I didn't think I would get any channels without a cable box, but it turns out I still get NY1 (yay Pat!), 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11 (including new episodes of ANTM, crap!), 13, TBS, Food Network, and CSPAN.
As I flipped past CSPAN yesterday I noticed something was wrong (or very right!) with the sound. I grabbed my camera and took this video...
Turn up the volume and pass the ganja.
I used to love writing about poopage. Unfortunately after my colonoscopy in '07 there's way less entertaining shiterial to share.
Interestingly enough, I was just telling Rolo and some friends this a couple of hours ago. Apparently my subconscious decided this was unacceptable and granted me with a somewhat blog-worthy poop experience.
We were at the new outdoor drinking bar in Astoria (I refuse to say "new beer garden" because it will never replace the old one). After a sangria and 4 or 5 Magic Hats I was feeling good, then all of a sudden a poop baby starting kicking the literal shit out of my intestines.
It's been quite a while since my IBS/common ass cold has deterred me from my nights out on the town, but this episode got me good.
I quietly sat there for a good twenty minutes, politely waiting for an opening in the conversation to say my good-byes. It finally came and holy fuck was the fifteen minute walk home freakin' brutal. I don't know what triggered the pains, but I'm guessing it was a combination of the hot mustard on my pretzel and irony. I seriously thought I was going to shit my pants a half a block away from my apartment and to be honest, I seriously didn't care.
Fortunately I made it home without any messes. I didn't know what was going to happen once I got my pants down so i just took them off to be safe.
All I can say is WOW. It was like giving bum birth to septuplets.
Afterwards I giggled and laid on the couch with a smile. And then I wrote this.
Thank God For Pooping!
As much as I'm ready to call it quits at Minnow I am proud to say that I got a glowing review from my bosses. Hurrah! The one area that needs improvement is the same as always: communication and interpersonal skills.
The joke is this time around they said I have...
wait for it...
too much of a...
POKER FACE!! I need to be more aggressive, show more passion, and ROCK THE BOAT from time to time!! HAHAHAHAHA!
This is hysterical considering those were the things I had to tone down at Company. Talk about a 180...
In other news, I need to get laid. Like right now. I think it's time to come out of Jedi-Slut retirement. Heh. Come.
I haven't taken a week off of work since the last time I went to California three years ago. It's amazing what ten consecutive days out of the office can do for the soul.
I, like many other people, usually come back from vacation with a new outlook on life. This time around my thought is this: I take myself waaaay to seriously.
This might seem odd coming from someone who loves poop jokes and reading comics (better yet, reading comics while pooping), but it's true. I need to lighten up. At the end of most days I am over-stressed, over-anxious, and scared. Scared of my own potential. Scared of success. Maybe even scared of living in general. Ooo, that last one just caused a pain in my heart and some tears so it must be true...
Take my job for example. I never wanted to like it at Minnow. I really didn't. My department blows, my boss is a moron, and there's no one to really learn from. After everything that happened last year, I wanted to wait to see what my raise would be and then decide whether to stay or go. Well, I got the standard increase and the worst part about it is my boss didn't tell me what it was before I got my paycheck. While I was in California I had to look at my paystub and figure it out. I was so disappointed and pissed that I almost broke my brother's laptop. Call me an ingrate, but fuck you. I know what I'm worth and I also know if a company truly values an employee they won't use the bad economy as an excuse to not compensate them.
I had insomnia the night before my first day back. I did some day drinking on Sunday, passed out around 8:30pm, woke up at 12:30am, and never went back to sleep. I tossed and turned all night dreading going back to the office. Ironically, being cracked out and exhausted all day Monday ended up being ideal. I was too tired to tell everyone to fuck off, too tired to care about anything. It was then that I realized I needed to stop taking everything so seriously.
I know who I am, what I am capable of, what I value in an employer, and what I expect of myself as an employee. Why stress myself out over any of it? I'll just keep moving jobs until I find the right fit.
After making this decision on Monday, I fought the urge to go my usual 100 mph and just coasted the rest of the week. I completed the few things I was told to do and that was it. It was uncomfortable, but fuck it. Wednesday and Thursday I took nice long lunches. Friday no one bothered with me until the end of the day when Nun hooked me up with some free Mets tickets for tonight's game. It was probably the best week I've ever had there.
This is how I plan on spending the rest of my time at Minnow. I'm going to relax while I can and not take the bullshit so seriously.
I've also decided to take my creative self less seriously. I haven't been writing, drawing, or coloring because it's not fun. I'm scared to be judged, scared of letting go, and above all else, scared to suck. This all changed when I went to the Tim Burton exhibit at MOMA on one of my long lunches. It was so inspiring. I appreciate his artistic vision and self-awareness. The FUN he seems to be having. In reality he might be incredibly hard on himself and completely anal, but at least he is free. He allows himself to DO something. A lot of somethings actually. The exhibit made me realize that I can be creatively free as long as I always remember it's supposed to be fun, so I've already started outlining some of the short stories I had brewing in my head for a while now.
So there ya have it. My first week back I started taking myself less seriously and I already find life more enjoyable.
Here's another pic from Cali...
Go see Kick-Ass! It totally rules. Hit-Girl is easily one of my favorite characters of all time.
California was soooo much fun!! The rundown...
Thursday (04/08):
I've never left NYC right after work. The E train to the Air Train to JFK only took about 50 minutes from Rock Center. Not so bad! The flight itself was less enjoyable. I couldn't sleep and my tailbone was killing me. Stupid boys and their big peni...
I got to LA 3:30am EST. I was a bit cracked out, but it was worth having a full day of fun on Friday with Rip who was nice enough to take off.
Friday:
1. The Griddle for breakfast. I highly recommend the Cobb Omelet. The Peanut Bubba, french toast with peanut butter, is delicious as well, but it was a bit too sugary for me.
2. Rode bikes along Santa Monica beach.
3. Browsed at Meltdown, one of the nicest comic shops I've ever been in.
4. Tacos Por Favor for dinner. The chorizo with cheese is the best.
5. Drank at The Dark Room and Snake Pit with Rip's awesome friends.
6. Climbed this tree drunk because I really wanted to sit in it...
resulting in this bruise on my arm (already a week healed, so it was pretty bad looking when it happened)...
due to me jumping off of said tree, landing weird, and hitting the door of the parked car next to me. Alarm went off, we ran, hilarity ensued.
Saturday:
1. Nursed arm and massive hangover by having brunch at Blu Jam (not as good as The Griddle), reading Walking Dead, alphabetizing Rip's comics (a favorite pasttime of mine), and playing Marvel Scene It.
2. Headed over to Hollywood to see the Walk of Fame, Grauman's Chinese Theater, and the concrete autographs and prints. Shirley Temple's was my favorite because it's in little kid capital letters. (I didn't take this picture. I barely took any all week!)
3. My first In and Out burger. Animal style. Yum!
4. A viewing of the original Clash of the Titans. I'll rent the new one.
Sunday:
Six Flags Magic Mountain. Oy vey. I went on three roller coasters in a row and then got really woozy. It's possible my jet lag kicked in, so I sat out The Riddler's Revenge. I needed to get my bearings and not flip for a little while. Two roller coasters later we were waiting on line for Tatsu, an amazing flying coaster where the track is above you and your body is parallel to the ground. Perfect for super-hero training.
For some crazy reason (probably because I'm crazy) I freaked out. I did not want to go on this ride. I was so panicky that I wanted to cry. Rip and Devo talked me down a bit and said don't worry, it's a lot of fun, you'll be fine, so I went against my gut and hopped on.
Uh oh! Right before the first drop we got stuck. We were dangling 175 feet in the air FACING THE GROUND. I snagged this shot from a video on YouTube...
