Californication Part 4: Pics! Already!

See how excited I am for you to see my pictures...check them out!

West Coast Adventure

Californication Part 3: Brotherly love

My brother is the best brother ever. I had such a great time hanging out with him. It's funny, we are so much closer now than we ever were...even though he's three thousand miles away.

Rip, I love you lots. I am so proud of the life you made for yourself out there. Thanks for inviting me out, I had an absolute blast.

Thank your roommates (who all rock!) for letting me invade their space and bogart the television to catch up on Flight of the Conchords.

Thank Decki for being such a sweetheart all week, but especially on Saturday when he knew I was nervous and a bit of a freaky pasta getting ready. Oh and for buying me lunch!!

And a special thanks to Devo. I had such a great time with her on my little adventures. They wouldn't have been any fun without her. Awesomest chick ever.

I miss you already!!! I really hope you come to the Jerse for Labor Day.

Californication Part 2: The Golden State

Nine glorious days of sun, fun, beer, Rippie, baseball, and comics. What more can a girl ask for?

I figured I'll do this in parts...let's start with California itself.

Los Angeles

LA fucking blows. I hate it there. I don't understand why it exists, nor do I understand why everyone needs to drive when they are either:
a) stuck in traffic for most of their lives
b) drunk
c) coked up
d) not paying attention to the road (ie gabbing on cell phone, checking make-up)
e) all of the above

And what's up with the homeless? I know that sounds shitty, but seriously, I can't tell if there are more homeless people in LA than NYC. Maybe it's because LA is bright beige that anyone who lives in the streets sticks out like a sore thumb. Totally weird.

Santa Monica

While we were in Devo's car a lot, I got to spend a couple days walking around Santa Monica. Rip's house is pretty close to the 3rd Street Promenade and SM Pier so I got a nice feel for his neighborhood. Santa Monica is really pretty, but again it felt like fake world or something.

Devo and I went to the SM beach one day. The Pacific Ocean totally kicks the Atlantic Ocean's ass! The water was so blue, clean, and fun that I will have a hard time looking at the east coast beaches the same way. On the flip side though, the SM Pier is a joke. Seaside's boardwalk is still number one.

San Diego

Beautiful, serene, whatevs, San Diego is great. I highly recommend a visit and I never even made it out of the Dowtown/Gaslamp sections. The weather is gorgeous every day, the city is clean, and easily walkable...it was fantastic.

Amtrak

I also recommend Amtrak for traveling between LA and San Diego. For $34 each way, you can relax and take in the view.

Final Thoughts

Do not, will not, want not to ever live in California. I'm very excited to visit the northern part in the next couple of years, though. I have a feeling I might like it up there more.

Please, take care of yourselves...and each other.

CALIFORNIA!

I can't believe I'm finally going!

I'm leaving tomorrow and will be back on the 30th. Lots of pictures and stories to come.

Miss you all!

Don't do anything I wouldn't do*!!







*This doesn't leave much for you NOT to do except:

1. Have sex with a relative.
2. Do anything with Carrot Top (except kill him).
3. Work at DC.
4. Laundry (okay I do it, but I don't like it).

STUPID, STOOPID, STYOOPED.

I did something stupid. It's so stupid that I'm not even going to tell you what it was.

Trust me, it was stupid. What I need to discuss is this:

If I knew this thing was stupid and I would regret doing it, why the fuck did I do it??

This question has then spawned the following questions:

Am I a glutton for punishment?

Do I really need the distraction?

Don't I have enough to be thinking about with work and California?

Am I in such a good place right now that I had to make myself feel bad for no reason?

Am I in such a bad place right now that I had to make myself feel more bad?

Did I really think that my heart was lying to me when I said "Don't do it!"?

Did I really think that this stupid thing would be something I could ignore?

Did I really think I could shake it off?

Do I EVER shake anything off?

Isn't it safe to say that I obsess about everything, wait, let me clarify, obsess about negative things until I am sick to my stomach?

Won't I ever just listen to myself?

You are totally dying to know what I did right?

Why are my emotions so fucking strong all the time, yet I can never say to myself, "Shann, you've been here before and if you read your diary/blog you know you've made it through it once and can most definitely make it through again."?

