have two Gmail accounts, a personal one and a Thighsighs one. I just logged out of my personal one to view my Thighs mail. Still no word from Jeremy Shockey or Jon Gruden.
I guess I didn't actually log out of the Thighs mail because when I went back to my personal account "Thighs McGee" was listed as available on chat.
Weird, right?
So what did I do?
I IMed myself.
Guess what happened.
Nothing.
Wait, it gets better.
Guess what I wrote.
"Hi!"
Jesus Christ I'm blonde.
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10:30 PM
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There's a new trailer up for my brother and his friends' webseries. Check it out!
Oh and there's a close-up of a bearded guy's face and hands...that's Rip!
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10:15 PM
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I'm not having a superbowl party this year. I wasn't really into throwing it to begin with, then the Giant heartbreaking loss against the Eagles sealed the deal.
I know the point of having an annual superbowl party is to have it every year (duh) no matter who plays, it's just that I'm still a bit upset to enjoy myself. I think last year's awesomeness and the Giants' regular season performance really made me believe they'd win it again. Stupid stupids.
I'm very excited to pass the boob to MJ and Steve-O this year. It's crazy to think this would have been my fifth Super Boobie Bowl, though. I can't believe I've been in Queens that long already! Seems like Delilah and I just met yesterday...
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9:42 PM
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I need to get laid.
You ever get so angry that you reach this peak of angerdom where you become eerily cool, calm, collected, and (for me anyways) pale? I think I've reached that point of horny. I'm so horny that I don't think it's even called horny anymore. I don't know what to call it...yearn-y, maybe?
yearning [yur-ning] - noun: prolonged unfulfilled desire or need
It was so easy for me to get laid when I didn't care who I was banging:
"You're sitting next to me at a Rangers game? Let's have sex."
"Your initials are SM? Mine too! Let's have sex."
"You have freckles and a penis? Wanna have sex? Oh...we already had sex? Let's do it again!"
This whole caring about who I sleep with bullshit is well, bullshit. I hate it. Like really hate it. And you know what I REALLY hate about really hating it???
I DON'T ACTUALLY HATE IT.
I'm glad I don't sleep around like I used to, but there was a reason I did! Yeah yeah, low-self esteem, commitment issues, blah blah, who gives a shit. The number one reason I slept around was because I LIKED TO FUCK. Plain and simple. We fucky, me likey.
Then there came (heh) a time when I stopped enjoying myself. I think I got so used to the bang and run that it almost became, dare I say it, boring. It was so easy, I was so easy, that the fun was gone. In order for me to enjoy sex again, I was going to have to care.
So here I am. I care now. And I haven't had sex in four months. Yaaaaayyy.
I would like the next guy I sleep with to be someone I really like, am extremely attracted to, and enjoy being around and vice versa. I want him to be all the usual things (kind, funny, charming, etc.), but I'd also like him to occasionally drag me by my hair up my four flights of stairs, throw me down on my living room floor, rip my clothes off, and fuck me stupid.
Yes of course I want him to respect me and treat me well, but a girl's got needs. I'm yearning for a meaningful, caring, passionate relationship that includes some hardcore love-fucking.
Great. Now I'm turned on. I need to get laid.
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8:59 PM
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Job was at the bar watching the game with me today and I didn't make a move. Not one single move. I mean the fact that I'm calling it "a move" may mean that I don't actually have "moves" anymore to begin with, but still...
If I really want to date someone, wouldn't it be smart to try and make the effort to do so with a guy I've been attracted to for the past two years?
Double blerg.
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7:00 PM
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The Giants lost today. Fucking shitbags. I'm not sure if I want to have a Super Boobie Bowl party this year...
Blerg.
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6:52 PM
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I spent the last 20 minutes writing a post about something that really disappointed me at work today, but forget it. Right now I'm just grateful to have a job.
I can't help but feel like Goldilocks though. Company I cared too much, Minnow I care too little. Hopefully my next gig will be just right.
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10:38 PM
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I am ready to come clean: I stink at online dating. I had a nice little stint there a couple months back, but now I'm feeling a bit self-conscious and a lot discouraged.
The guys that I don't want to chat with are either old, short, orange, misspelled words and/or used text phrases such as "I M GR8, HOW R U" in their About Mes, are surrounded by chicks in their profile pic (why?), or picked the screen name BIG_PUSSY_LOVER.
