He knows now

A couple of days ago I wrote MD doesn't know I'm a nutbag yet, yet being the operative word.

He knows now.

I had a complete fucking meltdown at the bar last night. I don't really know what happened. It's been an emotional week. (What week isn't?)

On Tuesday I was talking to my coworker Hands about a position that opened in our division. The problem is I'd still have to report to Nun, my sleazy boss above Tennis. I'm not sure exactly when my opinion of him changed, but in the year since Nun's become my boss it's gone from inspired, hopeful, and excited to disappointed, unimpressed, and nauseated. It turns out he's a political salesman without much cred.

Apparently he has opinions about me, too. Hands told me Nun said that I'm extremely smart and could run the company one day if it wasn't for my bad attitude. I was stunned. I asked Hands to elaborate. Nun said I don't have the drive or interest to put me ahead.

There are three things that really bother me about this. One, GO FUCK YOURSELF. It is completely unprofessional to talk about your employees in a negative light. Two, he has never once mentioned this to me nor has Tennis. I already knew they were horrible managers, but really? What were they going to do, wait for my review to tell me this? Assholes. Three, he's right.

I don't care about Minnow. The first year and a half I was happy taking classes at SVA. The next year I was happy working on Oracle and a warehouse project, despite the drama with Tennis. The past six months I've been unhappy. I am not inspired to do anything, except keep my head down until 5pm. This is completely out of character for me. I love to learn and be involved, so I know there's definitely something wrong.

I guess that something is me. I could change my attitude. I could probably advance if I shoved my nose up Nun's ass like his managers do. That's not me, though. I don't do shit for appearances or fake the funk. He's got that covered. Once again I find myself in the same position I'm always in, paying for not playing the game.

I'm pretty upset about this. On the one hand I'm upset that I haven't made Minnow work out. I'm standing in my own way again. I could succeed there if I just sucked it up and pretended I wanted to be part of Nun's little clique. The problem is I'm not a good actress. Oh and I'm stubborn as fuck. I believe your work and ideas should matter more than who you have lunch with, end of story.

On the other hand I'm upset because I haven't left yet. If I don't care to succeed at Minnow, why am I still there? I want to feel good about where I work and what I do. I just haven't figured out what do next yet.

So Tuesday kind of sucked. I have my pdiddy this week, so it made everything feel worse. I feel so lost. I don't know what I'm doing, where I'm going, nada. I'm on this loop of work, home, bar, work, home, bar and I don't even like the work part.

Home is weird lately, too. I'm having the stove fears again and that on top of bedbug paranoia makes me not even want to come home some nights. I realized tonight these are symptoms of a bigger problem: I don't feel safe or secure. Why? Because I don't know where I am. I don't feel in control either. Why? Because I don't know where I'm headed...

which leads into last night. I left work at 2pm for the holiday (okay, I guess Minnow isn't THAT bad), ran some errands, and got to Crazy Ass at 5:30pm. I only had maybe four beers, but the owner kept giving me shots. I was TANKED. At one point I texted MD to come to the bar because I missed him. Cute, right? Well for some reason I decided he should have responded right away. I totally beer teared out when I didn't hear from him for two hours. Two whole hours! I'm so fucking stupid. I was so upset that I decided to leave, but then he walked in while I was walking out. I took one look at him and started bawling. I completely lost my shit. The poor guy had no clue there was a disaster waiting for him. Unfortunately I don't remember much of what I said. All I know is I told him I liked him so much that I didn't know what to do with myself. It's the same theme as I wrote above: without a label defining our relationship I feel lost, insecure, and out of control.

Or maybe I don't even need a label. I just need him to talk. He's stepped it up so much lately that I felt like we were on the path to commitment, but the mo still hasn't verbalized any of his feelings about me or us so there was no reassurance or guarantee. Last night I lost my patience. I knew it would happen, but I had no idea I was going to explode. It was all my fault.

This afternoon I left him a message apologizing for my antics. He returned my call, so I guess that's a good sign. Luckily he's going out of town for a few days. The break is probably for the best.

I'm so disappointed in myself for freaking out, but I just want answers to something right now. Our relationship is in his hands, so it would be nice to know where he wants to take it. The stress of uncertainty in all areas of my life is clearly getting to me. It would be nice to have something sorted out.

Crap. He knows I'm a nutbag now.

And a few one-liners...

"...or at least turn the volume down until he's ready for full blast me." RE: How I'm holding back with MD a bit.

"I'm going to microwave a bag of lettuce." RE: My plans for making a veggie dish for Thanksgiving without using my stove.

"He's the Punktuation." RE: How my ex-boyfriend Tat looked exactly like the punk version of The Jersey Shore's Situation.

An IM to Tron

I also save IMs and other thoughts in my Gmail drafts. It just occurred to me that I can easily post them here.

An IM to Tron around May 25, 2010:

(9:44:08 AM) Thighs: I'm really disillusioned today. I don't HAVE to feel that way, and I know this. I just don't know if I ever want to work in an office/corporation again, but in order to get rid of my debt I"m going to have to for a few more years. I know there are plenty of people out there that hate their jobs and want to do something else too. The thing is, those are the people I want to inspire. My biggest complaint in working for "the man" (whoever he is) is that there's no empowerment, no nurturing, no growth. Then again, all I know is Publishing so it could just be the industry...

(9:44:31 AM) Thighs: I'm babbling. Sorry. I like to write with a stream of conscious when I'm not sure what I want to say.

(9:45:54 AM) Thighs: My point is, at least I think it is, that I'm scared to change but I just don't see how I can stay the same way much longer. I'm at a fork in the road and as exciting as it is I'm a bit nervous.

(9:46:55 AM) Thighs: I want to wake up and love what I do, where I'm going, everything. If I don't love my life, what else is there?

My 5 Year Plan, 3 Years Ago

From Rockstar's iPhone:

35 trip around the world (6 months)
Not work 4 other people
Write & get paid
Color & get paid
Get rid of debt
Inc. Or llc

I believe Rocks transcribed this a couple of months after I turned 30. I forgot about it until she sent it to me last September, when I was 31 and a half. I've kept it in my inbox ever since as a reminder.

Now I'm coming up on 33 and have not accomplished any of these things yet. YET. Well, I would still like to go on a world tour for my 35th birthday if anyone's interested although that would probably put off the getting rid of debt goal. And it doesn't necessarily have to be a six month sabbatical. I haven't decided. YET.

Sooo tired...

I need sleep. This post will not make any sense.

On Friday I woke up at 5am to head down to Minnow's South Jersey office for a meeting with Tron. Waking up early isn't really a problem for me, except that I didn't sleep too well to begin with. I have a new neurotic obsession keeping me up at night...bedbugs.

No, I don't have them. At least it doesn't appear so. The other night I was laying in bed and I swear to Shiz I felt like I was getting bit up, though. SO GROSS!

The trip to the office was exhausting. I left Astoria at 6am, planning to get down there by 10am. No such luck as a NJ Transit train got caught in a down wire and everyone was electrocuted. Okay, no one was electrocuted, but I was stuck on the Rahway platform for two hours. I finally got to the office at noon. I was pretty braindead for our meeting, but I'm happy with what we accomplished.

I don't know how I rallied to meet MD later that night. I stayed out until about 12:30am, came home, thought about bedbugs, and fake slept.

The next day I headed to North Jersey to visit the Bear Family (I think you guys get a new nickname every time I write about you). I had a great time catching up with M & J and hanging with my coolest nephew Evan! Yes, he's my only nephew and no, he's not actually my nephew, but HE RULES.

I came back to Queens around 10pm and texted with MD for a couple of hours before I passed out. I woke up during the night a little itchy again, then I started to stress out. It would suck to have bedbugs right when MD and I are hitting our stride! How do you tell someone you're dating you have bedbugs!?!? That would suck! Or how do you tell them you pretend you have bedbugs to drive yourself crazy?? That would really suck!

Luckily he doesn't know I'm a nutbag yet. We spent all day yesterday together watching football at the bar, then TV at his place. We fell asleep on the couch for a bit (super comfy), but couldn't fall back to sleep once we went to the bedroom. We both tossed and turned all night, so I really haven't had a proper night's sleep since Wednesday.

I wanted to come home tonight and go right to sleep, but I had to conquer this bedbug thing. I scoured my mattress, cleaned out everything from under my bed, and washed all of my sheets and blankets. I found a couple of weird little seed-like things and one small dead bug, but that was it. Apparently if I had bedbugs I'd see them in packs, so I'm good. Just insane. And insanely tired.

Yay Off!

Okay, now that I got some negative junk off my chest (heh) I'd like to end the night with a happy update.

Health:

I went to the gym a few times! I'm not on a regular schedule yet, but I'm excited to be back and ready to get in shape. I don't care how much weight I lose. I just don't want an old man ass anymore.

I feel better! Blood test results came back fine, except that my thyroid meds need to be upped. No biggie. I have a sneaky suspicion the lightheadedness was caused by incorrectly using the Neti Pot. It kept coming out of mouth (heh), so it's quite possible I accidentally drowned my brain. Five times.

The girls are still even! There is an unfortunate drama with my doctor, insurance, and mother, but they can all go fuck themselves. I'm natural.

Boys:

Remember Mick? It feels weird to even write about this because a) I don't think about him anymore, b) that whole ordeal feels like years ago, and c) I can't believe I even liked the guy, but I will because I'm five...