Why can't I see things for how they really are?

Wait, AM I seeing things for how they really are?

Why is there a bra hanging on every door knob in my apartment?

Why haven't I ever noticed there are 8 door knobs in my apartment? (Actually 11, my closet doors are closed. 12, if you count my front door.)

Why do I have to find stupid negative ways to test myself?

I mean seriously, it's like I dared myself to do this stupid thing. Am I really that bor-ed/ing?

Is that my problem? That instead of testing myself for things that matter to me I push myself to do things that I know will be negative thus confirming my fear of failing or enabling my fear of success?

Or is it simply, maybe I was wrong?

What if?

Am I holding on to false hopes because I refuse to believe I can hope for something false?

If I believe something to be true, how can't it be true?

If something is true for me, but not for you, does that make it true?

Is it like someone seeing the glass half full while I see it as "half empty and I forgot to buy more milk and now can't have cereal in the morning because I ain't putting water in the bowl again and will have to buy breakfast out when I really wanted to stop spending money on food during the week so that I can spend it on beer over the weekend instead."

If you don't think I can keep going, then you don't know me very well.

I'm stopping now because I realized that the above questions are all linked to one question I still haven't answered yet:

Will I ever trust me??

My new favorite show is...

Rock of Love. Hands down.

The chicks on this show are such hardcore, filthy whores that I may wear a full body condom while watching the next episode.

I am torn between rubbing one off or scrubbing my eyeballs.

There aren't many shows that can make me both hot and nauseous. Real Sex did that back in the day, only because one part would be about sexy S&M madams, the next fat hippies masturbating in a circle. Yikes.

Bravo, Bret Michaels. Bravo.

Random Diary Entry: June 24, 1993

Things I want accomplished before my junior year of high school:

I want to weigh around 145 pounds.
I want to have a tan (real or fake).
I want my hair to be healthy and straight (maybe straight).

Things to be accomplished during my junior year:

I want a few boyfriends.
I want straight A's across the board.
I want to do the best I can in cross country and especially in softball.

Things to do before I die:

sky dive
travel
scuba dive
join the FBI
see more movies than anyone in the world
get and keep a great job
get married and have 2 boys and 2 girls
rob a bank or win the lottery

Random Diary Entry: June 24, 1992

Hate

Evil and unruly
Overpowering and untruly
Grasp it and behold
The many people in its fold.

Down and beneath
Growling through its sharp teeth.
Once it has you - watch out!
Leaving is hard without a doubt.

But do not have fear
The exit is very near.
The doorway is just above
And the key is to have love.

Love

Everlasting and forgiving,
Reason for us living.
Painful, yet good
A language that's always understood.

So open your hearts up wide
And go for that joyful ride
Down the streets of love,
With the angels up above.

Kids say the darndest things.

My downstairs neighbor has three granddaughters ages 6, 8, and 9.

They always run around in front of the building, but I didn't formally meet them until this July 4th when we were watching the fireworks on the roof. They're cute kids, very smart and already pretty damn sassy. They make me wonder what it's like to be a kid these days.

I'm doing laundry right now (blah) and as I was coming back in we started chatting. They told me about their families, their smelly witch teacher, and all about their ipods and cell phones. (By the way, I keep saying "they" or "their" because the 8 and 9 year old kept talking at the same time, then over each other, then over me, so I don't really know which sister each story was actually about). The 6 year old, deemed the "white one" by her older Colombian step-sisters, would occasionally say something in a high-pitched voice, but yeah, there was no way I could hear her over the other two.

They eventually got around to asking me a question, specifically which apartment I live in. Here's the convo:

ME: "I live in 4A."

8 yo (I can't remember their names): "All the way up there?!?!"

9 yo (barely breathing between sentences): "What happens if you have a cart full of groceries? Do you carry the whole cart up? Do you carry some bags up at a time? Do you have to come back down?"

ME: "I make sure I only buy what I can carry."

9 yo: "Who do you live with?"

ME: "I live by myself."

8 and/or 9 yo (at the same time and same volume so not really sure who asked what):
"YOULIVEBYYOURSELFYOUDON'TLIVEWITHANYONEYOULIVEALONEALONEYOULIVEALONE??"

