F-U-N, FUN! Part 1

PHEW! Today wraps up a week and a half of non-stop fun. I went on a bit of a tear lately, which of course means I am now broke for the next two weeks AGAIN. Whatever. It was worth it. I need to focus on the 10K anyways, so this is a good time to be a hermit.

What the hell is that smell?? It's like Raid and charcoal. Gross. I guess I'll do a rundown...

May 19th - Yankees game. It's official, I do not like Yankee Stadium. It's too sterile. I'm going to another game in August and I'm pretty sure it will be the last time I pay for a game (I'll never give up free baseball tickets!). Citi Field is so much better.

May 21st - I had a very crappy day at work, but it ended on a high note. My boss Nun frequents the Minnow bar almost every night, so I told him he should buy me a beer. He did (two, in fact) and we had a nice time shooting the shit. (Ha! I don't think I've ever used that phrase before.) He had to leave and catch his train before I finished my beer and on the way out he told the bartender he'll pay for whatever else I drink. As a joke I had them run up a fake bill with $200 worth of Jameson and Guinness. Nun laughed his ass off when I gave it to him. It was nice to have a fun moment with a work peep. I've been taking it too seriously lately.

After I left the bar I ran into yet another old flame. That is four in three months!! WTF?? Either this city's getting smaller or I really do hit on anyone with a pulse...

I met Mr. J last Easter. He's the one who didn't call for a couple of weeks so I wrote him off. I walked past him in Times Square and did a double take. I didn't recognize him at first, so I slowly walked up to and said "Mr. J?" He beamed. It was quite flattering. We talked for a good 20 minutes or so. He said he was disappointed we didn't stay in touch and that he still thinks of me from time to time. We decided to try again to see what happens. He seems very interested in hanging out, calls or texts me every other day. I'm not sure what I think yet. Physically and personality-wise he is totally my type. I guess only time will tell about the rest.

A funny side-note, my screen name for dating websites is some variation of Harley Quinn, the Joker's girlfriend. My tagline for a while used to be "Looking for my Mr. J." It's kind of cute I could possibly have found him. Or not...

because then (this is still just one night!) I hung out with Mick again. More on this later.

May 22nd - Beer tasting/food pairing party with a lovely group of Rolo's friends. I wanted to bring something seasonal, so I chose Dogfish Head ApriHops, an American IPA brewed with apricots. The interweb recommended pairing it with Mexican, salad, barbecue, or seafood, so in the interest of keeping the meal light and healthy I made guacamole and a walnut pear salad. Did you catch that?? I MADE something!! I absolutely positively love guacamole and I must say it came out fantastic. The salad was delicious as well. I picked it because one of the ingredients for the dressing was apricot nectar. The pairing was perfect!

Two things I learned while preparing the food: one, I now know what cilantro is and two, that I do not own a peeler but I do own six bottle openers.

The night was capped off with the a trip to one of the diviest bars in the neighborhood. It reminded me of a Knights of Columbus. Total crap. My only beef with the place was that the beers were oddly expensive and only available in bottles. No taps, no cans. There should have been cans.

May 23rd - I headed into the city to check out my friend's friend's show, James Adamo Acoustic Band. They were great!! The bassist was really cute (CRAP. I DO hit on everyone!) so we talked for a while. He lives in Syracuse though, so I left without giving him my number. I'm lazy.

Next up was Deluxx Fluxx, an art installation of retrofitted arcade games with cool graphic images on screen and off.

Arcade images:

On screen image:

There was also a black light room covered in posters and a psychedelic foosball table. Flashback city.


May 24th - Dinner and drinks with the lovely Spags, Bakes, and Socks.

May 25th - Drinks with Tron and other work peeps. I asked IT for a job. I want to get out of publishing, but if they offered me something I'd take it. For now.

May 26th - Comic Strip Live with Juniper. Very funny, check out John Roy. Question - why do all comedy clubs have two drink minimums?

May 27th - A drink with Nas. He and his roommate were watching the Mets game at a nearby bar, so I joined them for a bit. He is totally sweet, but I don't have the hots for him. Oh well...

I'm splitting this into two posts because I have to pee, this shit is getting long, and this past weekend deserves its own!!

Why?

