Job Schmob

My official-unofficial last day at Company is December 21st.

If I find a new job before then, great. If not, I will make sweet love to you for $100 an hour. (Is this cheap? What are going rates for prostitutes during the holiday season? I'm sure they have more demand around this time of year. Please advise, as I like my turning trick jokes to turn a profit as well. Thanks!)

I had two interviews last week. Both went well, I didn't think I'd be that rusty though. I applied to a couple other places today, so fingers crossed.

The job search added two more items to my Things I Hate with a Passion list though: cover letters and thank you notes.

I love writing, but only in Thighs-speak not professionally mature, grammatically correct speak. I'm very tempted to write "Me job. You hire." and see what happens.

Then again, my mom told me that some jackass sent in a resume with carrots drawn in the margins and THIS RESUME IS PURE 14-CARROT GOLD written up top. Oy.

Dude, if you're that against "playing the game" then you mind as well fart into an envelope and mail that instead.

I'm moving!!!

I totally sucked at posting this month, but I've had so much going on.

As if quitting Company wasn't enough to fill my impulsive ways, I have decided to move!! Yes move!!

Here is my new address:

1 South Dakota Way
South Dakota City, South Dakota
52084

Why South Dakota??

BECAUSE THERE AREN'T ANY PRO FOOTBALL OR BASEBALL TEAMS TO PISS ME OFF!!!

Why New York, why?? What have I ever done to you? Okay, don't answer that because God knows how many alleys and bar bathrooms have my DNA all over them, but still!! I do not deserve this, nor does anyone else.

Jets, Jets, Jets.
I'm about to say what every NY fan is bound to say at least three times a year, no matter what the record is: "It could have been worse." This is in regards to Thanksgiving. I didn't bother watching as I was expecting a blood bath, but it wasn't as bad as it should have been. I'm surprised they scored three points.

I was very fortunate to be at the Steelers game last Sunday. Quick sidebar, why are people from Pittsburgh so ugly? The men are malnourished toothless rednecks and the women are all retired Glorious Ladies of Wrestling. I don't get it.

And honestly, I don't get how the frig the Jets won that game either. Then again, they performed better last Sunday then they have all year. Shocked the hell out of everyone especially the million Terrible Towel wavers who crashed Giants Stadium that day. Take that Unfortunate Looking Ones!

Little Giants
The game was so awful that I don't even want to write it about. Read this instead, it's the joke that keeps on giving.

BLECH. South Dakota, here I come!*



*Yeah right.

Awesome.

Gaaakkkk!!!

Oh my word. I'm paying bills right now and my phone bill is $215.49.

FUUUUUUCKKK!!!

I hate the phone. I've never been over my minutes before. Well maybe once, but only got charged like $5.00 more than usual.

Yeah not this time. My bill is usually, get this, $70.00!! I went over by 284 minutes!!

And guess who I was talking to????

MY MOM!!!**

Dude. I so wish I could go back in time, kidnap a version of me from each year between the ages of 12 and 26, put all Mes in a room and tell them that at age 29 our mom and us will finally be....dare I say it...friends!! And with this new found friendship comes a $200 phone bill!!

FUUUUUUCKKK!!!

**I increased the font of "MY MOM" for emphasis. I thought I should explain this for you slow folk. Cheers!

So gross...even for me.

I'm sitting at my desk putting together some screen shots and documentation.

The loud Licensing bitches, copier, and pee sounds don't really affect me anymore. This is nice.

You wanna know what's not nice???

Hearing a co-worker pee, then loudly fart, and then start singing to cover up any more accidental farts.

I swear to God, I can't wait to get out of here.

Breakthrough No. 9: Ball Busting Bitch

I went out to lunch with Coach, my coworker and friendly acquaintance. Coach is not only a Project Manager at Company, but she's also a certified motivational speaker and life-coach. We spoke about my career goals a few months back and now that my game plan is taking form I figured we should catch up.

I told Coach about my time at Company starting at day one. I can't believe I'm there three years already!! Time flies when you're having... uh...well...issues??

After about 15 minutes of my venting, Coach looked me right in the eyes and said,

"It's because you're a ball busting bitch."

One nanosecond later both my heart and jaw dropped. Racing thoughts do not describe what went through my head...how could I be a bitch I have low self-esteem and fat thighs I could never be a bitch to anyone all I ever wanted to do was make Company a better place and for people to like me I would never want to be the bitch that wait who the fuck do you think you are for saying that I'm a bitch you're a fucking bitch and fuck yeah I'll bust your fucking balls you...

Luckily I didn't say any of the above. My response was, "THANK YOU!"

FINALLY someone looked me in the face and told me what I'm truly being. No passive-aggressive bullshit whisper crap that always manages to get back to me anyways. Aahhh, honest, in your face, balls to the wall truths. That's all I've ever wanted. But the convo didn't stop there:

Coach: "You do realize why you're so happy that I called you a ball busting bitch, right?"

Me: "Yeah because you were honest."

Coach: "No it's because you enjoy conflict."

WHAT!?!?!?! I ENJOY CONFLICT?!?!? What the hell was she talking about??

Coach continued by saying we're a lot alike. People with our personality types are in the minority. There aren't many of us who enjoy a good fight, rock the boat, or tell someone off and move on. Most people will go to great lengths to actually AVOID conflict!!

This made me crack up. Rocks has said this to me quite a few times, but I honestly just didn't get it. See I eventually come around, B!

At first I felt the need give Coach an explanation. I began to tell her about my family, how yelling was the only way we communicated. Then I stopped because really, who the fuck cares how it started?? There's no need for excuses or blame.

I enjoy conflict. I am a ball busting bitch.

HURRAH! It feels so awesome to know this!! And the best part about this realization is:

Now that I'm aware of it, I can choose to be it.

With all the battles I've had at Company, good or bad, win or lose, I never fathomed NOT picking them in the first place. Seriously, the battle just had to happen. Something was broken, something was wrong, whatever, I had to go after it red faced and at full speed.

Today I learned something very valuable:

I always have a choice and from now on, I will always choose wisely.

Thanks Coach. (and Rocks). (and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade).

Sweet Irony

UUUGGGGHHHH...

I've been feeling pretty healthy the past week or so. Synthroid (my underactive thyroid medication) has already worked it's magic. I'm more alert, energized, and stable (!!!) than I have ever been. Absolutely fabulous week.

Unfortunately, some good things have to come to an end. I am seriously tempted to shove my vacuum hose through my belly button and suck all my organs out. I am so nauseous and gaseous again that I can't even open my mouth. I have to breathe through my nose.

What could possibly have ended my healthy week? Let's see...it's something that I'm very fond of. Something that beautifully compliments a cool autumn day filled with friends and football. Something I may never, ever be able to have again. What could it be??

IT'S CHILI!! Mother fucking chili! Aaargghhh!!

Fuck you stomach gods! First you take my hot dogs. Then you take my beer. Now you want my chili!! DIE DIE DIE!

Of course I really didn't need to eat three or four heaping bowls of MJ's finest chili recipe, so I guess there's no one else to blame, but myself. I guess.

Ironically, today was my first ever gastroenterologist appointment. You would think that with my love for all things bowel I would have like eight on call GI doctors, but no.

I honestly never really thought I had digestive problems. I figured my poopage was the standard repercussion after a night filled with carbombs, meat lover's pizza, and anal.

Apparently I was wrong. The GI doctor said:
"No, it is not normal to shit three times a day."
"No, it is not normal to shit immediately after you eat."
"No, it is not normal to feel like you're giving birth out of your ass."
"Yes, it is stupid to fart in the shower since the heat of the water retains the smell and you'll have to take a second shower after you realize the stench never lifted an hour after the first shower." (Okay he didn't say that last part, but it's something I learned. From a friend.)

Seriously, why the fuck do I think that anything I do is normal at this point in my life??

I am scheduled for a colonoscopy next week and an endoscopy the week after. Let's hope my only problems are the self-inflicted bullshit I put myself through rather than you know, real shit.

I HATE THE PATRIOTS!!!!!!!!

That is all.

Old peeps, old habits?

I always wondered at what point does unacceptable behavior become "senior citizen acceptable."

For example, I'm out to dinner with a friend. As I'm deciding whether to order the steak burrito or seafood linguine (because I always seem to pick the two most opposite entrees to wrestle over), my friend decides to swipe all of the silverware off of the table and throw it in her purse.

Say what!?!? Silverware? Are you for real? At 29 years old, I would bitch her out.

The last time I stole anything was Valentine's Day 2004. Bombed out of our minds, Gerf and I had a bit of an adventure in the East Village. We ran around knocking down bar signs, we hopped a fence and snuck around an alley, we made some kids on acid eat dirty pizza. Good times.

