Breakthrough No. 11: 'Angsta Rap

A friend of mine said he enjoys reading this, even though he can sense the angst in my writing.  My initial reaction was, "Angst? Really?"

The word was stuck in my head all last week. Angst. Angst-ridden. Angsty angst.  (Oddly enough the more I write the word the LESS weird it looks.)  It never occurred to me to use it to describe my emotions, but it's true. I am Madam Angstalot.

It's amazing how one simple idea has the ability to dissolve a complex layer.  The moment I accepted my angst is the moment it started slipping away.  By defining this one emotion, my memories already seem different and the feelings associated to them manageable.  I'm not sure why, but it's good.

I'm beginning to wonder if I ever grew out of my teen angst years.  I have felt the same heaviness in my heart for as long as I can remember.  Sure things are getting better and better with age, but I know the hurting 10 year-old and troubled 17 year-old Mes are still in there longing to be saved.

It's interesting that angst is socially-acceptable for teenagers, but not for adults. If angst is related to the stress of having too many choices and the fear of making the wrong ones, wouldn't a 30 year-old be more susceptible to feeling it than a kid?

Maybe the volume is just turned up in our youths because we had so much other shit to figure out back then...eh, who am I kidding? All of my emotions are set to 11 and I'm STILL figuring my poop out.

At least now I know why I related to Claire from Six Feet Under so much!!

Eye Deerunk

I had four beers and a Mike's Hard Lemonade so far tonight.  Apparently that's all I need to get shitey nowadays.  FBM! (That's "fine by me" for everyone other than MJ).

So much has happened in the past couple weeks that I'm not sure where to begin.  The rundown of things you should probably know:

1. The Mighty Cale's parents moved to San Diego.  For some strange reason they just HAD to take Cale with them.  It's only
been like a week and I already miss my buddy like crazy.  I'm seriously considering moving to Cali.

2. I lost something that I will miss very, very much.  

3. I think I'm finally over my hatred for Jackson.  I went to my parents' house last Thursday to celebrate my dad's birthday. It was the first time in 20 years that I didn't dread going there.

4. My mom made me cry. Again. She's such a biyatch.

5. I'm typing with one eye open.

6. My six monthiversary at Minnow is next week. The place blows. I'm not going to actively look for a new gig, but please let me know if you hear of any openings in your company. My background is sales, ops, and planning.

7. Uh oh. I gotta go...my monitor is too bright to keep typing...

Fat Princess

This may be the funniest shit I've ever heard:

Frantic and fun, Fat Princess pits two hordes of players against each other in comic medieval battle royale. Your goal is to rescue your beloved princess from the enemy dungeon. There’s a catch though: your adversary has been stuffing her with food to fatten her up and it’s going to take most of your army working together to carry her back across the battlefield.

Check out IGN's review.  My favorite part:

When you start a game, each team's base will have their opponent's princess inside. All the enemies that are assaulting your base will be trying to get in and get their fair lady out. Now, you can kill these guys if you like, but your best defense is to go outside of your stronghold and find pieces of cake and other dessert items. You'll then bring these snacks to the opponent's princess, force her to eat them, and watch her get fatter. Big gals are heavy and that means your opponents are going to have in groups to carry her fat ass back home.

A giant saint I ain't

Dear Jeremy Shockey,

I thought it would happen. I wanted it to happen. Now I know it wasn't meant to be.

All I wanted you to do was beat me up during sex. That's it!!! What kind of world do we live in when a girl can't get donkeypunched by a pro-football player every now and then? Don't you have any morals?

You disgust me. Don't even try to contact me now...if I'm gonna fuck a Saint it's going to be Reggie Bush. Would you mind forwarding him my email address? Thanks. Douche.

Bite me (not in the fun way),

Thighs

My biggest fear...

I think I figured out what my biggest fear is, outside of letting loose a never-ending fart.

I'm afraid I'll hurt my children.

I don't blame my mom for shit anymore. Blaming her doesn't erase the past, so why bother? All that matters to me now is that our relationship is the healthiest it's ever been.

That being said, I am deathly afraid I'm going to mindfuck my kids. My mom did it to me, my grandmother did it to her, my great-grandmother did it to both of them. I don't see how the line of batshit crazy matriarchs is going to stop with me.

Is simply WANTING to be a good mom enough? Gosh, I don't know if I ever thought about this...is my mom a good mom? What does being a "good mom" even mean?

Maybe the line of crazy will end if I don't have a daughter. That's it! Universe, I'd like to put two sons on layaway please. Names: Peter and Jack McGee. Please hold for 43,800 hours.

Sigh. I need to work through this one a bit...

SM stands for...

Seattle Mariners!

I decided to take one more baseball trip this summer. I'm off to Seattle the fourth weekend of August to see Janeypants, the Janeypant Family, and cross off Safeco Field from my ballpark hit list.

When I come back I will not be taking another vacation until I pay off my credit card debt. Or at least not until I book another flight somewhere. Whichever comes first.

The Dark Knight

Holy fucking shit Batman, The Dark Knight is one hell of a movie.

I don't have much to say except go see it. Comic fan or not, you won't be disappointed. It's the most chilling thriller I've ever seen.

When the movie ends and you find yourself wanting more, go to your local comic shop or bookstore and pick up Batman: Year One and Batman: The Long Halloween. I'm rereading them both this weekend.

Wow. I think I'm still in shock. Phenomenal.

Good-bye Auntie D

Man I love summer Fridays...

I stopped taking Zoloft three weeks ago. I asked my doctor to wean me off it back in January and since my dosage wasn't all that high to begin with (50mgs) it didn't take very long to be done.

The scariest part about mental illness for me was not knowing what to believe. Imagine not being able to trust a thought or a feeling because you knew it would change one violent mood swing later. I'm not sure when anticipating mood swings became a means to survive them, but like all bad habits, I kept doing it when it was no longer necessary. At that point it became a self-fulfilling prophecy; the stress of waiting for a mood swing to hit inevitably caused one to occur. It was a vicious cycle, one that I couldn't fix because I wasn't aware I was doing it. Until now of course.

This is why I will always be a therapy pom-pom. Therapy makes you aware. With awareness comes understanding; with understanding comes acceptance. If you are open to it, therapy will save your life. It did mine.

Back in 2005, the only thing I was aware of was that I couldn't stop crying. I cried every day for a year and a half. I didn't know why, nor did I know if I could stop. The tears finally ended when I went to counseling and on medication.

I am forever grateful to Shizza for helping me find Cee. We had an instant connection. Even when I stopped going to her back in November I still felt she was in my life, helping me find my way.

Did I ever explain why I stopped going to therapy? A big reason was because I left Company. It's not like Company was the cause of all my problems; I just knew that staying in therapy during that time would be like pouring salt into a wound. I needed to recoup, rejuvenate, and reassure myself I can go it alone. Obviously this was a great decision; I feel stronger and more aware than ever before.

It was also nice to know that I can always go back to therapy if I needed. In fact, I saw Cee last night. Therapy Thursdays are back in session, at least for July. Life is grand (pinky swear), it's just that well, the ironic part to all this is now that I'm off the Zoloft I went back to crying again.

The day after I stopped taking my meds, the tears started. I don't cry as much as I used to, but I am quick to tear up. And you know what? I love it. I'm not afraid to cry anymore! I am happy to say that I trust my feelings enough now to know that if I need to cry, I should cry. I am a sensitive person; crying helps cleanse my soul.

And the best part...this time around I know WHY I'm crying. I'm crying because I'm blessed, I'm grateful, I'm hopeful, I'm happy, I'm frustrated, I'm agitated, I'm annoyed, I'm confused, I'm everything. I'm crying because I cry, end of story.

So after two years, I am happy and proud to say good-bye Auntie D. She was there when I needed her, but that time has passed. Tears or no tears, there isn't a cure for being me.

Ikea Aneboda Series dressers

I love putting things together. I don't know which part I like more, creating something or following the directions to create it. Either way, if you need something built my service charge is a six pack and a pizza. I do have two conditions, though.

First, you can't sit and watch me build it. No, I don't hump the pieces into place or anything, I just go stupid when I have an audience.

Second, if you need me to assemble a dresser GO FUCK YOURSELF. Sincerely.

My dad and I went to Ikea Friday night. I bought a desk, chair, and two dressers. The desk and chair, easy peasy. The dressers? The dressers are what I assume its like to bang a virgin. You gather the tools you need, lay out a gameplan, do the ground work, create a solid foundation, and then right when she's ready for you, BAM...nothing fits in the hole.