ME: "Um, yep."

9 yo: "YOU MEAN YOU AIN'T GOT A HUSBAND OR NO ONE?!?!"

I laughed out loud, though slightly mortified only because she seriously screamed it. The 8 year old then asked if I had any pets so thankfully the subject quickly changed to how many pets they had and yada yada yada...

I bet Bill Cosby's spidey sense tingles whenever a kid says something like that...or at the very least when someone eats jello.

Californication Part 1: Trip Prep

I am leaving for California in 9 days. This is how prepared I am for the trip:

1. I have tickets to San Diego on July 20th, from San Diego on July 29th. I forget what airline.

2. I have Padre tickets for the 20th, Dodgers tickets for the 22nd, and Angels tickets for the 24th which means I need to get from San Diego to LA at some point before the Sunday game.

3. I asked Donovan for tickets to the San Diego Comic Con, which means I need to get from LA back to San Diego at some point before the convention and definitely before my flight home.

Yeah that's about it. I haven't booked a hotel anywhere or made a car reservation. I half read the Frommer's guide to San Diego, but couldn't tell you anything other than I think I'd rather go to Sea World than the SD Zoo.

The general plan is to stay with my brother in Santa Monica for a few days, but we have yet to discuss. A bunch of my Company friends will be in SD for the con, so I'm not too worried about that. I should probably give them the heads up, huh?

I'm gon-na see my bro-ther, I'm gon-na see my bro-ther, I'm gon-na see my bro-ther.
(I'm singing this out loud and moving as if on a congo line.)

Oooo now I'm getting psyched! Yaay Rippie!

I'm in a K-hole.

No ya crackhead, not the K-hole of my late teens/early twenties where the world turns green and the E gets stronger. This is the K-hole of my adult life involving me, my couch, and a bunch of empty Special K cereal bar wrappers on my living room floor. I knew I shouldn't have bought a box!! (Psst, by a "bunch" I mean "two". Stop judging me.)

I had a lovely weekend catching up with half my Petes, eating some good homemade meals (thanks Jules and Spags!), taking pics, and seeing Transformers. Like I wrote before, I didn't really remember the cartoon too much, but man that did not stop me from getting all warm and fuzzy inside. I cheered the first time someone said "more than meets the eye", laughed at all the comic references, and nearly cried when "Bumblebee" and "Bonecrusher" were introduced. Geek!

So this weekend I've come to terms with something. I've been in denial about this for quite awhile, but it's time to come clean.

I am addicted to soft cone ice-cream. Picture this, Astoria 2007:

I'm strolling down Steinway to get some Baskin Robbins.

I see gross men sitting in front of Baskin Robbins.

I reluctantly walk past Baskin Robbins.

I spot an ice cream truck half a block away.

I begin to slightly skip towards ice cream truck with big cheesy smile.

I then get so excited that I start to speed walk towards ice cream truck with money in hand.

I then get about 5 feet from ice cream truck before realizing it was not actually an ice cream truck, but in fact a Con Ed truck.

I stop, put head down (cue Peanuts music), and go home with an ice-cream monkey on my back.

There was no denying the addiction after that. I need help...or at least a Mary's Dairy in the neighborhood so I don't continue to expand. Their ice-cream is low in calories and high in deliciousness.

My day in pictures.

For years I've wanted to take pictures of all the churches in New York City. Why? Not sure. The urge has always been strong, yet I've never followed through with it. Then something interesting happened.

There is a church on my block with two beautiful spires on either side of the steeple. The spire on the far left hand side is the closest to the street corner, I guess that's why it always caught my eye rather than the entire building. Every time I walked by it I'd always think, "Gotta take a picture of this church. Gotta get a picture of the spire." Over two years later I still never took that picture. Unfortunately, I missed my chance.

One night last year I was in the supermarket across the street from the church. A summer storm was brewing and in New York you never really know what to expect. It can pour buckets for 10 minutes or thunder and lightning, but not rain. Well this night was a full on city-monsoon. The streets were flooding, the winds whipping, thunder crashing...it was a great storm.