It wasn't until the next day that I realized I was a thief. When I put on my coat I found two tiny little salt and pepper shakers half full, with the other half dumped out in my pocket. I then remembered that we tried to eat at a fancy-ish restaurant, but we were so drunk that they wouldn't serve us.

I had stolen the salt and pepper shakers out of drunken retaliation. Take that fancy-ish restaurant!!

Anyways, if anyone is sober-stealing after the age of 21 they are stupid assholes. But what about at age 71? Would I still feel the need to bitch out my friend?

Stealing is only one example of stereotypical "senior citizen acceptable" behavior. In my mind, others include:

1. Saving used paper plates, paper towels, or plastic baggies
2. Having an endless supply of Lifesavers, Tic-Tacs, or Chiclets
3. Sending holiday cards for St. Patty's Day, Halloween, or Columbus Day
4. Including a $5 bill in all holiday cards
5. Clipping random newspaper articles to give to friends
6. Wearing pantyhose ALL THE TIME
7. Wearing white socks with black sandals
8. Wearing polyester
9. Being racist (not really, but you know what I mean)
10. Peeing your pants

So the questions are at what age does this behavior begin and at what age does it become okay?

I'm writing about this because the Petes and I were laughing about it the other day. It seems that I'm not the only one in touch with her inner Ruth Clare!

1. 37 year-old woman has a weekly schedule for calling friends and family
2. 33 year-old man carries birdseed in his bag to feed pigeons. His favorite one lives in the 7 train 5th Avenue station.
3. 29 year-old woman hoards daily crosswords and sudokus, ripping them out of coworkers' and abandoned newspapers like if they were winning lottery tickets.
4. 35 year-old woman pays for one movie ticket, sneaks into two additional theaters, spending at least 6 full hours at the movies in one day.

Okay, that third one is me.

Mad Lib Answers!

"I am making my friend a scrapbook of the crazy pictures we have taken through the years. I'm also including pictures of places around town that are meaningful to her.

This required me to buy scrapbooking material. Do you know how much fucking scrapbooking shit is out there?? TONS!!

Truthfully, I'm excited about it. It's totally for a worthy cause. Hope Heather likes it!!

Oh and I fucked a horse and then pooped on it's back and it loved it! Holla!"

Heather, I love your guts.

Ramble On

I did something very scary this week. I told my bosses I was going to start interviewing for a new job.

Hmm. That was interesting. When I sat down to write I thought I'd be pouring out my insecurities, yet when I finished the above sentences I felt strong, confident, and right as rain.

I told Fi how unproductive, unmotivated, and flat out useless I feel at work. For someone with a good work ethic, feeling like this is worse than death. What is the point of "working" 40+ hours a week if I don't feel good about it? Most of last week was spent walking around with Furbie, hanging with peeps on 10, or doing Sudoku in Stella Bumpkiss. Seriously not cool.

So I did what any bipolar person with $30K in debt would do. Quit without actually quitting, without having another job lined up.

There's three reasons I did this:

1. I didn't want to lie to Fi. She's the big sister I never had: funny, smart, and lovingly mean. I like her a lot so the last thing I want to do is feed her bullshit when I go on interviews. Plus she's pregnant and while I've done plenty of things in my life to guarantee a first class ticket to hell, I can't be deceitful to an unborn child.

2. Our department is already hiring so there's a humongous chance they'd find my resume online.

3. I have lots of real doctor visits coming up. Cicely's gone, but the pain's not. I got my blood work back and I have hypothyroidism. I thought only obese smokers had this, but my mom told me it's very common. An underactive thyroid can contribute to a bunch of things like depression (me!), weight gain (me!), and dry skin (I did get eczema last year), but it's definitely not the cause of my abdominal pain. Next stop, gastroenterologist.

So there you have it. I'll be leaving Company in the near future. To do what, I have no clue.

I blame Led Zeppelin. Ramble On was in my head all week.

Leaves are falling all around, It's time I was on my way.
Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
But now it's time for me to go. The autumn moon lights my way.
For now I smell the rain, and with it pain, and it's headed my way.
Sometimes I grow so tired, but I know I've got one thing I got to do...

*Ramble On, And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song.
I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl, on my way.
I've been this way ten years to the day, Ramble On,
Gotta find the queen of all my dreams.

Got no time to for spreadin' roots, The time has come to be gone.
And to' our health we drank a thousand times, it's time to Ramble On.

* Chorus

Mine's a tale that can't be told, my freedom I hold dear.
How years ago in days of old, when magic filled the air.
T'was in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair.
But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her, her, her....yeah.

* Chorus

Gonna ramble on, sing my song. Gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby...
Gonna work my way, round the world. I can't stop this feelin' in my heart
Gotta keep searchin' for my baby. I can't find my bluebird!

Mad Libs!

I'm working on a project. Here's my thoughts mad lib style. Enjoy!

I am (verb) my (noun) a (noun) of the (adjective) (noun) we have (verb) through the (noun). I'm also (verb) (noun) of (noun) of (noun) around (noun) that are (adjective) to (noun).

This (verb) me to (verb) (verb) (noun). Do you know how much (adjective) (verb) (noun) is out there?? (WEIGHT)!!

(Adverb), I am (verb) (adjective) about it. It's (Valley Girl slang) for a (adjective) (noun).

Hope (noun) (verb) it!

Oh and I (verb) a (noun) and then (verb) on it's (body part) and it (verb) it! Holla!

My Lovely Lady Dumps

Theeeyy're baaaacckkk!!!

I was afraid that sobriety would mean the simultaneous loss of two favorite hobbies, drinking and pooping.

I am happy to report that my bowels are back on their regular schedule!! Morning, noon, and night, baby.

Seriously, I was so psyched that I silently cheered and pumped air each time ala Arsenio Hall. (Is he dead?)

Damn...when I leave Company I'm sure going to miss my 10th floor bathroom stall.

I shall name her Stella Bumpkiss. She was my friend.

Hard fucking week.

This was the most fucked up week of my whole life. Of course it's always worse when I'm still caught up in shit. Hopefully all will be forgotten soon enough. Here are the week's events in a nutshell:

Monday
In my last post I explained how I felt so incredibly sick physically, mentally, and emotionally on Monday. I woke up a complete fucking mess, but for some reason made myself go to work anyways. By 11am, I got pissed off at El Dodo, this moronic old school IT guy who has shit for brains. I don't think he would have annoyed me as much if I was feeling better, but this was strike one.

Strike two, Fi told me I had to move out of her office as she was newly promoted. It was a fluke that I ended up in an office to begin with, so moving was not a big deal...at least until I found out WHERE I was moving to. Let's just leave it as "in a cubicle down the hall" for now.

Strike three, 11am meeting with old division has become pretty painful as of late, basically because it's become more of an update rather than the creative and collaborative brainstorming session it once was. Again, if I wasn't sick it wouldn't have bothered me as much.

By noon I had it so I left for the day and came home. I was hysterical to say the least. My mind exploded, my mood swings more violent than ever. It was so fucking bad that I not only called Cee to see if I could come in for an emergency therapy appointment, but I also...wait for it.....

CALLED MY MOM AND TOLD HER TO COME TO QUEENS.

Say what!?!?!?! Yep, I was so fucked up that I wanted my mom with me. I was hurting all over: head, chest, back, Cicely, everywhere. I felt as depressed as I was before I started taking Zoloft and I couldn't stop crying either. We spoke for a couple of hours and she (thankfully) calmed me down enough so that I would call the gyno and get checked out. I felt alot better after making the appointment so my mom decided to come up early...

Tuesday
I called out sick. Mommers got here at 9am. We hung out and talked for 5 hours until the gyno appt. I don't think I've felt closer to her than I did that day. It was wonderful.

The only good news of this week: Cicely's gone!!! No more cyst! Apparently my only issue downtown is that my right ovary is ultra-sensitive. I tell ya, I haven't been right ever since that other doctor poked me hard. (Heh.) The problem now is that I'm back at square one, still in a lot of pain all over but don't know why. I scheduled a checkup at my regular doctor for the next afternoon.

Wednesday
Body still feels like shit, less depressed, but still teary. First day back at work I go to sit "in a cubicle down the hall." This is what's wrong with my new seat:

1. Old person's shit wasn't totally cleaned out so I had to move it.
2. Apparently someone went through all of my personal drawers and files, removed everything from my old desk and placed them into my new desk. Yes while everything is technically "owned" by the company, I find this extremely invasive and completely fucking rude.
3. I sit by five sales people who SCREAM AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS on speakerphone.
4. The world's second loudest copier is right behind me.
5. There's a onesie bathroom right behind me as well. Now I love peeing and pooping. I do. Know what I don't like? HEARING OTHER PEOPLE PEEING AND POOPING.

