Job Schmob

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm moving!!!

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

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

Here is my new address:

1 South Dakota Way
South Dakota City, South Dakota
52084

Why South Dakota??

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

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

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

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

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

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

BLECH. South Dakota, here I come!*



*Yeah right.

Awesome.

Gaaakkkk!!!

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

FUUUUUUCKKK!!!

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

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

And guess who I was talking to????

MY MOM!!!**

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

FUUUUUUCKKK!!!

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

So gross...even for me.

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

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

You wanna know what's not nice???

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

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

Breakthrough No. 9: Ball Busting Bitch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me: "Yeah because you were honest."

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

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

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

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

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

I enjoy conflict. I am a ball busting bitch.

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

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

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

Today I learned something very valuable:

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

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

Sweet Irony

UUUGGGGHHHH...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is all.

Old peeps, old habits?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, that third one is me.

Mad Lib Answers!

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

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

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

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

Heather, I love your guts.

Ramble On

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

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

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

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

There's three reasons I did this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* Chorus

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

* Chorus

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

Mad Libs!

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

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

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

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

Hope (noun) (verb) it!

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

My Lovely Lady Dumps

Theeeyy're baaaacckkk!!!

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

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

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

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

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

Hard fucking week.

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

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

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

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

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

CALLED MY MOM AND TOLD HER TO COME TO QUEENS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Upchuck your love.

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

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

~the fucking Jets

~fucking Cicely and her dull pain

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

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

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

MY OLDEST AND DEAREST FRIEND IS A SCUMBAG DICKBITCH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Beer,

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,
Thighs



*smd = suck my dick

And then there's Mom emails...

I just got this email from my mother:

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

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

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

Love Mom

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

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

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

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

Junk email

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

Come get it!

Safely enlarge and enhance the size of your penis!

2 pills a day got me an extra 2 inches.

A bigger cock will always be better.

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

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

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

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

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

My wife complains about my small cock ALL THE TIME!

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

Say "photog" and I'll slap you.

As promised...more pictures!

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

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

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

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

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

Me: "Um well, Joe what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smart Me: Yeah. You're fucking brilliant.

Siiiigh...

Slackin' off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10. R.I.P Mets 2007 season