For the one hour it took to build each dresser, more than half of that time was spent getting the goddamn drawers in. I couldn't get the metal pull thingies (technical name) to slide into the sides of the drawers. When I finally got them in, lo and behold, the screws weren't long enough to catch. Then dresser 2's handle screw holes weren't deep enough, so while the handles are attached to the drawer, they are just loose enough to bother the shit out of me for all of eternity. The added bonus: I tore the crap out of my hands from twisting the screwdriver to death. Go me.

The bright side is I'm finished. My bedroom looks good, Maczine is loving her new ride, and I can now put all my undies in proper drawers instead of those corny wicker baskets that I impulsively bought at Home Depot a while back.

I also now know to never, ever, EVER buy drawered-furniture that "Requires Assembly." It just ain't worth the frustration...or the blue balls.

And speaking of movies...

The Taking of Pelham 1, 2, 3 is one of my all time favorites. I was hooked the minute the opening credits started.

Unfortunately, the remake is slated for next summer.

If you love me you will rent the original (if you can find it) and boycott the new one. You won't be missing much, fucking John Travolta's in it.

Ugh. Blow me.

My DVD Collection

I'm in the process of cleaning out Delilah. I lot of crap builds up after five years!

When I was a kid I was the Queen of VHS. I loved owning videos. I recorded a ton of movies off HBO and bought as many tapes as my minimum wage salary could afford. Definitely my first big obsession. In fact, the longest recurring fight I had with my dad was when he'd record over one of my movies. Seriously. It got so bad I'd write "D.T.O." (Don't Tape Over) on the ones I really wanted, but he'd ignore the note and do it anyways. Then I got smart and pulled out the little plastic square pin as prevention, but the bastard would actually duct tape the hole so that you could still record. OY. I can't believe how fucking silly this sounds 17 years later, but man did it bother me back then.

I'm not sure when I stopped collecting videos, although I have a sneaky suspicion it was around the time I met my old friend marijuana. Sure the Little Mermaid made me happy, but pot got me high. It helped heal the wounds from my battles with the VHS Nazi (and other slightly more traumatic things).

The first DVD I ever watched was Jurassic Park. One of my college roommate's owned it. Wait, is that right? 2000? Wow...seems both recent and not.

Anyhoo, I never got big into buying DVDs. Hell, I don't even own some of my favorite movies. Most of the ones I do have were gifts from Santa or borrowed/stolen from friends. As a result, my DVD collection is pretty manic. I wonder why....

TV Shows:

All of the Family Guy DVDs
Adventures of Pete and Pete Vol. 1-2
Firefly
Little Britain
Pee-Wee's Playhouse
Star Wars Clone Wars
Three Spongebob DVDs
Three Powerpuff Girls DVDs
Batman the Animated Series Vol. 1-2
The Muppet Show Vol. 1
Spawn (updated animation)
Hellboy (animated)

Movies:

Spaceballs
Star Wars 4-6
Indy 1-3
Shaun of the Dead
Silence of the Lambs
Wet Hot American Summer
Bridget Jones' Diary
Rio Bravo
Requiem for a Dream
Grease
Big Trouble in Little China
Spidey 1 and 2
Reservoir Dogs
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Seven Swords
Agatha Christie's Poirot Murder in Mesopotamia
Godzilla
Godzilla vs. Mothra
Gozilla's Revenge
Terror of Mechagodzilla

If I turn gay...

blame Woody Allen.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Am I a successful woman?

My gut answer is no. But why? How do I even define success and being a woman? I think I may have posted about this before, but I feel the need to revisit after a conversation I had with Jules. She said the cutest thing the other night: she'll know when she's successful for a few reasons, one of them being when she finally owns a boat. I love that!

My definition of WOMAN (outside of the obvious boobs and valentina) is someone who:

1. supports herself
2. wears high heels
3. eats sushi
4. gets manicures and pedicures
5. understands the stock market
6. can do "boy" push-ups and pull-ups
7. can fluently speak Italian or Greek

My definition of SUCCESS is:

1. supporting myself
2. marrying the person I love
3. raising a family
4. owning a home
5. driving a Dick Tracy car (I heart those)
6. not worrying about money
7. loving my job

I support myself. I eat sushi on a regular basis. I recently got a manicure and pedicure. I wear high heels at weddings. I guess that's about it...

Oh fuck it. I am DEFINITELY a successful woman. Why? Because I say so.

Peep this.

I have a new favorite television show.  Once again it's new to me, but not new to everyone else.  Well, everyone else in the UK anyways.

Peep Show

Funniest fucking show I've seen, oh, ever.  I will be quoting from it for the rest of eternity.  Check out this clip either at home or with your office door closed and headphones on:



Unfortunately the first season is the only one available in the Region 1 DVD format, but this show is so hysterical that I'm going to buy a multi-region DVD player.  

Rage mentioned I can get one for like $50, so I thought I'd check Amazon real quick.  I searched "region 2 dvd player." Sounds fine, right?  Yeah well I didn't realize I was still in the "Movies & TV" category.  The first hit:



I wonder which part is region 2...

FIREWORKS!

I love fireworks!  Love, love, love them!!  I had no idea any would be going off tonight, but they did!  And I watched them from my roof!!  YAAAAYYYY!!

Random Cell Phone Pics Part 2

SUCK IT MONKEYS! I'M ON VACATION!

Off to Chicago tomorrow morning. Woo wee!! Here are some random cell phone pics to keep you company until I get back.

Best name for a Thai restaurant:

The Hulk tee I wore to The Hulk movie.  Yes, I was that girl. Well, the only girl.:

This picture doesn't do him justice, but the STAFF guy looked gorgeous from behind.:

I took my parents to a Mets game for Father's Day.  Cool story, their first official date was at Shea for a Grand Funk Railroad concert back in July 1971.  I wonder if they had any idea that just seven years later they'd give birth to awesomeness...

BANZAI!

I loved, loved, loved Garfield growing up.  I'm pretty sure my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Black had something to do with this.  She was OBSESSED with those strips, so much so that I still remember her 20 years later.

Check out this ingenious site...Garfield Minus Garfield.

It has reproduced copies of the old strips with Garfield photoshopped out. Never would have thought they'd be this interesting without him!

Whiny little poopmaster.

That'd be me.

I'm whiny. And little*. And a poopmaster.

I still haven't felt right since Friday night.  At this point I don't think I'm hungover, I probably just caught a bug.  If I am still hungover...no wait, I can't be.  Right?

Here's a list of things I like.  Maybe I'll stop whining by the end of it.

1.  Diet type food product:  Lean Cuisine paninis and pizzas are excellent. Weight Watchers calzone and quesadillas are pretty darn good, too.

2.  30 Rock.  I want to be Tina Fey.

3.  The Hulk.  I saw it on Sunday during another Thighs Family Super-hero Movie Excursion.  Rippie was in town for it again, too!  This Hulk is action packed.  My only beef with it:  I really wish Tim Roth kept his shirt on.  I love his work, but he has Pat Sajak Q-tip syndrome.

4.  The War of Art.  I read another book without pictures this year!  If you have a goal that you can't seem to motivate yourself to obtain, read this book.  While it's geared to writers and artists, it's good for anyone who is losing the battle to Resistance.

5.  The DC Comics Guide to Coloring Comics.  Fun and informative.  I'm totally pumped.  

6.  My brain.  I haven't really mentioned Minnow too much, because well, I kind of don't like it there.  It's not Minnow's fault though.  As company's go, it is what it is.  I'm just feeling dissatisfied with myself lately and I'm projecting this on to my new job.  

For example, a couple of weeks ago I wanted to say, "Hey you! Stop wasting my time with this trivial bullshit and go fuck yourself." Of course I didn't say this; I've grown up a lot since Company (THANK GOD).  Now I know how to cool my jets and admit that what I really want to say is, "Hey ME! Stop wasting your own time with this trivial bullshit and go work for yourself."  Of course going to work for myself is going to take a while, so I figured I should make the best of my experience at Minnow.  

And here's where my brain comes in:  I've taken on some projects that put me back in a business analyst/IT liaison position.  Reevaluating workflows, streamlining business processes, creating new reporting...I love this stuff!! It's like one big logic problem, except Alice, Beth, Carrie, Diana, and Edith didn't get a red, orange, yellow, green, or blue car from their husbands Frank, George, Harry, Ian, or Jack on a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday.

7.  Logic puzzles.

8.  Neutrogena Ultra Sheer Dry-Touch Sunblock SPF 45

9.  Wearing two tank tops at once. 

10.  SLEEP.  In fact, I'm going to bed right now.  Gonna rock Ruth Clare's sleep sched.  G'Night!

*In comparison to Andre the Giant.

SADNESS.

George Carlin died! Waaaahhh!!