I had to listen to my Ipod on the loudest volume to drown all the above out. I left at 3pm to go the doctor's with a new headache on top of the old headache.

Since Cicely is no longer a problem, my doctor gave me a referral for bloodwork. He now thinks I either have a thyroid problem or digestive disease, move likely gastritis. Me? Gas? Naaah...

Yesterday and Today
Got the bloodwork done Thursday morning. Fingers crossed that everything is kosher.

I had a great therapy session last night. I discussed everything that happened this week and made some great realizations:

1. I quit drinking for good. I was so fucked up this week because I haven't had a beer in almost a month. My body was finally getting used to the Zoloft without alcohol in my system and when I drank on Sunday it totally fucked me over. Getting drunk is just not worth the pain.

2. The desk situation is sort of a blessing. As a guy in my department was taking a wicked leak, I thought about where I would like to sit if given the option. It took me a while, but I finally realized that I didn't want to sit anywhere at Company ever again! Hallelujah!

For the past 2 and a half years, I have eaten shit for that place, trying to make it better because I felt like I "owed it" to Company. My motivation was always to make Company the best, well company, it could be because I love everything it stands for. I love the stories, the characters, the creators, everyone. I thought I had to fix Company to show my appreciation, but I was wrong. All I have to do is keep reading.

I'm leaving Company for real this time. I am going to find a 9-5pm job that I can do with my eyes closed, so that I can go to SVA at night. That's right, I've decided to go to art school and become an art therapist. Who knows, maybe I'll just have to draw a couple comics along the way.

Upchuck your love.

I want to puke on all of NY. No wait, all of the world. Better yet, I want to vomit on the universe.

What is making me so nauseous? Drumroll please...

~the fucking Jets

~fucking Cicely and her dull pain

~the fucking scheduler at my gyno's office for giggling when I said I needed an "inside" sonogram because I couldn't remember the medical term. (Actually I was laughing too but fuck her. Me laughing wasn't an invite for her to laugh.)

~my fucking therapy session last Thursday which was the hardest one to date

~and the biggest fucking reason why I want to fucking vomit all over the fucking universe:

MY OLDEST AND DEAREST FRIEND IS A SCUMBAG DICKBITCH.

Who is my oldest and dearest friend, you ask???

BEER! MOTHER FUCKING BEER I HATE YOUR STUPID FUCKING GUTS.

I, Thighs McGee, decided to stop drinking the day after Labor Day. I drank about five beers one night three weeks ago, got a little buzz on, no big deal.

Yesterday at the god awful disastrous Titans of New York game (throwback Jets team bullshit which I will discuss at a later and less pukey date), I had five beers.

Those fucking piece of shit beers have fucked my skull. I am not only physically nauseous, I am mentally and emotionally nauseous as well. I want to fucking kill the whole world. No, first I want to puke on the whole world. Then I want to kick the whole world's ass and rub it's face in the random puddles of puke surrounding us. Then I want to kill it. Then puke on it again.

And while it's possible I am just sick to my stomach from gorging myself for 11 hours yesterday on hamburgers, shish kebob, pasta, and knishes at the tailgate then a pulled pork sandwich at Spanky's BBQ you know what??

I. AM. DONE. My bff can smd.*

Dear Beer,

We've been through a lot. Between you and Drugs, the last 15 years were fucking balls out crazy. I've shared some of the best times of my life with you, but let's be honest, our relationship has been pretty shaky since "Auntie D" was prescribed.

There was a time when I thought I could never leave Drugs. As you know, I pretty much left him when it was legal for you and I to be together. Of course there'd be the occasional booty call from Drugs now and then, and I must say, it was much appreciated how you were always willing to join in instead of get mad. Hot, in fact.

I am a different person now though. Beer, I know this is harsh but the truth is I just don't need you anymore. I don't think I've needed you for a while now, but I was well, too drunk to notice.

So now it's time for me to say goodbye. I would say I'll miss you, but you know what? I won't.

Sincerely,
Thighs



*smd = suck my dick

And then there's Mom emails...

I just got this email from my mother:

Sent: Friday, October 12, 2007 5:28 PM
Subject: NY Post

Corinne left a message to look at the NY Post. There's a naked guy that looks just like Richie ....

Also click for the story...there's another picture of him....It does look like Richie. Although she said she knew it wasn't him since his pecker wasn't down to his ankle!!

Love Mom

It took 30 years, but I've finally made peace with how much she and I are alike.

The guy has Rippie's old Irish afro, but other than that I don't really see a resemblance except in this one:

Check out the rest of the naked pics, they're actually pretty funny.

The real question isn't "Why'd he do it?" it's "What the fuck made him keep the friendship ankle bracelet on??"

Junk email

Company didn’t have an email filter for awhile so we used to get some pretty junkie emails directly in our inbox on a regular basis. We now have a Postini Spam thingie (yes I am in IT), so we have to sign in to review and delete them. I checked it this afternoon and I must say there are some pretty good subject lines this week:

Come get it!

Safely enlarge and enhance the size of your penis!

2 pills a day got me an extra 2 inches.

A bigger cock will always be better.

With Manster you can look forward to the good times sexually.

Now I’m 2 inches bigger in my manhood. I have all the confidence.

I was looking for a method to improve my size. By size, I mean overall length and width of my penis.

Your longer penis will probe deeper searching those special nerve endings.

The added width to your penis fills and presses her from side to side to give your partner the most exhilarating sensations.

My wife complains about my small cock ALL THE TIME!

Who thinks to write this shit? When can I date them?

Say "photog" and I'll slap you.

As promised...more pictures!

This last one is the view from my bedroom window. We can bang doggy-style and stare at the ESB if you want. Not like I did that before or anything.

You mean you don't know him?!?!?

I've unfortunately had this conversation quite a few times:

Me: "...I went to Rutgers."

Idiot: "Oh you went to Rutgers? I know this guy Joe that went there. Do you know him?"

Me: "Um well, Joe what?"

Idiot: "I don't remember, but he has brown hair, kind of tall, was a PoliSci major, grew up in Jersey..."

Me: "Oh you mean JOE! The guy with two arms and two legs!! Riiiight..."

I've heard this kind of moronic question is not limited to alma maters. For example:

Idiot: "Oh you're gay!! You must know Christopher."
Idiot: "Oh you're black!! You must know Terrell Owens."
Idiot: "Oh you're blind, deaf, and mute!! You must know Helen Keller."

Well folks, I'm afraid to admit that I was the idiot today.

I was sitting on the V train in one of those sideway seats, you know, where you're looking straight at the people in the regular facing seats. There was this white haired old woman sitting in front of me, two people next to her. When the seats next to her cleared a white haired old man sat next to the white haired old woman. In my blonde mind, my first thought was:

Me the Idiot: "Oh you're both old with matching white hair! You must know each other!"

This seemed like a perfectly logical conclusion to me. I sat there wondering if the woman decided not to dye her hair so that she and her husband would look like twins. I wondered if their children thought it cute. I wondered if their friends called them "Mr. and Mrs. Cottonball Heads". I wondered all sorts of things like this, until I slowly started to noticed something odd...

Smart Me: If they know each other then why aren't they talking?

Me the Idiot: Oh they must have had a fight.

Smart Me: Okay so they had a fight. But they don't even look comfortable around each other. In fact the woman keeps nervously playing with her bag like she's just altogether uncomfortable. Why isn't he calming her down?

Me the Idiot: Maybe it was a really big fight.

Smart Me rolls eyes at Me the Idiot. Time passes. Me the Idiot senses Smart Me thinks I'm an idiot. Me the Idiot starts to rant.

Me the Idiot: Maybe they're tired. Maybe they've been together so long they have nothing to say. Maybe...wait now she's getting up. Oh she's getting off the train. Wait, why isn't he getting...ooohhhhh...gotcha...

Smart Me: Yeah. You're fucking brilliant.

Siiiigh...

Slackin' off.

I always carry a notebook with me. A fresh book starts off as my diet tracker where I note something along the lines of:

B-Kashi 120 cals, skim milk 80 cals, banana free, coffee
L-LC Panini 300 cals, Soy Crisps 140 cals, diet coke
Sn-apple
TSF (total so far)-640 cals

Then I pig out after work so I barely ever write down what I had for dinner.