I won the "break-up"!! Yes, he has a girlfriend and I'm still single BUT I consider the winner the one who has moved on emotionally as well as relationship statusly (manujaggered). I saw him Friday night and could tell he missed me. Then this morning I got an email from him reading something like "yada yada, It was great seeing you the other night. I hope we're cool because I really enjoy hanging out with you." Ha! SUCKER. I rule and you drool.

Things with MD are progressing. Sort of. I have a habit of thinking I'm putting SO MUCH into a relationship when really, it's all in my fucking mind. MD doesn't know that I think about him all of the time. He doesn't know I'm analyzing everything he said and did. Thank Shizza he doesn't know these things!!

Take the week he didn't call. I beat the shit out of myself. He was an ass for not contacting me, but is it his fault I ripped myself a new one? Not at all. This is why I feel things are sort of progressing. I am "using" MD to learn how to go with the flow, be more patient, and less hard on myself. And it's working!

I feel much better about him. I have no idea how he feels, where he thinks this is going, or if he's seeing anyone else. For now I'm okay with this partly because I'm learning, but also because I know that when I'm NOT okay with it I'll take action. I trust myself to know when I'm done.

Another reason? I have a really nice time with him. We hung out Sunday night, took off Monday, and spent the day together in bed watching TV. It was pretty awesome. He's opening up a bit more and I'm learning to shut up a bit more. We shall see!

Friends:

Besides boys, I got to see Juniper and Socks and Stevie and Bakes and Janeypants this weekend too! SO FUN! This coming weekend I'll get to see Melis, Jim, and Evan, too!!

Other:

I have finally decided to stop spending every last cent each paycheck.

I love football!

It's time for bed!

Lay Off

I haven't been in a Thighs mood lately. I'm really not in one right now, but I'm forcing myself to write. I find it helps.

SO. There were layoffs this week at Minnow. I'm not sure if I ever gave the head of my division a nickname on here. Huh, actually it might have been Head. Regardless, he and a few other execs were fired yesterday due to a massive reorganization. Basically there isn't a Supply Chain division anymore.

I know this is going to sound shitty, but fuck it. It's my blog and you already know I'm self-absorbed. In fact I think that's one of the requirements to becoming a blogger...

I didn't feel affected by the news until this afternoon. Head was a tyrant fuckwad who thrived on bullying his weaker reports, especially my boss Tennis. He tried it with me a couple of times and I told him to fuck off without actually saying it. That style of management is for rich pussy white guys that would shit their pants had they ever experienced an actual life-threatening emergency instead of their made up "red alert fire drills" that need "all hands on deck" and "answers yesterday." You're in publishing, asshole. Congrats for being such a hard-ass in an industry 85% women and gay men.

Obviously, I could give a fuck he's not working there anymore.

The self-absorbed part comes with this question, what happens to me? Guess what? Nothing. This afternoon Nun told us mine and Breen's jobs aren't changing. FUCK.

Yes, I should be happy to even have a job, but now I'm screwed. If they don't change my job, who will?

And that my friends is why I love to write. I had no idea that last sentence was the real reason I'm upset.

I am pissed off that I wasn't fired or transferred because now it's still up to me to get off my ass and look for a new job. I'm ridiculous.

On a positive note, I am pretty excited (nerd-excited) that a system I conceptualized and scoped out two years ago is finally being made. It's cool to see something I created come to fruition and even cooler when a good friend is the IT developer. So I guess it's not totally horrible there...

LOOK FOR A NEW JOB FUCKER!

FA!

Boring...

Oh and I'm down to my last $50 until Monday, so I guess I'm staying in all week again. If 2010 was about learning to live within my means sans credit card, then 2011 will be about learning how to not blow all of my means every paycheck.

Yes, I am 32 and horrible with money. At least I'm on my way to being 35 and awesome with money. Better late than never.

Whoa!

Eight days since my last post? Huh. What the hell have I been doing?

I stayed in most of last week because I still wasn't feeling well. As Agent Sick Stickles, the hypochondriac detective, brother to Agent Dick Stickles the porn detective (Do you have a permit for that penis?), I went down the list of possible ailments. It occurred to me that my right eye had been bothering me for a while, so I went to the eye doctor. He said I had a slight irritation, but it wouldn't have made me lightheaded this whole time. He gave me some drops and suggested I ditch the contacts for a few days. Easy peasy except that the lens of my rimless (heh) glasses popped out, so I've been wearing my old glasses from college. BOOTY. Guess what? It took him literally five seconds to fix the broken pair. D'oh!

By Friday I was feeling MUCH better, so to celebrate I stayed out drinking until 3:30am with MD. Epitome of health, I am.

On Saturday I went to my friend JP's house for the second beer and food pairing this year. Bakes and I brought a growler of 21st Amendment Fireside Chat, a deep ruby brown ale with a subtle blend of spices. We paired it with mac and cheese made with gruyere, cheddar, and I think nutmeg. Both were delicious! In researching the beer I learned that FDR's Fireside Chats were radio speeches he gave to communicate to the public how the country would recover from the depression. After the first chat he said to his top aides "I think it's time for beer." and they began working on the bill to end Prohibition that night. The 21st Amendment was passed nine months later in December of 1933.

Beer homework rules. Check out the label, artwork named "FDR beer geeking with an elf.":


Something else I learned this weekend, a growler doesn't only refer to a refillable jug. It is slang for what Urban Dictionary describes as "a mean, butch looking pussy." so when I said I was going "to get my growler filled at Ginger Man" I was being twice awesome.

Saturday night I saw THE PEE-WEE HERMAN SHOW ON BROADWAY! Holy moses, it was AMAZING! Rolo, thanks again for getting the tickets!

I flipped out when PW came out on stage. I flipped out the minute the curtain went up and revealed the Playhouse exactly as it was on the show. I flipped out when Conky gave the secret word. I flipped out the whole time!! **SPOILER ALERT** My favorite parts:

1. Random quotes: "I hate mute characters." and "How queeer..."
2. I love this scene in Big Adventure when Francis and PW are talking outside. Pee-Wee totally said "I love that story." in the show!!



3. Another scene I love in Big Adventure is the one where it's dark out and there are only cartoon eyes on screen. THEY DID THIS ON STAGE! IT WAS AMAZEBALLS! I ACTUALLY SCREAMED OUT "YES!" AND PUMPED AIR.

I am not one to get star-struck, mainly because I don't care, but fuck yeah did I wait outside after the show to hopefully meet him. Unfortunately he wasn't doing autographs, BUT he was hysterical and gracious and awesome. And quickly pacing back and forth, so this is the only good picture I got of him. (The two people in front were no joke, like 6'4" and didn't seem to give a shit that average-sized people were behind them.)



Sunday afternoon was me, my couch, and football. Yay Giant and Jet wins!! Sunday night was me, MD, my couch, and FOX Animation Domination.

What gives? I will tell you. I reneged on the "break up." Why? I will tell you. I like him. I jumped to too many conclusions about what he wants, where he's at, and what he's willing to give me. I want him to tell me these things instead of assuming I know it all, because frankly I don't know shit.

It's hard being single. I'm still trying to find the line between naive doormat and patient compromise. Is MD the guy I'm going to marry? I doubt it, only because he's a mute character (thank you PW) and I have no idea what's going on in his head. I want to be with someone who openly communicates and shows a little more enthusiasm and passion toward me. The thing is, just because he hasn't shown it so far doesn't mean he never will.

Or it does mean he never will. I'm giving him another shot to see what he brings this time around. I know what his patterns are now, so I won't be disappointed or upset. It's up to him if he wants to surprise me by changing them and making a concerted effort. It's up to me to keep looking for someone who will.

In the meantime I enjoy his company, I enjoy getting my growler filled*, and I still can't get over the kissing. I'll give him a couple more weeks and see what happens.



*Yes I'm using protection, but that's my new favorite phrase. Thank you Rob!

BP

As tired as I've been this week I'm finding it hard to fall asleep before midnight. I watched Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (YAY!) then laid in bed trying to remember the name of the blonde in Cougar Town who was also in Freaks and Geeks. This is weird because I don't even watch Cougar Town. The one time I tried I was grossed out by the vacuumed faces. Whatever happened to growing old gracefully, ladies?

I was pretty sure it was an uncommon "P" name so for a good half hour I thought: Pixie, Peyton, Portia, Phoebe, Portence, Polly, Pugsley (hee-hee), and so on. Then I thought it was a "B" for a bit, my favorite one of that bunch being "Biloxi."

Well folks, it's Busy. Busy Phillips. You're welcome.

Thighs sighs...

I went for a walk around the hood to see if I had the energy to put together a last minute Halloween costume, to then decide if I had the energy to go out tonight.

I don't. Sigh.

Rosemary's Baby was going to either be me fake pregnant with 666 written in blood on the belly of my blue nightgown or just the blue nightgown with a devil baby in hand. I was too tired to attempt to find and/or make a devil baby this week, so this morning I took my small camping pillow and stuffed it under my shirt.

Fake preggers is weird. And I decided single women should never pretend to be pregnant. It would be hard to meet someone in that "condition."

I searched my closet and found my old vampire outfit and raver pants. My vampire outfit had been in my parents' basement for the past seven years and smells like it. My raver pants are fine, so I popped over to the Salvation Army to find a cheap Polo or Nautica shirt since that's what most ravers wore in the late 90s. Well, guys anyways. I wore a lot of thrift store t-shirts, puffy vests, and fun jewelry, none of which I have anymore. I go through these "I'll never need this again" purges only to regret it later. Sigh.