I haven't been this bummed over a celebrity death since John Ritter passed away.

Sadness.

I am in pain.

Last night I went to my cousin's Sweet Sixteen party in Bay Ridge. Open bar + my dad = too many vodka sours.

Then I met Rage and the crew at the usual Friday night pub.

Then Baklava and I decided to drink somewhere else, but for some reason all of the bars were closed. This probably should have tipped me off that it was around 3:30am and I should go to bed, but yeah, no. We actually bought a six pack and drank beers out of paper bag until we found a bar that was still open.

Okay, it is taking me way too long to write this...that's how braindead I am. Here's the summary:

I had fun catching up with Baklava.

Some dude walked into my building with me and kept rubbing my arm while I checked my mail. I have no idea who the fuck he is or what the fuck he was doing or saying. I don't know if he was my age, my neighbor, drunk or what. All I remember is being pissed off that my Transit Check/Metrocard didn't come yet, dropping a tampon out of my purse and him handing it back to me, and me pushing him out of my lobby and shutting the door. Then I ran upstairs and took a shower to wash the perv off of me.

I woke up today at noon and tried to rally to go out to Fresh Meadows for Gerf's birthday party, but I was still bombed and couldn't function. I went back to sleep and didn't get up until 6pm.

I am still in pain. I'd say I'm never drinking again, but we all know that won't last. One thing's for sure...I'll never drink that many vodka sours again!! UGH!

Nooooooo!!!

It pains me to admit this.

I don't want to face the music.

The fact this never occurred to me definitely means I'm losing my dirty mind.

My gynecologist's office is called...

Downtown Women Ob-Gyn

I've been going there for over a year and it just hit me today.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

If I lose my knack for making corny PG-13 sex jokes, what else do I have to live for???

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Damn you, 30!

On second thought...

it was Past Thighs who decided to wait to buy tickets, so maybe she isn't a genius after all. Damn it!

UNthank you Past Thighs!

Thank you Past Thighs!

I am loving Past Thighs lately. She's a genius!

Next weekend I'm off to Chicago for Mother Jugs' bachelorette party. I held off buying a ticket thinking I would get a cheap last minute package flight. Wouldn't you know it, flights dropped from $300 to $205, but not the days I wanted. With taxes and everything I paid $344; remind me never to do this again. It pains me to think think last September I only paid $160 roundtrip...

At this point I'm too damn excited about the trip to care about the cost of the flight. I'm going to see my Baconista Heather, catch a Cubs game, stop in at the Wizard World Comic Con, possibly meet up with Fish, and then party the rest of the weekend away with the Petes, MJ, and her Chicago friends. Now I'm really excited!!

So why is Past Thighs a genius? I signed up for a ton of travel site fare watcher email blast thingies and the only way to turn them off is to login and unsubscribe. I sat here for a full minute trying to remember what my password was for three sites, when I thought, "Hey maybe Past me knew I'd forget and made them all the same." Guess what?? She did!!!

I feel like Bill and Ted did when they needed to steal Ted's dad's keys only to figure out that Future Bill and Ted already stole the keys and hid them exactly where Present Bill and Ted wanted the keys to be. Most excellent.

Sorry Con Ed...

My brother told me to go see The Orphanage in theaters last summer. I think his text message said something like, "Go see The Orphanage. You'll like it. Really scary."

Scary for me is less about the gore and more about the eerie, quiet moments. My heart stops whenever a dark figure runs across the screen or something appears and then disappears. Case in point, I think one of the scariest moments in Nightmare on Elm Street is when human Krueger peers out from behind a tree and a second later he's gone. Most people probably don't remember this scene, but I do and it's bothering me just thinking about it.

I never got around to watching The Orphanage until tonight. I think it's right up there with Lady in White and The Others: thoughtful, smart, and full of eerie. It's not a typical horror flick by any means, but I think it will sit with you. Especially one character that I won't mention. I keep looking behind me to see if he's just standing there....oh my god...I'm seriously all tensed up right now! I think I need to stop typing and sit with my back against a wall to be safe.

Sorry Con Ed, but my lights are staying on tonight. I blame Rippie.

Boston Weekend Recap (a week late)

I had most of this written last week, but never got around to finishing it up. Here's my weekend in Boston, a week late!

The rundown...

1. The Limoliner luxury bus goes from the Hilton NYC to the Hilton Back Bay in Boston for $180 roundtrip. There's plenty of leg room, a free movie, and a bus attendant who gives you blankets, food, drinks, and head.

After commuting over four hours a day from Jackson to NYC for about 2 years I can't friggin' stand buses but the Limoliner wasn't too bad. I suggest trying it out, although I probably won't ride it again. I like trains more.

2. Rocks and I got to Boston on Friday around 4pm and immediately went on the Freedom Trail. It's a really cool way to see the northern part of the city, just follow the red brick/paint line. My favorite parts of the walk were seeing the little alleyways of Faneuil Hall, the small side streets in the North End (Little Italy) neighborhoods, and the Irish Famine Memorial. Okay, maybe it's weird to say that last one is a "favorite," but I was really moved by the statue and plaques. The last time I felt this connected to my ancestors was when I saw the Northern Irish murals in Belfast. I couldn't take pictures there either.

3. There are so many people in NYC that it doesn't really register who I see on the street. It's different in other cities though. There's so few people walking near me that I end up observing way TOO much about them. For instance, a lot of girls wear dresses and high heels in Boston. Why is that? And more importantly, why do I care?

4. I know Boston is nicknamed Beantown, but it should be Sausagetown. There are so many guys!! If I wasn't a sweaty, sticky, smelly, chubby mess all weekend I like to think I would have taken advantage of the odds...

In other words, I didn't even try to hook up with anyone. I sweat ALOT.

5. New England Clam Chowder is amazing. Unfortunately, that was the only Boston fare I ate all weekend. Totally random, I can't stop thinking about the American League Club sandwich I had at a Fenway bar called Cask 'n Flagon. DUDE. It was a typical club sandwich, but my god, I want one now.

6. Another amazing moment at Cask...I got stuck in a bathroom stall. I'm not kidding. I went to the bathroom, did my biz, and couldn't unlock the door. Now I'm not a claustrophobic but I am a neurotic, so it wasn't actual claustrophobia I was afraid of, it was obsessing about the POSSIBILITY of becoming claustrophobic that finally made me take action. There was only one thing to do...dive under the door and climb out.

I couldn't stop giggling for a good 15 minutes. I doubt the floor was clean. It was definitely dry, though. More important in my book.

7.DID YOU KNOW ABSINTHE IS LEGAL AGAIN?? Crazy! I had some mixed with some type of Scope/black licorice drink. The minty taste was so strong that I couldn't finish it, but I did get a little flicker action going. Good times.

8. 95 degree weather sucks!

9. Trinity Church is gorgeous. So is the other church diagonal from Trinity. I forget what it's called.

10. I lied. The attendant doesn't really give head.

11. And last but certainly not least...FENWAY PARK!

Rocks had the brilliant idea of going on the Fenway tour before the game. I never would have thought to do this! It was a great way to appreciate the park before the crowds came in. I loved hearing the Sox and the ballpark history, especially why and how the Green Monster was created and how there is a 50 year waiting list to get a job as a scoreboard operator. (It's still manual.)

All baseball fans should definitely go to Fenway. Wrigley is still my all-time favorite; Fenway top three. (I still don't understand why I loved Anaheim so much. Disney crack!) I personally didn't find the wooden grandstand seats uncomfortable, though I could see how a taller person would hate them. It's really annoying that the rows only have an exit on one side of them; I had to climb over 20 people just to go to the bathroom. Take my advice, get an aisle seat.

One of my pet peeves are people who buy sportsgear in non-team colors, like those ridiculous pink Mrs. Wright shirts that whores wear. Yes, whores. Red Sox shirts are printed and worn in a variety of colors, so it was interesting to see how different all of the fans looked. I probably wouldn't have noticed this if it wasn't for my trip to St. Louis last year; 90% of the crowd had a red Cardinals shirt on. Those darn Missourians (?) made me realize the importance of team spirit, so now I shun the folks who wear anything but their team colors. Shun, I say! Then again, I ended up buying a green Red Sox hat because I liked the shamrock so this whole paragraph is stupid.

The game was a lot of fun. The Sox played really well, beat the Mariners 11-3. Manny Ramirez hit a home run over the stands on top of the Green Monster; it was fucking awesome to watch. A blast of a hit and a blast of a weekend...

So there ya have it. Check out my pics!

Birthday Flirt

It's Donovan's birthday today. I called him and left a message. I honestly don't like him anymore, I just like birthdays.