The notebook eventually becomes my on-the-go diary, usually venting about work or something stupid. Lately it seems to be my on-the-go blog as well, jotting down ideas or the day's events that I'd like to share. I wrote a few posts on the subway last week, but I don't know, I'm bored with them already. Here's an update:

1. I pretty much stopped drinking since Labor Day. I still go out once or twice a week, but I maybe had 10 beers the whole month of September. I'm so proud of myself!!

2. I also stopped using my credit card too! It's amazing how much crap I would have bought if I could charge it. It's crazy, I actually say to myself, "Okay, you can buy the fifth season of Family Guy on DVD right now and just not eat for the next four days OR wait until your next paycheck you fucking moron."

I have never, ever done this before. Duh...Captain Obvious says I didn't get $20K in the hole by showing some restraint.

3. Rock of Love finale was last week, the reunion tonight. While Jes is the hottest and coolest girl I may never meet, I didn't want her to win. Despite Heather's trashy behavior in the last episode, I thought she and Bret had a nice chemistry. Apparently Jes agreed with me because on the reunion show she told Bret he should have picked Heather. Awesome. Drama to the end. Damn I'm going to miss that show.

4. I expected the Giants to beat the Jets today, but I was pretty upset with the Jets performance in the last half. They're 1-4 now and no sir, I don't like it. I'm going to the Eagles game next Sunday, hopefully I'll still be their good luck charm!

The Giants actually have a shot at a 6-2 record before their bye week...let's see if they can keep it together.

5. Work is going well, but I need to think about some things.

6. Now that I'm not drinking I don't shit as often. My farts still stink though.

7. I'm finally getting a new oven. I'm excited to learn how to cook!

8. I can't figure out what I want to be for Halloween. So many options...

9. I wasn't lying about gaining 20 pounds. I weigh 190 now. Meh.

10. R.I.P Mets 2007 season

Padiddle!

In high school my friends and I used to play padiddle. A "padiddle" is a car with one headlight out. If you're driving around with your pals and see one you simply scream out "PADIDDLE!" and hit the roof of the car with your hand. That's it.

For us it was just fun to scream really loud, but apparently some peeps would take the game a little farther by making the person who did not see the padiddle take off one article of clothing. Sluts!

Speaking of sluts (or at least recovering ones), yesterday I went shopping with Spags. As I was leaving my apartment I noticed that my right nipple was hard, my left one soft.

I thought okay, maybe it will go down if I warm up a bit so I rubbed it while walking to the subway. No such luck, instead it just got harder. (I'm sure some of the old Greek men sitting on their stoops did too as I walked by, fa!)

Then I thought okay, maybe my left one needs some lovin' to even things out. I began rubbing lefty as well. No luck there either, is it possible to have whiskey nips?

By then I gave up, figuring the right one would eventually cool it's loins, hopefully before I poke someone's eye out. Yeah, no. It stayed like that all day.

I, my friends, was a walking padiddle. See?



Best thing about gaining 20 pounds this year (yes twenty, more on that when I finally stop eating and/or crying)...my breasts are HUGE!!

Book of Job

I went downstairs to chat with Bucket this morning. I didn't want to bring up the hot dodgeball guy, Job (his alias) but Bucket knows me too well...

and told me that JOB'S SINGLE!!!! WOO HOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Happy 33rd!!!

Happy 33rd Birthday to Mr. Megkefel. Can't wait to see you and my ladies later!

Happy 33rd Anniversary to my mom and dad. Not like they read this or anything. Please God.

Doges of Dodging!

Tonight I played dodgeball for the first time in oh, I don't know, 20 years maybe?? Still fucking rocks!

Me and a few Company peeps joined an intramural league. We play once a week for the next six weeks. It is so totally fun. I wish we could play every day.

Our team name is Doges* of Dodging. Leave it to Bucket to pick a name I don't understand. Damn editors. The movie Dodgeball was on FX the other day. I actually took mental notes for rules and strategy. It didn't pay off though, since all my balls kept getting caught. Fa!

Despite Manic Monday, this was a pretty good week. I got really anxious today though and I'm sad to admit that I was nervous about the game!! Yes. Me. Nervous over fucking dodgeball. I'm really glad I powered through the stupid nerves because I had an absolute blast. I can't wait to play again!

Besides being the funnest thing ever, there is a totally hot guy on the team. He's Bucket's friend, I think I met him once about a year ago. He had a girlfriend back then and I'm pretty sure they lived together. Oh well, he's still delightful to look at.

Donovan's on the team too, which is really nice. I hope that he and I can finally become friends. I still want to ram my tongue down his throat, but other than that I'm over him. Or not. No, I am. I'm over him, I just ya know, I'd sit on his face if he asked me to.

I'm shaking my head and rolling my eyes at myself...

*doge (dōj) n. The elected chief magistrate of the former republics of Venice and Genoa**.


**Genoa's a salami, right??

Let it ride.

I'm coming out of a panic attack. My mind is empty, my chest hurts, my arms and hands look separate from my body. I'm watching my fingers type, but I'm not quite sure who's controlling them...

Panic attacks suck. I don't get the "breathe into a paper bag and suffer a heart attack from guilt" kind, I get the hippie "I did too much acid and now either Jesus or Jimi is calling me" kind.

I left work around 6:30pm and walked to 59th and Lex to catch the R train. When I got to Astoria I picked up a couple of things at the grocery store and then ate dinner while watching reruns of ANTM on MTV. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Around 9pm I was feeling weird, so I turned off the television. I started to feel the fog coming over me. In this early stage of an attack I give myself two options, beat it or join it.

I've learned to join it by meditating for however long "it" needs. If I keep myself calm and positive, this can be a very rewarding and cleansing experience.

Tonight was not like that. I actually tried to beat it, which never works out. I jumped off my couch and began pacing around trying to do something normal to keep myself in reality. I closed my bedroom window. I put my dirty clothes in the hamper. I washed dishes. This is when I began to lose it because the only way I could finish them was by doing a play-by-play: "I'm washing a bowl. Now I'm washing a spoon." etc.

In my case, fighting an attack really makes things worse. The anxiety becomes too strong and turns to fear, the fear goes black, and a silent pain takes over.

No matter how used to it I become I always wonder, "Is this the end? Is this the moment I finally lose it and never come back?" All I can do is close my eyes, have a good cry, and wait.

At this point my chest still hurts, but luckily my hands and arms have been reattached. I have some idea what I just wrote...

and it's fucked. I'M fucked, but truthfully I've never been any other way.

I guess I could go back and rewrite this now that I'm back to "normal."

Fuck it. I'm letting it ride.

NFL Week 3 Early Recap

It fucking worked!! The Giants have their first win!! I will never pick them to win again...

Jets and Raiders won today too, so it was a great day for Thighs family football teams. Very happy right now!

I haven't really watched the Cowboys and Bears tonight. I had to watch the Family Guy Star Wars episode instead. Hysterical!! They showed clips at the SDCC and FG Live shows, so I had already seen most of the funny parts. Totally didn't matter though because I still laughed my ass off.

So with two games left I'm 8-6. I think I'm going to quit writing these posts...I'm starting to feel embarrassed.

Is it just me or does Al Michaels sound like Howard Stern's and Casey Kasem's lovechild?

30th Birthday Trip

I've wanted to plan a 30th birthday trip for the past 7 years now. Of course back then no one cared to think about the "dreaded" three-oh, so it wasn't until the past few months that the Petes and I began really discussing ideas.

I wasn't too sure how to go about pleasing at least 10 chicks (bedroom skills aside, fa!) so I laid out a couple of guidelines.

1. Affordable (perhaps even all-inclusive)
2. Convenient travel
3. Something for everyone (ie beaches, spas, clubs)
4. A zipline (This is for me. I've always wanted to do an adventure trip where I can fly through the forest zipping from tree to tree.)

Well I found the perfect spot, Puerto Vallarta. It has everything: all-inclusive packages, a direct flight from NY, and all the relaxing or adventurous activities you could ask for. I was TOTALLY sold, but then too many exciting things happened this summer!!

The engagements, new homes, new jobs, new outlooks, new everything...I must say this has been such an amazing year for all of us. 2008 is shaping up to be even better.

So between all the money, stress, and limited amount of vacation days between us, I have decided to condense the 30th birthday trip into a long weekend somewhere with the hopes that anyone who wants to come can make it. Not sure if tripods are invited. I'll have to consult the ladies as this was going to be a girl only trip. We'll see.

My first thought of course is VEGAS BABY...phone lines and email are now open for ideas!

WHOOOOA THIRTY!!

NFL Week 2 Recap and Week 3 Picks

I wrote up this whole explanation as to why I was a shitty 8-8 last week, but I can't find it anywhere. There were a lot of upsets though so I don't feel too bad, but I've decided I'm not going to pick the Giants all season. Hopefully they'll win some now.