The only things holding us in were the shoulder harness and ankle cuffs. I wanted to die. No wait, I wanted to live but I wanted to kill myself for going on. There was this poor little boy in the back of us screaming at the top of his lungs for his mom. I felt so bad for him, but he sort of made it worse. I kept my eyes closed tight to stop me from looking down, which was a shame because the view in front of us was amazing. Mountains seem fake to me. Like foxes.
I don't know how long we were up there for. Five, maybe ten minutes? Finally an airhorn went off and the ride started up again. Turns out we all thought when the horn sounded that's when the harnesses would unlock and we'd fall to our deaths, but luckily that wasn't the case. I'm never tempting fate again. Screw super-hero flyer training. I choose telekinesis.
Monday to Wednesday morning:
San Diego!! I FINALLY got a chance to visit The Faces and the Mighty Cale in their new home. I wanted to hug and squeeze MC the whole time, but I didn't think he'd like that considering he's a big boy now. I actually showed some restraint!
Monday night we wet to Stone Brewing World Bistro and Gardens. It is AWESOME! We weren't able to take the brewery tour, so we had a delicious dinner at the adjacent restaurant instead. I drank an Oaked Arrogant Bastard Ale and ate two dishes with beer in them: Garlic Cheddar & Stone Ruination IPA Soup and the Mac 'n Beer Cheese with Stone Smoked Porter sausage. DOUBLE YUM! The outdoor garden is amazing...I'm seriously considering having my wedding there. You know, whenever I get engaged...
Tuesday and Wednesday we walked along the beach, relaxed, and caught up. I love getting together with friends I haven't seen in a while and feeling like no time has passed. Such a nice visit.
Wednesday night:
I got back to my brother's in the late afternoon. We headed out to dinner and randomly ran into two of my favorite Company friends that I don't get to see very often (buy Power Girl now!). How cool is that?? They joined us at our table and we spent the next few hours laughing, eating, and laughing some more. It was the perfect way to end my trip.
Phew!! Man, did I need a vacation! A big thanks to my brother, Devo, and The Faces for letting me stay with you. I had a fantastic time! I love yas and am so happy you are happy in California. I just wish it was closer to NYC.
I'm heading out to Cali tomorrow night. Can't wait!! Don't have much more to say than that, so here's a fitting song...well, song title anyways.
Apparently the woman in the song is Joni Mitchell. I did not know this. Thanks Wikipedia!
Spent my days with a woman unkind,
smoked my stuff and drank all my wine.
Made up my mind to make a new start,
Going To California with an aching in my heart.
Someone told me there's a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
Took my chances on a big jet plane,
never let them tell you that they'all are the same.
The sea was red and the sky was grey,
I wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today.
The mountains and the canyons started to tremble and shake as the children of the sun began to awake.
Seems that the wrath of the Gods
Got a punch on the nose and it started to flow
I think I might be sinking.
Throw me a line if I reach it in time
I'll see you up there where the path
Runs straight and high.
To find a queen without a king,
They say she plays guitar and cries and sings... la la la la
Ride a white mare in the footsteps of dawn
Tryin' to find a woman who's never, never, never been born.
Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams,
Telling myself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems.
I was bored and hungover at my parents' house yesterday, so I decided to rip the heads off the marshmallow chicks and pile them up next to the bodies. 
Yes, I'm disgusting. Just like Peeps.
Enough talk, more do. Hairdo that is.
I've been toying with going short again for a while now. Finally shat instead of getting off the pot.
Fuck!! I forgot about The Soup!!! Waaaahhhhh!!! Good-bye Joel McHale...I'll miss you!!
Well, I finally did one of the things I've always said I would. I cancelled my cable.
I'm so fucking sick of sitting on my ass and watching brainless television all day long. I have things I want to do with my life that I'm not doing. Will living TV-less inspire me to write a novel or color a comic? I don't know, but it's worth a shot.
Obviously I can still watch some shows on Hulu or Netflix, so I'm not cutting out ALL television. It's the mindless channel surfing that is killing my soul. The last few weekends I watched an America's Next Top Model marathon for about 7 hours (a season I already saw four times!) and flipped to either ESPN, Wedding Crashers/Singer (both have been on a lot lately), Say Yes to the Dress/What Not to Wear between commercial breaks. God forbid my attention span was long enough to enjoy the classic rock tune playing in a car and/or soda ad, but nooo. I need tears, cheers, or jeers on the screen at all times.
SO. My deal to myself is this: I will renew my cable subscription in September for football season. If I have not made any attempts to better my current situation, broaden my horizons, or knock something off my to-do list I am going back to therapy and Auntie D.
If I really push and still don't move, then I'm okay with asking for help again. Until then it's just Me, Myself, and I. We've kicked the shit out of each other for years, now it's time to listen to ourselves and work together. I think it will be much easier without hearing Tyra screaming in the background...
Um, I must be sicker than I thought because I just signed up to run a 10K in June. Who am I????
I feel like poo. I'm coughy, achy, and tiredy. People around the office have been passing the yuck around. The good news is I had so much fun last week that it's worth the cold.
Monday - Elephants
Tuesday - I don't think I did anything
Wednesday - Blind Tiger hosted a Stone event. I love Stone beers! My new favorites are the Oaked Arrogant Bastard and Stone Smoked Porter with Vanilla Bean cask. I'm heading out to California in a couple of weeks and my girl Leeks said we could check out their brewery in San Diego. So excited!
Thursday - Drinks with my department, then drinks with Chewie at the usual Company bar.
Friday - Hot Tub Time Machine (hysterical!), then drinks in my hood until about 3am.
Saturday - I went to a friend's going away party for a couple of hours. I started feeling crappy during the day, probably because I was hungover and walked around too much Friday night in 35 degree weather. My mom was right all of these years. A huge change in weather totally messes with me. That and drinking four days in a row.
Phew! This week I was booked up too, but I already had to cancel my plans for last night and tonight. Sucks. I need the rest though. I don't want to be sick for my vacation!
I did it, I finally did it!! Last night I went to see the Ringling Brothers Circus elephants walk from Queens to MSG on 34th Street.
It was rainy, cold, and 1:30AM, but I didn't care. It was so awesome!
This afternoon I ran into my third blast from the past so far this year. I went to Bacon's friend's birthday party in Brooklyn on a whim. Her friend and I have met a few times and she's the sweetest gal, so I figured why not. It'd be fun to tagalong and celebrate her birth.
I walked into her friend's apartment and immediately made eye contact with the ginger across the room. This is completely normal considering I have red-ar. The ABnormal part was I totally knew him from somewhere. He apparently recognized me too because we both blushed and stared at each other for a good minute before saying hi.
His name is Vic. As soon as he said it I knew we definitely had met before. It turns out he grew up and still lives in New Brunswick, so I figured I must have randomly seen him around when I was at Rutgers. It took me about an hour to figure out how I knew him exactly and wouldn't you know it, he's someone I had a crush on for a little while. (Who haven't I liked???)
I met him through my friend Sorry and her boyfriend Cah. They were Phishheads who had a huge network of friends at RU. I never really listened to Phish, but I loved smoking pot and doing shrooms so I hung out with their phamily on a fairly regular basis. This is probably why I couldn't place Vic right away; I was most likely fucked up every time I was around him.
I can't remember if I asked him out on the phone or face to face (I've always had balls with guys). I sort of recall Sorry and Cah telling me he was really awkward with girls. Or maybe they said he was just awkward in general. I don't know. It's possible they were being nice because they knew Vic didn't like me or he really was just a freak. Looking back he did seem rather timid. I'm sure someone as aggressive and loud as me scared the crap out of him.
When I think about my long lost loves that got away, Vic certainly never crossed my mind. I just find it amazing I ran into him now in light of recent events. He was with his girlfriend, so it's highly doubtful there's a chance to reconnect. There is however a chance to do so with Sorry and Cah whom I lost touch with after their wedding a few years ago. I already found and emailed Sorry on Facebook, so we'll see if that's the purpose of this run in.