Then there was a loud crack and crash, like a mini-explosion of some sort. Everyone in the store jumped and ran to the windows, but no one could really see anything. We knew lightning hit something, most people assumed it hit a tree and knocked it down. Of course it didn't. The lightning hit my spire.

I couldn't really see the what was left of the spire until the next day. The whole body of it was knocked off the base. The platform was melted away like candle wax. Charred debris laid in the street and on the church steps. The iron railings were crushed by the falling stone. It was like something out of a movie. Thankfully no one was hurt.

A few days later I took that picture. It obviously doesn't remind me of how beautiful the spire was, instead it reminds me of something better. As impulsive as I am when it comes to oh, everything, for some reason I restrain myself creatively. I've always loved photography, but have been too afraid to just let go.

My spire is a reminder that I'm the only one holding me back, and if I hold back too long, it may be too late. So finally, after all this time I am letting go of the fear and starting one of my dream projects.

Here are a couple of pictures from today. Definitely more to come.

Random Thoughts: Y tu mama tambien

1. My cleavage is awesome when I lay on my side in my navy blue sports bra.

2. I want to put The Soup's Joel McHale in my pocket.

3. I am addicted to band-aids and Neosporin.

4. If the makers of the supposed "pee-in-pool detection ink" ever make a sister product for "pedestrian cropdusting detection", I'd be screwed.

5. My favorite beer is Ommegang.

6. If I had to spend the rest of my life locked in a room with someone I would choose Furball. I can hear him screaming as I type this...

7. I want to caress Scarlet Johanssen. Not kiss, not rub, just caress.

8. Since adults only seem to have Orbit, Dentyne Ice, or Trident-chiclet type gum, I ask for 2 pieces. If I only have one piece, one of the sides of my mouth will get jealous, I'll have to switch it up a lot, the flavor goes away fast, and I stop enjoying it. Gotta go for 2.

9. Cicely is still annoying, but get this, my hips hurt from walking weird all week. I = The Blob.

10. I'm really enjoying Fables and yet haven't read past the second trade. Sorry, Amy. Again.

11. I want to see Transformers this weekend although I can't seem to remember the cartoon that well. Oddly enough when I think really hard at work I make this "ch-ch-chu-chu-chu" noise like when they transform. I have no idea if that's how one types it out.

12. Fireworks were awesome last night. Weather, not so much.

13. Congratulations Schmidt-faces! Their new son Cale is ADORABLE.

14. Thanks for all the nice calls and emails. I know you would be there for me if I needed you to...I guess it's like The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Like if I need you now and it ends up not being a big deal, but then my arms fall off and I REALLY need you, would you still be willing to wipe my tush?

15. ERs are great for putting the fear of death in you. I haven't had a drink in 4 days AND I ate very healthy today. Let's see how I hold up this weekend.

16. My fucking foot fell asleep. Owwww...

Because I am my mother's daughter...

What is a functional ovarian cyst?
An ovarian cyst is a round, thin-walled, clear fluid-filled sac that develops in the ovary as part of normal egg development. When on the ovary's surface, an ovarian cyst looks something like a skin blister. A normal ovarian cyst can grow as large as 1.5 in.(3.8 cm) as it prepares to release an egg into the abdomen (ovulation).

When an ovarian cyst does not release its egg, it continues to grow, becoming larger than normal (functional ovarian cyst). A functional ovarian cyst may also form after an egg is released. In this case, the ovarian cyst reseals itself and swells with fluid. This is called a luteal cyst. Functional ovarian cysts are the most common type of ovarian growth in women of childbearing age.

Like most types of ovarian cysts, functional cysts usually don't cause symptoms and are first noticed during a general pelvic exam. However, a larger ovarian cyst can twist, rupture, or bleed and be very painful. If your health professional has found that you have a functional ovarian cyst, you have no reason to worry about cancer-functional cysts do not lead to cancer. Most functional ovarian cysts go away on their own within a few months and are harmless.

What causes functional ovarian cysts?
A functional ovarian cyst is caused by one or more slight changes in the way the ovary produces or releases an egg. Although unlikely, it is possible to ovulate while taking hormonal birth control pills and, therefore, to be capable of developing a functional ovarian cyst.