Selinavd57@hotmail.com (Selinavd57@hotmail.com) wants to add Thighs to his or her buddy list:

Hiya, I am new here, and I do not know if my English is ok yet. I'm looking for new people to talk to. Maybe we should chat, or go for a coffee. I still have some hard times with this site sometimes, so if you could, come chat with me on this other site I go to, http://www.love-duo.org

Why the hell would someone do this? I do not know this person. Hey the mid-90s called, it wants chatting with strangers back.

I changed the girl/possibly he-she's email name, but the "vd57" is real. I can't help but think this means she/he-she has fifty-seven venereal diseases. Frequenting another site called "Love-Duo" doesn't help...

Fun at Work

My friend CJ emailed me this the other day as a joke:

"We have a book called Dermadoctor Skinstruction. I thought you should know."

From there we spent the next twenty minutes emailing each other fake, similar sounding titles. Here are mine:

Podiatripod’s MetalcaparAlmanac

Dentista’s Maniteetho

Pediaman’s Kiddieology

AnatheSir’s Sleepilogue

Necrofellow’s Dieary

Prostheticer’s Limbolism

Gastronurse’s Farticle

Urologuy’s Dicktionary

Gynogirl’s Vulvacabulary

About that 10K...

Paint me redder and slap me silly, I've run about six times the past couple of weeks in order to prepare for the 10K in June.

Gmaps Pedometer says I ran around 2.3 miles and walked an additional 3 tonight. I love this website.

I was feeling pretty good until my right butt cheek started hurting. Coach Bacon said it was the hills. Screw you hills! And while I'm at it, screw humidity too! It's hard for me to run when it's hot out. My chest gets tight and my skin gets all blotchy and purple. Fucking mutant.

Dear Mother Nature,

Please make the weather 40 degrees and clear on the morning of June 12, 2010 for my 10K race. I'm not a heat person and will have a difficult time running if it's hot out. Forty is cool for June, but it's not a stretch as NYC weather is already pretty manic. That's not a complaint - it suits my own mania.

I don't recall asking you for too many favors, except maybe to not give me lady-time during sex-with-a-new-partner-time. Unless it's someone I don't like, then they deserve the wounded clam.

The only other favor I might need is if I get married and want an outdoor wedding. Then again if I'm screwing guys I don't like I probably won't cash this one in.

Race, clam, wedding.

Thanks!

Boys

I haven't tried too hard to date since Tat. I miss having a boyfriend. I miss Tat too, but I know we are better friends. He already has another girlfriend anyways, the punk.

Thursday night I met Nas, a Mets, Jets, and comic book fan that just so happens to be visiting all of the baseball parks in the country. Perfect! The problem? He's only 24. That's YOUNG. Like pedophile young. He probably hasn't had his first hangover yet.

I knew he was younger when I started chatting him up, just not that young. I wasn't hitting on him or anything (really). We were both at the bar by ourselves and he was the closest person to me. I don't frequently drink on my lonesome but I do enjoy it on occasion. I planned on only having one celebratory drink for finishing my resume and of course, five hours later I was still at the bar. Nas was good company.

It was funny how the age difference came up. Nas said he's from a town near New Brunswick, so I said I went to Rutgers. He gave me "I'm going to be slick and then do math" eyes and asked, "When did you graduate?" I laughed and said ten years ago. His response (after the math), "Oh."

Oh is right. Naturally I asked him the same and he said he graduated two years ago. Now it's not confirmed that he's only 24, but I'm sure he would have said something if he was older considering it was pretty clear why we asked.

I was uncomfortable with the age difference. It stopped me from kissing him good night, but I did give him my number and accepted his friend request. (It's so gay that I just wrote that.) My mind was racing with silly premature nonsense: there's no future, does he have money to go out, does he party hard during the week, what would his friends say, what would my friends say, what would my parents say, blah, blah, blah. I finally snapped out of it yesterday, realizing I was making a big deal over nothing. It would be nice to see him again. In fact, maybe his adorable youthfulness will help lighten me up. I take things way too seriously lately. And aren't we both in our sexual primes???? Snootch.

There's another guy sitch as well. I hooked up with my friend Mick last night. I kept saying I don't like him, but I do. It took a while to admit this to myself because there are things about him I can't stand. He annoys the crap out of me with his negativity, racial slurs, and femenism. Not feminism, femenism. I made up a word because of him. "Femen" (rhymes with semen) are guys who act like whiny and dramatic teenage girls. Mick can be quite the femen at times. Why do I like him then? I feel good when I see him. I like when he laughs at my jokes. I love his roommate.

