Dreams squandered, hopes dashed

Sigh.

My ideas about Super Amazing Hot gym guy were right. I heard him speaking Spanish tonight (I think) while pouring over what I can only assume is a new iPhone. Every single person at work has one, so I know for sure what they look like. (But really because of Donald, duh)

Anyway, homebody had just received a "tess messig" (there is apparently no Spanish (again, not sure) for text message) and couldn't for the life of him figure out how to read it or reply to it or do anything with it. For about 20 minutes. I enjoyed all of his other beefy, spanish-ish speaking friends crowding around him and trying to help him figure it out.

I smiled.

And then went to my car and hung my head low (with shame) on their behalf.

Confessions of a 28th Holiday Season

The following short list of things occurred to me recently as things that I would never have thought I would find myself thinking. Well, maybe not ever. But these are still some long shots. If any of them make you throw up in your mouth a little, with shame-sympathy on my behalf, I apologize well in advance. These confessions are a big step for me, so please be kind. So kind. Shhhh.


Here we go:

I'm really hoping that Britney's new CD is a hit. I bought it, a REAL CD. I can't help but root for her. Shit!

The trailer to Marley & Me has made me tear up, multiple times. Crap!

Exercise really does make me feel better. Sigh.

I love my job. Seriously!

I don't so much mind the frozen tundra. Oh cruel world!

I'm actually looking forward to Christmas this year. Ahhh!

And the Ultimate Confession: I'm pretty fucking happy.*



*I know I know. Don't remind me (too much) or this blog is really going downhill fast.

the most wonderful time of the year

First, work explodes into a high intensity stress fest.

Then, my exam gets rescheduled.

Later, work gets trickier and The Mayor and I shit can Big Red (I haven't even had time to revel in the glory that is my very own office!).

Meanwhile...I'm trying to christmas shop, attend various festivities, not piss anyone off by being super busy all the time AND get my beauty sleep.

It IS so hard being me.

Things has gotten away from me a bit and I readily admit that. I think the fact that I DVR programs for the specific purpose of having the TV on the background while I'm doing other things (dishes, present wrapping, blog writing) speaks volumes. Yes. I record specific programs for this reason.

Other signs that something important is about to slip through the cracks:
*Dinners of Skinny Cows and wheat thins
*A 25% full DVR, mostly containing re runs of Bridezillas that I can't bring myself to delete
*Not having even looked at the materials for my exam since I found out it's now in January
*The inability to make simple decisions: What flavor of yogurt DO I want?
*A serious lack of attention to Gchat AND my facebook status
*The fact that I now change the sheets on my bed every two weeks instead of every one week
*An ambivalent attitude toward my credit balance at all times
*The serious and long consideration of the following topic: I can do all of my christmas shopping at Newbury Comics, right?

I wouldn't say I am spinning out of control or about to start taking NoDoze to keep up with my busy schedule (Please, I still manage to squeeze in 8 hours plus a night. A woman has her limits.) but I would say that I spend substantially less time in my lounging clothes in this month of December.

Now that is the true tragedy.

An open letter to Big Red

Dear Big Red,

Because I cannot actually go completely ape on you about all the little things that drive me crazy about you because it's completely unprofessional AND because I do need you to help me in certain ways, I've decided to itemize them here, in hopes that it will ease some of the desire I have to simultaneously punch you in the throat and knee you in the balls.

1. Do not speak to me unless I ask you a direct question. If you have a question for me that is work related (and work related only), you may raise your hand to get my attention.
2. Do not put your feet up on your desk.
3. Do not sit with your legs open.
4. Try, just please try, NOT to sound like a douche every time you get on the phone.
5. Do not look at me.
6. Do not give me creepy, back handed compliments about my clothing, hair, or any other part of my appearance.
7. Do not talk to me about your girlfriend.
8. Related to number 7, do not talk to me about your personal life unless I ask you a direct question (refer to number 1).
9. Do not speak in a passive aggressive tone to potential future employees of our company. I know this is a hard one for you. I've talked to you about it, and you still seem to think it necessary, so it must be really hard if I haven't been able to get through your thick, fire crotch skull yet.
10. Related to number 9, do not patronize potential future employees. It makes you sound like a real asshole.

Thank you for your time and consideration. If you have any questions about the above itemized list, please refer to direction number 1.

Sincerely,
S

A post for KB

My weekends lately have been quite hermit-like. This isn't because I've given up on life or am turning into some crazy shut-in. I just need some special alone time. To stay sane.