I got so incredibly tired walking that I gave up. I'm now home (obviously) and ready to call it a night. I'm bummed, but I need to rest. It's amazing how at 32 I can still get that "worried I'm going to miss out on something awesome" feeling. Maybe next year I'll stop partying all of the time and only go out on big occasions. I laughed as I typed that sentence.

The good news is I haven't been sick in quite a while. (I'm not counting Boob Saga.) I don't actually feel sick-sick, just beat. I could sleep for days. I'm hoping the blood tests come back with something definitive that I can address. I hate when everything's fine, but clearly not fine.

More good news, I joined NYSC again. They bribed me into coming back by taking 50% off the monthly dues. I'm stoked. The last time I remember feeling great this year was around the 10K. I want that feeling back, damn it!! As soon as I kick this fatigue I'm going to get back into the habit of hitting the gym before work.

Okay, the real reason I have the missing out feeling is because I thought something special was going to happen. Maybe I'd meet someone, maybe I'd run into MD, maybe I...oh whatever. I'm home. Sigh.

In related news, I'm hooked on How I Met Your Mother reruns. It's hysterical, plus it makes me feel better about my dating history. I think I'm a Barney/Ted split: a self-absorbed sarcastic minx who wants to find true love. I relate to this show much more now than I do Sex and the City, probably because I'd rather spend my money on beer than on clothing.

Oh my gosh, my mom said I should call an allergist to see if I'm allergic to beer. CAN YOU IMAGINE? I don't know what I would do with myself. Please Shizza, no!

If I feel up to it tomorrow I might hit the Halloween parade. I want to do SOMETHING this weekend. Jets game is at 1pm, Giants are on a bye. I have zero plans all next week, then Saturday is the second beer/food pairing party followed by Pee-Wee on Broadway. I'm excited!! I've been watching my Pee-Wee's Playhouse DVDs to prepare. OH! I should also rent the movies too. Good call.

Right now I have The Birds and North by Northwest. Did I ever mention I love Hitchcock? I love Hitchcock.

I'm tired again. Sigh. I need to force myself to be positive when I don't feel well. I CAN NAP! I CAN WATCH MOVIES! I CAN READ! I CAN COLOR! I CAN ORDER FOOD! I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT EVEN IF I'M STAYING IN TONIGHT!

Aaaahh, that's better!! Happy Halloween!

DJ Freckles

I like this commercial, especially the freckle part. Juniper, DJ Hero night soon please!

A Weak Week

Blah blah blah. I feel like poo again. Good ol' Pdiddy came two weeks early and apparently brought with him a ridiculous amount of fatigue, lightheadedness, and tears. What, no Ciroc?

I wrote "apparently" because who the fuck knows the real cause of any of my ailments. My five day drinking binge? Perhaps. My thyroid is out of whack? Perhaps. My insanity is finally taking over? Hapsper.

When I was younger I had varying degrees of partidtumuchitis. Lymes and mono came before my drinking days, but Epstein Barr and chronic fatigue syndrome kicked in right around the same time the E and acid did. Who would have thought I'd get really sick and tired after candy-flipping for three days straight?? Shocking.

So this week I'm taking a much needed break from beer. In fact, I may have to pass up on the Halloween festivities this weekend too. We'll see how I feel after sleeping in on Saturday.

I did have the energy to do two things tonight. One:



They didn't have a box of 120 so I settled for 96. My second favorite thing to do with a new box of crayons is dump them all out and group them by color family*. My first favorite is color, of course!

Two: I broke it off with Fanboy. He called a little while ago. I gave him the whole "I see us as friends" speech. The polls said I didn't owe him a phone break-up since we only went out on one date. I usually agree with this, but I got the feeling Fanboy would want to talk. He did. Forty minutes. It wasn't bad, though. We spoke candidly about our dating history and what we want. I toyed with the idea of trying to set him up with someone. It would be completely selfish, but selfishness doesn't always lead to bad things! He'd get laid while I am free of guilt and loaded with good dating karma. I decided against this though, considering I don't have a lady in mind. Anyone know a nerdy-cool female sports fan who's shy and quirky? Does anyone even read this anymore?

There are a bunch of things I want to be good at some day. Breaking up with people isn't one of them. If I have to let a guy go I want to be as considerate and respectful as possible, but I don't want anymore practice please!

Sadly, I miss MD. Having my period twice in October isn't friggin' helping. I could call him, but what the fuck would I say? "Fooled you!" Yeah, I pulled that shit with Mick and it blew up. See this is the problem with me. (One of.) I can't tell if I miss him OR miss the idea of him OR am pretending to miss him because I'm so uncomfortable with the fact I made a strong, positive decision to protect myself from getting more hurt by someone who didn't treat me the way I wanted to be treated.

I don't know what to think. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have told him my expectations and gave him a chance to tell me his. Oh well. Even if ending it with MD was a mistake, it was the healthiest one I've ever made.



*In case you were wondering, I took the autism quotient test and got a 10. What is the opposite of autism? I have that.

Shocked and Disturbed!

I have the urge to do something that I haven't done in forever...

COLOR!!

Only problem is I can't find my big box of crayons!! I am seriously shocked and disturbed by this! I ALWAYS have at least a 64 box, but I could have sworn I had a 120 one!! I can't find it anywhere and it's not like there are a million places it could hide...

I have an 8 box, so all is not lost. And colored pencils, but I'm not really a big fan of those.

I just can't believe I don't have my crayons! I don't even know the last time I used them!! WHO AM I!?!?!?

Guess what I'm buying tomorrow. Crayola I love you!!

Beer Poker Nada Date

The past few days have been really nice, although I'm feeling a bit melancholy. It's probably because my daytime buzz has worn off...

Wednesday was a Founders brewery event at Blind Tiger. The Nemesis is 12% alcohol and 100% awesome. A description: “a dark barley wine that pours black with a subtle mahogany hue. Brewed with 5 malts and no shortage of hops for a pleasantly bitter booming flavor. Roasty and toasty with a multitude of tastes that melts on your tongue." Their Kentucky Breakfast Stout is amazing too.

Thursday was drinks with Scholly. I love catching up with old friends, feeling like no time has passed. Friday was Pokher night. The Petes and I have FINALLY decided to play poker every month. We've wanted to do this for at least eight years now. We played Texas Hold'em which is surprisingly straight-forward considering you don't trade in cards. This doesn't make it any easier to win, just easier to learn.

Yesterday I did nothing all day except sleep in and watch Rosemary's Baby. I can't believe I've put off watching it for so long. It is such a good movie. I am definitely being Mia Farrow for Halloween. Now I need to figure out where I'm going!!

Later on I ended up going to a party for the opening of Levi's Photo Workshop. It was fantastic: free to get in, free beer, and a free Nada Surf acoustic show. I've never really listened to them before, but Bakes and Juniper are huge fans so I was interested to check them out. Fo' free! They were great and I now have a crush on both the bassist and drummer. Well, maybe just the bassist's dreadlocks. The drummer isn't my type physically (not that this matters), but his enthusiasm and spirit were so warm and inviting that I had to meet him after the show. Oh Ira, you're adorable!

Today I had my date with Fanboy. The real reason I'm melancholy is because I'm bummed I don't like him. He just texted me "I can't wait to hang out with you again." GAH! Fanboy likes me, is interested in who I am and what I'm about, and is making sure I know it. This is what was missing with MD.

Great. Now I'm crying. It's so not fucking fair. If I could put Fanboy's personality into MD's body, I'd be set. And I don't mean for looks either. MD has a laidback yet confident presence, while Fanboy seems a little too insecure for me. Fuck.

See? This is why I can't online date. The physiological signs mean too much. If I don't blush, get shy* and giggly, or want to stick my tongue down a guy's throat, then I don't want to date him. I don't want to date Fanboy. BAH!



*I get shy when I really like someone. I swear.

Damn it FB!

Fanboy friended me as I was writing my last post. He seems perfectly fine, but damn it Facebook! I remove-tagged myself from all my fat pictures in lightning fast speed.

Shut up.

I can't be bothered to online date anymore. I kind of hate it, although I have been emailing with a Plenty of Fish guy this week. He's a big Giants, Mets, comic book, and Guinness fan. Check please!

I haven't been on POF in over a year, so I'm not really sure what made me even check my email. It's probably MD. I miss him. Of course I miss him. I didn't break it off because I'm not interested, I broke it off because I knew it wasn't going anywhere right now. Blerg.

My profile is apparently on the top of the recent user list because I'm getting a lot more ridiculous emails: "how u doin qt?", "Do you date black men?" from what looks like a white guy, and my favorite of the week "Shut up. : )"

Shut up? That's it? That's all you're going to write? I might write back "Kill yourself."

Fanboy gave me his number, so I'm going to call him this weekend. He also said we should be Facebook friends, but I don't like this idea. I hate the whole awkward when-do-I-delete-you dance. Who knows, maybe I won't need to but I'm not adding you until the ring's on my finger thankyouverymuch.

My, how things change.

I finally heard from MD Friday night at 12:30am. I didn't get his text until the next morning since I passed out around 11pm after drinking too much vodka at a strip club. (My life is awesome.)