Okay, well I did convince myself that it was okay to call even though deep down I knew I shouldn't.

Okay okay, I shouldn't have.

Okay okay okay, I will never contact him again. There's no reason to.

Okay okay okay okay, I almost sent him this card...ALMOST...



SEE?? I'm growing...in the sense that I didn't send him any inappropriate cards, but still find inappropriate cards HI-larious.

[Ed note: I wrote those "Okays" after Joe Pesci in Lethal Weapon. Please be sure to reread with his voice in mind. It makes this post less pathetic. I think.]

I knew it!!

From a Feng Shui website:

"Sleeping in line with the door also exposes you to excessive Chi, which can contribute to stress, irritability and health problems, but keeping your bed in commanding position prevents you from negative influences and puts you in control of your space and of your life."

I've been feeling really off lately and I swear to Shiz it started when I rearranged my bedroom. I hate having my bed by the door! Totally moving it back to where it was, which just so happens to be the commanding position.

Sheesh!

And I was in IT for awhile...

Science experiment time:

• Hold your mouse in your right hand. 
• Take note of where your thumb, ring finger, and pinkie touch your mouse pad or desk.
• Slide your mouse around without changing the position of your fingers.
• Done.

I have no idea if you hold your mouse the same way I do, but remember when I said some of my keys were turning blue? Yeah well now they are green. I just figured out why.

I use a notebook as a mouse pad. Apparently the oils in my thumb, ring finger, and pinkie have sucked up some of the cover ink.

Now guess the colors of my notebooks.

I'm an idiot.

I was wondering why my space bar, colon, apostrophe, and return keys were the only ones changing...

Coolest. Show. Ever

I wish Yo Gabba Gabba was on at night. Then again, I highly doubt Nick Jr.'s target audience is still awake when I get home from work. Darn.

First Baseball Trip of '08

I've seen the Mets three times this year so far. The first game I went to I happened to wear these cute red undies with little white and pink hearts. The Mets won that night so now I make it a point to wear the same pair to each game.

My friend Webby ended up having an extra ticket to the game Sunday night, so he asked me to come with. I said of course because I love going to games, plus I just happened to be wearing my red heart undies again so I knew the Mets would definitely win. (Sidenote: I keep saying "undies" because I hate the word "panties." The only time I like that word is when a guy with a low, sexy voice says to take them off.) It ended up being a great night. Not only did the Mets win, but something else really cool happened too...

Webby's seats are awesome. They are directly behind home plate in the Loge, about 6 rows from the protection net thingie. The aisle separating the box seats is directly in front of his own, so the only slightly bad thing is that people walk by all the time. You get used to it though and if it wasn't for one of those passersby, I would be in a lot of pain right now.

You know how stadiums play silly things on the Jumbotron between innings? One of the things Shea does is a trivia contest: they pick a fan, ask him a multiple choice question, and the fan answers by holding up a card with either A, B, C, or D on it. Easy enough. Well Sunday night they happened to seat the quizzees directly in front of Webby's seats. He didn't want to be on the Jumbotron so he went to get beer. I, shy person that I am, waved like a moron while texting Furbie (He was in the upperdeck with his family. Suckas.) to look at the screen. You know, because after seeing me every day for three years I knew he'd want to see a 30-foot me at Shea. Anyhoo during all this hubbub I forgot something very important...the game was still in play.

The camera stopped rolling. The quiz people got up to leave. Fans were walking down the aisle from both directions. I was sitting there texting Furbie again, cheesy post-Jumbotron grin plastered on my face, when all of a sudden BOOSH!! A plastic cup filled with beer exploded directly in front of me. No joke. The man who was holding it was walking by, his hand about a foot away from my nose. I gasped. Everyone around me gasped. I had no idea what happened until I replayed the scene backwards in slow motion. I realized the beer didn't self-destruct, it was hit...BY A JOHAN SANTANA FOUL BALL!

I swear to Shizza if that man didn't happen to walk by when he did my face would be one humongous black and blue right now. My nose would most definitely be broken, maybe even my teeth too. It was like a line-drive foul ball. I don't know how the hell it managed to miss the camera crew and all the people walking by, but THANK GOD no one got hurt. You know how painful that would have been??? Man, if that beer hadn't been there I would have been fucked.

Everyone was so in shock that it took a good 30 seconds for someone to realize no one had the ball yet. I wish the guy who found it gave it to me. I don't blame him for keeping it of course, it just would have been a cool memento.

WOW! I'm getting all excited remembering how exciting it was! Needless to say, my eyes were glued to the field the rest of the game. I don't need any more balls speeding towards my face, unless of course there's a hot guy attached to them.

I had so much fun at this game (thanks again Web!), that it totally got me pumped for this weekend. What's this weekend?

FENWAY! FENWAY! FENWAY!

My first baseball trip of 2008 is finally here! WOO HOO!! Rockstar and I are headed up to Massachusetts tomorrow morning for a lovely weekend of baseball, beer, and Boston men. I guess we should probably squeeze in some history, too.

WOO HOO AGAIN!

Caffeinated and Horny

I'm so restless today that I can't focus on what to do. I was surprised to wake up at noon so I guess that's why I feel a little off...

Here are all the things I started today and didn't finish:

1. putting up shelves in my closet
2. sewing the bedroom curtains I started making two years ago
3. cleaning out my bedroom
4. cleaning the bathroom
5. writing in my journal
6. painting a picture

I'm not kidding. I seriously attempted all of those things in the past four hours. The only thing I did complete was the movie Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. This is where the horniest comes in: I want to be the corned beef in a Jeff Bridges/Clint Eastwood sandwich. Soooo hot!!

Blerg. I love not having plans on the weekend, I just hate not having a brain. If I'm going to be this dumb and freaky all day I might as well go out and party. I REFUSE to get sucked into a reality TV marathon on MTV, VH1, or Bravo. I have no idea if there's one actually on, but I'm assuming since the East River hasn't turned to blood, either ANTM, Top Chef, or some sort of You Can Dance but Why Do You Think I Care show is on all day. Damn you cable. Damn you to hell.

Sigh. I guess I'll just have to go out tonight...poor me.

What a day.

I read two comics on my way into work today, I was Kidnapped by Lesbian Pirates from Outer Space and Boobage. Both were really good, but Boobage, "an autobiographical tale involving the trials and tribulations of having teeny boobs," really got me.

I'm not ready to go into the details why this book affected me so much.  I pinkie swear I will one day, though.  All that matters right now is I'm feeling more inspired to publish my own work than ever before.  In fact I was so inspired by the book that I started writing an email to the author as soon as I sat down at my desk this morning.  Five hours later I finally hit send; it took me all day to write and rewrite the damn thing. I was that excited.

I don't know how I managed to get any reports out today.  Every piece of me was focused on the comic, the email, and my story. It felt wonderful. I've been so debilitated by fear lately that I thought the only thing to get me working on my projects would be a swift kick in the ass.  It seems a nipple twist works just as well.

Um, Mac Users?

Why are some of my keys turning blue? It's only my space bar and my colon/semi-colon keys. Weird, right? I think I've only had black keyboards up until now, maybe I've always secreted blue sweat from my thumb and ring finger...

And what the hell is up with the Command Key? Why couldn't Control be used to copy, cut, and paste???

Train of Thought

I'm pretty buzzed right now. Champagne buzzed. I think champagne is the Special K of alcohol: I like being in a hole yet I can't wait to get out of it.

Not sure what I really want to write about tonight so here are a few thoughts that were floating in my fizzy-lifting-drink head on the subway ride home.

1. Wants vs. Needs

I want love. I want love so bad that I tear up every time I think about it.

I definitely want the standard "You complete me" kind of love, but I also want the "I love you so much I want to rip my skin off" slash "My heart is so filled with love for you that I can't stop burping" kinds as well (of course the latter is probably related to the champagne but whatevs). The thing is though, do I really need it??

At what point does a want become a need? I'm obviously a big Wanter: I want love, I want to lose 30 pounds, I want to get out of debt, I want to start a new career. Obviously I don't actually NEED any of these things; I've been living a pretty good life without getting them. Is this the reason why I haven't achieved these goals yet?

I guess this sort of ties back to my Fight Club post. Do I need to be held up at gunpoint and/or hit rock bottom in order to move forward??

2. And what is rock bottom for me anyway?

I have amazing friends, a great apartment, a healthier relationship with my family, a good job. I'm assuming that rock bottom would be losing all of these things, which my four hang-ups above (love, weight, debt, and career) don't really affect (thank god). So I really have nothing to lose from NOT achieving these goals, right?

3. RIGHT????

Well to be blunt I'm 30, single, flabby, in debt, and am scared shitless to create...