I'm not sure if the moment fully hit me yet. All I have to say is WOW. Wow Universe for bringing I guy I liked 10 years ago (ten!) back into my life. I don't know what it means, I don't know the impact, I don't know what you have in store for me. Maybe it's nothing, maybe it's everything. I'm game, so keep it coming.
I'm a little drunk right now, so I hope this comes across the way I want it to rather than offending someone. A loaded preface, huh?
I met this guy on St. Patrick's Day. I'll call him Will. Will had a total Good Will Hunting thing going (hence the nickname): wicked smaht, wicked tough, wicked Irish, wicked hot. We had a fun time hanging out on Wednesday, so I gave him my number despite an uneasy feeling. First, something told me he wasn't right for me. Second, he lives right across the street and if I've learned anything in life it's you shouldn't shit where you eat.
I ignored my intuition and met him at a bar around the corner a few hours ago. It's his usual pub, so a couple of his buddies were there. I absolutely loved his friends. Born and raised Astorian blue-collar guys. Highly entertaining and I don't mean that in a condescending way. I hope I see them again soon.
Will, not so much. He is a very good looking guy and a complete contradiction. Like his namesake, Will is a Boston brawler. Thick, tough, loud, obnoxious construction worker. I seriously (and sadly) would not be surprised if he's killed someone before. The fact that I can type that without flinching is scary, which is why I know it's true. The contradictory part is he is a devout Catholic who enjoys quoting Yeats, Dostoyevsky, and pretty much everything else his apparently photographic memory has retained. It's amazing really...he's a walking Wikipedia bohunk.
What's interesting is that while I believe he's probably killed someone or at least attempted to, this is not the reason I don't want to see him again. The idea of murder, pre-meditated or not, is so far removed from my psyche that it feels almost fairy-tale-like. "Oh yes, you beat him to a fluffy bloody sparkly pulp. You are now granted three wishes." I don't know if this makes me sicker than an actual murderer, but it is what it is.
What totally turns me off about Will is the following, in no particular order:
1. He wants seven kids. He actually said day care is not an option, the mother needs to be home. When I mentioned I might not have kids he said that's "unnatural."
2. He asked if I was a yuppie, then referred to me as a "modern woman." I'm assuming this is because I support myself and don't need a man to take care of me. I want one to, just not him.
3. He kept interrupting his friends. This bothered me because I know I do it. (Sorry!)
4. He goes to church at least three times a week. He believes Catholicism is the only religion.
5. I forget what I said to make him ask this question, but instead of asking "Are you pro-choice?" he asked if I'm "pro-abortion." Weird, right? They are two completely different questions. I personally haven't and wouldn't get one at this age, but I don't give a fuck what a woman does with her own body. I think it's up to her.
6. While he says he's not racist, he is one prejudice mother. Honestly, if you feel the need to clarify you're not a racist, you are one. I haven't heard the words japs, jews, guineas, micks, spicks, and moolies (I don't even know how to spell it) since my grandfather died 13 years ago. And the worst word he used...
7. Colored. Are you fucking kidding me??? That word is awful. I don't think I've ever posted about my feelings on race. I am a blonde haired, blue eyed American. I have no idea what it's like to be judged by my skin, so I will never, ever pretend I do. When I say/write "black" I worry that I should be saying/writing "african-american" instead. I said the "n" word once when I was 20 years old and I still feel bad about it. I've called people the "n" word in my head and they weren't even black, they just scared the shit out of me. To me that word is not about race, it's about how safe I feel in the moment. Maybe it came from a place of race, but when a white homeless man gets on the train and starts screaming that we're all going to die if we don't love Jesus, well the "n" word pops into my head. Why? It's the worst word I can call anyone EVER. That's why I will never say it again. For the record, the second worst word for me is the "f" word for gay men. When I use that word I really hate someone, gay or not. If I use the "n" and the "f" word together, run like hell even if my anger isn't directed at you.
I labelled this post "Confused" because I was when I started writing it. Will walked me home and he kept asking me to come back to his place. I declined saying I didn't think we were right for each other. I said I'd like to be friends, mainly because he lives across the street from me and I want to be friends with his friends. He said, "I have enough friends. God bless." and walked away.
The confusing part was after he walked away I cried. I knew the tears weren't for him, but I didn't know why I was crying. At first I thought maybe it's because I fucking hate breaking up with someone. Yes, I've only known Will for two days so it's technically not a breakup, it's just that I don't like rejecting anyone. Who does?
After writing and sitting with this all, I know why I cried now. I'm not confused, I'm uncomfortable because I put myself and my needs first. I am not used to trusting and respecting myself and my values. I cried because I am finally starting to do so. They were good tears.
Lazy is not doing laundry.
Lazier is doing laundry and not immediately putting your clothes away, thus spending a good five minutes every morning trying to find the other sock at the bottom of the bag.
Laziest is dumping the clean clothes onto your bed to find said sock faster, then putting the clothes BACK into the laundry bag because you can't be bothered with finally putting them away that night.
Most laziest is doing that twice.
I am most laziest.
Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!
I didn't feel complete without some head flair, so I bought myself some lovely shamrock doppelgangers. See below:
I know that's not the right word for these things, but that's what I kept calling 'em.
I wore them from about 11:30am to 9pm. It's now 10:30pm and I feel like they're still on my head. There's a dirty joke there, but I'm too drunk to sort it out...
I haven't posted in a week because it's been an emotional one. Lately I've been holding back what I share because I don't want my audience (all five of you) to think I'm a broken record. Or broken in general for that matter.
That stops now. I have plenty of journals filled with "I love X. Why won't he like me???" entries, with X changing as often as my underwear. Well, maybe more considering how scrubby I can be...
My 32nd birthday was the hardest to date. I woke up last Tuesday and cried. My life flashed before my eyes and in true Thighs fashion I zoned in on the negative. I kept tearing up all day, thinking "THIS is my life??? How the fuck did this happen??"
My friend Tron tried to talk me off the ledge by saying he's sure there are plenty of thirty-two years old who would love to switch places with me. My immediate thought? "No they wouldn't. I'm a fat, bald inventory analyst."
And there you have it. Those six magic words set the tone for the rest of the week.
When I first thought this I cracked up laughing. I admit this is a ridiculous way to describe myself. Tops on the list would be "red, pale, and loud" followed by "manic-depressive giggler." Crossed off the list is "easy, drunk, nail-biter"...
The thing is, even though I knew I was being silly, the phrase "fat, bald inventory analyst" stuck in my head all week. Let's break it down:
1. Fat. I know I'm not fat, I'm unfit. I was 170 pre-Tat, now I'm back up to 177. Damn you, boyfriends and holidays.
I'm excited to keep running, but I need to do more. There are times when my body is aching for a good workout and I ignore it. I am an athlete living an unathletic lifestyle. I need to listen to myself and move.
2. Bald. Obviously I still have hair on my head. It's really thinning out, though. I didn't notice until last summer when my mom brought it up. Now it's all I think about.
3. Inventory Analyst. This is the broken record part. I'm in the same exact situation I'm always in: I'm not challenged or given enough work to do so I take on special projects. Special projects go really well, everyone loves me, except for my boss who finally decides to start managing me and decides I shouldn't be on special projects anymore. I get upset because I feel like I'm being "demoted" so I pack my things and move on. Rinse and repeat every two years.
I'm at a loss. I tried to keep my mouth shut and not ask for special projects, but that lasted a whole six months. I am not the type of person who can sit in their office checking Facebook all day. I need to work. I need to think. I need to be challenged. I need to contribute. I need to be involved. These aren't wants. I am incapable of functioning any other way. Sure I have my goof-off slacker moments, but they are to decompress and take a breather. (Why do I always want to write "decompose" first?)