The text read, "I've been out of town all week, what are you up to tonight?". I screamed out, "NOOOOOO!" I'm not sure why I did that. I guess I had already made up my mind I was done with him. If you haven't noticed, once my mind is made up it is really, really hard for me to change it. I'd say I'm stubborn, but there are so few times when I absolutely positively know how I feel about something that when it happens I need to hold onto it.

Oh. Right. That's the definition of stubborn. Crap.

I wasn't going to write him back for a couple of days to sort things out, but I did Saturday night as I was leaving Svenica's wedding. The wedding was so fun and filled with love (Congrats guys! Thanks for inviting me!) that I decided I was going to give MD another chance.

MD met me at Crazy Ass after I got back from the Giants game on Sunday. (My life is awesome.) It wasn't the same when I saw him again. I was so friggin miserable after not hearing from him that it just ruined everything. I can't blame him for my reactions and insecurity, but I do blame him for not making the effort to call. It turns out he was sent to a work conference in Vegas last minute. He apologized for not calling and for texting me so late Friday night. He said he didn't mean to be rude.

It was nice to get an explanation, but it didn't make me feel better. I spent the rest of the night trying to make conversation. I had nothing to say. When we left the bar I was going to head home then decided fuck it, literally. I went back to his place for a couple of hours. BEST KISSER OF ALL TIME. We are very sexually compatible, but that's just not enough for me. I want more.

I saw him in a completely different light. All of a sudden there were red flags everywhere. I won't go into specifics, but all signs were pointing to one thing: while he might be single, he definitely isn't available. I left feeling good about getting laid, but bad about the fact he isn't the guy for me.

I decided to break it off. I want love, I want passion, and I want someone I can trust. I know these things can build over time, but if he already let me down after six weeks I don't see it getting any better.

I womaned up and called him a couple of hours ago. He was really, really nice about it. I can't remember what I said exactly, but it was along the lines of "I had a lot of fun hanging out with you, but I'm looking for something serious and I get the feeling you want something casual right now." He agreed saying he just got out of a long-term relationship (one of the red flags) and wasn't looking to jump right into a new one. I told him I think he's awesome and said I'm really grateful we met when we did since I went through some shit this summer that he really helped me get over. I didn't go into it of course, but I really wanted to thank him. He ended up thanking me for calling and letting him know. I said I'm sure I'll see you around the neighborhood, so I thought it was best to be honest. It's good dating karma, people!!

PHEW! All of that in less than three minutes. Best break-up-with-someone-I'm-not-actually-committed-to EVER!

I hung up the phone and cried. It was good tears. I know I did the right thing. I want to create space for someone who goes out of his way to make sure I feel good about us and myself. MD wasn't the guy. I'm excited to find the one who is.

Good-bye best kisser SO FAR!

A Letter to MD

Well I'm at work and can't stop thinking about you again. It sucks. I'm not sure what I did wrong. Am I fat? Did I leave too long of a message? Did I not contact you enough? Did I call you the wrong name? (I'm burnt.) WHAT DID I DO?

Everyone keeps saying it's not me, it's you. We all know that's not true though. Obviously I'm not the person you want due to some defect of mine. If I was the one for you it wouldn't matter that you just got out of a relationship. It wouldn't matter that I'm chunky or pale or bald or whatever. You'd like me and you'd call. You'd need to see me.

And this is why you're not the right guy for me. I want to need to be with someone and I want him to need to be with me. I want the kind of love that he and I would both fight for, whether it's an internal battle or an external one. I want love in all areas of my life - job, home, friends, boyfriend, family, everything. I don't have it all yet, but I will. I thought you were a part of this. I thought you were someone who I could eventually fall in love with and who would love me back just as much. Apparently I was wrong. There were moments that I thought you saw a future too, but that's all they were. Moments.

I'm going to the bar where we met after work today. I know I won't see you. I probably won't run into you for a long time. I'm afraid that when I do you'll be with someone else. Someone I'm not, like a petite brunette. She won't be as cool as I am (that's a given), but I guess I'm not as hot as she would be. Isn't this sad? The one thing I'm harping on is the one thing I have control over fixing. Maybe that's why I met you now, right after The Boob Saga. My body "failed" me as a teen, but it's "normal" now. There's nothing holding me back from being as healthy, fit, and hot as I want to be. Not that there really was anything holding me back, but now I definitely don't have to hide who I am anymore. I have nothing to protect myself from. I've faced it all.

I will say I'm still in shock a bit. The way you talked, the way you looked at me, the way you held me. It's funny how classy and mature I thought you were just based on your suit-wearing, high-paying job and nice apartment. I guess it really does matter who we are on the inside, not the out. I hate breaking up with people, too but at least I woman up and do it. The worst part of dating is not knowing where you stand, so I make sure to be honest if it's not working out.

Sometimes it's hard to believe I will end up with someone after 33 years of heartache. 33 years...that's a long time to be alone. Granted I haven't been dating since birth, but the dance is the same. I wanted my mother's love and approval and she was unable to give it to me. It's sad to admit this is my life story. I've tried to get the love I need from the wrong people. When will I ever learn?

It's been nine days since I last saw you, six days since I left the message. It doesn't sound like a long time, but my realtionship with time itself is drastically different now. A week feels like a year. A month feels like two years. I might be part dog.

I'm writing this in my gmail, but I'm considering posting it on Thighs. I don't know what the response will be. I can't tell if I'm being pathetic or honest. Maybe both. Hmmm...can you be pathetic without being honest?

I keep thinking about that movie Serendipity when Jeremy Piven's character says to John Cusask, "You are a jackass." Cusack was willing to be foolish and stupid for love. Maybe sharing this will make me look like an ass (donkey), but maybe it will also be the cleansing purge I need to move on. I refuse to let myself drag this out, especially after how crazy I made myself with Mick. If only I could be more black and white when it comes to guys. I'm not sure if that's possible, though. I am very gray, except when it comes to seafood and beer.

I guess there's not much more to say. I can't waste my time wondering what you're thinking anymore. All I can do is take a deep breath and get back out there. In a couple weeks time you'll be a distant memory, as are most of the other guys I've dated in the past. Maybe that's the really sad part about it. I'm already the queen of fleeting relationships (boys, friends, work) and for the first time in my life I don't want to be. Hmmm...wait....

Nice!!! THAT'S the reason I haven't left Minnow yet! I'm sick of bouncing around! I want to be committed to something (I should be committed)!! HURRAH!

Wow. I feel so much better now that I've written all of this. In fact, it makes sense. I didn't think this would end on a high note, but I gotta say...THANK YOU. You came (heh) at the exact time I needed you. I'm over Mick, I'm over The Boob Saga, and I now know I am truly, truly ready for love and to settle down.

::deep breath:: Time to get back out there.

The Girls and That Shit

Today was my final post-surgery checkup. The doctor said I'm healing nicely, I'm slightly uneven, and he's finished with me. That last part is verbatim. I hope I never see him again.

I am quite happy with the girls. I really am. I'm happy with the way this all turned out, yet I can't help but wonder what the fucking point was to any of it. The only thing I know for sure is that I'll never know. It was just my path.

I haven't really allowed myself to reflect on my experience for a few weeks now. August was a painful blur. September was a drunken blur. October? I haven't decided yet. I think I'm ready to sit with this again.

I have moments when I'm looking at myself topless in the mirror and start laughing. I laugh because I'm enlightened. I laugh because I faced this thing head on and won. And I laugh because it's fucking funny. Seriously, lopsided breasts? A popped implant? You can't write this shit. Okay, well maybe I am writing it now, but still. This is a ridiculous story and it's all mine.

Am I different? Yep. I don't feel broken. I don't feel deformed. I don't feel this thing sitting in my chest anymore. The implant was in me for so long that I didn't even realize I was feeling it. When it first came out I felt like there was a hole in my chest. The hole is closing now and for the first time in my life I feel well, whole.

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

I haven't written about therapy because I shut down after my visit a couple of weeks ago. I told Cee everything I have buried deep inside. It took a lot out of me. This is the big stuff, That Shit if you will, I am afraid to conquer. The weird thing is I'm not afraid to talk about them. I'm afraid what will happen if I do. I'm afraid of letting go.

I know now is the time for me to go back and do this. Sharing my breast and 9/11 stories were huge steps in the right direction, but I still have a lot of work to do.

I decided it would be best for me to wait until January. Financially, it makes sense with the holidays. Personally and emotionally, well there are things I resolved to take care of before the new year. Sexy, Simba, Something. I haven't forgotten nor given up. Simba's out of the picture now with the short 'do, but Sexy and Something still have a good 10 weeks to come to fruition. I want to make sure I come back to therapy ready to tackle the big issues instead of getting caught up in the less important ones. Working out and proactively looking for a new job will give me the boost I need to get That Shit out.

2010, it ain't over.

Thanks Tron

"It takes class, humility, honor, and strength. And you have them all."

I want to hole up in my hole.

Do not read this if you are in the mood to be happy...it will be whiny and grumpy.

Waaaahhh...I'm tired, I'm at work when everyone else has off, and I'm PMSy. I might be coming down with a cold. I can't tell yet. My back is achy and my eyes are heavy. All I wanted to do was sleep in today. I should have called out.

Why the fuck is the office open? Most people's badges aren't working at the turnstile this morning. Know why? The security system has today programmed as a holiday, so it doesn't think people should be getting in. HELLOOOO??? If Jarvis or Mother or whatever the fuck our system is called believes we should be closed, then we should be closed. Bah.