I have nothing witty to say for this week's games. I'm too annoyed with NY NFL teams thus far and to jump to baseball real quick, don't even get me started on the Mets...

Week 3

Sunday, September 23
ARI @ BAL: Ravens
BUF @ NE: Patriots
CAR @ ATL: Panthers
CIN @ SEA: Seahawks
CLE @ OAK: Raiders
DAL @ CHI: Bears
DET @ PHI: Lions
IND @ HOU: Colts
JAC @ DEN: Broncos
MIA @ NYJ: Jets
MIN @ KC: Vikings
NYG @ WAS: Skins
SD @ GB: Chargers
SF @ PIT: Steelers
STL @ TB: Rams

Monday, September 24
TEN @ NO: Saints

Hibernation Season

My mom used to wake me for school by saying, "Thighs, get up. It's **insert weather condition** so you'll need a **specific outerwear or accessory**."

For example:
"... It's 58 degrees out so you'll need a light jacket."
"... It's raining out so you'll need an umbrella."

She did this until I was probably 14. It's funny that I almost forgot. Nowadays I watch NY1 for Weather on the Ones, mainly because I'm a streetwalker (hee hee) and getting caught in a storm sucks. I wonder if I'd still watch it if my mom called me every morning...oh wait, then I'd have to talk to her pre-coffee. Yikes.

My mom is also famous for explaining illness with "It's the change in seasons." The sniffles, a cough, the flu, backaches, any icky feeling was always blamed on the time of year. I could be bleeding from my eyeballs and she'd still say it.

It used to annoy the shit out of me, but then there was a point when I practically convinced myself I'd be sick when the seasons changed. Granted this was back in my cigarette and drug days when I always seemed to have bronchitis, but it really did seem like clockwork. I think Winter into Spring-sick would hit me the hardest. Ugh, I just remembered when I used to try to smoke a Marlboro with a sore throat, swollen glands, and disgustingly furry mucous.

Anyways, this week I'm feeling kind of poopie. Not sure if I'm feeling sick-poopie or just poopie-poopie. One thing's for sure, I will not be telling my mom I don't feel well because I have a sneaky suspicion she's just waiting for it. Take that, Mommy!

So the past couple of days I've been a good girl by laying low to recharge my batteries. I'm feeling really heavy, but not like fat-heavy, more like dense-heavy. Ooo that's it...I'm dense and tired. I could sleep for the next month! I don't have plans this weekend either and I'm pretty psyched about it...

MUST...SLEEEEEEP...

FYI, in the Blogger spellchecker "poopie" isn't a word. Instead they offer "poo pie". HAHA!!

And all that jazz!

My weekend in Chicago with Fish...

Gosh, I really don't know what I want to write and I REALLY don't know when I started using the word "gosh," but I've been saying it a lot lately.

The main reason I went to Chicago was because I was scared shitless to go. With that I realize this trip was not just a test for Fish, but for myself.

Fish met me at the hotel on Friday. As cliche as it sounds, as soon as I saw him it was like no time had passed since San Diego. I instantly got all warm and fuzzy inside. It felt really good.

Saturday we ran around Chicago taking pics and being silly all day. Completely random, that night Family Guy Live! was in town, which was hysterical since the Family Guy panel at the SDCC was technically our first "date." Seth MacFarlane now gets to hump either Fish or me the next time we see him.

Sunday was cool for the most part, except of course that the FUCKING GIANTS SUCK MY ASS. (More on this when I recap my shitty picks from last week.) I was sort of grumpy after the game and Fish wasn't feeling too well either so I guess you could say we were cranky wankers all day. Sadly we were so cranky that um, yeah, by the end of the night we actually had an argument. An argument!!!

I won't go into specifics, but let me tell you it was not the kind of argument two people who barely know each other have. Words like love, selfish, pushy, hard (not penis hard), sad, bad, compromise, etc. were yelled at each other in the middle of the street...gosh, hearing it now I think we sounded like we were friggin' married. Scary.

I just counted, Fish and I have only breathed the same air for approximately 59 hours in a seven week span. That's less than six cycles of America's Next Top Model! Fuck!

So where does that leave "us?" I have no clue. How do I feel? Well I totally passed my test because I realized something very important this weekend...

I'M NOT BROKEN!!

I'm actually able to like someone who's real, not a fantastical version of who I want him to be like Donovan or FB or Ohio John or who the fuck else. I like someone enough to fly across the country to see him! I like someone enough to argue! I like someone so much that I cream my pants when I think about him!! And the greatest realization...I like someone so much that I want to be the best person I can be, not for him, but for me!!

I get it now! I won't be much good for anyone if I'm not good to myself. I am so proud that I faced my fears and went to see him. I feel wiser, stronger, and better than I have ever felt. It really was an amazing weekend, argument and all.

So shit, I didn't just pass my test...I got an A+ with a gold star on a yellow Success Card!

NFL Week 2 Picks

I'm leaving for Chicago tomorrow night (WOOHOO!) so here are my early picks. I feel pretty good about them, just as long as none of the star players get arrested for dogfights, cockfights, bullfights or child pornography before Sunday.

Sunday, September 16

ATL @ JAC: Jaguars
BUF @ PIT: Steelers
CIN @ CLE: Bengals
DAL @ MIA: Cowboys
HOU @ CAR: Panthers
IND @ TEN: Colts
KC @ CHI: Bears
MIN @ DET: Vikings, although I'm not too sure about it.
NO @ TB: Saints
OAK @ DEN: Broncos (Sorry Dad.)
SEA @ ARI: Seahawks
SF @ STL: Rams

GB @ NYG: Giants. This matchup is the reason I'm going to Chicago. Fish's a cheesehead so I thought it would be cool to watch the game together. I'm picking NY because the Eagles looked like shit last week, so I think the Packers win was a fluke. Smack talk starting already...

NYJ @ BAL: Ravens. Is it "the best defense is offense" or "the best offense is defense"? Either way, where the fuck was NY's offensive line last week?

SD @ NE: Patriot Assholes. NE cheating is like a chick with double D's stuffing her bra. What's the point?

Monday, September 17

WAS @ PHI: Iggles

NFL Week 1 Recap

Week 1 is over and I'm 11-5. I might suck at this. Highlights:

1. The Patriots are a fucking powerhouse. Brady looked good and since he doesn't have enough star rushers/receivers (sarcasm), they just HAD to sign Randy Moss who had 9 catches for 183 yards (TOMMY!) in his first start with NE. Damn you Belichick, you shabby genius!

2. I can't believe the Packers won. Good for Favrererer.

3. Bears/Chargers game ended up being on FOX. LT is insane. He scored a TD and threw a TD pass. Awesome.

4. It's awful what happened to Kevin Everett. I know that's the chance players take, but jesus, it's scary and such a shame.

5. Why am I both a Jets AND a Giants fan? Oh that's right, I'm a masochist with low self-esteem that grew up in the Tri-State area.

It was not a fun day for NY fans. Chad's hurt, Eli's hurt...my stomach hurts just thinking about this season. Oy vey.

Random Diary Entry: May 5, 1986

In 2nd grade my teacher had us write in our Daily Diary. I found it the other day, so here is a glimpse into my mind at the ripe young age of 8. Nothing's really changed 22 years later.

Today is Monday, May 5, 1986. Today is the 146 day of school. I would like to tell you about Saturday and today. Saturday morning my mother had to go to work. So she did. It was elven fourty-five, so my father took a nap. My brother was hungry when it was twelve zero five. Then he went into the refridgearator. He took out the potato chips. I only took two. When he put them away he saw that I changed the channel on the televisoin. Then he smacked me. I said that he was a doodoo brain. He said my breath smells like a chicken. When he turned around I kicked him. Then he started punching my cast. [Ed note: I had broken my arm.] It did not hurt me, it hurt him. Do you know what I did? I took him by his foot and pulled him into our room. I took one of his toys and I was going to hit him, but when he was about to yell to my father, I put the toy down. He was going to say that there was someone trying to kill him. He was going to say that to my father. I had fun.

The best part about the diary is that most of my entries end with "I had fun." or "It was fun." Silly girl.

Mean Streaks

Face it, we all have one. When I'm feeling mean I rarely act out on it, but man, when I finally do it will. be. GLORIOUS. Here are my go-to meandreams.

When someone is:

1. bending down to tie their shoe, I push them over, point and laugh at them.

2. walking their dog my scenarios vary between grabbing the dog and running or kicking the dog in the face and standing there, waiting to see what the owner would do.