I should be using this time to study for my upcoming exam. And I have, a little bit. Admittedly, not as much as I should. But that isn't the point of this entry.

Because of my existence, particularly this weekend, I've started to watch Bridezillas on We.

Have you SEEN this shit?

This bitches are craaaazy and need to be medicated. I cannot believe that adult women act like spoiled six year olds and then think it's appropriate to display this behavior, for all to see, on television. Horrific.

In this particular episode, one bride receives her veil, decides she hates it and proceeds to rip it to shreds with her own hands. The other bride (yes, they manage to squeeze in two per hour long episode) is nowhere near as terrible of a person, but it still pretty horrible. She's already told off her mother-in-law, who was trying to convince her NOT to put rhinestones in her bouquet. How does said bride think that rhinestones in her flowers is a good idea?

Both of these women are ugly on the inside and out. Maybe if you weren't so nasty, you would have better skin, shinier hair, and no horrible black bags under your eyes. And the mothers of these nasty ass hoes are revealing of the fact that these apples don't fall too far from the tree.

I may not understand the stress a bride is under, but I cannot imagine that these women are that much different in their regular lives. Yikes.

To my future fiance, should he be out there somewhere, we are so totally eloping.

Horrible, horrible people.

And I can't stop watching them.

Does that make me just as horrible?

Nah. I think it just means I love me some shitty reality television.

Paintballing: It hurts SO good

Friday was our company paintballing activity. I had never been and, when asking my new co workers how I should prepare, their only response was "Wear lots of layers."

On Thursday night, when learning that I had never been, two of my new co workers widened their eyes and said "You are going to be SO sore all weekend." My response: "Really? Sore from WHAT? I work out all the time [lies!] so I'll be fine." They just laughed at me. Silly, silly new HR Manager girl!

Now a full 48 hours after the fact, I can barely get up and down my stairs without wincing. This is unfortunate because my humble abode is in fact two floors. Getting up and down off the toilet is also very painful and pathetic.

The problem? It's two fold: Crouching and Squatting.

Now, unless you're Jason Varitek or some other major league catcher, you don't often find yourself crouching OR squatting for extended periods of time. And if you are perchance doing either of these actions, it it very rarely for minutes on end.

For those of you who have never played paintball, getting hit by one of those little fuckers HURTS. I don't care how tough you are or pretend to be, because I'm pretty god damn tough. I had three layers on top and one on bottom. In hindsight, this was no where near enough. In order to avoid getting nailed by a paintball, you spend most of your time either running while also crouched over, or just squatting behind some sort of barrier to avoid the hail of little plastic balls filled with water based paint.

A fair number of the guys have their own equipment and play frequently. Two of them brought specialty rapid fire guns. One of the those guys was on my team, although he did nail me at one point in friendly fire. To his credit, he didn't know it was me. The other guy was Big Red. And since I very much believe in karma, I wasn't so shocked to hear that Big Red sprained his ankle during his last game (he then had to leave early). Everyone together now! AWWWW.

We played five games. In the last game, I was hit so hard (IN THE BACK!!) that I started to cry and had to leave the game. I felt like the BIGGEST asshole, but felt much better after I learned I was the third person to leave the game BUT the first lady. ha HA!

I think I gained a certain level of respect with some of the guys. At least I hope I did. Even if not, it was the most fun involving extreme (for me) physical activity that I've had like, ever.

TMI: A Fair Warning

I'm about to overshare. I've obviously been spending too much time with Big Red.

So here goes...

I have my period.

It's either that, or my sex drive is finally returning after an eight month hiatus.

No...it's because I have my period.

For the past month or so, maybe more (I've lost track of time in general), I've been scoping out a SEXY ASS at the gym. This guy is delicious. Y-U-M-M-Y.

My attraction reached a frothy peak this evening.

Why this particular muscle man, you ask?

He has a perfect body, but doesn't flaunt it, works out for what I am sure is hours (I never stay that long), but doesn't grunt, groan or stand around with his buddies with his hand down his pants, making sure every woman in a 100 foot radius knows how big he thinks his dick is. He quietly strains. He subtly struts. He smolders.

My beautiful, beautiful man.

I'm pretty sure I caught him looking at me tonight. But he could have totally been looking at the female trainer who was doing some come hither maneuver on the yoga ball next to me. Bitch!