The thing is I don't know if I want to attempt to date him. I'm pretty sure I'd be rejected. Yes, we did just hook up but I know he's not looking for a girlfriend. I'm also feeling insecure physically. He's a smaller guy, much smaller than what I prefer. I know that shouldn't matter, but it does. I like guys who are 6'+ and 200+ because they make me feel petite and feminine. Mick's maybe my height and a buck fifty. I assume he'd prefer to date someone he can carry, but just because I'm hung up on that doesn't mean he is. Projecting insecurities and dating don't mix.

I'm also a little gunshy after Tat. While I miss having a boyfriend, I'm nervous to try and get one again. I don't want to get dumped or have to break up with someone. This probably won't be an issue with Nas, but it will be with Mick. Maybe I should just put myself out there and get it over with.

See? I told you I need to lighten up!!

Mommers Day

My mom's birthday is May 7th so every year we do a joint birthday/Mother's Day celebration. This usually consists of lunch, a movie, an argument, and me crying on the way home. Not this year though...

I am so happy to share that I had a GREAT time with my mom on Saturday. CAPS LOCK GREAT!

My dad dropped her off here in the morning on his way to visit his mom in upstate NY. Actually I think she's only 20 miles west of the city, but I consider anything outside of NYC "upstate." (Where the hell is Westchester??)

We had a big breakfast at a local diner, then headed into the city to see Babies at the Landmark Theater. It's a documentary about the first year in the life of four babies from California, Mongolia, Japan, and Namibia. It is amazing to see how differently each is raised, yet how similar they are in disposition and development. My mom and I both loved it.

From there we walked around a bit, did some shopping, got ice cream, then came back to Astoria for some evening drinking.

My parents aren't big drinkers. I've seen them drunk more now in recent years and even then it's only like three times total for my mom. WELL. After two 007s (orange vodka, orange juice, and 7Up), some funnies:

1. I admitted that it's hard for me to buy her Mother's Day cards because they always say, "Mother, you are the fire that lights my candle." or "Mom, You are my best friend. I miss making cookies and hugging." She laughed and said she had the same problem with buying cards for her mom. I told her I made up some in my head:

"Thanks for teaching me how to curse like a truckdriving sailor."

"Menopause doesn't erase the past, just your memories of it."

"I'm glad you got knocked up with me."

"I showed my love by pulling my punches."

"I'm sorry I stole your weed and replaced it with oregano."

"I know Rip's your favorite. I'm dealing."

2. She sang "clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right" while pointing at the annoying pubcrawlers on either side of her.

3. Repeated quote - "Are you sure there's really vodka in here?"

4. Another quote - "Man I should have made you start drinking when you were 8. We would have gotten along so well!"

5. She held onto me as we walked to get food because "she didn't want to be like one of those old Bay Ridge drunks stumbling down the sidewalk in broad daylight."

6. My mom never shuts up. (Shocking.) We were watching TV - she on the couch, me on the floor - when I realized she was quiet. Too quiet. I looked up to see her focusing on eating her chinese food with such intent that I thought she was going to inhale it through her forehead.

While some of the above may sound bad, it's classic Thighs family nonsense. We laughed a ton, had some nice fluffy chats, and enjoyed each other's company. My mom really is a cool, smart, caring, and funny woman. Sometimes it's hard to see past the past, but at least now I know it can be done. All it takes is some babies and some alcohol.

I love you, Mom. "Thanks for passing on the crazy."

I'm burnt

I keep trying to turn the lights on by flipping switches that never existed.

Today I went to flip my living room lights on from the wrong wall. Last week I tried to flip a switch by my microwave. This is bothersome considering my kitchen doesn't even have a light switch. There's a ceiling light with a dangling Guinness lanyard to turn it on and off instead.

I've lived here for six years. Man, I'm burnt.

I can't believe it's not...

Does anyone else's white bras look like you're lactating butter???

Jesus Christ! And I thought the armpits on my white shirts were bad!

A night with Tom Petty makes me sweaty.

It's Friday night. I'm home because I spent a shitload of money the past few weeks and don't have any spending cash until payday.