3. taking up the whole sidewalk by walking side by side with someone else, I either clothesline them both or tackle one of them to the ground, with the hopes of cracking their skull on the pavement.

4. walking and then suddenly stops short, I pull out a megaphone and say "THERE'S NOTHING TO SEE HERE. KEEP MOVING."

5. talking really loud on their cell phone I take said phone and shove it down their throat.

This morning I came up with a new meandream. I can't tell if it's funny, dumb, or a sign I've seen the Breakfast Club too many times. I'll share anyways.

Today I kept imagining going up to people and screaming "I'M THRILLED _____!" Examples:

I'M THRILLED you can blow cigarette smoke in my face as I walk by.
I'M THRILLED you walk slower than my dead grandfather.
I'M THRILLED you didn't fucking shower today and smell like spicy eggfarts.
I'M THRILLED you stuck it to the man by blocking the train doors.
I'M THRILLED you think I have a black woman ass Mr. Delivery Guy.

And last but not least, I'M THRILLED that today I hated everyone for no reason.

So that was my day. It ended on a high note though because I finally saw Superbad. Oh my hell, it was fantastic. Go see it as soon as possible.

Siiighhh...I'M THRILLED to go to bed and start fresh tomorrow.

I Love New York!

Last week I was all about New York baseball as I was invited to both a Yanks and a Mets game. Thanks Megkefel and DaQ!

Mariners vs. Yankees, 09/04/07. Yanks won 12-3 and a squirrel warmed our hearts.

Oh, Yankees Stadium. I hadn't been to a game in at least three years. I was a hardcore fan back in the 90s when I guess everyone was. It started wearing off a bit by college with the Subway Series. My best friend and roommate at the time was a huge Mets fan so I became more interested in the underdog rather than the front runner.

But damn do they still have talent. Jeter and A-Rod really are amazing to watch, so I'm glad I went. The stadium? Well now that I've been on the tour it's pretty shitty! And Yankee fans? I hate to say this, but the vibe was shitty too! I think there are two types of Yankee fans, the ones that are baseball fans and the ones that aren't. I like anyone who respects and appreciates the sport, I despise the fans that are mean-spirited Yankee starfuckers.

I must say, while I had a blast with my friends, I think I'm ready to be a full-on Mets fan. Here's why..

Astros vs. Mets, 09/07/07. Mets won 11-3 and DaQ's family warmed MY heart.

We've got heart! (Yes I'm already using "we" statements.) The minute we walked in the stadium was electric, the vibe was all things good, and the fans were positively pumped. Sure there are dickheads in the mix (it's NY after all), but it was such a difference than the Bronx. Maybe it's because I've lived in Queens for over three years or maybe it's because I subconciously chose the Mets long ago. Whatever it is, every game I go to, win or lose, is always a great day of baseball.

New stadiums for both teams? Yay or Nay?

I say "Yay". I'm excited for both teams to get a new home. I'm sure it will suck to get tickets at first, but weeknight games are rarely sold out so I can understand the drop in available seats. Here are some pics of both. I didn't have my camera at the Yankee game, so I had to make do with my camera phone.

Are you ready for some football??

Instead of doing fantasy, I think I'm just going to post my picks each week. I really should get HBO for the season. I love the show Inside the NFL.

WEEK 1

Thursday, September 6
I swear I picked the Colts.

Sunday, September 9
TEN @ JAC: Jaguars
ATL @ MIN: Vikings
PIT @ CLE: Steelers
KC @ HOU: Chiefs
PHI @ GB: Eagles
NE @ NYJ: Sadly, Patriots
DEN @ BUF: Broncos
CAR @ STL: Panthers
MIA @ WAS: Redskins
TB @ SEA: Seahawks
DET @ OAK: Raiders for my dad.
CHI @ SD: I wish I had the NFL Ticket, too. Great game, I pick Chargers.
NYG @ DAL: The NFC East is my favorite division. I hate the fucking Cowboys almost as much as I hate the Patriots. If there's ever a Dallas/New England superbowl, I will boycott and have an Anti-Boobie Bowl party that year. We'll watch Beaches and Steel Magnolias or something.

I'm pissed now. I'll pick the Giants so that if they lose I can be even more angry. AARRRGGHHH!

Monday, September 10
BAL @ CIN: Bengals
ARI @ SF: Niners

Put the camera phone down!

Word to the wise, taking pictures of your own breasts is harder than you'd think.

Yes, I'm sober.

GP

GP was let go today. I feel an incredible amount of guilt for three reasons:

1. GP really is a good person. I wish he would have let people help him out more.

2. My problem with him was definitely not the deciding factor, but most likely a contributing one.

3. Part of me really wanted him to be fired.

I feel awful. I wonder if I'm making myself feel bad so that I won't imagine how he feels.

What did I learn from GP?

1. The importance of good communication (both verbal and non), charisma, loyalty, and personal responsibility.

2. It's okay to be wrong or to just let. it. go.

3. Documentation is a good thing.

4. Silence is golden.


I wish him well.

I'm ready.

I'm ready to write about Fish. It's about fucking time, especially since I'm going to Chicago in 11 days to see him. The interesting part about it is, I have less to say about how I feel about him and more to say about how I feel about myself in regards to him. Does that make sense?

The day Fish and I spent together in San Diego was one of the best days of my life. Why? Because on that day I was my best.

My insecurities, my negative thoughts, my hurt, and my sadness were only parts of me instead of my whole being. I allowed my light to shine through my darkness and it was beautiful.

I was beautiful. I was strong, confident, and at peace. I knew who I was and who I was meant to be. Everything about myself made sense and had a purpose. I was whole and it was wonderful.

Fish did something that no one has ever done before. He made me fall in love with Me.

Best. Day. Ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wish I could say the weeks since I began dating myself have been filled with those same positive feelings, but it's been pretty rocky. Honestly, all I want to do is barf.

Every time I think about Me, the chunks rise in our throat, I clench our teeth, and hope to God We don't blow chunks. We're nauseated right now.

What happens if I continues to make Me sick? Am I in a position to pursue Me so that We even have a chance? What happens if Me and I run out of things to say to ourselves? Do I even know Me well enough to be asking these questions?

My family is concerned that both I and Me will get hurt. I don't think it's a possibility considering that for Me to think it, I would know it, so there shouldn't be any surprises. Even so, I have been down that road enough to know We'll eventually be okay. It's the road where things go well that scares the shit out of Me...

I wonders if AAA gives Trip Tix to Good. Me thinks I already know Bad like the back of our hand.

Live from Jackson, New Jersey Conclusion

I'm smashed. If I could type with my forehead, I would. Hmmm....

yhtg6gtfvuhjytgyfredfuhjy

In drunk world the above says, "Yo hot guy. Sex got flavor, UH. Joy to guy. Fred fudge ya."

I'm cracking myself up right now...

Family parties es stupido. Well, not really but when will they stop feeling like a chore? When will I stop wanting to sit at the little kid table? I prefer talking to people under 10 years old. They are fun.

My eyes are rolling in the back of my head. I miss Fish. I miss Delilah. I miss my bed. I drunk.

Do know what's special about this sentence?

"The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dogs."

It uses every letter in the alphabet. It was a clue in an Encyclopedia Brown case.

I'm going to regret publishing this, huh?

Live from Jackson, New Jersey (cont')

11. I signed on to start my draft and for some reason my team The Little Giants, didn't appear. I checked my email and sure enough I got a message from the Commissioner:

I'm really sorry, but I have to remove your team from the fantasy league. It won't let us play with an odd number of teams, and you were the last to join. I feel really bad because I invited you to play. Sorry :-(

Son of a whore! Oh well, I'm too fucked up to concentrate anyways.

12. My cousin Craig has a tattoo of Wile E. Coyote on one asscheek, Road Runner on the other. He's had this for quite a while, at least 10 years. Turns out he got two more. On the side of his hip Wile E. caught up with Road Runner and choked him to death. Below his belly button is Underdog. Yes, Underdog.

13. I can't believe I haven't seen Superbad yet.

14. My contacts have melded to my eyeballs.

Live from Jackson, New Jersey

Labor Day party in full effect. Some tidbits thus far:

1. My mom yelled at me, saying I didn't dry off the chip bowls well enough. "The chips will get fucking soggy! JESUS!" Ahhh...motherly love. I cried a little.

2. I miss Rippie.

3. Apparently Jessica Alba has herpes. My dad heard this on WRAT so it must be true.

4. I poo pooed on a poo poo.

5. I drank four Coronas in three hours.

6. The best way to get on my mom's good side is to wash the dishes.

7. My fantasy football draft starts in 1 hour and 45 minutes. I'm nervous.

8. Mosquitoes still love me!

9. My teenage cousins are cooler than I am.

10. Perversion and sass are genetic.

I'm a luna-tic.