Yummy and I have made brief eye contact a few times (OK...exactly twice), but I'm scared of him he's so beautiful. The words "Hello I think you're yummy wanna bang?" don't so much roll off the tongue lately. Or ever.

And how can I flirt at the gym? Especially after cardio. The dark, sweaty circles under my boobs cannot be sexy. Match that with the afro that my hair turns into after sweating my ass off for 30-40 minutes, the abundant ass crack/flop sweat, and the mascara running down my face. Not cute.

So I will continue to watch him glisten from a distance and hope he doesn't catch me staring at him while he's doing his squat thrusts. mmmm HMMMM.

Big Red like whoa

I started my new job on Monday. It rules.

There A LOT of confidentiality rules, so I'm not even going to tell you what the company does or who I work for, except in broad strokes, otherwise I would get so canned and I don't want to risk losing this job because it's really rad. Those of you who know where I work, I beg you not to mention details in any comments you may or may not post. I won't publish them. Just warning you not to take it personally.

What I can tell you are the following things:
1. It's awesome.
2. I'm still doing HR.
3. I share an office with a guy I will lovingly refer to in this post and moving forward as "Big Red."

I technically manage Big Red. He's a super nice guy, I'll start with that. However, he's an oversharer, which I really despise mostly because I used to be an oversharer. But that was about 10 years ago, when I was a freshman in college. And Big Red happens to be right around my age. He should have grown out of this stage by now. No one wants to know that your Dad is a recovering drug addict or that you've been with your girlfriend for three years, but only see her on weekends. I could go on and on here.

I work with some extremely socially awkward people. I've been told by "The Big Guy" aka "The Mayor" that Big Red just wants to be everyone's friend. But let's face it, the awkward guys should be the ones doing the real work, the work that makes us all more money, not the HR/Ops stuff. We should be the smooth ones.

Not Big Red.

Added to that, I share my office with Big Red. In fact, our desks face each other. They touch. He came up with a great (NOT) idea today to teach me about the industry. (I'll give him that he knows more than I do). This is made up of word of the day definitions and meanings of various industry related acronyms. After he reached about three, I told him that was enough for today. He then informed me he would quiz me tomorrow to make sure I had retained the information. I'm not sure how much longer I can go before I tell him that our conversations are limited to work related issues. Unfortunately this new little game of his technically falls under that category. Hrm.

Big Red is so weird.

We all go paintballing next Friday. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.

Madge, seriously? Really? Shut the fuck up

I went to the Madonna concert tonight. If you can't tell by the title of my entry, I really wasn't having it.

Some disclaimers: I'm not so much a large stadium concert person. I'm not so much into dance music. I do not own Madonna's two most recent albums. I paid $115 for my nose bleed (three rows from the very top!) ticket. My sister was next to me, and dripped sweat on me (AND repeatedly scratched me with her bracelet, then did not apologize) because she was doing a full on aerobics routine for nearly two hours. There were four of us and someone (I won't name names) only bought three bottles of water (after offering to get me one) and then offered me the swill left in hers when she realized the other two had been drained. Yum!

It's an election year. It's a big deal. It's less than a month away.

Today was my last day of work. I'm tired. I'm drained. I'm stressed.

I am taking into account ALL of these things.

Other pertinent information: The amount of money and fame that Madonna has is ridiculous. I mean, let's give her publicist a round of applause.

Yes, that's right!

Stop what you're doing.

(I'm serious)

I'll wait

....

....

....

And clap your hands for that person.

I hope they retire early. That's miracle work.

To continue: Her money and fame allow her to do some awesomely self indulgent shit. She's worked very hard to get what she has and she deserves what ever crazy insane out of control completely unnecessary lasers she wants. She looks great for 50. I saw her Reinvention tour two years ago and was blown away. The lady puts on a show. I'm not denying any of this.

Now the good part. Let me tell you what I HATED about this concert.

1. The sheer amount of electric energy that went into putting on the show, during which we had to watch a cute little montage about taking more responsiblility as citizens, and using green energy.

(my throat is tightening)

2. As if the completely random and slanted political montage wasn't enough, we had to listen to her "talk" to us for 5 minutes about how we better be "fucking" registered to vote and we better "fucking" vote for Obama and how Madge "won't mention what an idiot Sarah Palin is." Listen. I'm ALL for having a political agenda you support and are passionate about, no matter what side of the fence you are on. I admire it. Bravo and all that shit. What I absolutely will not tolerate is having to pay to hear her policital agenda. Take an add out. Write an article. Do an interview. Anything else. I am paying for YOU to entertain ME. Period. Get off your fucking soap box and stop lecturing me. And should I even bother to mention that WE DON'T LIVE IN A SWING STATE SO IT DOESN'T MATTER!!!