4. So maybe it's not about what I have to lose, it's about what could be gained.

And there you have it. Even with my active imagination "could be" means nothing to me. I'm a here and now kind of woman. I love now, I fuck now, I eat now, I spend now, I well, I'm still not sure what I do career-wise now, but you get the picture. "Now" is the only time I've acted on my whole life, which (now that I'm thinking about this) is probably the reason why I spend so much time reflecting on "The Past."

5. Interesting. If I moved from "Now" to "Could Be" would I really care about "The Was?" By the time the future became now I'd have a solid plan, so I wouldn't need to spend so much time and energy on reevaluating the past, right? Hmmm...

Maybe this is why Spaceballs is my favorite movie. It's so insightful...

Dark Helmet: "When will then be now?"

Colonel Sanders: "Soon."

I heart long weekends.

I don't know what's with me lately. I can't bring myself to write for some reason. Oh wait...I know the reason. It's because I decided to be a writer! A writer who doesn't write! Yaaaayyyyy!!!

My parents were on a cruise so they were nice enough to let me borrow their car all week. Last Sunday I did some shopping and visited my friend Tom and his fiancee Julie (so nice to finally meet her!) down in the Jerse. Monday through Thursday I kept the car in a lot. Yes this was a wienie move, but the last thing I wanted to deal with was alternate side parking. Wienie. Friday was my first Summer Friday. Minnow's policy is pretty sweet, we work 9-6pm every day and then get every other Friday off. It's, in a word, awesome.

I kicked off my Summer of George by heading back to Jersey to visit my friends Melis and Jim. It had been way too long since we last hung out, but as always, once we get together it's like no time has passed. I love that.

I also loved the hike we went on Saturday morning. It was such a beautiful day, check out the view of the city from the top of the mountain:



And another gorgeous view:



I had such a great time, thanks for having me over guys! And an even bigger thanks for answering the inevitable phone call or email bound to come your way from my parents, who did not look well when they saw this:



Introducing my "Even though I am clinically depressed, on meds, and have returned to being a fat whale, I swear to Shizza I got this cut hiking when I slipped on some leaves, landed in the crab soccer position, and sliced my wrist on a stick" scar for life. (The picture is blurry on purpose because the cut is too nasty for a close up. I only make my bed when someone comes over.) At least I'll have a great conversation starter for the next few weeks. And by "great" I mean "uncomfortably awkward and sad." The Minnow gossips are gonna eat this up.

I really miss driving. I love to drive, especially in Manhattan. It's perfect for someone with self-diagnosed ADHD and lots of aggression. It was amazing how fast all of my driving habits came back. The hair twirling, the nail-biting, the bad singing, the road rage, and the Tourette's. For example, some dude pulled up next to me to get in my lane. I was cursing him out in my head for not using his blinker when he looked over at me and sheepishly said, "I made a boo boo." I think it threw me for a loop that a) he could see me b) he was talking to me and c) I could hear him, so I really didn't mean it when I responded with a booming "Fuck you!" I was so embarrassed that I just put my head down and gave him the go-ahead wave. Remind me to buy a muzzle the next time I rent a car.

My parents came back yesterday so I did what any car-free Astorian would do on a beautiful Sunday, I walked over to the beer garden and got sloshed. It was the first time I went so far this year and it was such a good time! It really was the perfect day for outdoor drinking.

Today is all about recovering...why can't every weekend be a long one??

I'll keep going.

I could go into work now, but I have to clean my bathroom, shower, get dressed, and go into the city. If I rushed I could get there by 2pm, but then I need to leave at 4:30pm to volunteer. It's my first NYCares project, I'm doing arts and crafts with elementary school kids. I could have sworn the hours were from 5:30-6:30pm. I didn't realize I needed to leave work early. I don't think Tennis would have cared, but I thought coming in late and leaving early was worse than not coming in at all.

Actually that was the worst part about this morning. Sure the tub sitch sucked, but it was much harder for me to deal with making the decision to stay home today. I feel really guilty, especially since Summer Fridays start this week. I don't want anyone to think I'm taking advantage.

And get this, I kept wishing my mom was home so I could ask her if it's okay to call out. What the shit is that? The thing is if she would have said no, I think I would have stayed home anyways. Ha! I'm laughing now...this is for you Rockstar...

Why do I ask for other people's opinions when I already know what I'm going to do regardless of their input?

Fuckin' 4B

I'm so annoyed. Did I ever mention that my neighbors spend every waking moment in their bathroom? Seriously, one of them is in there at any given moment. I think they get paid to run water.

My first super was this guy named Joe. I don't know what nationality he was, let's just say Russian because he looked like he drank a fifth of vodka just to get out of bed in the morning. Joe was a very nice yet lazy super. He always kept the building clean, but wasn't great on fixing things in the apartment. After awhile I gave up asking him to do stuff and started fixing shit on my own. I'm pretty handy when it comes to the small stuff.

The one thing I did need Joe to fix was my damn tub. I guess I lived here for about a year when it first happened. I woke up to a loud gurgle; it sort of sounded like the river of slime in Ghostbusters 2. I looked in the bathroom and there was thick brown gunk coming up from my drain. I swear to Shiz I thought someone's toilet backwashed into my tub. I nearly barfed. Luckily my parents came up that day; when my dad saw the mess he assured me it was drainage gunk not poopage gunk. Phew.

The plumber didn't come for three days. I was so pissed. Thankfully I still had my Crunch membership so I used their shower before work in the morning. Oy. Now that I think of it, that was the last day I stepped foot into a gym. Whoops.

I remember the day the tub was supposed to be fixed. I was psyched to be able to shower again (it's the little things in life), but once I saw my bathroom I flipped. The tub was drained but filthy. Somehow my sink got involved and all of my products underneath were covered in gunk. And the best part, there was a big gaping hole was in my wall. The plumber had to knock out six tiles and my soap dish. Awesome.

I complained for weeks, but Joe didn't respond. Since my shower was working, I covered the hole with poster board and gave up. Two months later I found out Joe was diagnosed with cancer. Two months after that he passed away. It was such a shame, he really was a nice guy. I no longer cared about my bathroom. This was early 2006. The hole is still there.

About a year after Joe died, my tub acted up again. It turned out 4B's plumbing was the issue. They apparently needed all new pipes. I found this out early one morning when I heard a sledgehammer knocking through their bathroom walls.

I was afraid to come home that night. I had no idea what to expect and even if I did, I don't think I would have expected what actually happened. My bathroom walls were still up (thank god), but the impact of the sledgehammer caused my medicine cabinet to shift a few inches and empty out. My sink, shower curtain, towels, and part of the floor were covered with paint from four broken nailpolish bottles. All shades of red and brown. It was a bitch to clean.

Naturally I flipped out again. I could hear Female 4B in the bathroom (where else would she be), so I ripped down the poster board and went to stick my head through the wall Shining-style. All I wanted to do was yell and scare the shit out of her. I did NOT want to see a 50 year old Italian woman naked exiting the shower. But I did. From the waist down.

Needless to say, I scared the shit out of her. I yelled, but it wasn't the angry "my bathroom's a mess because of you" it was "oh my god I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry." Whoops again.

I haven't seen the woman since, but hot damn she is still in that bathroom all fucking day. In fact I can hear her right now. Yep, I'm home at noon on a Monday. Know why I'm home? 4B has once again caused my tub to blow up. I woke up to this, but with six more inches of water:



It started draining itself about an hour ago.  The landlord, plumber, and new super (the one who fixed my kitchen sink a few weeks ago) were just here. They said 4B is all fixed now so I shouldn't have any problems.  I fucking hope not!  Who wants to take a day off waiting to get their tub fixed?? I'd rather go on a day trip or something, not sit in my apartment which, no offense to Delilah, has smelled like a wet turd all day.

So there ya have it.  My Monday.  Fuckin' 4B!  WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS IN THE BATHROOM?

Partner let me upgrade you

Ever wonder what I look like while blogging?  Don't.  I'm either pantsless and laughing or pantsless and sobbing.  Me pantsless is blinding.

Ever wonder what my old computer looked like?  No?  Remember the movie War Games with Matthew Broderick?  No?  Why are we friends again?

Introducing my very own WOPR ("whopper").  Note the size of the computer against the Amstel Light.  



Wait it gets better...check out the monitor's girth...




Sad. Huge and sad.

It was definitely time for an upgrade so I switched my neck tie to purple labels and bought Maczine...ain't she a beaut???

Broken record

Ricola Ricola Ricola Ricola Ricola Ricola

Sputnik Sputnik Sputnik Sputnik Sputnik

Racing thoughts suck.  My new trick?  I think of one word over and over again.  It leaves just enough room in my mind for only two more thoughts:

What the fuck am I doing with my life?  and I am insane.