My mom says I hate authority, that I feel I'm entitled to create the job I want and not listen to my boss. She's right. If Tennis or Soaps gave me work that challenged me, it would never have crossed my mind to work on special projects for their bosses.
And that's my problem. "Work that challenged me." (Do a shot for everyone quote in this post!) Once again I am expecting my boss to be something few are: a mentor, a leader, a groomer, a teacher, an empowerer. (I think I made that word up.) Basically, I expect my boss to be someone who cares about me and my future. I almost wrote that unfortunately this is not their responsibility, but it just dawned on me, it's FORTUNATE it's MY responsibility.
I took this position because I wanted a no-brainer gig so that I could take classes at night. Well, I'm not a no-brainer gig kind of girl, nor am I taking any classes. I sold myself short taking this job and I refuse to fucking do it again. I am too smart for this position.
Did you read that? I AM SMART!! You would not believe how uncomfortable that was for me to type. I always knew I was quick and bright, but I never owned being smart. When I lived in Brooklyn I was in the Delta program taking advanced classes from kindergarten through 2nd grade. In 3rd grade I moved to Jackson and placed in a class that didn't challenge me at all. What happened? I ended up doing my own thing rather than focus on the "remedial" tasks I was given thus pissing off my teacher. Sound familiar? After a while I was moved up to the 4th grade, but I got made fun of so much that I asked to go back to 3rd. Isn't that sad? It must be because I'm crying right now. I was already the new kid without any friends, the last thing I wanted was to be the nerdy new kid without any friends. My mom probably should have forced me to stay, but I'm sure she wanted me to be happy instead of challenged. I can't help but wonder how different my life would be...
From 3rd grade to college I coasted, barely trying and pulling straight A's for the most part. There were some bad grades along the way, usually based on conduct rather than schoolwork. Yes, I was a mouthy student. Again, nothing's changed.
It wasn't easy to coast in college because it was too easy to skip class. Obviously I was forced to go to high school so I'd learn by listening, maybe even osmosis. The biggest lesson I had to learn in college was if I don't manage myself (time, stress, workload), I won't succeed. I'm not quite sure if I fully learned this yet.
Where the hell was I?? Oh right, inventory analyst. I don't recall ever consciously deciding I'd dumb down in order to fit in as a kid, but I definitely ignored my intelligence. In fact, a lot of the trouble I got into at Company was because I didn't realize I was smart. I thought, if I can figure this out, why couldn't everyone else? I can now truly admit to myself I am smart, waaaay too smart for my current position. The shit with my boss is the fallout from me feeling unchallenged and useless. Bosses just want to get the work done, they don't fucking care how the work makes me feel. I'M the one who needs to take responsibility for my life and find a gig that makes me use my brain and fulfills all of my needs. I'm not the "it's just a job" type (shot!), so even when I go back to school I'll need a daytime role that makes me feel good. I don't know what the job is yet, but I'm going to find it.
I am done with being a fat, bald inventory analyst. This time next year I will be a sexy, Simba something.
IMDB has this listed as Alice's MPAA rating:
"Rated PG for fantasy action/violence involving scary images and situations, and for a smoking caterpillar."
Fa!!
Tuesday is The Day of the Space Voyager, aka my birthday. A new tradition is developing thanks to Hollywood releasing movie adaptations of my favorite books in early March. Last year was Watchmen, this year ALICE IN WONDERLAND IN IMAX 3D!! WOO HOO!! I am SUPER psyched, hence the CAPS LOCK.
I'm gearing up by rereading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. I watched the cartoon yesterday. I also planned on finishing my "Alice-themed" kitchen, but I never got around to it. "Alice-themed" is in quotes because there's nothing in there except the Disney dolls a friend gave me in college. The rest of my Alice stuff is in a cabinet, waiting for me to put shelves up. I think after being stored in there for six years they've probably given up...
Speaking of years, I apparently don't know how old I am. Math tells me I will be 32. My brain tells me I'm in my thirties and it doesn't seem to matter where.
The other day I told someone I will be 33. Last night I was going to bed and didn't feel like brushing my teeth. I thought to myself, "Shannon, you're 37 years old. You HAVE to brush your teeth." Then I said out loud, "What the fuck? How old am I??"
I blame my dad. Instead of saying "Happy X Birthday!" he says "Happy (X+1) Year!" He's been doing it forever. For example, on my 14th birthday he said, "Happy 15th Year!" Bah! No wonder I don't know my age.
My birthday weekend is really nice so far. I went to the usual pub on Friday. Yesterday I did nothing except watch Alice, read, go food shopping, and eat sushi. This morning I ran in Central Park again. I'm really proud of myself!! I haven't gone since January because either I was hungover, Bacon was hungover, or the weather was shitty. I haven't wanted to run on my own yet, but today I woke up and said fuck it. I almost didn't go because I got all self-conscious, thinking people will laugh at me for sucking. They didn't. No one cares! My inner critic was just fucking with me. I'm 39 years old, you'd think I'd have that bitch under wraps by now.
The rest of the day is open. I might treat myself to a mani/pedi and a new outfit. Yay!
Happy Birthday to Me!!! Happy Unbirthday to You!!!
The pillow I sit on at work when my tailbone hurts. I don't know where my mom got this from or when old baskets became valuable..
Me doing a Dark Helmet impression:
What the shit is this??
Steinway Street's newest hoochie boutique is taking class to a whole new level. I betcha she'd give you some Head Cheese...
A while ago I was in bed with this guy who is very well-endowed. Let's call him Wow. We had just woken up and I was laying down with my back toward him, yammering away about some sort of nonsense.
When I sleep on my side I tend to have my knees up to my chest in the fetal position with my ass sticking out. Since my bum was nearest to him, Wow grabbed me by the hips and yanked me closer so we could spoon. This would have been a completely adorable thing to do if Wow didn't have morning wood (morning redwood in his case) and the universe didn't enjoy putting me in ridiculous yet hysterical situations.
BAM! Wow's massive raging boner managed to ram me right in the tailbone. Two inches higher, I'd have a crushed vertebrae. Two inches lower, I'd have a second belly button and unpleasant bowel movements for life.
Wow and his lead pipe were fine. I was not. A direct blow to the tailbone is friggin' painful. I didn't feel it right away, but a few hours later it hurt to sit. The next day I had to take a two hour bus ride down to my parents' house. It's an unenjoyable ride to begin with, but that day it was unbearable as well. I tried sitting on my bookbag, kneeling on the seat, standing. It sucked. When I finally got to Jackson I had to come up with an excuse as to why I couldn't sit. I lied saying I was wrestling with Wow and caught the edge of the coffee table. Lame. I know my parents didn't believe me, but they didn't push the issue. They probably realized if I'm lying as an adult they don't want to know the truth...
The pain was manageable for the next few days, but then for some reason it got worse the following weekend. It hurt to sit down, lay down, even stand, so I went to the doctor. I lied to her by saying the remote was sticking up out of the couch and I accidentally plopped down on it. Lame again! I almost told her the truth, but I chickened out. It sounds like a failed anal attempt and I don't want anyone thinking I can't hang. Snootch.
This happened several months ago and I'm still in pain every once in a while. In fact, I'm sitting on a pillow right now. Unfortunately there's no real treatment for a tailbone injury. It's slow to heal and will probably be sensitive for a long time, especially since all I do is sit at a desk, at the bar, or on the couch.
The thing is every time it hurts I shake my head and laugh. I've had some funny shit happened to me in the past, but I never thought I'd get injured by a cock to the coccyx.
Here's an illustration:
Please note Wow is not a firecrotch, but I decided he should be.
I'm so done with Banana, but one last thing to mention is that we were introduced over a year ago. He was the first blast from the past I ran into this month. The other, who I'll name Con-Red, was on the subway with me on Monday.