I love astrology, but I'm hating the lunar eclipse right now.

I have four planets in Pisces: the Sun, the Moon, Mercury, and Venus. In layman's terms this means I'm as Pisces as you can get.

This also means that when the moon is in Pisces, I feel more emotional and intuitive. If there's a full moon in Pisces, quadruple that shit and add in some crazy. If there is a lunar eclipse with a full moon in Pisces as there was this week...well I'm surprised I haven't shaved my head and fucked a chicken yet. Eh, the night is young.

A fellow fishie pointed out that I haven't written too much the past week or so. I blame it on the cosmos. I am a wreck, but not my usual wreck-self. I'm all over the place: I'm tired yet intense, I'm scared yet excited, I'm gassy but not poopie. To go with my scattered sense, here's a random update:

1. Work has been great ever since the whole "I'm controlling" thing. I swear to Shizza, nothing has really bothered me and I'm actually enjoying GP for his quirks. Yaay!

2. My side was hurting the other day, but the pain was nothing compared to last month. I'm still keeping tabs on Cicely though. Let's hope I don't piss her off any time soon.

3. I = fat. Seriously, I'm feeling humongous. While I'm still skinnier than my heaviest days, the mere fact I'm back in that ballpark fucking blows. Low point of the week: I thought I was going to rip my pants so I went out and bought a new pair at lunch. FATTY FAT FATTY.

4. Mosquitoes love me. I am covered in bites and stink like old, minty death from this anti-itch lotion I bought. It works really well, but yeah, I smell like a retirement home.

5. I went to Jersey the past two weekends, first to my parental units to catch up, then down to Spag's house at the shore. I'm going down (heh) again this weekend for the Thighs Family annual Labor Day party. Rippie, I totally wish you could go!

6. I'm also going to Chicago for a couple days on the 14th. This is where the scared yet excited comes in...more on that some day.

7. I had a pretty crazy night last week. I got home after 4am. I remember most of the night, although I totally don't remember how I got the bump on my head. I might be at the point in my life when getting bombed and going to a strip club on a weeknight isn't worth the horrible office hangover the next day. Might.

8. I've joined my first fantasy football league. Draft is next week

9. I heard that some Company peeps are asking about this blog. If anyone wants to read about my personal shit (literally), it's cool. Welcome. I'm Thighs, my favorite color is blue, and I'm a manic-depressive giggler.

Why God, WHY?!?!

Two of my favorite watering holes closed down this month, The Collins Bar and The Blarney Stone.

I frequented Collins Bar once every few months. A small dark pub, Collins was not a hoppin' place, but if you like good beer you knew to come here (rhyme time!). Flying Dog, Stone, Sam Smith, Chimay, Ommegang, the list goes on. Add in some free popcorn and a painting of a hot naked chick in the back corner near the ladies room...well, I don't think there's much more to ask for in a pub.

Bridge and I have great conversation wherever we are, but I sure will miss having them at Collins. I stole this pic from her blog, it was taken the other night when we tried to get a drink there. So sad.

While Collins was a place to get good beer, The Blarney Stone was a good place to get pissed. I went over there tonight for one last pint. Okay, two last pints.

I believe there are about six or seven Blarney Stones in the city, some of which are really shitty. Wait, let me rephrase that. They are ALL really shitty, but there's "fun-shitty" and then there's "I'm-going-to-get-hepatitis-shitty". I believe the one on 32nd was the former.

I'm not sure how many times I've been there, but I realize now it wasn't nearly enough. Every night I went the Guinness was flowing, the old, worn out regulars were bombed yet sweet, and the smell of urine was oh so fresh...good times.

Damn. I've already lost Chumley's and Blind Tiger (I have no interest in going to its new location), what's next?? I'm thinking I need to hit up White Horse, The Ear, and McSorley's in the near future to be safe, let me know if anyone's interested. Stupid fucking condo building douchebags.

There's a new boy in my life!

He is short, bald, toothless, and totally handsome.

He drools and poops a lot which is exactly what I look for in a guy.

It's a shame he's practically 30 years younger than me.

Schmidtface, once Cale is potty-trained I'm taking him out on the town. Baseball games, amusement parks, ice capades (do they still do stuff on ice?), the zoo, everywhere!

I will be the most fun non-related aunt he's ever had!

My Big Fat Year of Weddings!

Part of living the spinster life requires one to surround themselves with other spinsters.

In doing so I've only been to about five weddings since college. Having avoided the bridesmaid or maid of honor gigs at all five, my only "duties" were to heavily drink and sweat, two things I've come to master over the years.

2008 is another story. I have four weddings in one year! Four! Well actually the invites haven't come yet, but I know I'm invited to all four. I BETTER be invited to all four!

I love, love, LOVE weddings. Drinking and dancing aside, I feel so honored when I'm invited to share a couple's special day. I love meeting their families and friends, who guided the bride and groom to each other; witnessing the very beginning of their new lives together; and then the drinking and dancing.

To my engaged friends, Carla and Steve, Jackie and Andre, Eronica Monster (Ron and Erica), and now Tom and Julie...congratulations, I love you all, and can't wait wait WAIT for the party....

I am invited, right?

To my non-engaged friends, any chance you can wait until 2009 to tie the knot??

Worst. Vocabulary. Ever.

Just making sure...have I mentioned dictionary.com is my favorite website?

in·sub·or·di·nate /ˌɪnsəˈbɔrdnɪt/ Pronunciation Key - [in-suh-bawr-dn-it]

–adjective
1. not submitting to authority; disobedient: an insubordinate soldier.
2. not lower.
–noun
3. a person who is insubordinate.

Breakthrough No. 8: I'M CONTROLLING!

I get it now...I'M CONTROLLING!!!

I seriously can't stop shouting it. It feels so good to finally realize this. Yeah, yeah I'm sure most of you already knew this about me. Hell you've probably even told me I'm a control freak (Bridget), but at the time I just didn't get it. I do now.

This was a completely uncomfortable week for me. I felt embarrassed, guilty, and nervous about my behavior at work. My chest and heart were heavy, my stomach in knots. I got really depressed the other night and it TOTALLY sucked. Of course now I know it was well worth it considering how great i feel today. Here's the breakdown of my Breakthrough No. 8.

Admitting that I have been disrespectful and insubordinate (Thank you Anonymous, you rattled me once again. Dick.) was the first step. Outbursts and arguments I had over the past couple years came flooding back to me and it wasn't easy seeing them with new eyes. I had to ask myself:

Why do I get so angry?

This happened a lot with one VP. You tell him something eight times and a month later he accuses you of not telling him. I'd get so angry and fight him on it because I didn't want Red to think I wasn't doing my job. In other words, my fear of disappointing my boss made it personal for me, which then got me on the defensive.

Why do I get so defensive?

When I'm defensive I feel like I'm under attack. Being under attack makes me feel like I'm NOT IN CONTROL.

Why do I need to be in control?

Psych 101, because my mom was completely out of control. Growing up I never knew what was going to happen when she got home from work. Would she come in screaming? Would she lock herself in her bedroom and not talk? Would she sit on the couch and not move? Would she actually be happy for once??

My safe place was our basement. I'd put my headphones on and dance for hours. I would daydream about hitting the game winning homerun, having the guy I like ask me out, or going back to school after summer vacation skinnier, prettier and more popular. My imaginary world was so vivid and fulfilling. I loved every minute of it. Oh man, I almost forgot that when someone came down in the basement while I was there, I threw a shitfit. I hated being brought back to reality before I was ready. It was the worst feeling ever.

I realize now that not only did my imaginary world protect me, it also gave me the sense of control I so desperately wanted. Down there I could be who I wanted, when I wanted, where I wanted, surrounded by the people I wanted. It was perfect, but again, imaginary.

I connected the dots to all of this during Therapy Thursday. Cee said I should be proud that I allowed myself to come to these realizations. You know what? I AM proud.

When I finally said, "I really am controlling, aren't I?" it was like lightning struck. Every cell in my body knew it to be true, the heaviness left my core, and just like that, it all made sense.

I really meant it the other day when I wrote I didn't want to grow and become a better person. It's fucking hard as hell and extremely painful. To be honest though, I kind of love this shit and well now I know...

I'M CONTROLLING!!!

Geeky Tees!

Chips, one of my bestest friends, is launching his own online t-shirt business.

They're not really up and running yet, but if you get a chance, please check out the site and vote on your favorite tee.

www.geekbouteek.com

I told Chips I'd help him out with marketing and promotions, so this definitely won't be the last time I write about it.