Ok, I'm sorry about the caps. But I really needed the emphasis on this one.

3. Yet another montage about commercialism and how we are all stupid for being swayed by media and basically blind and stupid. Uhm...then give me my $115 back and stop selling T-shirts for $50.

Is this completely enraging anyone else?

4. Her arms. They are gross. Eat a sandwich and lay off the Bikram Yoga for a month. Just enough. You're fit. We get it. Wear more things with sleeves.

5. Her fake hair. You're 50. Stop with the extensions and please don't "grow" bangs mid show. I just. Sigh. I just can't deal with it.

6. The almost constant demand for the audience to scream louder and jump higher. Leave me alone! Let me BE, woman!

The vein in my neck is throbbing again so I will leave you with this one last thought: I want my money back.

The one where modesty completely escapes me

Something was brought to my attention last night by a very dear friend (lots of love, CJ) that had seriously never occured to me. I'm not lying. Not at all.

People are jealous of me? Or maybe we should call it envy. Is there a difference?

Now I don't mean all people and would not be able to tell you who. But after about ten minutes of convincing, I came around to this: If I really sit back and evaluate myself from someone else's perspective (or at least try, this is nearly impossible), on the surface of things, I really have my shit together and am pretty awesome.

Honestly, I had no idea. To me, I'm a big giant mess with mommy issues.

The doctor will patronize you now

I was flooded with new material last night while I was trying to fall asleep. Maybe it's my own way of escaping from my "real" problems or maybe it's yet another form of proscrastination. Either way, you better like it.

Last Friday I had a physical with my primary care physician. I obviously don't know her all that well, since I rarely go to this particular brand of doctor, but I decided back in late summer that I should really go and make sure I had a clean bill of health, my blood wasn't infected with any strains of rare bacteria, and that I hadn't caught Hepatitis C from my old roommate. I hear that spreads like wildfire in tanning beds and I also hear it's just horrible. Early detection is key!

I started out with a very grumpy nurse, (why are they always so sullen?) who had me stand awkwardly in the hallway while she prepared my pee cup. Really? We can't do this in an exam room somewhere? She handed it to me and pointed to the bathroom. Apparently nurses do not speak. Lucky for her, I had to go. I actually had to go too much and I overfilled the thing. So I had pee all over my hands and it was just generally unpleasant. I cleaned up and handed the cup back to her and she proceeded to open it and put pH strips in it just, you know IN THE HALLWAY. Ugh.

Then after waiting for a little too long for the doctor to come in, she arrived and started asking me all of the requisite questions. I lied and told her I didn't drink or do drugs and that everything was "just great." Because what can she really do about my digestive problems besides tell me to keep a food journal and then NOT diagnose me with IBS? Why bother! I'll just keep self medicating on that one, thanks.

Then she asks me about what medications I'm on, I tell her, then she asks me this question: "So the antidepressant you take, does that make you happy?"

EEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. What kind of fucking question is THAT coming from a DOCTOR? I know I did that thing where my chest got all blotchy and red because I was pissed (also happens when drinking) and I just said "Yes, exactly. It makes me happy." She asked me a few minutes later during the "exam" part if I was allergic to the detergents they wash their johnnies in. Yeah, that must be it.

We quickly moved on to talking about Tetnus shots.

We decided I couldn't remember the last time I had gotten one, so let's do this thing. She tells me I may have a mild reaction of a fever or maybe a redness around the injection site but nothing major. Sounded fine to me. The grumpy nurse comes back in, quietly gives me the shot and then says THIS gem: "Grrrrl, that shot is gonna to make you SO sick."

Wait, what? Can all of you maybe chit chat amongst yourselves before giving me medical information? Or maybe you can get a nurse who isn't such a Debbie Downer? Just maybe?

Four days later, I didn't get sick at all. My arm was a little sore from where the shot was but other than that, absolutely nothing happened.

And I guess if I had the hiv, I would have gotten a phone call by now.

Things to do when you're bored at work...

...but still trying to look "busy"

1. hassle others into blowing off their jobs to play games on the internet with you.

2. write notes no one will read on your facebook page.