Con-Red and I met at New York Comic Con last year. I spotted his red hair from across a huge conference room and immediately went into gingervitic convulsion. I HAD to meet him and I HAD to marry him. He had no choice. Unfortunately he was leaving the panel early and I couldn't run after him since I was watching Furbie's 10 year old son at the time. I was cockblocked by a child. Poop.
No sweat though, I had a feeling I'd find him and three hours later I did. I sidled up to him and said "I like redheads" (smooth) and within ten minutes we exchanged numbers and made tentative plans for the following weekend. Score!
Our date was on Valentine's Day. It was the longest date I ever had that did not involve a sleepover. We met at 2pm to see a movie in Union Square (Fanboys, we're both nerds), went out to eat, went to a bar to play pool, then ended up going into Williamsburg to two more bars and eventually seeing his friend's band play. I think we parted ways around 11pm. You'd think this would mean it was a great date, right? Wrong. It wasn't bad, it was just a bit random. He definitely wasn't my type...
Strike one, he arrived in a trench coat with a Blossom pin on it. Like Mayim Bialik Blossom.
Strike two, we ate at Johnny Rockets. His choice. Look, I'm not a snob. I don't need someone to spend a lot of money on a date, but who the hell eats at a chain restaurant in Manhattan??? (Okay, I'm a snob.)
Strike three, he talked the whole entire time except when he asked me about my dating experience. When I told him I never had a serious relationship before he actually asked, "What's wrong with you?!?!?".
Strike four, we were sitting outside by the bonfire at Union Pool. It was slightly chilly yet he was freakishly shivering like a little girl. Gay.
Strike five, he wants to get a huge Alf tattooed on his arm from his shoulder down to his elbow. ALF. From Melmac. The fact that I remember Alf's home planet means I am a total fan of the sarcastic cat-eating alien, but that doesn't mean I want to wake up to him every morning...
Which leads to the final strike. At the end of the night I thought maybe he'd be such a good kisser that it will make up for everything. As we parted ways I went in for the kiss and he pulled back saying there were too many people around. Double gay.
I don't remember anything after that night. I'm not sure if he called, I'm not 100% sure of his name. On my way home from work on Monday I was sitting on the V train looking out the window when I felt someone watching me. I whipped my head around and there he was standing three feet away, staring right at me. I immediately recognized him because of his hair, but I don't know if he recognized me. (I was wearing my glasses and my hair is a bit darker. I'm actually feeling a bit mousy lately, but that's a whole other post.) We both looked away, then he got off the next stop.
I'm still a little surprised I didn't say anything to him. I'm a firm believer that people from your past show up when you need them to, maybe to give you a message or remind you about something from that time in your life. Con-Red didn't rock my world, but he was my first date of 2009. If I hadn't gone up to him at the con, it's quite possible I would have went down a totally different dating path last year. Hell, in some weird way, maybe I should have thanked him for meeting Tat.
So what message did these two guys give me this year? To be strong? Have faith? Keep trying? I'm not sure...
Oooo, maybe it's to trust my instincts again! I didn't doubt for one second Con-Red and I weren't meant to be. I also followed my instincts by not saying hello to him on the subway. The Banana situation was a little fucked, but again, it ended with me realizing I need to trust myself more...
Okay that's gotta be it. Lesson learned! Thanks blasts from the past!
How did they find not one, but two missing links for their mortgage ad? This has to be a joke, right?
And yes, I was looking up how to say Thursday in Spanish. Buenas noches!
Today is the 11th annual Lunar New Year celebration in Chinatown. I went last year and never got around to posting the pictures. I never got around to posting anything in 2009...
I highly recommend going. Enjoy!
I thought this little girl was adorable:
My favorite picture:
I heard this word four times on TV today, thrice (thrice!) in Almost Famous and once in Californication.
Then I discovered it's a movie title as I was going through the Netflix new releases.
I guess I'm really supposed to know what this word means today, huh?
in·cen·di·ar·y [in-sen-dee-er-ee]
-adjective
1. used or adapted for setting property on fire: incendiary bombs.
2. of or pertaining to the criminal setting on fire of property.
3. tending to arouse strife, sedition, etc.; inflammatory: incendiary speeches.
4. tending to inflame the senses: an incendiary extravaganza of music and dance.
–noun
5. a person who deliberately sets fire to buildings or other property, as an arsonist.
6. Military. a shell, bomb, or grenade containing napalm, thermite, or some other substance that burns with an intense heat.
7. a person who stirs up strife, sedition, etc.; an agitator.
Wow. Well from Banana and Grape's point of views I definitely am an incendiary based on the last definition and this week's events.
For the others, um yeah...I'm never trying to cook again.
It's Saturday night. I'm home relaxing, sitting here smelling the rancid toot I just laid while trying to ignore the five inch roll hanging over my sweatpants both of which are due to the plethora of beers I drank this past week.
There's a million things I wanted to post about recently, but at this point I think I'm over it. My last post pretty much sums it up anyways, so there's no need to dive into the disappointing details. I have nothing against bananas (JJ!) it just seemed a fitting fruit choice considering the source of my stress this week has one. In his pants. Penis.
Despite all of the drama of late I learned a few things:
1. It's never cool to toy with someone's emotions. Uncle Ben said "with great power comes great responsibility." As much as I don't want to think of love as a power struggle, at times it can be. If you know someone likes you, it's your responsibility to behave in a way that lets them know where they stand and doesn't give mixed signals. Nothing's worse than thinking one thing and finding out the complete opposite is true. Who likes to feel crazy and/or delusional?? Been there, done that and it ain't fun.
This realization led me to make a really hard decision. I told Tat that we can't be friends right now. We hung out last Friday and it was clear we cannot have a platonic relationship, and I don't just mean physically. We have an emotional bond that I've never had with someone else before, one that could cause a lot of pain if it's mistreated. Even though I'll really miss him, I know it's the right thing to do.
2. I'm not damaged goods. I was telling Banana how I'm sick of being creatively frustrated and that I need to rip the band-aid off and go for it. His response was "Are you saying you're damaged goods?" I thought this was a really odd question to ask based on the conversation, but I realize now this question wasn't about me, it was about him.
My answer was a resounding "No." It was the first time in my life that I knew in my core and in my soul that I am definitely not damaged goods. Sure I've been refurbished a few times, but I don't see that stopping any time soon especially if my definition of mint keeps changing.
3. Listen to my gut. Not my beer gut, my instinct gut. My beer gut sounds like a clogged drain. My instinct gut sounds like the woman I want to be.
4. My friends are the most important people in my life. This week would have been a lot shittier if it wasn't for those who comforted me and for the ones I know who would have if they were here.
5. I'm fine!!! Really, I am. I allowed myself to mourn, cry, and feel down without sinking into a massive depressive episode. My new year's resolution still stands. I will be positive and keep moving forward!!
That being said...thank Shizza this week is over!
If an apple and a banana were talking and the banana said to the apple, "I like hanging out with apples. I hung out with oranges and I didn't enjoy them as much as apples." would it be wrong for the apple to assume:
A. Banana likes apples.
B. Banana does not like oranges as much as apples.
C. Banana will stop hanging out with oranges.
A and B are logical conclusions. C is not. Banana didn't say anything about not hanging out with oranges, it merely said it enjoyed the company of apples more. Apple wrongly assumed the banana would take action against oranges, when no action was mentioned.
Now if banana continued with, "I told grape I don't like oranges either and discussed keeping them out of the fruit bowl. Grape was okay with this as long as I'm happy." would it then be safe to assume:
A. Grape and banana are friends.
B. Banana does not want oranges in the fruit bowl.
C. Grape is okay with not having oranges in the fruit bowl.
D. Grape doesn't want oranges in the fruit bowl either.
Again A and B are good. C and D are not. You might argue C is good, but if banana is a douchebag liar then it is not. And if banana is a douchebag liar, then none of the above is true either and not worth continuing. Deductive reasoning and lies don't mix.