It's like the eight summer Fridays I got didn't even matter.

I am such an ingrate.

SLEEP. I feel like I can't get enough. I took a nap during the third quarter of the Giants game yesterday. I always seem to take third quarter naps. I'm pretty sure I slept for eight hours last night and it was still so hard to get out of bed this morning. I'm surprised I did!

Yesterday was balls, but Friday and Saturday were a lot of fun. I went to comic con, then Doll's (usual Friday night pub needed a nickname). Saturday I worked at a smaller publisher's booth in exchange for a free weekend pass, went out to dinner with the Faces and others (yay!), went to Chewie's annual convention party, and then another pub for a quick drink with the Doll's crew. Hmmm...maybe that's why I'm so tired. I didn't drink too much either night, but I was up until 1am and 3:30am respectively. Yeah, that's probably it.

Peppermint Patties are making me feel better. Stupid pdiddy and your chocolate cravings. The pizza I had for lunch made me feel better, too. I am uber healthy today.

It's beautiful out and the last thing I want to do is deal with people. I got my lunch and ran back into the office. I want to hole up in my hole and be left alone.

So MD. We didn't have definite plans for yesterday, so I called him Saturday to confirm. He never called back. Maybe I'm overreacting (shocker), but I am pretty disappointed. I spent most of the weekend thinking about him and a good hour before the game picking out something to wear. Stupid. That was one of the great things about Tat. He never made me feel insecure or worried about where I stood...

Okay, now that I'm writing about this I feel like I am overreacting. After years of dating, it's so easy to think I know the warning signs of a doomed relationship and jump to conclusions that it's over. Except for Mick of course. My head was up my ass all summer.

This isn't the first time MD didn't immediately respond to a text or call, so why am I getting worked up about it?

Oh. Right. I like him. Duh.

And it's Sunday

No word. I seriously, seriously, seriously fucking hate being single. No wait, I hate trying to NOT be single.

Today is on the brink of sucking, but I'm trying to fight it. On the bright side: the Giants won, I ate two tacos, and I don't need an implant anymore.

So up yours, dating.

I can't take it anymore...

I'M IN LIKE! I'M IN LIKE! I'M IN LIKE!

MD and I had another date on Wednesday. It was great. He's great.

All I want to do is hang out with him. He might come over on Sunday to eat ribs and watch the Giants game with me. I WISH IT WAS SUNDAY.

I am trying my absolute hardest not to freak out or cry or contact him too much or think about the future or all of the other crazy shit I do to make myself crazier.

I'm forcing myself to be positive by taking deep breaths and enjoying the good feelings. MD is sweet, funny, kind, generous, thoughtful, smart, mature...really the whole package. And he loves football, beer, Family Guy, seafood, and nookie just as much as I do. Siiiigghhh...

I'M IN LIKE! I'M IN LIKE! I'M IN LIKE!

Everybody must get Stoned

Half of my Sunday. And this wasn't even the best half. Holla!


Bakes and I split the following:

1. 13th Anniversary Ale (I tried to get the Stone Bourbon Barrel Aged 12th Anniversary Ale, but the waitress messed up the order. One of the sales reps tasted it and thought I got the 2006 Double Bastard Ale. My receipt confirms I got the 13th Anniversary, which on the board is one below the bourbon. This is the most work I've put into explaining why I got a specific beer without actually describing or giving my opinion of said beer.)
2. 070707 Red Wine Aged Vertical Epic
3. 080808 Vertical Epic
4. Imperial Russian Stout 10th Anniversary GK Mad Man Mix
5. El Camino (collaboration with 21st Amendment)
6. Double Dry Hop 14th Anniversary Ale
7. Vanilla Smoked Porter

I am not a tasting notes type of drinker, so I'll just say all of them were excellent. The standouts for me were the DDH, 08 Vertical Epic, and of course the Vanilla Smoked Porter which I fell in love with back in March when Blind Tiger had their Stone event.

I love getting Stoned.

Unsuck!

MD texted me Saturday. WOOT! He met me and the girls out that night and again last night, too. I AM CHEESIFIED.

I'm feeling really good about him now. I think I needed to get my crazy out last week, so that I can enjoy the weeks to come.

Huh.

That last bit typed itself...I guess I do see a future with him! Fingers crossed, people!

Suck

Well, that's that. It's officially "end of the week" in my mind, so I guess I'm not hearing from MD. Ugh...this is hitting me hard, probably because I take my hook-ups more seriously nowadays.

Suck.

Q4 Outlook

I’m taking a nap at work. A non-sleeping nap. A nap with my eyes open. A nap that includes writing this post in Word before copying and pasting it into blogger. I refuse to make sense today.

I went to a Stone event at a local pub last night as a pre-game to the bigger Stone event at Rattle-n-Hum on Sunday. I had three beers: San Diego County Session Ale, Saison De BUFF, and Oaked Arrogant Bastard. The Session and Oaked are my favorites. It was a fun night because I got to meet two of the reps and a brewer. Oh and I also got to know this one bartender better, which is always good for DR (drinker relations). I was home by 9pm, so I’m not sure why I’m so freakin’ tired. Maybe I’m coming down with something. Maybe my liver exploded. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe I’m just tired.

I came into work and immediately got pulled into a conference call to hear my boss get reamed out and for us both be blamed for not knowing something we never had to deal with before. It’s been a great morning.

So, now I’m writing. And sleeping while awake.

I hate my hair. It’s so fucking short. I’m never cutting it again. I decided since this will be the last time I have a pixie I might as well be a short-haired character for Halloween. I’m thinking Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby. I’ll Netflix it and see what’s up. Not sure if I want to be preggers as a costume, though. Creepy. If I was skinny I’d be Twiggy, but since I’m not, I won’t attempt to pull it off. The only costume worse than a fat Twiggy is a fat Rollergirl.

I had a Starbucks iced coffee this morning instead of my usual local deli one. Maybe it’s fucking with me.

Q4 Outlook. I might hibernate in between special events for the next three months. I have NYCC, Svenica’s wedding, a possible Giants game, Halloween, Pee-Wee on Broadway, possibly a weekend trip to Boston (please!), a Jets game, a long overdue visit to M & J’s (I suck!), and of course, the holidays. It would be wise to stay indoors and not spend money on anything else.

Jesus Mr. J! I cannot believe you just texted me! Every time we plan to hang out I never hear from him until like 9pm that night, which by then I already gave up and made other plans. He always says come to Brooklyn and I say no, come to Queens and we fight about how he always comes to Queens and then I ignore his last text and we don’t hang out. This has been going on since April. UGH. If he wasn’t a ginger I’d punch him in the face.

I haven’t heard from MD yet. On Sunday he said he’d call by the end of this week, so I really shouldn’t have been impatiently waiting until now. TRIPODS, if you like a girl don’t make her wait! Even if you say you’ll call on Thursday at exactly 8:13pm we will fucking count the seconds until then. Or at least I will. I hate waiting! It brings out the crazy!!

HA! Microsoft word has a squiggly green line under “fucking” in the above sentence.

DOUBLE HA! It suggested “fuck.”



4.5 hours to go. Boring. I wonder if it’s raining. Juniper has free tickets to tonight’s Mets game. It would be fun to go one more time this season, even if they blow. They always blow.

The 10th inning of Ken Burns’ Baseball was on the past two nights. I didn’t like it as much as the previous innings, probably because I’ve lived through this one. The heavy focus on Bonds and steroid use was depressing, too. Oh well. I might watch his Jazz docuseries next.

I FINALLY got the rest of Dexter Season 4 in the mail. I received the first disc a few weeks ago then kept getting bumped for the remaining three. The funny thing is MD was watching them last week and the minute he mailed them back, I got them. It must be love.

Ah crap, I forgot I was going to write about therapy. I don’t want to today. I don’t want to do anything today besides fake napping.
What else can I write about?

I bought stamps! First time in 2010. I swear to Shizza I am the grubbiest of grubs. Bella, you no longer need to be my stamp pusher.

I bought bedroom curtains! Only took seven years.

The recruiter I’m working with emailed me about a financial analyst position, but I declined. The job description included excel P&Ls…been there done that. I want a junior project manager or IT liaison position. I’ve had enough of being a data analyst, unless of course MeLBa or NeFLa were looking for one. That would rock.

I’m bored with this post now. The end.

Thighs Guyde

Apparently I meet a lot of guys, so I've been asked to make a reference guide for their nicknames and pertinent info.

I figured the best way to do it is create a "guyde" (I'm so clever) label* for this post and add to it whenever I meet a new one that matters. Guys that have mattered thus far:

MD/MDLL (2010 - present) - On again, off again something or other. We've been "hanging out" since Labor Day 2010. Update (05/11) - the past couple of months have been alriiiight.

Nickname origin: I met him at the donkey bar Bacon and I frequent, so in my phone he was Matt Donkey (MD) for a while. MD made me upset a lot, so after one of our "break ups" I decided MD is gone and he is now LL for [Lastname] Lover. Once we got back together he became MDLL.

Update (11/11) - I want to spend the rest of my life with him.

Bacon (2001 - death) - Not a guy, but since she's my heterosexual life partner I figured I'd include her.

Nickname origin: Circa 2002, a marathon drinkfest led us to Johnny Rockets in Hoboken and in her drunken stupor Bakes ordered a double bacon cheeseburger and requested bacon be put on our cheesefries. It was the funniest shit I ever heard and feckin delicious.