What are the symptoms?
Most functional ovarian cysts are harmless, do not cause symptoms, and go away without treatment. However, they can cause symptoms such as:

Lower abdominal pain or ache, typically in the middle of your menstrual cycle.
Menstrual period delay.
Weight gain.
Unexpected vaginal bleeding.

Some functional ovarian cysts can twist or rupture and bleed. Symptoms include:

Sudden severe pain, often with nausea and vomiting (possible sign of a twisted cyst).
Pain immediately after intercourse (possible sign of a ruptured cyst).

If you have symptoms that suggest a twisted or ruptured ovarian cyst, call your health professional immediately. Some ruptured cysts bleed enough that treatment is necessary to prevent heavy blood loss.

How are functional ovarian cysts diagnosed?
If your health professional discovers an ovarian cyst during a routine pelvic exam, he or she may use a pelvic ultrasound to make sure the cyst is fluid-filled (functional), then recommend a watchful waiting period and recheck you after a couple of menstrual cycles. A functional ovarian cyst is likely to go away on its own during this period of time.

How are they treated?
Most functional ovarian cysts go away without treatment within 1 to 3 menstrual cycles. If you have a functional cyst that persists through 2 to 3 menstrual cycles or that causes symptoms, your health professional will probably recommend birth control pills, which stop the ovulation process. Birth control pills should prevent new functional cysts from developing, but they may not speed up the shrinkage of an existing cyst.

Tales from the ER

Before I start, I am okay.

Remember when I wrote how my gyno was a little rough and hurt my ovary? That was the beginning of May and since then I've been in pain every couple of weeks.

On Friday I woke up with awful back pain right near my tailbone. I thought it was probably from dancing to "High School Musical" or pretending to ride a motorcycle in front of my fan (lots of side to side vrooming). I powered through Friday to see "Live Free or Die Hard" (SEE IT!), check out DaQ's new bar, and hang with the Molly's crew.

My back didn't hurt too much on Saturday, but really, who feels anything at the beer garden besides drunk and horny? Sunday was obviously Day o' Gas for me, but I felt better after the dumps. Yesterday was another story.

I woke up with my lower right fupa hurting pretty bad. It was the same sensation as when my gyno poked me, but much worse. I made it through work by walking with a mean pimp limp and occasionally complaining to Furbie. It wasn't until I left the office that it was becoming unbearable; every step made a shooting pain go through the right side of my body and up my spine. Totally sucked.

By the time I made it home I gave up and called my mom. I told her what was happening and wasn't sure what to do. I mean, I knew something was wrong but I think I needed someone to tell me to go to the hospital. She said to call my doctor and see what he thought. He figured it was most likely a cyst, but since the pain was near my appendix told me to go to the emergency room.

I was so upset in the ER. I was crying, some drunk fuck was screaming, people moaning...I don't know how the staff managed to be so nice. I'm sorry but I'll take publishing over that shite any day.

The ER doctor agreed with my regular one, said it was either a cyst or appendicitis. They took blood and urine, did a pelvic exam, ultrasound and ct scan. After 7 hours of tests I have a new friend...Cicely Cyst.

Cicely is a fucking annoying, throbbing 2 centimeter cyst on my right ovary. Since she's so small, the doctors aren't certain Ciss is the real cause of my pain, so there's nothing to do except wait to see if the bitch gets any bigger. It's very common for women to get cysts when they are ovulating so for the next couple of months I need to track my cycle and the pain, if any.

Appendicitis wasn't completely ruled out either though, nor (get this) really, really, REALLY bad gas. You have GOT to be fucking kidding me. Wouldn't it be something if my backwards fart broke something??? Shit fool.

Today I feel okay, don't have to walk like a cross between Snoop and Frankenstein anymore. Ciss (or whatever's doing it) is hurting, but I'm dealing.

A couple parting thoughts:

1. I feel stupid. I'm not sure why, it's not like I caused any of this (except if it's gas). Maybe stupid isn't the word I'm looking for...ignorant? humbled? It's scary to have no fucking clue what's wrong. I'm used to feeling that way mentally and emotionally; maybe I've taken my good physical health for granted too long.

2. I felt so incredibly alone in the ER. I wasn't crying from the pain so much as I was crying from not having anyone with me. And by "anyone" I don't mean my family or friends, I mean a husband.