How does this story end? A couple days later banana decides to tell apple that oranges are better. In the meantime apple told prune what banana said and it gets back to grape. Grape is infuriated that apple hung out with banana in the first place and tells apple to stay away from banana. Banana gets away with it all and ends up marrying an orange. Apple is banished from the fruit bowl and hopes someone will make pie soon.
The end.
Phew. Made it through this month. Good riddance!
I must say with all of the ups and downs of late, I'm feeling pretty darn good. I trust myself, I believe in myself, and doggone it, people like me.
February has always been a good month for me, so I'm looking forward to what the next few weeks bring. Hell, I'm looking forward to the whole damn year. I don't know what's on the horizon, but it's something good. Something I've been waiting for...
We shall see!!
I had three Smuttynose IPAs and a cider last night. I had so much fun, but man was I smashed. Barely-remember-the-night-smashed off of four beers. I do remember the music was really loud at the show*, although that's only because my ears are still ringing 24 hours later.
Where the hell did my tolerance go? And who let Ruth Clare out on a Friday night?
"Be damned you pesky alcohol and loud music! I'd rather be watching Wheel!"
I'm going to another show on Wednesday. I'm seriously considering wearing earplugs**. Is that rude?
*Here We Go Magic. I really liked them!
**I typed earmuffs first. Blonde.
Now that I stopped biting my fingernails and cuticles (almost) I seriously cannot stop admiring my natural french manicure. It's totally vain and I totally don't care.
I've always been a bit nail-obsessed to begin with, even when I had bloody sausage man-hands. In fact, that's probably the reason why. I'd look at women's hands on the subway, the bar, wherever and admire the shape of their nailbeds and their non-mutilated cutes. Then I'd look at mine and chew. So gross.
I kicked the habit back in August with only a couple of slip-ups since. The damn things grow so fast now that I actually have to cut them down. Thanks Biotin!
(This might be the most girly and superficial post I've ever written. I'm still typing only so I can feel my nails on the keys... sdjkfhkjsdashvkjiuaysfdahslgslidvuoyuyiwEURY;urweiuyrUIFSHDKLJSHVOUDOPWEYSDLHLKJHSDFHS;JKHFSDK. Hot.)
Now my NEW stove is trying to kill me.
Last night I attempted to cook my first real meal in years: chicken, broccoli, and brown rice. Easy peasy, right?
Halfway through I started feeling lightheaded, the same way I felt back in March when I got carbon monoxide poisoning from my old stove. I thought, "Nah, can't be. This is a new stove. I must be tired."
A few minutes later, I felt worse and thought, "I must have low blood sugar." (I only ate about 500 calories during the day.)
"I must be psyching myself out."
"I must be fighting domestication."
"I must be paranoid."
I must, I must, I must.
Twenty minutes later, I must lie down. Nausea, headache, spins, the works. I freaked out and called my mom. I don't know why I call her during moments like this when she's 70 miles away...
My parents didn't believe it was CO poisoning again. They figured I freaked myself out so bad that I was having a panic attack, which I eventually ended up having. I kept thinking my apartment building was going to blow. This is a ridiculous thought, but anyone who's had a panic attack knows that when an idea gets into your head you can't shake it. It's an awful feeling.
I finally calmed down about an hour later. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Around midnight I was sane enough to mentally walk through everything that happened at the stove. Something stuck out - I realized one burner's flame was more orange than blue and that the burner itself had burn marks on it while the others were clear.
For people who regularly cook or are just fans of fire in general, you probably know what this meant. I didn't so I had to look it up.
Cause: not enough oxygen is getting to the flame
Effect: orange flame, excessive CO production, CO released into kitchen
FUCKING FUCK FUCK. You gotta be kidding me, right??? Unfuckingbelievable. I DID have CO poisoning again. MOTHER FUCKER I AM NEVER COOKING AGAIN.
To fix this I either have to get someone to adjust the valves for a better air/fuel ratio or clean the burners in case something's blocking the openings. I'll end up doing both to be on the safe side, but right now I'm not doing either. I still feel like shit and I'm a bit paranoid, so I'm avoiding my kitchen at all costs for the night.
Stupid fucking stoves!!
I like this song.
Turn out the light
Just say goodnight to yourself
May I remind you
When you find you
Are all alone when you
You've got to be strong
That's when they call you in the night
He's got your picture in his mind
He's got your number on a paper
At his disposal anytime
Is it really true
Could you save yourself
For someone who could love you for you
So many times we just give it away
To someone who
Someone who
You met in a bar
The back of a car
And for a moment
You felt important
But not in your heart
Cuz my self esteem
It's been low
Go ahead and count,
It's been lower than low
I know the feeling
Of it stealing life out from under me
Cuz I want to learn
Can you save yourself
For someone who
Could love you for you
So many times we just give it away
To someone who couldn't even remember your name
Did you save yourself
For someone who loves you for you
And loves me for me
Or give it away
To someone who
Someone who
Can cherish your name
Cuz I want to learn
Did you save yourself
For someone who
Loves you for you
And loves me for me
Give it away
To someone who
Someone who
Cherish your name
Cherish your name
As excited as I was to post and boast about dating Tat on Facebook, I will never change my relationship status again. Or at least not until I'm married. Or not. Maybe.
I'm on Facebook enough to know what my friends are doing and to make comments here and there, but I wouldn't say I care too much about the site. Or so I thought.
Welcome to the new age of dating...Tat and I broke up last Saturday, but decided to break up on Facebook yesterday. We discussed it together both trying to figure out a way to avoid the dreaded, cringe worthy statement of "_____ is now Single" with the little broken heart added for our viewing displeasure.
Last night I sweated it out and am pretty sure I successfully changed my status without it showing up in the News Feed. If I'm wrong and you saw it, I don't want to know just please don't make a comment. The "Oh no! What happened??!?!?"s will upset me to no end.
The worst part about it is in Edit Profile, under "In a relationship with Tat BBQ" it said "Cancel Relationship."
Cancel? CANCEL?!?!?! You assholes! Nobody wants to CANCEL a relationship, at least not one that didn't involve adultery or battery or any other -ery. Why can't Facebook be a little more sympathetic??
"I'm sorry to present this option in your time of grief and/or confusion, but would you like to discreetly remove this name from your relationship status?"
Dicks. Facebook loses.
Not even a month in and 2010 is already an eventful year. The 23 day rundown:
The Jets are in the playoffs!! Holy crap! The year kicked off with Spags and I attending the 18 degree Sunday night football game against the Bengals. It was so much fun and sooooo friggin cold. I had on two pairs of socks, pants, and gloves, two scarves and hats, and at least five shirts/fleeces all under my big down winter coat. Check out the bundlage:
The Jets play the Colts in the AFC Championship tomorrow. Spags invited me to go out to Indy for the game!! How fucking cool would that have been? Unfortunately I am still paying off everything I did in my twenties, so my thirties are going to be local for a while. I'm sure it will be a blast whether they win or not!!
A couple days after the Cinci game I volunteered at an organization that donates art material to schools. As I was leaving I received a call from my landlord who said 3A complained about a leak that may be coming from my apartment (4A) and to call her back as soon as I get home.
When I got to my door, I noticed the top lock keyhole was crooked. Very odd. I walked in, flipped on the light in my bathroom and found it to be completely flooded. The worst part was all of the products in my cabinet were on the floor and someone, yes SOMEONE, had taken my bath mat and shoved it under the sink to try and sop up the water.
I flipped. My landlord and super do not have keys, so it was obvious someone broke in. I ran around my apartment to see if anything was missing and thankfully everything was okay. While it was clear they got in solely to fix the sink, it really upset me. It shouldn't have been that easy, so I made my landlord change the locks. I still to this day don't know who broke in.