3. walk around and start saying "goodbye"'s one week early.

4. take long trips to the bathroom, intentionally or unintentionally.

5. when given a real work task, delegate to your replacement immediately.

6. write lists of things you intend to do at home, but that you will most likely continue to put off because, let's face it, you're kind of lazy.

7. shop online (this is less fun when you don't have any money).

8. daydream about your new flat screen television.

9. listen to voice mails and then hold the receiver to your ear long after the recording has finished (hold between shoulder and chin while typing lists for extra "busy" effect).

10. Put post it's labeled "mine" on items on your desk that are obviously not at all yours, and wait for others to comment, then act as though you have no idea how those post-its appeared. Alternatively, blame it on the cleaners.

I want hooters

This past Saturday, Donald and I were puzzled as to where we should get lunch whilst out on our errand running. I suggested Kelly's originally and he wasn't so much having it (can't really blame him), but then I remembered that a new restaurant had opened up recently right down Route 1.

And yes, that new restaurant is none other than the infamous Hooters.

Now I had never been to a Hooters but I have always ALWAYS wanted to go. I had a picture of what it would be like in my head but N=nothing, however, could prepare me for the full blown adventure that is lunch on Saturday at Hooters in Saugus, MA.

First of all, there is an endless line to get in. It was 1pm and it was almost akin to waiting in line at Target on tax free weekend. When I got inside, I immediately understood why. It really is very warm and welcoming. I think it's all the wood paneling.

There is orange EVERYWHERE. The ladies are in tight white tank tops and ridiculously short polyester orange shorts. Yet, none of the men (that I could see) were oggling or being rude. They, like myself, were taking in the entire sensory experience. There were families there! Everyone from Grandma checking out cleavage to little Joe eating curly fries, completely oblivious to what was going on around him.

The wings (I had to get wings) were amazing and the prices were reasonable. There were flat screen TV's as far as the eye could see. What's not to love??

Now, I'm sure that later in the evening, things get a little shifty. When the men start knocking back those beers, the ladies who are employed there most likely put up with some serious bullshit. Keeping that in mind, I gave our lovely waitress Kacey (Kaley? Kailen? who knows) a very generous tip.

But I will return to investigate and frollic in the night time (if I can even get past the door) and report back to you. I promise.

S&M 80's drama

Everything was going just fine last week. A crisp fall breeze was in the air, I that that wart on my foot is finally going away, and I was looking forward to a final countdown of old, icky job and starting a new, amazing job.

Then the drama started. Without getting into details, I'm caught up in a web of manipulation and chaos that I've been running from since my teenage years. The separation has gotten harder to maintain and I'm out of ideas as to what the fuck I'm supposed to do next.

So once again, I choose to do next to nothing. It seems the best avenue for self preservation. That's the goal, right? RIGHT!??!

But the guilt is plentiful and runs deeps. There's the rub.

In other news, I saw a woman on the T last night wearing black stirrup pants with the stirrups hooked BEHING her high heels. I cannot get the imagine out of my head. It's like she was trying to channel an S&M 80's style. No, there was no ball gag but still...she was one whip away from an episode of Saved By The Bell gone horribly, terribly wrong.

If I had been thinking, I would have snapped a picture. I'm so sorry I did not. You know, for your sake.

Things that are not ok with me, in no particular order

The return of "NKOTB"

Picking out your own engagement ring

Satin shoes in the rain

Soup as a meal

Platform flip flops

Scrunchies

Arrogance

Pleated pants

Inconsistency

Sarah Palin

Women who don't eat

Muffin top

blisters

Aces!

A week ago, I would never have thought I would be writing to tell you that I GOT A NEW JOB.

Yes, that's right! It is in the entertainment industry (the details are top secret) and I am really excited.

In addition, plans for the "Great Trip Back East" are solidified and my plane ticket is booked.

This is a GREAT day.

A blog true to its name

Good lord! What is with the over-indulgent use of the ellipses?

I'm all for a good "dot dot dot" myself, but this has gotten out of control.

Admittedly, I use this particular tool here frequently, mostly for (comedic) effect.

In fact, I probably use parenthesises, quotation marks and double entendres entirely too much. But I always have a purpose, I always complete my thoughts. I don't leave you hanging (much).

Some sample of my outrage are below.

Text examples:
"lol..."

"I've never heard of that..."

"That sucks..."

Uhm, what?!?! and Why?!? The overuse is really making me angry.