The guys I am somewhat attracted to say they go to the gym 8 days a week, read lots of books without pictures, and jetset every weekend. This bothers me because I don't even know what a "gym" is anymore, reading bores the shit out of me (there, I've said it!), and I don't have money to travel right now. Oooo...I thought what bothered me was feeling less-than again, but no, I think it's jealousy!! HA! Fuck you and your perfect profile! I like the color blue, that's all I have to say right now!
Then there are the guys that make me want to lick my monitor and hump my keyboard. Shocker: I haven't found one of those online yet. I was going to email this really hot redhead tonight, but I chickened out. He listed himself as "skinny" plus he lives in Hoboken and well, that's just dumb.
So why do I stink at online dating? It's way too easy to give up. I need to meet someone face to face. I also need support, encouragement, confidence, and accountability. In a word, I need a WINGWOMAN.
It's time to get offline and get off live. I am going out at least once a week with the sole purpose of meeting new people (girl or guy) that may lead me to my soulmate (guy, maybe girl if she has a nice rack). I want love, I want passion, I want a best friend, I want companionship, and while I'm at it, I want to be fucked silly during half-time.
I can't do this by myself so if you want to be my wing let's make some plans.
Good-bye, online dating. I'm going out.
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8:43 PM
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ROCK OF LOVE IS BACK!
ROCK OF LOVE IS BACK!
ROCK OF LOVE IS BACK!
AAAAAIIIIIEEEEE!!!!!
VH1 didn't show it, but one of the girls just drank a test tube shot from another girl's vajohn.
This is my favorite day of 2009.
ROCKIN'!!
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9:41 PM
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Since I was really sick over the 2007 holidays, I was determined to stay healthy this year, mainly so I could spend time with my brother. I miss the stinker.
On Christmas night I decided to go out with him and his friends in Jackson. Long story short I had a really good time, but made the mistake of drinking like I did as a Jersey youth. Two words: Bud Ice.
I have no idea how many I drank, but seriously, NEVER AGAIN. I puked my guts out that night, had a raging hangover the next two days, and still have a cold over a week later. I'm sure drinking outside in the winter, taking quite a few chugs of blackberry brandy, and two drags of a cigarette didn't help either, but let's just blame Budweiser. I never liked their beers anyways.
Just for kicks I decided to look up the alcohol content. Bud Ice is 5.5%. This made me curious to see what the strength is of all my favorite beers from years past.
Teenage favorites - Honestly I drank what I could get, but when I had options:
Zima 4.8% (FA!!!)
Coors Light 4.2% (Yuck. I might hate Coors more than Budweiser now.)
Olde English 5.9% (You know, because Jackson is South Central Jersey.)
College favorites:
Icehouse 5.0% (Duh, this probably tasted just like Bud Ice now that I think about it.)
Yuengling Black and Tan 4.5%
Newcastle 4.5%
Bass 5.2%
Steel Reserve 8.1% (Not kidding. I'd buy a 40 for $2 and be set for the night.)
Adult favorites:
Ommegang 8.5%
Anchor Steam Liberty Ale 6.0%
Sierra Nevada 5.7% (Bottle only, I don't like it on tap.)
Stone Arrogant Bastard Ale 7.2%
Stone IPA 6.9%
Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA 6.0%
I really just love IPAs in general.
Timeless:
Guinness 4.0% (My go-to beer since college.)
Amstel Light 3.6% (My lighter back-up.)
Corona 4.6% (During the summer or when eating Mexican food.)
Miller Lite 4.2% (Only at sporting events.)
Okay, it's settled. Bud Ice is stronger than most of my go-to beers. It's not as strong as my Adult favorites, but I can't drink too many of them anyways. Case in point, the last time I had Dogfish Head I was on a date. I drank three before the guy showed up (he was stuck at work) and was BOMBED. We didn't go out on a second date. Again, I blame Budweiser.
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9:23 PM
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I requested my college transcripts the other day. I was SUCH a slacker! My cumulative grade point average was a 1.8 when I got kicked out of school. When I got back in I tried harder (ie I actually went to class), but still didn't give it my all. I graduated with a 2.4.
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4:30 PM
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6:37 PM
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