I never thought I'd say this, but I like budgeting. I fucked myself over with my debt in my twenties, but fortunately I took control of the situation before it got really bad. All things remaining equal (salary, interest rates, payments), I will be out of debt in three years. It's not ideal, but at least there's an end in sight. It could have been a lot worse.

To clarify, I am nowhere near as frugal as a person in debt should be. My monthly "budget" calculation is Gross - Bills - Needs (groceries, prescriptions, house/personal items, and laundry) = FUN MONEY! My fun money spending is then categorized in one of three ways:

Socializing - money spent in the company of others: movies, bars, dinner, bars, sporting events, plays, bars

Shopping - money spent on something I now own (besides the necessities) or lottery tickets. Yes, Ruth Clare has me playing the fucking lottery now.

Other - money spent on anything else which is usually food and coffee during work hours. I don't eat out everyday, but it sure adds up in Midtown.

I can't believe I'm going to admit this, but since April 15th (my budget always starts with that paycheck) I have spent $968.21 on fun. The previous week I spent $775.05 going to and hanging out in California. Holy moly.

So really, if you ever hear me complain I'm broke, please tell me to go fuck myself. I am not broke by any means, I just have disposable income that I'm really fucking good at disposing.

Case in point, I bought a six-pack tonight even though I told myself I couldn't spend any cash. I'm drinking Magic Hat Vinyl Spring Seasonal. It's okay. It probably tastes better on tap. Do they always write things on the bottle caps? I rarely buy beer to drink at home, so I never noticed. The title of this post was on the cap of my first beer. The second: "Buy your gal growlers with her flowers."

I like budgets and rhymes. And spending money.

I Love You Period

I wish I was wearing one of those fake pregnant woman bellies. Then the fact that I feel and look like I'm pregnant wouldn't bother me so much. Plus I can take it off.

Bethany Beer Gut is no longer a beer gut. I don't know what the hell she is now, but if she gets any bigger my innie belly button will be an outie soon.

My eating, drinking, and exercising habits haven't changed much so I guess it's due to Lady Time. I went off the pill back in July and didn't feel any negative reactions until recently. Besides the humongut, I now have a zit for the first time in thirteen years and get faint during PMS. Joy.

The only plus side of being off the pill is that I do feel calmer. The whole reason I went off of it is because I had a sneaky suspicion it was contributing to my crazy. I think I was right because I feel pretty darn stable now. Well, stable for me anyways.

The great debate of late with my girlfriends is which is better: being a fat, pimply, sane, condom-Nazi or a clear skinned, less bloated freakfest that gets the bareback once in a while?

Logically, if I look gross no one's going to want to bang me and we can't have that. If I look good I'll get some, but then the nuttiness will kick in and I'll drive whoever banged me away...

Better logic, why don't I just work out and buy some Proactiv then all I'll be is a condom-Nazi, which isn't a bad thing.

It could break though...and then what? Oh fuck. I take back what I wrote about wearing a pregnant belly...I don't want to jinx myself!!

CSPAN Reggae

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.

TGFP!!

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!

Well la de da...

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.

First week back

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.

Kick-Ass!

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.

Home!

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.

Going to California

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.

Happy Belated Easter!

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.

Haircut!

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.

WAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Fuck!! I forgot about The Soup!!! Waaaahhhhh!!! Good-bye Joel McHale...I'll miss you!!

TTFN ANTM!

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...

Wait what??

Um, I must be sicker than I thought because I just signed up to run a 10K in June. Who am I????

Sick Day!

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!

Elephants in Manhattan!

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!

B from the P 3

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.

Confused

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

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.

Doppelgangers

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...

Sexy Simba Something

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.

I find this hysterical...

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!!

Birthday Weekend!

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!!!

Random Cell Phone Pics Part 4

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 C to the C

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.

Blasts from the Past

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!

Mortgage Thug Mugs

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!

Happy Lunar New Year!

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:

Incendiary

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.

TSTWIO

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!

Fruit Logic

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.

I keep farting.

That is all.

Good-bye January!

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!!

Friggin' Lightweight

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.

Nailed Vanity

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.)

Stovegate 2

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!!

Save Yourself by Sense Field

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

Facebook Loses

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.

2010, you little minx

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.