Tat BBQ (2009 - 2010) - My first real boyfriend since college. A really great guy, but something wasn't right so I broke up with him. It was the hardest decision I've ever made.

Nickname origin: He has a lot of tattoos. Also, whenever I enter a guy's number into my phone I put their first name and then a clue as to where I met him. Example: Mike Pool because I met him playing pool.

Donovan (2006 - 2008) - I worked with him at Company. I'm starting with him because he's the reason why I decided to write Thighs (crazy, right?). I was head over heels for him and he didn't like me. Blerg.

Nickname origin: He is an Eagles fan so I named him after Donovan McNabb.

Fish (2007) - My first attempt at a long distance relationship, second time I travelled to find love. We met at comic-con and I went to Chicago to visit him a couple of months later. We had sex, a big fight, he was never going to come to NY, and now we're Facebook friends.

Nickname origin: It's his last name. For realz.

Ohio John (2003 - 2004) - My first long distance email crush. Met him through Friendster. I went to Ohio to visit him, had sex, he was never going to come to NY, now he's married, and we're Facebook friends.

Nickname origin: Pretty straight forward.

Softball Pat (2002) - The first guy I liked after college. Not much to say at this point.

Nickname origin: Met him playing softball. I guess I didn't think I needed to be creative for the old ones since they'll never read my blog.

PJ (1999) - My first real love was in college. My shit was a bit fucked for years after the break-up, which is why I've been a commitmentphobe for so long. Or was one anyways (hurrah!). That's his real name.

Psycho Joe (1998) - My first boyfriend. He was a bit of a psycho. Not to me, just in general.

The following guys were never boyfriends, but they did have an impact. Some good, some bad:

The Gentleman (2011) - I met him on New Year's day. MDLL were on one of our breaks. Super nice guy (hence the nickname), but never made me laugh. MDLL and I got back together a few weeks later.

Mick (2010) - Juniper's roommate. Bad decision. Nickname origin: He's a Mc.

Banana (2010) - A friend of a friend I really liked and hoped was "The One," but he ended up being a fuckwad. Bad decision. Nickname origin: Fruit Logic post.

Mr. J (2009, 2010, 2011) - A repeat offender. Not such a bad decision as he's a nice guy. We just aren't meant to be, despite randomly running into each other once a year.

Krull (2008) - Hot redhead. Nuff said.

FB for Famous Blogger (2007) - I liked him, slept with him on our first date, never heard back, and now we're Facebook friends. Not the worst decision ever, but I would have liked to be real friends. Or writing partners.

Hmmm...I guess that's it for now. Random one night stands not included.

*I never thought to label my posts before, but OH MY WORD. The idea of having a "Poop" label is making me extremely happy!

A Word of Advice

I am not one to judge (except if you're a racist, religious fanatic, or litterer). You can talk to me about anything, anytime, anywhere, BUT a word of advice - know your audience. If you are going to ask me if:

you should sleep with a really hot guy, I will say yes.

you should drink your buyback even if you really don't need it, I will say yes.

it was wrong that you didn't tell the cashier they gave you too much change, I will say yes.

you should try ecstasy for the first time at age 35 I will say no, then ask you to buy a couple pills for a friend.

it was okay you didn't give up your seat for a woman who looked pregnant because you couldn't tell if she was knocked-up or just fat, I will say yes on days I am bloated and insecure, no on days I'm not.

you should go on Tatsu, I will say no.

Ummm...I think that's all of my stock answers. No gray, people!

Heeheeheeheehee...

Date with MD went MUCH better. I am a giggly schoolgirl. BEST KISSER OF ALL TIME.

Heeheeheeheehee...

What a night.

I should be taking a disco nap right now, but I can't sleep. I was out until 4am and woke up at 9am. My body is TIRED. I sure hope I feel better soon as I'm meeting up with MD in a few hours. Sweet.

Last night wasn't so sweet. My date with Pool ended on a blah note. We had a few beers, played some pool, and grabbed a quick bite to eat before I headed to Mick's party. I only stayed at the beer garden for an hour, so I came back to meet Pool again after. He was pretty drunk by then and very touchy-feely. Not in a perverted way or anything, more in a completely affectionate and "I like you, Thighs" way. Unfortunately I wasn't feeling it. It sucks because I really do have fun hanging out with him, I just don't want to take it to the next level. Total bummer. We ended the night with a polite break-up discussion. He started it, probably because he could tell I was holding back. I feel really bad and hope we can try to be friends...

I also feel bad because it was stupid of me to go to Mick's party. No good came of it. First off it was so friggin hot out that I couldn't stop the sweaty red and I was ridiculously self-conscious about it the whole time. Second, all of his friends are awesome and it sucks I can't hang out with them. Third, he and I caught each others eye a few times. It wasn't like a lovingly long gaze, but it was more than casual. While this confirmed we do have a connection, it saddens me that I'm still not sure what that connection is. I don't think I have ever been this ridiculously clueless about a guy before. I haven't known shit since day one with Mick. So dumb.

Last dumb thing of the night was our parting discussion. I went to his table and hugged him good-bye. He stopped me and asked why was I leaving. I said I needed to go and he said that I should stay and hang out, that I don't need to leave. He said this a few times. He was really drunk, so who knows what the hell he was thinking but I did feel like he really wanted me to stay. I just couldn't. Then he said he didn't think I wanted to talk to him anymore since I didn't respond to his Facebook comments or text messages. I said I needed time and that I have to go because this is hard for me. I can't remember his response, but I just hugged him and said, "Happy Birthday. I love you, babe."

AARRGGHH!! I swear to Shizza I did NOT mean it like that AT ALL. It just came flying out of my mouth! (TWSS.) He sort of pulled out of the hug and looked at me, then we both mumbled something and I left. It was such a nice (yet awkward) moment until I said that. I was pretty confused by the whole thing and I couldn't get a hold of anyone so I actually called my work phone and left myself a message. I can't wait to hear that shitstorm on Monday.

So yeah, Pool sort of didn't have a chance after that. Blerg. Hopefully things with MD will go well tonight. Fingers crossed!

Dick Tween, Etc.

I was just made fun of by a tween thug.

I was walking down my block and came upon a group of about fifteen 12 year olds (I don't know for sure how old they were as everyone under 25 look like embryos to me now.). The kid said, "Hey what happened to the rest of your hair?" I was totally in my own head and not paying attention, so I made the mistake of turning to look at him. Then he said something about my pussy smelling like beehives. I was so confused that I turned confused-red, which apparently glows in the dark because he then said "She's turning red!", the three cringe-worthy words that have plagued my mutant-self since birth.

At this point there was nothing to do, but keep walking and laugh at myself for being an old loser. I haven't been made fun of in a long time and I gotta say, for a few seconds it felt just like it did when I was a kid. Goddamn hooligans!

Up until the dick tween run-in I've been having a pretty good week. Wait, have I? Things have annoyed me, but I feel pretty stable and positive inside. This week's rundown:

Friday - Date with Pool, the guy I met a few weeks ago at the old man bar. He is very sweet and interesting. Soulful. I like that. We're going out again tomorrow night.

Saturday - I had therapy in the morning. I'll write about it in a separate post. Later that day Bakes and I drank in the hood. She also watched me turn on my oven and all of my burners. I didn't actually cook anything, but it's a start! I bought a fire extinguisher, too. I'm getting there!

Sunday - I went to Crazy Ass by my lonesome to watch the Jets (awesome) game. MD, the guy I made out with on Labor Day, randomly showed up so I got to make out with him again all through the Giants (sucky) game. He might be the best kisser of all time.

Notice I only said "make out." I'm keeping it in my pants, people. Congratulate me!

Monday - Juniper scored free tickets to a John Hughes Tribute after-party. The room with the DJ was a gymnasium with wooden bleachers and a big movie screen showing clips from all of his movies. It was really fun and random, even more random when we met Anthony Michael Hall. (Okay, maybe it wasn't random because we knew the cast of The Breakfast Club would be there. It was just a random night.) In the two minutes I spoke to him I could tell he was a really nice man-whore. I should have hooked up with him. I would not have kept it in my pants, people.

Tuesday - I didn't get home from the after-party until like 2am, so I was exhausted all day. My friend Baba and I got a quick drink, then I went home to crash and detox. Oh alcohol. I really don't know what to do with you.

I was still pretty tired yesterday, so I didn't do much. I met up with Stevie and JP for a little bit, then came home and watched Hot Tub Time Machine. I love that movie.

Tonight I decided to buy a new shirt for tomorrow. Unfortunately it's not to impress Pool, it's to look good at Mick's 30th birthday party after my date. I haven't mentioned him in a while because there hasn't been anything to say. I'm over him. Honestly, after the Boob Saga, I feel like I can get over anything now. I feel so good! Yes I'm still crazy at times (last week), but something is really changing in me now. My confidence is rising and I'm really starting to believe I'm awesome. I like me, I really like me!

Why am I going to his party? For closure, I guess. It's been almost two months since I've seen him. I ignored his texts and Facebook comments for a couple of weeks, then he got the hint. Well until he invited me to his party. I'm not looking forward to seeing him with the troll, but I am looking forward to seeing him. Wait, am I? Huh. Actually I'm looking forward to seeing him and realizing I don't like him anymore. Yep, that's better.