Oh and get this, 4B had a clog in their sink earlier that day. The plumber came to snake it and somehow managed to miss the main pipe and poked a hole through mine. The 4B clog was gone, only because all of the water was pouring out into my bathroom. Joy! Moving on...
I was offered a new position at work. The role would have gotten me away from Tennis, but it was a lateral move. I would have lost all of my current projects and have to start over with someone new, so I declined. I'm proud in what I've accomplished to date and refuse to let my idiot boss ruin it. Nun is impressed with me and I trust he'll do what he can to make my situation better. We're operationally like minded; he enjoys taking on new projects and fixing things as much as I do. I've learned this is a trait few people have, so I'm riding it out a bit to see where this goes.
There are other traits that I value in myself and others. Honesty, maturity, patience, consideration, and good old fashioned niceness. I recently lost a few friends because they did not meet my expectations in these areas. My past is filled with fleeting friendships so over time I've accepted that these things happen, but I never thought they would in my thirties. It's not that there's an age limit on disappointment and drama, I just didn't expect to be hurt by people I truly cared about now.
The good news is this experience helped me redefine what "friend" means to me as well as helped me decide what kind of friend I want to be. The expectations I put on others are now the expectations I put on myself. If you're reading this, you are someone who means the world to me. In the wise words of the Golden Girls, I thank you for being my friend. I promise to be a better one.
Phew! That was a hard one to write, but not the hardest to go through. I not only broke up with a few friends, I also broke up with Tat last week.
I'm not ready to share the details. I don't know if I ever will on here. All I can write is that I am so incredibly sorry it didn't work out. Tat is one of the most genuine, kind, and loving people I have ever met. I'm glad I took a chance on love and let him into my heart. I'm so honored and flattered he let me in, too.
(I know the breakup is coming off as a footnote to everything else, but believe me it's not. It was the hardest decision I made in a long time. I don't think it's appropriate to write much more when everything is still raw for the both of us.)
So there ya have it. My 2010 to date. My new year's resolution is to be positive and keep moving forward, so despite the rough moments, I am hopeful. I think this year will be filled with good things for us all. Scratch that...I KNOW it will. Smiles.
Suck it monkeys, I'm on holiday!
Yesterday was my last day at work this week. I'm working three days next week, but that's okay because Tennis is out of the office. Eleven days without seeing him! Thank fucking Shizza!!
The day after I wrote my last post Tennis came in and apologized for everything. He said he didn't mean it, that I do a great job and he would hate for me to leave. (Manic much?) About an hour later he came back into my office with Nun and apologized again saying he's under a lot of stress and he shouldn't have taken it out on me. I said thank you, but what I really wanted to say was fuck you. Fuck you for making me doubt my abilities and contributions. And fuck me for letting him.
The rest of the day was spent running around the building drinking and eating for our company holiday party. It was a really good time (I stayed far away from my bosses), although it was a very strange way to end a shitty week (I was out on Friday).
So where does all this leave me? No where really. I don't want to think about it yet. I want to enjoy the holidays and come back to reality in January. Rippie came in early this morning and has been passed out on my living room floor the last six hours. I have a sofa bed, so I'm not sure why he's down there but I must say it's pretty comfortable. I'm a big floor sitter and layer. Layerer? Whatevs.
I have another visitor as well. He'd like to guest write. Take it away Predator!
Anytime.
What the hell are YOU?
A friend of mine joked the other day that I don't write anymore now that I have a boyfriend. It's true that there are some things I'd like to share about my relationship and don't, mainly because I'd hate to fuck anything up with him. Tat reads Thighs now (hiya!) and while he's cool with my past (!!) he may not be cool with me divulging personal things about us online. I'm okay with this because he's hot.
A bigger reason as to why I haven't been writing is work. I'm embarrassed to admit that once again I am fighting with my boss. Tennis is the worst manager I've ever had. This is saying a lot considering how Soaps treated me toward the end of my Company stint.
My boss took a mental leave of absence after his boss was fired. Tennis had no one to mimic anymore and completely lost his identity. He didn't know his ass from his elbow, so he gave up trying to figure out which is which. (I heard he had his arm bent over the toilet seat waiting to take a shit for hours.) He also gave up on me and Breen, basically giving us nothing to do all summer.
Since the job I was hired for is pretty easy, I decided to take on some special projects. At the beginning of this year I created project plans for two new inventory applications that would strengthen the integrity of our department and help automate our reporting. Unfortunately they got cancelled because most of the IT resources were assigned to Oracle, so I jumped on that project team to have something to do.
A few weeks later a HUGE warehouse project was approved that heavily involved all of Supply Chain. Tennis and I had run the initial analyses on it, so naturally we were both brought on to give our input. Problem is Tennis doesn't give much input on anything, whereas I have an opinion about EVERYTHING. The head of the division would ask us questions and Tennis would say, "Thighs what do you think?" so often that after a while people stopped asking him. I eventually became the project lead for the NY Office while he took a backseat to the whole thing.
I'd like to say I was okay with this, but I wasn't. I'm still yearning to have a boss that will lead, teach, inspire, and empower me. It drives me crazy to know I can run circles around Tennis. Just once I would love to have a boss that is a mentor, that will help me succeed. I think Red was that boss, but I wasn't mature enough to understand it at the time. Hell, I wasn't sane enough either.
The summer continued with me doing my projects and Tennis drinking coffee. I'd get frustrated and bored, but what else is new. Then SURPRISE! Tennis got a new boss the end of August and everything changed.
I'm sort of getting bored with this post now, so I guess I'll go into the quick hits. It's a shame really because this is the juicy stuff.
Sept WK1: New boss, who I'll call Nun asks me to tell him everything I do. I tell him. He immediately realizes that Tennis doesn't manage me well, considering I'm off doing my own thing.
Sept WK2: Nun confronts Tennis about this, Tennis gets pissy with me, I get pissy right back (mature!). At the same time I had to do a lot of testing for Oracle so I didn't send out a report two weeks in a row. It was completely my fault and totally the wrong time to fuck up because Tennis was looking for some ammunition.
Sept WK3: Tennis and I barely acknowledge each other. Neither of us tries to diffuse the situation. I have visions of him shoving his own head in his ass, ala this guy.
I call out sick on the wrong day. Finance tells Head (of the division) I owe them something in regards to Oracle. He flips out (like really flips out, I work with a bunch of rageaholics...Mom?), calls Nun and Tennis, flips out on them, and then everyone flips out on each other. Meanwhile I'm playing mini-golf with Tat in Staten Island.
The next day I get to work, see my emails and tell Head I don't owe Finance anything, they made a mistake. Finance apologizes for the mix-up. Tennis comes storming into my office saying, "You don't do any work here! You've been babied this whole time!" over and over again. I say, "Where is this coming from? How have I been babied?!?" He says, "You know how you've been babied." (This is how every conversation is with Tennis. He never answers any fucking questions, he just responds with ridiculous one liners.) This continues for a good twenty minutes until I say, "I want a meeting with Head, Nun, and HR right now. If you're going to sit here and tell me I haven't done any work for the past year and a half then I want everyone to hear it."
I guess he figured I was going to get my ass handed to me, but it was quite the opposite. Head got so pissed at Tennis for what he said and countered all of it with "You do great work, you're very smart, and we're very happy to have you here." He did say that he doesn't think I'm challenged enough and that he gets the feeling I'm a third baseman playing second. I said absolutely, if there's any way I could become a Supply Chain business analyst or project manager (I'm currently an inventory analyst), I'd love to transfer. Fuck Tennis and his stupidity. Head also said he'd like me to work on my demeanor, everyone knows how I feel the minute I feel something. Yes, that's right, I'm still a mood ring...
Sept WK4 - this week:
Basically I kept my head down and my mouth shut for the most part. This is hard for me to do, but I tried. I really did. The good news is my projects are chugging along and I never forgot to send out that fucking report.