I had to yell at my mom to NOT come up here last night. I just didn't want to deal with my parents, you know? I even threatened her by saying that if she comes up here I will never, ever tell her when I'm sick again. I'm such a jerk.

And I know that any of my friends would be there at a moment's notice, I just didn't want to bother them. I TOTALLY know it wouldn't be a bother for you, but still, I think it would have bothered me that I could possibly be bothering you...and then I would stress out and feel bad. Must work on that.

So while I had at least 10 people who would have came to be by my side, I chose to be upset that I was single. SINGLE! I started thinking about how if I was married my husband would be there and since he was my husband I wouldn't feel bad about him being there.

Maybe it's the vows? Friends and family never stand before God or Elvis and say they will love each other forever no matter what. Is the idea that friends and family don't need to reassure us they will be there? If so, why would the love of your life have to?

Fuck it. Here's a good way to end a long ass post and even longer fucking day:

"I, Shannon, take you, Everyone Who Reads Thighsighs (and my parents), for my lawful friends and family, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part."

PS Yes, my name is Shannon.
PPS FUPA stands for "fat upper pussy area". Thank MJ for that one!

Some sexy shit.

After a night of random drunk sex, I find there are 3 key uncomfortable moments the next morning:

1. trying to remember the person's name
2. trying to leave or make someone leave
3. trying to pass gas without making noise or stinking up the joint

I went to the Beer Garden last night and took a guy home with me. He was a friend of a friend of a friend who I met about six years ago at a Halloween party in Hoboken. Let's call him G.

G is pale, funny, and silly...you would think with my low self-esteem I wouldn't be attracted to guy-mes, but I am. We got to my place around 10pm, hooked up for a few hours and then crashed at like 3am. I had a great time until Uncomfortable Moment 3 struck.

I woke up around 6am with my tummy in knots. All I needed was one juicy rip to feel better, but I couldn't do it with someone next to me. Classy broad that I am, I tried to do the slow release. You know, like the sound of letting air out of a tire.

I shit you not (pun intended), I somehow managed to reverse the direction of the gas. I think I was concentrating so hard on keeping it silent that I forgot which way farts are supposed to go. Not kidding.

Sucking gas back into my bowels just made my stomach worse so I gave up and went to the bathroom. Wouldn't you know it, even on the comfort of my toilet seat I was too embarrassed to go. The slow release was totally not working; every time I relaxed my hole a loud fucking whopper came out, followed by a giggle, followed by an intense cheek squeeze. Repeat four times.

I have no idea if G heard this or not; I hung out in the living room to be safe. When I went back to bed he was still snoring away, so either he did hear and was being nice or didn't hear because he was unconscious. I may never know.

We went to the diner this morning and on the way back to my place had Uncomfortable Moment 2. My gas came back after lunch and all I wanted to do was sit on the bowl and relax. While I really did enjoy G's company, he needed to leave.

G wasn't picking up on this, so I had to lay it for him.

G: "I'm not sure what I'm doing today, although I really should do laundry."

ME: "Uh-huh. Laundry's fun, you should do your laundry."

G: "Laundry's fun?"

ME: "Yeah. I love it."

G: "I guess I should..."

ME: "I REALLY have to go the bathroom."

G (jokingly pointing to a puddle): "Go there."

ME (not in the mood for jokes) : "I can't, it will be like the hot tub video."

G (long pause): "Yeah I'm gonna go home."

And there you have it, folks. I am single because I rather shit than date. Poo.

Remember Romp.com?

I was addicted to Jake and his Booty Calls a few years ago.

Only way to describe The Romp: it's a choose-your-own-adventure for horny folk. Brilliant!

Here's the new site where you can find all the episodes....no playie at workie!

Laaaaate...

Random One-Night Stand: Life Goes On

People who work in Publishing are notoriously poor, especially our first couple years in the industry. As a result, we always know where to find the best happy hours. Down the Hatch was pretty close to the office so it quickly became our go-to bar for cheap beer and random hook-ups.

I think it was a Tuesday night when just a couple of us went to DTH. I was gabbing it up with a friend when I noticed this guy was full on staring at me. Like full on. We started talking and eventually he asked me out on a date.