I haven't been posting much lately because I feel like a broken record (and I'm afraid to use Maczine, she's way out of my league).  Where am I going? When will I get there?  Who will be waiting?  What shoes should I wear?  Blah blah blah.

A scene in the movie Fight Club has been on loop in my head for over a year now.  It's the one where Tyler grabs the clerk out of a convenient store, puts a gun to his head and says:

“Raymond, you’re going to die.” He looks through the man’s wallet, “An expired community college I.D. What’ja study Raymond?”

“Stuff…”

“Stuff? Were the midterms hard?” He smacks him on the head with the barrel of the gun, “I asked you what you studied!”

“Biology, mostly,” the man cries.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did you want to be, Raymond K. Hassel?” 

“Veterinarian, veterinarian…”

“Animals! That means you’ve got to get more schooling.”

“Too much school.”

“Would you rather be dead?”

“No, please…”

“I’m keeping your license. I’m gonna check in on you. I know where you live. If you’re not on your way to becoming a veterinarian in six weeks, you’re going to be dead. Run on.” 

Universe before I begin, please note I DO NOT WANT TO BE HELD UP AT GUNPOINT. EVER. Thank you.

What would I say if I was Raymond?  Would I say anything?  Would I whimper "I don't know" over and over? Would I say, "Fuck you and shoot me muthafucka?"  

Is my fear of knowing myself, knowing my purpose stronger than my fear of death??  Or am I of course over-thinking this, that I'd simply rather live my life not knowing my full potential just as long as I have plenty of time to watch The Hills?

Interesting.  And by "interesting" I mean "Shut the fuck up already you whiny bitch!"

Jupiter Jupiter Jupiter Jupiter Jupiter 

It's a girl!

Name: Maczine Marie McGee

Parents: Thighs Marie McGee and Delilah Marie Foray
(Marie is always the middle name of the first born daughter in my family for generations. I don't know why.)

Birthdate: May 7, 2008 (same day as my mom!)

Height: 20-inches

Weight: not so heavy out of the box

Hair: none

Eyes: BLURPLE!

First word(s): "Hello" in fourteen different languages

Mom's proudest moment thus far: Giggling on camera

Mom's not-so-proudest moment thus far: Asking herself, "Okay, I have a Mac. Now what?"

I did something!

I've decided to give up thinking and just go right on with the doing. My first do?

I BOUGHT AN iMAC. HUZZAH!

It is the single most expensive item I have ever bought.

How is blogging on a Mac? I wouldn't know, I haven't taken it out of the box yet. Two reasons:

1. I took the subway home. This means I carried the 26 pound computer, a wacom tablet, external hard-drive, and my ridiculously heavy purse from 5th to Lex, then from the subway to my apartment (a 10 minute walk when I'm not lugging shit), and then up my four flights of stairs.

2. My arms and shoulders were really sore, so I laid on my couch like Nell Carter for a good twenty minutes until I had the bright idea to have a drink to take the edge off.

Had I mentioned Krull was a bartender? Well he was. Is. Whatever. Anyways, one night I was at his bar and wasn't really in the mood to drink beer so I thought I'd have a liqueur of some sort. He suggested I try Disaronno. I laughed and said sure, I'll suck the ice cubes dry like the chick in the commercial, ha ha, yada, yada...

Well somehow between that night and today I managed to not only buy a huge bottle of Disaronno, but already drink half of it. It truly is delicious, so while I do suggest trying it I do NOT suggest keeping a bottle in your house. It's waaaay too easy to get shitfaced without meaning to, like tonight for instance.

I swear I only had half a glass. I was bombed for most of America's Next Top Model to the end of Rambo 3...no need to take the computer out of the box when I'm half in the bag...

So there you have it. I'm an iDiot.

Yay! Boooo! Yay! Boooo!

The title of this post pretty much sums up this past week. For every "yay" there was a "boo."

YAYs:

1. Brother Rippie and his lady Devo were in from California. IT WAS SO GREAT TO SEE THEM!!

2. Iron Man is awesome. If you are a comic fan, you MUST stay through the credits. If you aren't a comic fan, stay through the credits and I'll explain to you why that is the coolest fucking thing in the fucking world and why I kept shrieking like a little bitch through the whole scene. I teared up a bit.

3. My dodgeball team made the finals!

4. If you've known me for awhile, you are fully aware that I'd rather sew my eyelids to my toes then sing karaoke. I absolutely positively hate it, but I have to be honest...the American Idol game rocks!!

BOOs:

1. My kitchen sink was busted for two days. The pipe disconnected from the drain causing a flood all under my cabinet. It totally sucked, especially when I kept absentmindedly turning the water on to wash my hands after cleaning underneath. I did this three times until I finally put a bag over the faucet. Of course the bag didn't stop me from dumping two glasses of water into the sink an hour later. Needless to say, I cursed ALOT.

2. My interweb went down. I rearranged my bedroom, forgetting that I only have one outlet and no extension cord. I had to move my furniture back to its original position in order to use my computer, but for some reason my modem wouldn't work when I plugged it back in. Totally annoying.

3. I had a very stressful week at work, which is stupid for two reasons. One, I took this job to detach and be stress-free. Two, I haven't been at Minnow very long. I should cut myself some slack.

Nerdspeak: I was stuck in database hell. Every file I imported into Access needed to be scrubbed, but of course I couldn't tell what was fucked up with it until I ran the queries. It took me two full days to get it right; I wanted to shoot myself.

I fell right into my old Company habits: frustration, anger, "Why the fuck do they even need this shittin' report?," more anger, stupid mistakes, rage, "What the fuck am I doing with my life?," ulcer, stomach pain, teeth grinding, "I fucking hate the world!!!!", HULK OUT....

I finally figured it out on Friday. I was so fucking happy that I wet myself. I think I saw Jesus.

Thankfully I have learned to keep my mouth shut and go for a walk when I get that upset, but man, keeping that shit in hurts...

4. ...making me circle back to:

What the fuck AM I doing with my life???

I am having an identity crisis. I thought I was doing really well with things, but yeah, no. I feel so out of sorts lately. I think that's why I haven't written in awhile. Well posted anyways; I've been writing in my journal like a mad-woman.

I wish I could stop thinking. I think way too fucking much. I want to DO, not THINK!

Ugh! Fuck! Boo!

I read a whole entire book today!

It didn't even have pictures! I am so proud of myself.

I used to love to read as a kid. I'm not sure when I stopped reading, but I have a sneaky suspicion it was around the time I met Mary Juana. Reading wasn't really her style; she was more into papers than books. Snootch!

So what book had me by the balls all day? What gripping page turner could keep my ADHD at bay? Why does that rhyme?

It's the book any person would read when the Mets game they were supposed to go to tonight got rained out...

He's Just Not That Into You

AAAARRRGGHHH!! I've managed to avoid this damn book for four fucking years. FOUR! And today I just HAD to read it. Wait, I misspoke-wrote. I didn't "read it," I devoured it.

I have two piles of books to read in my apartment, prose and comics. I just counted, there are 15 picture-less books I would like to read by the end of this year. The comics, shit, I have like three short boxes and 6 trades I've been meaning to get to...so why the heck did I choose to read a book I used to mock and avoid???

Because I really needed to read it.

Like all manic depressive gigglers, I love self-help books. It never occurred to me to ask myself why I love them, but now that I'm writing this I think it has to do with connecting. It's nice to know I'm not the only woman in the world with weight/boy/finger gnawing/low self-esteem/Mommy Dearest issues. While I don't want others to suffer, there is a sick comfort in knowing others have felt my pain. It makes it real.

Whoa. Downer. Okay then, back to He's Just Not That Into Me. You. Me. Whatever.

I needed to read it. I needed to read it to remember that I rock, I deserve to find a guy who rocks, and we deserve to have a rockin' relationship.

Hmmm...I wonder when auditions for Rock of Love 3 start...

And speaking of Bret, did I call it or what??? Ambre won! Who knows if it will last, but I'm proud of Mr. Michaels. He stayed away from the 25 year old itchy girl and went with a woman he could possibly have a real relationship with.

Crap. I need to get laid. Still.

Life is good.

You may have already guessed that my love/blue post was about Krull. I haven't heard from him in a couple of weeks. I'm angry, I'm sad, I'm disappointed, I'm confused, I'm fourteen all over again. Not quite sure what happened, but I have a feeling I liked him way more than he liked me. I guess it's a good thing we petered out then. Heh. Petered.

Anyhoo, despite the pouting, whining, and occasional shadowboxing (the shadow being Krull's face) LIFE. IS. GOOD.