The bad news is Tennis got worse. He confuses people, stutters over his words, still avoids making decisions, or answering questions. We got into it a couple of times. Nun got involved once. I never bash Tennis outright because I don't want to be insubordinate (again), so I always phrase it as "What am I doing wrong?" or "What can I do to fix the situation?". Tennis doesn't have any solutions, nor does he have any examples of me fucking up. It's ridiculous, but there's nothing I can do about it. Well except leave, which brings me to...
This week:
I'm pretty emotional this week, so I let his shit get to me. Today he started in with me and we got into a fight again. He said if I worked as much as I complained, then I'd really be doing stuff. I was like are you fucking kidding me? What am I not doing?? No answer. He never has an answer. Then he said you always complain. I said you asked me what was wrong and what are the issues. Telling you what the issues are is not a complaint, it's a fucking issue. (By the way, I didn't curse at all.) He kept going for a few minutes when I finally said enough. He said well if you don't like it here then you should just quit. I said until I do I want all of our communication to be in writing, so that it can be forwarded to Nun and HR.
For those of you who've worked with me you know a few things about Office Thighs: I'm passionate, I work smart, I have issues with frustration and mood swings, and I don't deal well with idiots. My boss is an idiot. For him to say I don't do anything is such fucking bullshit. To say I'm a complainer, I'm not sure if that's true. I solve problems and if something's a problem it's usually because someone (not always me) complained about it.
Here's the embarrassing part. I cried. When he left my office I cried for about an hour. I couldn't get up, I couldn't move. There was other shit going on this week outside of work that really bothered me too and I guess the tears came out for both reasons. I called Nun. He came to my office and I told him everything. I'm not sure how I feel about him either, but the one thing I can say is he's definitely not an idiot. So that's good.
Nun told me I'm doing a great job and that he's heard from quite a few people that I've had a positive impact on Minnow. He also said he's sick of Tennis and I fighting, that the two of us need to figure it out like adults. I agreed, but I also said that I cannot sit here and be told that I don't do any work anymore when quite frankly I've been dealing with a lot of shit that Tennis should be handling. He said he'll talk to him about it. We shall see.
So there ya have it. The real reason I haven't written is because I'm fucking sick of hearing myself think, talk, and type about my work problems. I hate that I'm once again coming up to the two year mark at a new company and I'm ready to walk. I'm tired of moving jobs, I'm tired of fighting, and I'm really fucking tired of having a boss.
I'm also really scared I'm going to have these same problems at my next gig. I don't think I can handle it, which is why I haven't started looking yet.
Now I'm totally embarrassed. I'd rather tell the world how I picked my nose and wiped it on the carpet then write about this. (I did that the other day. I'm not proud.)
In a related story (not booger related), I've been playing the lottery more in the past three weeks than I have my whole life. I've won about $20 so far. Come on Mega Millions!!
I was on the phone with my mom just now and she said, "Oh by the way, you bought an Ethiopian family a goat." I replied, "That's great news, mom." and went on to tell her how I'm feeling now that I'm on a higher dosage of Synthroid. (Pretty good!)
A few minutes later she said, "Yeah Huey, Duey, and Louie (my three male teenage cousins) aren't going to be happy that they aren't getting the $75 I usually send them."
Me: "Why, did you buy them something instead?"
Mom: "I bought them goats."
Me: "Wait what??"
Mom: "I bought all of you goats. Well, I bought goats in your name to give to starving people in Ethiopia. It was $30 a goat, so I'll send them $45 and give them a heads up that they'll be getting thank you letters from the families they helped."
Me: "MOM! You can't do that! You don't tell someone you're giving to charity instead of giving them a gift!"
Mom: "Hey $45 is still a lot of money!"
Me: "I know it is, but that's such bullshit! You're like George Costanza! What is this The Goat Fund???"
Mom: "I wanted to give to charity, so I'm giving to charity!!"
Me: "Then give to charity, but don't tell someone else they have to! 'I got a goat for Christmas'. That's horrible!"
Mom: "What is it that you always say when you don't want to talk about something anymore?"
Me: "A fucking goat?? Seriously??"
Mom: "Oh I know what it is, 'I'm done talking about this!'"
Me: "Fine. We're done."
END SCENE
Back. What does that mean anyways? That I'm writing as much as I used to? That I'm sharing? What? What is "back"??
I tried writing a regular post, but nothing came out. Stream it is...
What kind of idiot do you have to be to jump on the roof? Do you really think my walls and shelves aren't shaking or are you not thinking at all? Why is common courtesy so fucking hard to remember? When I go up there I sit on top of my own apartment so that I don't bother anyone else. I also don't fucking do jumping jacks or let my dog shit everywhere and not clean it up. No, I don't have a dog, but if I did it would be a black lab that remains in puppy form and is named Neo for Neosporin. Or not. I haven't really needed to use the stuff because I finally stopped chewing my fingers and nails. Sort of.
FUCK. There was a time when I couldn't wait to post. I'd write five stories in my journal on the subway and then race home to post them. Why aren't I like that any more? What changed? Everything. Everything has changed the past year. Fucking Septembers. I hate Septembers. Fucking credit cards and mean graphic design teachers and, and fucking limp celery. I hate limp celery.
My job. My job's an asshole! When will I ever get along with a fucking boss? I'm trying to get out of my department. It's not working out YET AGAIN.
Tat. He's so awesome that I don't know what to do with myself! He's the sweetest, kindest, nicest, everything-est ever. Four months! Four!
Cheese. Fuck you cheese! Why are you so delicious?? All I want to do is eat you.
That's all I got.
Today is the first day I feel healthy in quite a few weeks.
I idiotically had two drags of a cigarette back on September 17th and have been coughing ever since. I remember the date because it was a memorable next morning: I had a raging hangover and no internal organs. I was so drunk the night before that on my way home I not only puked all over Columbus Circle station (I think it was the B platform), but also out the cab window for about half a mile down my street. I haven't gotten that wasted in quite some time, so naturally I blame the cigarette.
Three weeks later I still hadn't stopped coughing so I finally went to the doctor. He said it was allergies. Unfortunately he was wrong because four days later I had a sinus infection. I was really annoyed that I had to go back to his office to get antibiotics, so I stubbornly put it off. I thought I kicked it on my own until this past Sunday when I woke up at 4am in the worst fucking pain. It felt like someone shoved a piece of glass into my ear and used it to give me a root canal. Seriously the pain was so bad that I couldn't tell if it was coming from my teeth or my ear. The next day I went back to the doctor and it turns out it was an ear infection. An ear infection! I didn't think grown ups got them...
So after a week of super meds I finally feel better. Sheesh! I am never smoking, drinking red wine, or putting off doctor visits EVER AGAIN.
Tat and I officially became a couple three weeks ago. Tuesday we became Facebook official. I knew FB sent an announcement, but I didn't know it finds a picture of the both of us to send, too. This is the day we met. I look like I'm going to eat him...
Cheese please!
Facebook informed me that PJ is getting married tomorrow. Both he and Psycho Joe friended me on there the week of Valentine's Day. I don't get it. I confirmed our "friendship", but seriously, what is the point? We're not friends in real life, so why follow each other on the web?
If FB didn't exist I wouldn't know PJ was dating someone, let alone sealing the deal. Then again, I also wouldn't have been able to look at his profile pics and realize once and for all that I am completely and utterly over him. I'm glad. I mean hell, it's only been 10 years.
Wow. Ten years. TEN. Do you know how much has happened since 1999? Do you?!? Holy shit. That is at least three lifetimes ago.
Congrats Peej. I'm very happy for you. I'm also very happy to be able to say that you were my FIRST love because it wasn't that long ago that I thought you might be my ONLY love.
It's been a whole month since my last post. What the fuck?? I want to write, but I can't seem to do it. Shit just hasn't been the same...
Okay, new leaf! From this moment on I. am. back.