In Thighs dating history only two things happen when I go on a date:

1. I immediately don't like the guy, making me feel relaxed and act like myself, which leads the guy to believe we have a connection when we really don't. I eventually have to turn him down.

2. I immediately like the guy, making me nervous, drink more, and have sex on a first date, which usually doesn't lead to a second date.

I can't help it. If I'm attracted to someone, why wouldn't I want to bang them?? Yeah, yeah. Cow, milk, free, bugger off.

Let's call this guy Doctor C. It turns out Dr. C was a scientist working out of the Museum of Natural History. He had to stay at the lab late so we met for drinks on the upper west side, not too far from his job.

After about four beers, two shots, and some singing (him, not me) Dr. C asks if I wanted to go to the museum even though it was closed to the public. I said shit yeah, so off we stumbled.

It was awesome to walk around the museum when it's empty. I'm not much of a museum goer, but when I do go it's usually this one. The dinosaurs are my all time favorite, so I asked Dr. C if we can go there. He said sure, but wanted to stop by his office for a sec.

Well "stop by" anywhere with me when I'm drunk and you'll get some. At least that's how I used to roll. We had crazy scientist sex on his desk, floor, and I even think his rolling chair. At one point a security guard came by and knocked. Here I am standing naked behind the door, while Dr. C talked to the guard, holding the door so it covered his lower half of his body, which was completely naked and half-mast.

When the guard finally left we just started laughing. We uh, wrapped things up, left his office, and went down to see the dinosaur exhibit. It was totally fun.

The rest of the night is a bit hazy. I think we walked around by the planetarium for awhile and then hopped in a cab. I do remember getting all hot and heavy in the backseat, but I didn't go home with him. I like my bed.

I'm pretty sure I heard from him the next day, but after that he didn't call and I didn't care. It was one of those hook-ups that were just too cool to even bother seeing each other again.

I refer to that night as my Ross and Rachel date. To this day I still get a devilish grin every time I walk by the museum.

There was another reason why I didn't care about hearing from him, though...the "C" stands for Corky. I'm sorry, but scientist schmientist...all I thought of was that fucking tv show.

<"Insert your own down syndrome joke here.">

I'm feeling politically correct tonight. Fa!

Turning Japanese

Hanging in Delilah right now are 24 pairs of underwear, 28 tanks and t-shirts, 4 towels, 2 capri pants, and 7 normal hang-dry items.

Having worn my last pair of clean undies today there was no choice..I had to do laundry. Poop I say.

It's not so bad once I do it. The laundromat is right across the street from my apartment, so I put my clothes in the wash, come home, go back to put them in the dryer, come home, and then go back to pick them up. I like doing this because running up and down my four flights of stairs is sadly the only exercise I get nowadays.

I went downstairs about an hour ago to get my clothes out of the dryer and hot damn, one load was still wet. (That sounds dirty.) I threw everything into another dryer for an extra 20 minutes and then gave up. I was hungry, tired, and not in the mood.

So now all of my wet stuff is hanging around the apartment and all I keep thinking is that...wait for it...I feel Japanese.

I swear to god that I have no idea if this is mean or rude or what, but as I glance around my living room, I feel this overwhelming sense of being Japanese. Specifically, a Japanese Madam running a fake laundromat as a cover for her brothel of bukkake and gokkun-loving girls.

I went to a brothel a few months ago. I got a lap dance (and more!) from this chick "Courtney". It was a cool experience, but I don't need to go again. Brothels would be awesome if there weren't any men around.

Am I gay? I'm gay, right? Aw crap.

Freaky Tuesday?

Between Anonymous 2's comment and the fucking mouse in my office, I have been a tad freaked today.

Anon 2, thanks for the reality check. When I read your note I immediately got on the defensive, ready to bomb you with a bunch of excuses. Then I realized what I was doing and stopped myself. As of right now all I can say is that you hit a nerve and I appreciate it.

Office mouse, I FUCKING HATE YOU. I don't want your neck to snap in a trap, but if that's the only way I will get rid of you then...YIPPEE KI YAY, MOTHER FUCKER.

If anyone wants to see Die Hard on Friday, let me know!