I really like my new job at Minnow. My coworkers are cool, a few of us went to see my office-mate and Bizarro brother Germ's new play. If you're in NYC and looking to see a play in the next couple of weeks, I highly recommend Sunrise at the Quarry. It is fantastic. Very well written and extremely well acted. I'm so proud of Germ...definitely go see it!

I can't believe I've been at Minnow for three months already. The actual work is cool; I really enjoy being a nerd and running reports all day. But the best part of my new gig isn't what I do, it's what I DON'T do. I don't stress out, get upset, or get angry. I don't stay really late; I think the latest I've stayed so far is 6:30pm. That's nothing compared to the 12 hour days I put in my first year at Company. Oy.

Truthfully, I feel like I don't even have a job. The minute I leave the office it's like I have a whole new day ahead of me. It's so liberating that I've decided to do some good with this new found freedom. I signed up for the Aids Walk on the 18th. (Let me know if you'd like to walk it with me or make a donation.) I also signed up to be a NYCares volunteer. I'm volunteering for two sessions in May to help kids with after school art projects. I hope we use crayons!

Speaking of art, my cartooning class at SVA ended last week. I haven't written about it because part of me was a little disappointed. The teacher was a little too laidback, I was looking for someone to be more hands on to teach me the basics. I'm still glad I signed up for it though. It was during class that I realized I don't want to be a penciller, I'd rather be a writer and do thumbnails or storyboarding rather than full blown comics. But hey, you never know. This time next year I could have a whole new plan...

And this is how I know life is good: I'm incredibly excited to see what happens next!

Call me George.

I thought this was so funny that I immediately had to share it...

"yada yada...I am feeling this is the Summer of Shannon. But I like the ring of Summer of George better, so I'm calling you George from now on.

SUMMER OF GEORGE!"

Heather, you are hysterical. Miss you!

Blue do you love?

I suck at dating. I am way too emotional for this shit. I fall for guys way too fast and then ultimately get the shaft. The other shaft.

I don't want to give up though. I know there's gotta be someone out there for me, right?? Someone who fuck, I don't know, just wants to be around me alot. Or at least lets me know they want to be around me when they can't.

It's like me and the color blue. I painted my living room and kitchen blue. I have a blue carpet in my bedroom. Both of my comforters are blue. All "Awesome Events" (ie my birthday or NYCC) are written on my calendar in blue marker. My eyeglass frames are blue. My winter coat is blue. Most of my tops are blue. I have three blue purses. My softball glove (prized possession) is blue. I prefer writing in blue ink. I prefer blue cars. I eat the blue M&Ms last. I absolutely positively heart the color blue!!!

Two thoughts popped into my mind while writing that last paragraph:

1. I want someone to love me as much as I love blue.

2. If blue was a guy, he'd be long gone by now. How depressing.

Shoe-gasm

I am a shopaholic. While I don't buy as much crap as I used to, I still end up buying new shoes and clothes at the change of each season. It's an addiction; I just can't help it.*

I'm in love. I'm in love with a pair of shoes. I have never been this excited over footwear in my life. I sort of remember digging these navy blue velcro sneakers when I was around three. They had traffic light patches on the sides and rubber traffic light soles. Needless to say, they were kickass.

The shoes I bought today...oh my word! This picture does not do them justice. I am obsessed!!!

Here are my thoughts when I tried them on. And yes, I'm fully aware I'm going to hell.

Oh my GOD I love these shoes!! Should I get the 7.5 or the 8? I'll get the oh my GOD they are going to look so good with jeans too. I bet Mother Jugs will like these too. She'll probably say she's obsessed with them. I'M obsessed with them. Holy crap I can't wait to show her; I'm totally texting her a picture right now.

[Take picture.]

DUDE. Why do my fucking calves look like sausages?? These shoes are so fucking awesome.

[Talk to salesperson. Make her laugh by overly gushing about shoes.]

Oh my GOD I want to make out with these shoes. I would seriously have sex with these shoes if...if...oh GOD I'm horny. UGH. I wonder how many women have banged their favorite shoes. Didn't a Zeppelin groupie fuck a fish once? I really have to stop watching VH1. Am I that flexible? I can sit Indian style, it's sort of the same thing...I don't think the toes would really bend though...NO NO NO! I am not fucking a pair of shoes!! JESUS!

[Ask salesperson her name so I can make sure she gets the commission. Thank her for helping me find my soulmate(s). She laughs again.]

IlovemyshoesIlovemyshoesIlovemyshoesIlovemyshoesIlovemyshoesIlovemyshoes

[Pay for shoes. Walk home with a big cheesy smile on my face.]

IlovemyshoesIlovemyshoesIlovemyshoes. Someone's definitely fucked a shoe before, but I'm sure they weren't actually wearing them at the time. Oh puppy!! You're so cute!! IlovemyshoesIlovemyshoesIlovemyshoes...



*Yes I can.

NYCC!

The third annual NY Comic Con kicks off tomorrow night. I am SUPER (pun intended) excited!!

My favorite part about convention season is hugging the friends I haven't seen in awhile. That's it! Sure it's fun to see all the costumed fans (mostly Jedis and Power Girls) and hearing the upcoming story events and pubplans, but its the industry peeps that warm my heart.

This will be my first convention in four years where I'll be attending as a "civilian." Technically I was one at the San Diego con having transferred from Publishing to IT by then, but it was still cool to be part of the corporate Company family.

Last week I had gone up to the old offices before Girl and I went to the Mets game. It was the first time I visited everyone since I quit. Some days I can't believe it's only been four months, then days (like today) I feel like I never worked there. Weird.

Anyhoo, I'm totally looking forward to this weekend. I can't wait to party with my pals, geek out over capes and comics, and get my groove on with some hot fan-man. Because really, what else is there in life?

Dodge-brawl

Hello. I'm Thighs. I'm 30 years old and I almost got into a fistfight playing dodgeball.

Each season there are usually one or two teams with a dickfuck. A dickfuck is a guy who takes dodgeball waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy too seriously. He cheats, ie doesn't leave the court when he gets hit. He curses at the ref when he doesn't agree with a call. He throws a bullet at the 115 pound non-athletic girl on the other team. And the best part, he curses and screams over absolutely nothing. Wait, strike that. He curses and screams over dodgeball.

Fortunately for all involved, Dickfuck's teammates are nice and/or irrelevant so they usually make his antics easy to laugh off. UNfortunately for all involved, this was not the case tonight.

Tonight we played The Ultimate Dickfuck Dodgeball (UDD) team. Not just one Dickfuck, but FOUR male Dickfucks and ONE female Dickfuck.

We had already played one round with The Nice team and were truly having a lot of fun. The minute UDD walked out on the court to play Nice team though, all hell broke lose. They cheated, they cursed, they took vicious shots. It wasn't ridiculous, it was scary and sad.

The whole vibe of the gymnasium changed. UDD took all the fun out of playing, for me anyways. My own teammates seemed bothered by them as well, but there was really nothing we could do except pray the referee would kick them out. UDD's attitude was that awful.

The weird part is they were a really good team. It was so unnecessary for them to take it to an un-fun level. Three of the male Dickfucks were at least 6'2" and very athletic while the fourth was, well he looked exactly like Matt Lucas in Little Britain. See below and laugh:



I can't speak for anyone else on the Doges, but I did NOT want to play UDD. I was very competitive in my youth, way too competitive. This is why I don't play hardcore sports now; I get so friggin worked up that's it just not fun. This is also why I play dodgeball for a NON-COMPETITVE league. TO. HAVE. FUN.

Um yeah, I sort of forgot to have fun tonight. I attacked the Female Dickfuck instead.

I don't really remember how it started, all I know is I said something like "This sucks." meaning how UDD were being jerks. Female Dickfuck screamed something like "No. You suck." and I sort of screamed something back at her like, "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" And by "sort of", I mean "I did."

I hulked out. I swear to Shizza if someone didn't hold me back (or um, three someones) I would have ripped the bitch's throat out. It would have been a good fight too; I think she was bigger than me. Definitely looked stronger. I would have used my secret weapon though...rage.

So what happened? What made me flip my shit on this poor Female Dickfuck over a stupid dodgeball game? I honestly don't know.

What I do know is that this is a very old pattern. My mom would instigate me to no end: call me names, scream, yell, hit, or just be plain nasty. When I couldn't take it anymore I'd flip the fuck out, but my flip-out would be so extreme that it erased the fact that she "started it." In other words the fight quickly became all my fault.

This happened at Company as well. Some Idiot would repeatedly screwed up, I repeatedly had to fix their mistakes, I'd finally lose my shit in frustration, and then it became a Thighs Issue rather than an Idiot Issue.