I'm getting closer and closer to meeting the love of my life. I just know it. I'm more interested in MD than Pool at the moment - a good kisser is hard to come by. Heh. The nice thing is I'm not "in love" with either of them. I'm enjoying getting to know both and I'm enjoying meeting new people.

So yeah, it's been a good week. The only snag was my friend Pose invited me to the Giants game on Sunday and I had to say no for financial reasons. I was so bummed, but it was the responsible thing to do. Therapy is going to be a lot, plus I have two Stone Brewery events, New York Comic Con, and Svenica's wedding all in the next three weeks. Pose said she might have an extra ticket for the 10/17 game against Detroit. If so I AM FUCKING GOING.

What do beehives even smell like? Honey, right?

Fartsichord

I manujaggered another word.

Fartsichord

n. my gassy instrument of choice after a night of drinking

WAH! HA!

I just got a haircut. It is AWFUL. I look like a fucking dude. All I wanted was my goddamn mini-mullet cut off and a trim in the front. A TRIM IS NOT TWO INCHES ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE ONLY DEALING WITH FOUR INCHES YOU CUNT!! (Heh. Inches.)

I'm so fucking annoyed. Granted it's probably not much different from what it looked like in May BUT I WANTED TO START GROWING IT OUT.

AND I HAVE A DATE TOMORROW NIGHT. FUCK YOU FUCKBAG.

I can't get a grip this week and the haircut is throwing me over the edge. I even called my therapist Cee today (pre-haircut) and made an appointment for Saturday morning. It's been over a year now since group therapy. I'm not sure when the last time was I had a one-on-one appointment.

I don't know what I'm fucking doing. I really thought I was handling stuff okay this year, but apparently I'm not. I can feel myself falling apart...

Obviously a haircut or my stove fears or a guy or whatever other stupid thing I choose to harp on is all just a distraction from something bigger. BUT WHAT? What could I possibly be dealing with now?? Wasn't the past six weeks enough fucking drama? Why can't I get a mental fucking break?

Ugh. I'd pull my hair out IF I HAD ANY LEFT.

I decided to play with Photo Booth to document this ridiculous mood I'm in. You know what? It totally snapped me out of my funk. It's hard to take myself seriously when I look like this:



Where the hell did my nose go? And whose hand is that?? (Aren't my nails nice now?)

Aaaannd now I'm laughing. Manic depressive giggler, at your service. : ) :

Rest of the weekend...

I walked around the city for a couple of hours on Saturday. It was so beautiful out. A bit hot in the sun, but the shady side of the street was perfect. I took some pictures of churches and hit up two more taco places, the El Idolo cart on 14th Street and 8th Ave and a Mexican deli right next to Bacon's apartment. Both were okay. The El Idolo beef wasn't as tender as I like, but it had a nice salt and peppery taste. I'm not a big fan of chicken tacos and I made the mistake of getting one at the deli. It smelled delicious, tasted meh. At this point I may need a taco break, although I'm told I should get the barbacoa at Chipotle.

The day continued with a plethora of drinking. And fine drinking at that: year old PBR, Modelo, and MiHiLi. I am so classy. Stevie and I went to my favorite old man bar to play some pool. We stayed out until 5am. Or I did, Stevie stayed out even longer! I love late night outs, but I'm like a vampire. I'm scared to see the sunrise because I'll probably implode.

I made out with another guy, too. I finally realized I have no problems meeting dudes. I talk to everyone! This one is really nice. He asked me to hang out on Friday, so I'm going to meet up with him for a bit before I head down to the usual pub. I like the idea of keeping it short and sweet on our first date because I'm not sure what I think of him. Twelve hours of drinking can do that. He might just be my old man bar boyfriend, not my boyfriend-boyfriend. We shall see. Of course he has the same name as Tat and Donovan. Yes, it's a very common name but sheesh!

Yesterday was a glorious day of football (Giants won! WOOT!), ribs, couching, and diarrhea. My ass was vomiting. The alcoholic that I am refuses to blame the beer, instead I blame the Frank's Red Hot Sauce I poured into my Modelos. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I stopped eating hot sauce almost a year ago now!! DUMB GIRL.

I had the strangest dreams last night. In one dream I went to an open call at a modelling agency. The head recruiter was this really thin brunette with a ton of make-up caked on her but-her-face. She took one look at me and asked her assistant for something. The assistant handed her plastic calipers and she proceeded to grab and examine my upper armfat like it was a new species. Then she told me to drop my pants and I cringed, knowing that the size of my thighs (blog!) would freak her out. It did. She asked, "I'm surprised you don't care to be thin." I responded, "I want to be thin, but I'm afraid." Stuff happened and then I was in a big fight with all of the models and recruiters telling them they are all mean, heartless, vain, evil people, that I may be fat but at least I'm awesome. Then I stabbed the head recruiter in the back with a plastic knife. It didn't go through her, but I wanted it to.

In the next dream I was at another open call to play on a pro baseball team. There was a huge line of people waiting to try out and I couldn't remember if I had cut the line or not. Then the manager asked us what is the role of a coach and I said "to know the strengths and weaknesses of each player" and "to call the plays" or something like that. I was quite proud of my answers. Oh and there was only one other girl trying out and I hoped she wasn't as good a player as I am.

I feel like there was more, but I can't remember now...

I write "but" way too much. Conjunction Junction, what's your function?

Hell yeah Sundays:

Revisiting the Past

While going back to New Jersey for follow-up visits is an expensive pain in the ass, I am very glad I had my surgery at the same office as I did as a teen. My parents said it's decorated exactly the same, but it doesn't really look familiar to me. I believe I recognize it on a subconscious level, though. I also believe it helped speed up my healing process, that by going back to the "scene of the crime" I'm getting closure, everything's come full circle, and I can finally move on. With this in mind I went to Greenwich Street on Saturday and stood where I was on 9/11.

When I first wrote my post I originally thought I had taken the 1 train downtown, which was odd because I always took the A/C/E from Port Authority. On Saturday I realized I did take the usual line and walked down Carmine from the West 4th station. As I was retracing my steps, the strangest thing happened. Six cop cars flew down Varick, just like they did nine years ago. My jaw dropped. Somehow the moment recreated itself. I believe deja vu tells us we are exactly where we are meant to be and while I was reliving part of a terrible day, I was comforted by knowing I was supposed to be reliving it.

I stood behind Penguin for a few minutes. I laughed, not because it was funny, but because I was having an honest moment with myself and my past. For whatever reason, I tend to giggle when I'm enlightened. Maybe the Laughing Buddha was onto something.

This is the first year I am ready to discuss or even think about 9/11. I am so happy and proud that I've finally come to terms with my experience. I hope everyone else affected by that day can eventually do the same.

Happy Friday!

Today was a long one. I was so tired this morning that I had three cups of coffee. I thought I'd snap out of it at some point, so I considered going to the Mets game tonight to enjoy the crisp weather (not the actual team). Yeah, but no. I was half asleep all day.

I did rally enough to get a couple of beers with Rocks right after work. Two Firestone Walker Union Jack IPAs later I was raring to meet my pals at the usual Friday pub when I crashed again. Home it was.

On the train ride to Queens I had a massive taco attack. TACOS! I can't get enough!! I couldn't make up my mind between Tacos Mexico or the Broadway truck so I had THE BEST IDEA OF MY ENTIRE LIFE and got a taco at each. And then the best idea got BESTER when I decided to eat said tacos on my roof. My smile could not get any bigger.

Have I posted pictures from my roof? I can't remember. I have a beautiful view of Manhattan. My roof is one of my favorite places to be.

When I got up there tonight, the 9/11 Tribute of Light lit up the sky. The geek in me thinks of the Batsignal while the spiritual wannabe psychic-buddhist thinks it's the souls of the fallen. I love it.

I felt bad eating my tacos in front of the memorial, so I politely ate them with my back to the city. After I finished eating I stared at the lights for a while...

I am very happy I wrote my 9/11 post. I don't know what my deal is this year, but I gotta say, unloading the heavy shit is so freeing. I highly recommend it. That and the guacamole at Tacos Mexico.

Happy Friday!

The interesting thing is...

I was having an amazing day before Kitchen Nightmare 4. I don't remember when I last felt so happy and free.

On Tuesday I had my two week follow-up with the doctor. I'm healing nicely and the girls look terrific. Yesterday was the first day I haven't been in pain or uncomfortable. I was and am thrilled!!

Things at work are going well. Actually I should say I'm managing things at work well, especially my bosses. I finally learned how to adapt to their needs instead of expecting or trying to will them to change. It's never going to happen, but at least I am able to deal until I find a new job. My boss Tennis has been so supportive with my surgery. Although he doesn't know the specifics, he has been very concerned about how I'm feeling and flexible with my days off. I'm grateful I was still at Minnow when this happened because the added stress of a new job would have made this ten times worse. Also, my insurance might even cover it this time. (They didn't back when I was a kid.)