Much more to come once Geek Bouteek is fully operational.

LONG LIVE THE GEEKS!

Work dilly (continued)

On Friday I was also told to call Mags at his hotel while he is on vacation with his family. WTF? I call, he asks what's going on, I tell him everything. His response was, "Huh. I'm hearing a very different story from you than I did from GP." It turns out GP told Mags I was unsupportive and rude to him in a meeting on Thursday.

I flipped. I had no idea what Mags was talking about. I was so pissed! He told me that my behavior was unacceptable. Are you fucking kidding me??

So now I want to leave Company. Know why? It's not because GP is a douchebag...I want to leave because Mags was right.

I am ashamed to admit that I have been disrespectful to a lot of my coworkers, most of them in upper management. I can give you a million reasons why, but I know now that none of them matter. It's pretty painful to realize this, especially when all I've ever wanted to do is make Company a better place. Oy, I've been thinking back to some of the things I wrote and said over the past couple years...who the fuck do I think I am??

Why does humble pie taste like shit? It's fucking pie! Can't we call it humble broccoli rabe? (I hate broccoli rabe.)

Maybe I've been needing this little wake up call for awhile now. Who knows, maybe that's what Red and Soaps were trying to do a few months ago. Either way, I figure I have two options at this point, stay or go.

If I stay I can admit to myself I've been wrong and deal with the consequences like a woman. I can figure out how to work with difficult people here before throwing a tantrum at my next company. I can continue to try to NOT REACT to every little thing. (I've come a long way, but that's not saying much when you're a bipolar Irish broad.) Lastly, I can focus on learning new skills that I wouldn't be exposed to at a bigger company.

If I go, well, I get a clean slate. No preconceived notions, judgments, history, nothing. I can start over, keep my mouth shut, and just do what I'm told...

The sad thing is I'm scared to death of leaving!! There, I admitted it. I'm afraid to leave and find out that I'm a fuck up. I'm afraid to leave and have the same damn problems with communicating, reacting, and managing myself at the next place. I'm also tired; this is my third company and fourth job in six years. I have plenty of friends, I don't need no' mo!

Shit, maybe I'm also scared to find out that I'm good at what I do and that I drove myself crazy at Company for nothing. Wouldn't that be a bitch?

Work dilly

Okay, I think I'm ready to write about it.

I mentioned one of my bosses GP a few weeks back. He's the one who likes to close projects that aren't finished and/or push things into production that are flat out wrong. He apparently also likes to keep me down, as he's done nothing to help me complete my own projects OR teach me anything new. Basically GP says four things to me everyday:

1. "No."
2. "It's plumbing."
3. "It's reporting."
4. "...well that's out of the scope of this project..."

Answers 2-4 are responding to my question of "Why?" after he gives me a "No." I realize now this is what he's really saying:

1. "I'm pissed I didn't think of it so you can't do it."

2. "You're too dumb to understand what it takes to do this on the backend."

3. "The users are too dumb to figure out that we fucked up so we will just filter their reporting so that they'll never know."

4a. "I don't know how to do this, so I'll pretend we don't have to."

4b. "It's better to hit my deadline so I'd rather put a faster, mediocre solution out there then do it correctly the first time."

BULLSHIT. We argue at least once a week. Three times it's gone to the head of our department, Mags (the one who hired me). And then there's last week...

On top of the usual crap he pulls, GP reached new heights. Not only did he flat out tell users they didn't have to do something that I've asked them to do for six weeks now, he did it twice. And the best one...on Thursday he actually stood outside a conference room to listen in on a brainstorming session I was having with a coworker. Shizza only knows how long he was actually eavesdropping, but during that time he decided that I don't know enough about the project to move forward while he's on vacation. This meant I had to cancel all of my meetings with the users and lose at least 10 days on a two month project.

I found all of this out on Friday...to be continued after The Soup...

Simpsonized!

Okay, I'm done being a baby.

Now I'm Simpsonized!

Hmm...arms folded seems to fit...maybe I really am a brat at heart.

Bite me.

I'm having one of those days when I just don't want to feel anything. It's not good, it's not bad, it's just I'm sick of...AARRGGHHH!!

You know what I'm sick of??? I'm sick of growing! I'm sick of maturing! I'm sick of being a fucking stupid responsible assfuck adult.

I want someone else to do everything for me. I want to fold my arms and stamp my feet and pout. I want someone else to pay my bills, do my laundry, go food shopping, go to my job, and get me in shape without me actually having to do anything. I don't want to think about my feelings, I don't want to be a better person, I don't want to think about the future.

You know what I DO want??? I want to drink all the time and not get hangovers or ruin my liver. I want to eat whatever the fuck I want and not gain weight. I want to beat the shit out of someone everyday. I want to go on my roof and scream really fucking loud.

I want, I want, I want, goddamit!!

Shit. I really need to get laid.

Work is called work for a reason.

I'm thinking about leaving Company again.

Yes I did just get a great raise, but I don't care. I hate one of my bosses with a passion.

Ugh, I don't even feel like writing about it...

I think I'm done.

Stupid Asshole. Literally.

I had to courtesy flush six times in one sit-down the other day.

Furbie and I had gone to the bar to watch the Mets game during lunch. I ate a corned beef sandwich with fries.

Figures. Fucking Irish.

Since most of these posts are about my bathroom habits, I've created my very own color-coded poop chart for your reading pleasure.**



Less than an hour later my Pooper Alert went from blue to orange, so I ran down to the tenth floor (still can't go on 11) and bombed the hell out of porcelain harbor.

I groaned, I sweat, I nearly cried. It was one of those painful I-am-going-to-die moments that I'm sure you've all had at some point in your lives. If not, you're missing out.

Stupid asshole!


**I also just downloaded a free trial of Photoshop, so this was my first project. More to come, I'm sure!

Happy 19th Anniversary!!!

To me and my P-diddy!!

Yaaayy!

The Police

No I didn't get arrested again...I went to The Police concert Sunday night at Giants Stadium!!

IT WAS AWESOME. One of the best shows I ever went to.

I was probably around 17 when I first heard of The Police. My friend asked if I liked them and I said I didn't know who they were. She laughed, said I was a moron, and popped a tape into the car stereo. Lo and behold, I knew every song.

I am the anti-Rainman when it comes to music; I never know which band sings what, who's even in the band, or what a song's called. If I ever go on The World Series of Pop Culture I pray to Shizza I get all of the television and movie questions. (And then pray even harder those questions are limited to the garbage on VH1, MTV, CW11 and movies that have not been nominated for Oscars.) So despite being musically challenged, both educationally and most definitely vocally, I know what I like...and I liketh The Police.

The concert was friggin awesome. I've never been to a show at Giants Stadium and I'm so glad this was my first. The weather was perfect, the seats were chill, and the music was superb. Sting is fucking gorgeous and sounded better than he ever has. Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland were fan-fucking-tastic as well. It's a shame they don't get along, but honestly you couldn't even tell that night. Each of them looked like they were having a blast.

I can't find the actual set list anywhere, but here's what I remember them playing:
Message in a Bottle
Every Breath You Take
Roxanne
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
Don't Stand so Close to Me
So Lonely
King of Pain
Wrapped around Your Finger
Walking On the Moon
Can't Stand Losing You
De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da

I didn't bring my camera with me, so I did the next best thing. While waiting in line for the bus back to NYC I noticed the guy in front of me had taken pictures with his iPhone. I tapped him on the shoulder said something like, "Hi. You don't know me, but can you email me your pictures?"

Total renob moment...but it worked! Here are a couple of my new best friend Terry's pics from his 4th row seats.

PS Apparently it's a renob week as Terry wasn't the only person I randomly attacked. I wore a dress to work today and couldn't zip the back up myself without dislocating a shoulder and since I'm not as cool as Riggs I can't just slam it back in so I left the apartment hoping I'd see someone I knew along the way, but decided to ask the laundromat lady who was sweeping the sidewalk if she would zip me up instead. She did.

PPS Thank you Terry and laundromat lady!

90 days later...

I got my raise! WOO HOO!!!

As Rockstar said, this sure is a kick ass way to come back from vacation.

Californication Finale: Saved as draft

I actually wrote this final part first. I kept reading and revising it all week to get it right.

I realized today though that there's nothing wrong with the post itself, I just don't want to share all of the details yet. I'm going to keep them to myself for awhile.

The original version is saved as draft, so maybe I'll post it one day. In the meantime...

His name is Fish.

We spent our last day together in San Diego.

It was the best part of my vacation...and quite possibly the best day of my life.