I feel like tonight had the same result. I flipped my shit and I became the Dickfuck. UDD didn't bring the negativity, I did. And you know what? It's true.

Rocks and Furbie have said that most people aren't comfortable with the level of confrontation that I am. Of course I thank my mom for this, but at what point will the rage-cord be totally cut? I know I've grown a helluva lot over the past year. I've learned to detach my emotions from my professional life, but how do I protect myself from other people's emotions??

Because really, tonight had nothing to do with dodgeball. It had to do with me absorbing UDD's negative energy, balling it up into a Zeloch orb, and firing it off at Female Dickfuck. So maybe the real question is:

When will I ever stop reacting!?!?

Ugh. What a night. Oh and nothing happened. Actually that's not true, after my outburst the male Dickfucks cooled their jets. So at least one good thing came out of it. Female Dickfuck didn't say anything to me and I don't blame her. I'm sure my face matched my purple t-shirt. SCARY.

I wish I could say I'm glad we didn't fight, but I'm not. I walked home by myself, half hoping she'd get her team to jump me in the street. Me against UDD. One Woman Army Corp. I'm sure I'd be in the hospital right now.

Today marks the most primitive day of my adult life. This afternoon I wanted to have sex so bad that I almost banged a homeless man. Tonight all I wanted to do was fight. When the fuck did I become a meathead??

Boobies.

A question for lesbians. Real lesbians. Not the half-ass kind like myself.

Have you ever thought about working at Victoria's Secret?

I can understand why you wouldn't want to be a gynecologist. Only a man could see that much vag and not get sick of it.

I went to Victoria's Secret after work today and I swear to god an employee was hitting on me. Either that or she was blind and needed to feel my breasts in order to know what size I wear. Most bra-fitters are touchy-feely so it's not that unusual, but she was holding on to them a bit too long. So long that I even looked around the store for a second! When she realized it was getting a bit weird she apologized by pulling down the front of her shirt to show me her own bra and massive cleavage.

This is when it hit me. All lesbians should work at Victoria's Secret at least once in their lives! Straight girls are sluts, you can totally take advantage of us. Case in point, even though this lady was unattractive, I got turned on. She had a huge rack!! Apparently we were the same size, but double D's on a short person look like double H's...and HH stands for Hummina-Hummina.

A few minutes later I went into the dressing room to try on this really hot bra. I knew I looked good in it so I did what any good little minx does, I called my would be suit-her and asked for her opinion. Yeah, she blushed. Sold.

Whenever I buy something new I have to go straight home, put it on, and prance around my apartment for a bit. Well get this...my cleavage looked really good in this bra, TOO good in fact! I actually got embarrassed and changed!!

I can't believe it. My own boobs made me blush.

Damn you El Mariachi!!

Dear Steak Burrito,

It was great to see you again tonight. I'm so glad you wanted to hang out. I thought you might still be mad at me for not returning your calls the past few months. Then again, you always were the mature one in our relationship.

Gosh, I don't know how to put this. I fucked up. I should have left you alone, but noooo...I just had to give us one last try.

You were wonderful tonight. So loving, so tender, so mouth-wateringly delicious. Mmmm...no, I can't do this to you again.

It hurts too much to be near you, to hold you, to tear into your meaty goodness. I tried to restrain myself by only eating half of you, but you're just too damn good...and I am too damn weak.

Siiighh...my bowels are filled with such sweet sorrow!! I knew the minute I walked into El Mariachi tonight, I would soon regret it. I wish regret was spelled R-O-L-A-I-D-S.

We both know that I don't have the self-control nor the digestive system to indulge in the occasional burrito-call. I need a clean break. And I'll probably need some more toilet paper, too.

This is my final good-bye. You deserve a woman who can handle her beefsteak. I thought I was that woman, but now I know to stick with good ol' tubesteak. It doesn't bother my ass as much, unless of course... well, you know.

Sincerely,

Thighs

A delayed reaction.

Yesterday was a very upsetting day at Minnow. A woman in my department, one of B's direct reports, passed away. I was never formally introduced to her, so while I am not mourning her loss directly I am sympathetic to all of my co-workers' grief...especially of course my best friend's.

As soon as I heard the news I went on auto-pilot. All I cared about was making sure B would be okay, but really, what does "okay" even mean in a situation like this? Okay for me is certainly not okay for her, so since my gauge for okay-ness is based on my own personal definition of okay, how and when will I know she is actually okay??

Listening is the correct answer. I will always be there to listen, but in my emotionally ruled world, isn't enough. For me, "enough" means empathizing to the point of hysteria.

I had a delayed reaction to the news. It didn't hit me until mid-morning; I've been trying to pick up the pieces of Me ever since.

My reaction to tragedy? My heart caves in, my whole world crashes down. I'm a self-absorbed masochist. The minute I feel bad for someone else, I immediately turn the negative feelings on to my own life issues. I'd like to believe there is some sort of honor in this, that somewhere in my subconscious I think if I suffer hard enough they won't have to, but I doubt it. Maybe I am just that controlling and selfish.

I hate watching the news, I hate seeing commercials with starving children or abused animals, and I hate when a homeless person looks me in the eye. And why?? Do I seriously believe I hate it because my heart is too fucking big?? Jesus Christ. Pathetic.

Doubly pathetic is what personal issue I decided to harp on all day. It was Completely Ridiculous And Pointless...let's call it CRAP for short.

I have been crying all day about friends, life, death, and CRAP. CRAP is always easy to obsess over. I am a master at it. The proof is in the blog, people.

I haven't been this upset in a long time.

You know what? I'm done. The number of "I's" in this post is making me sick.

March

I can't believe March is finally over. I feel like it should have ended three years ago.

Longest. Month. Ever.

Home sick.

I'm allergic to cigarette smoke.

Most kids start smoking because they think it's cool. I started because a friend said that smoking a Newport after a joint makes you feel more stoned. Indeed it did and at 16, so it began.

I had a love/hate relationship with cigarettes. I loved the socialness of smoking. When I smoked I had an instant conversation starter ("Got a light?"), an easy way to flirt (was it only a Jersey thing that blowing smoke in someone's face meant you liked them?), and an easy way to bond (Us smokers vs. Them non-smokers). And please! If someone smoked the same brand as me (which jumped from Newport to Marlboro Light Menthol to Parliament Light Menthol with the cool palm tree hologram to Parliament Lights to Marlboro Lights) we. were. soulmates. Cancer-filled soulmates.

And there's the hate part. My body absolutely hated cigarettes. From ages 16 to 23 I must have had bronchitis at least twice a year. I was always sick, constantly coughing up a lung. I knew all the drinking and drugs weren't helping me either (duh), but I didn't care. I liked to party, I liked to smoke, and I wasn't gonna stop.

I am going to write something funny. Brace yourself: Bloomberg saved my life. I was LIVID the day he banned smoking in NY bars. Poor Peteys...I kept writing scathing emails to my friends about freedom and rights and what the fucks. I annoyed the crap out of everyone that day, all because I hate authority and had a slow day at work. Sorry!

Well if it wasn't for Bloomberg, I don't think I would have stopped smoking. It's been four years since the ban and sure, I've had a cigarette here and there (drunk nights, rafting trips, what have you), but thanks to him I am officially a Them.

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

I deleted my previous post because I felt stupid. I didn't want Krull to read this and think I'm fruit loops, but guess what? I am! I re-posted it because shit, it's funny, sad, and classic Thighs.

Krull rocks my world. Fingers crossed I don't fuck it up by, you know, writing about him on my website. We've hung out a few times and I have to say he might be the coolest guy I have ever met. Every time I look at him I think, "Damn he's cool." Just cool.

Krull is the first smoker I've hung out with in awhile. Guess what that means I have??? No not the clap...bronchitis. UGH!! My body seriously rejects all cigarette smoke at this point. I cough when I walk past people smoking on the sidewalk. My throat gets scratchy if someone's coat smells like an ashtray. It sucks, but now I know for sure that I am definitely allergic to cigarette smoke.

Lucky for me Krull doesn't smoke all that much, I think it's just been an unhealthy week. I don't think we slept at all the one night I stayed over (bow chicka bow bow!). Easter Sunday I was in the car with my chain-smoking aunt for five hours. Tuesday, well read the previous post. Wednesday I had awful hangover gas. Thursday I saw Krull again for a bit after class. Friday through Sunday I had a writing seminar (more on this later) that ran for 12 hours each day...so yeah getting sick was inevitable for someone as sensitive to smoke and a busy schedule as I am.

Yeah, that's right. I'm sensitive. So there.