I had a great holiday weekend. Thursday was the first night I drank in two weeks. The night ended with a random birthday party gave me a shot of Patron at a pizza place. I was home by 8pm. Friday I was out much later having gone to seen Machete (GO! It's so fun!) and then out for drinks at Blind Tiger, Amity Hall, and the bar Fiver works at in Astoria. In my drunken stupor I bluntly asked him to come outside so we can make out. He declined, but he did only charge us $5 (Fiver!) for six beers. I'll take discounted alcohol over smooching any night. Luckily I did get some mouth loving (that sounds worse than I mean it to) on Monday night. I met this guy at Crazy Ass and we made out for a good couple of hours at another bar and on the street. He wanted me to come home with him, but I said no. I just wasn't feeling it, plus I had a stitched up boob, hairy legs, and a grandma-sized pair of Hanes on. Back in the day none of that would've mattered, but it does now. I'm growing!

And shrinking! Or will be anyways. After stuffing my face at my family's annual Labor Day party and a street fair in the hood, I decided to start counting calories again. My doctor said I should wait another week before I start running. I cannot wait! Sexy, here I come!

So all day yesterday I felt AWESOME. I couldn't wait to come home, clean the apartment, and chill. As I thought this, an evil idea popped into my head. "You're going to have a gas leak." Wait, what? Why the fuck would I have a gas leak? "Your day is going too well. You're going to come home and something will be wrong. Maybe a roach. Maybe a flood. Maybe your kitchen will kill you."

And there you have it. My freakout started three blocks from my house. When I walked into my apartment I thought my kitchen smelled funny. Then I got all lightheaded and anxious again, like I did the time with the CO poisoning. Then my night was ruined.

My kitchen probably smelled bad because I hadn't washed my dishes in four days. While I had taken the garbage out, I didn't replace the bag in the can (Juniper!) so I had some garbage just sitting in my sink. I also had a vase of dirty water and flower remains sitting on the counter.

I was probably lightheaded and anxious because I was giving myself a panic attack before I even got home. I'm quite possibly PMSing too, and those are two new symptoms I get now that I'm off the pill. I also ran up the four flights of stairs like I usually do, forgetting that I haven't actually done that in two weeks since my surgery. And while I ate about 1100 calories at work, I could have had low blood sugar, too.

All of this plus my insanity made for a crappy night. Two good things did come out of it though: one, my previous post which I've been thinking about writing for four months now and two, I finally submitted an application for renter's insurance which I should have had this whole time.

I cleaned my kitchen this morning and it smelled fine when I came home an hour ago. I've been in my bedroom writing this since then. I think I've finally calmed down now. Maybe there is a connection between my fears and 9/11, but I do have to admit Shunty (my evil, cunty self) can mindfuck the crap out of me if she feels I'm too happy. I really need to learn how to stop that bitch.

The Inevitable NY Blogger Post

Last night I freaked myself out about my kitchen again.

As I wrote the other day, now that I’ve shared one of my most personal life experiences I feel more open to sharing other events that have strongly impacted me. My breast saga was the post I knew I’d always write and am very happy I did. This is The Inevitable NY Blogger Post that I’m forcing myself to write.

My issues with my stove scare the crap out of me. Sure, it is completely rational to be concerned about gas leaks or fires, but the visions and anxiety I feel while worrying about these things is not. At the risk of sounding like a crazy person, from about 7pm to 2am I had awful thoughts of my kitchen blowing up, me on fire, and everyone in my building dying. It was horrible.

After the most recent Stovegate incident earlier this year, I knew I needed to figure out where the hell all of this stress and fear were coming from. It finally occurred to me a few months ago. Only now am I somewhat ready to address it. I hate to admit this, but I think it’s because of September 11th.

Why do I hate to admit this? Because I fucking hate thinking about that day. I also feel like I don’t have a right to be upset about it. I didn’t lose a loved one, I wasn’t at ground zero. Who am I to have a story? Well after nine years of holding it in, here it is:

In June 2001 I got my first job out of college working for Penguin Putnam in the West Village. I still lived in NJ at the time so I used to catch a 6:30am bus and arrive in the city around 8:15am. The commute was rough, but I loved the view of Manhattan from the ramp going into the Lincoln Tunnel. I also liked to either walk the two miles to work from Port Authority or sit in the park on Clarkson Street when it was nice out.

September 11, 2001 was a gorgeous day. I remember sitting on the bus looking out the window and thinking how the city was picture perfect. Typically I would have walked to work, but that day I chose to take the subway. I got off at West 4th, walked west on Carmine, and saw at least twenty cop cars fly south down Varick. The sirens were deafening. Something was definitely wrong.

As I was entering my building, a girl from HR came running out saying that a plane hit one of the towers. We walked around the corner to Greenwich Street where a crowd had formed. We were only a mile away with a clear view of the towers. Through the smoke we could see the hole in the side of the North Tower. At least I’m pretty sure we could. The girl from HR (Kate maybe?) was crying and this is before we even knew what was happening. She just kept saying, “Those poor people. Those poor people.” The construction workers around us were a bit less sympathetic and kept cracking jokes about how the pilot must have been a drunken asshole. I believed them because really, what else could it be?

A few minutes later I was about to take Kate inside when everyone gasped. It happened so fast that I'm not even sure if I saw the second plane hit, but I did watch it explode and a big fireball fill the sky. I’d say it was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, but I still haven't come to terms with what I think. It felt surreal, like I was watching an action movie on an outdoor IMAX screen. At this point even the construction workers flipped out. No one knew what to do so we ran inside the building.

My memories of the rest of the day are in scenes, not one consistent playback. The president of the company came to every floor and said please stay indoors until we know what to do. We went to a conference room to watch the news. My coworker Sharon was hysterically crying because her boyfriend worked at World Trade. When he eventually showed up at her desk completely covered in dust, time stood still as they hugged and cried in each others’ arms. It was one of the most heartfelt and loving moments I’ve ever witnessed.

My best friend at the time was Nicole. She worked at a law firm a couple of blocks away from the towers. I called her a zillion times, but kept getting her voicemail. When she finally answered she yelled at me to stop bugging her because she was getting ready for a deposition and hung up. A few minutes later the first tower collapsed. I cried and called her again, but I think it was around this time that her cellphone service dropped. I didn’t hear from her for two hours and when I finally did, I almost threw up from relief. This is why I won’t switch from Verizon. My phone worked most of that day.

When the first tower collapsed I went into my boss’s office to call my mom. It was pretty stupid to be in there because my boss had a perfect view of the towers. I was on the phone as I watched the second tower fall. Up until that moment I always thought it would be fun to watch a building demolition. I no longer think this.

I don’t remember when we decided to leave the office. Bridget lived up on 42nd Street so a bunch of us walked to her apartment. We were zombies. Everyone was zombies. Someone suggested we get food so there we were, on one of the worst days of our lives, waiting in line for a cheeseburger at McDonald’s. We didn’t know what else to do. On our walk uptown, we saw people crowded around car radios and store televisions. “This Revolution Will Not Be Televised” was blaring from an apartment window. Anytime a helicopter or plane flew over head, we ducked for cover. Again, it was all right out of a movie.

I’m not sure how long I stayed at Bridget’s. The news said NJTransit trains were running again so I went down to New Brunswick to meet my brother at Rutgers. The train was packed with people arguing about what our government should do next. Kill them, bomb them, hang them. There was a lot of anger on that train.

You know who wasn’t angry? College students. I got off the train and I swear to god I thought I was in the Twilight Zone. Kids were chatting, laughing, bike riding. It was a beautiful day, why wouldn’t they be? Richie must have been in class or something because I remember talking to his roommates, then my friend Lou. Lou, I don’t remember what the heck we talked about. All I do remember is looking at my feet (I was wearing sandals) and saying, “I never noticed my big toes were so hairy.” to which Lou answered, “THAT’S what you’re concerned about right now!?!?!”

I’m not sure what time it was when I finally got to Jackson. I laid down on the couch in the fetal position and cried for hours. The next day Richie took me to the park because I didn’t want to be near the television. The week is a blur, but I’m pretty sure I was back to work on Friday the 14th. The city was different. I was different.

I’m not exactly sure when my fear of explosions began. I realize now it must have something to do with the fireball. How could it not, right? I believe the first time I freaked out was on one of the rafting trips. I had nightmares that our campfire would spread or the propane tank at a nearby campsite would blow. My fear seems to have gotten worse through the years as I’m still ridiculously nervous at barbecues, especially when people are smoking too close to the grill. My stove issues haven’t helped ease my neuroses, either. At least three times this year I was overcome by anxious thoughts of my kitchen exploding and killing everyone in my building. This is not good.

Now I’m embarrassed. I feel like a jerk for using 9/11 as a reason to why I am insane. Again, I feel like I don’t have a right to be affected by it, but as you now know, I do have issues with trusting myself and tend to feel guilty about my emotions. I guess it’s also because I feel like a hypocrite. I fucking hate everyone else in the country who weren’t in NY that day or didn’t lose a loved one, yet chant “never forget.” Honestly, I don’t like to remember.

I also don’t like the ignoramuses who use 9/11 as an excuse for hating other religions and cultures. Did everyone hear about the mosque being built two blocks away from ground zero? Of course you have, the media and politicians are having a field day with it. Did you know there's already a mosque four blocks away and another one ten blocks? Probably not, because then this wouldn’t be newsworthy drama. And don’t even get me started on the pastor in Florida. All of this just in time for the anniversary, too…

So what now? Has writing this changed me? Will my fear of explosions magically disappear? Am I insane or traumatized or both? Who knows. Apparently I’m unloading all of my emotional baggage this year, so I figured now was a good time to write about this. Plus at this point I’ll do anything to stop being afraid of my kitchen.

Thanks for reading.

Poop booger!!

That is all.