Email examples:

"Thanks, Stephanie….."

"Thanks, Stephanie for checking into this…."

Were you going to complete that thought or did a period JUST not do enough for you?

I'm so worked up.

A New Look

I decided a change was in order. Since there is no way I'm cutting or dying my hair, and those colored contacts didn't work out, a new blog template will just have to do.

I don't know if I love it, though.

RIP has never had so many meanings

Last weekend, while getting into my car on a rainy Saturday night before going out to dinner, I felt an interesting sensation on the back of my right thigh. The sensation was...a slight breeze.

My favorite jeans had ripped straight across the back of my thigh, right up near my ass cheek.

As luck would have it, I was at a friends house who happened to have some spare jeans in my size. This, while lucky and an extremely kind gesture, did not ease my pain.

These jeans were the perfect length, wash, waist, lycra content and rear pocket size. Any woman will appreciate all of these attributes in one jean.

The seat of the jean seems a common place for them to give way. I suppose they lived a full and satisfying life, but that doesn't help that the Gap doesn't make them anymore and that they are lost and gone forever.

First the toilet seat, now this.

Heavy, heavy sigh.

BREAK age

Hrm.

I just noticed it's been an entire two weeks since I've posted a word. What the hell have I been doing?

Let me see if I can come close to justifying my lack of posts.

(Probably not)

Well, a dear friend is getting married and it seems that quite a bit of my time and energy has been taken up in trying to figure out how I'll put together an outfit. I'm not sure that's a good enough (in fact it's so lame) excuse.

I've been obsessed with thinking about studying for my HR certification test, but not so much actually doing the studying. I gave myself some hard deadlines tonight and worked out a reasonable plan of attack. This makes me feel in control, which is...very necessary. The test is in early December which seems really far away, but really isn't. It's less than three months away, which is about 11 weeks or 77 days, in which time I really need to learn everything and anything that has to do with "my" profession. As it turns out, I don't know shit about it.

Whoops.

Uhm...I guess I've been getting a sufficient amount of sleep, and also reading more books. (Good for me!) I've also been relatively busy at work (ok, I was really busy at work, but for the last week I've been doing very, very little), which cuts down on blogging time. Oh and my laptop here at home was acting up a bit and I had to do a bunch of fixes to it, so by the time that was all done, I didn't really feel like I had anything interesting to post.

Like this has been so interesting.

I guess the point (I'm getting there) is that you won't be hearing from me as much but don't worry, (I know some of you have your tendencies) I'm just fine.

The thought of not passing this certification doesn't haunt me in my sleep...much.

Netflix, will you be my lovah?

Seriously. I just got this email from Netflix.

We're sorry your DVD shipment was delayed

Dear Stephanie,

As you may know, we had issues with our shipping systems this week. As a result, we didn't ship DVDs to you in a timely manner, and you likely didn't receive email letting you know we got a DVD back from you. Our shipping systems are working again, and any outstanding DVD shipments are being mailed today (Friday).

We pride ourselves in delighting you, and we've let you down. We apologize, and we will issue a 15% credit to your account in the next few days. You don't need to do anything. Your credit will automatically be applied to your next billing statement.

Again, we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding. If you need further assistance, please call us at ********.

-The Netflix Team

Uhm...excuse me? I'm completely baffled by this and have been reading and re-reading it for the past half an hour.

In truth, I haven't been so into watching movies of late. The two movies I have at home right now are heavy dramas that I haven't been so much in the mood to watch. Therefore, it hasn't been a rapid back and forth with the glorious red envelopes, so I hadn't been paying too close attention.

They apologized to me (and are giving me money!!) for something I didn't even notice they did wrong.

Be still my heart.

The one where I'll always have a place to sit

Things have been busy at work and in my head, so I know the posts are infrequent. All I can say it, deal with it. Ha.

For reasons not necessary to mention, I had to go shopping for a new toilet seat on Saturday.

A toilet seat isn't something one buys too many of in their lifetime. I know many of you have probably never purchased one at all. It's an odd thing to buy. This happened to be the second time I had to purchase one. Sigh.

As odd as it was, I successfully navigated Lowe's (without assistance) to the "Toilet Seats" section. Normally I can never find anything I need in Lowe's OR The Home Depot. They always move things and it's absolutely enraging. And of course it's the ONE time I don't need help, when I'm already carrying my shiny new toilet seat, that a very friendly woman approaches me and asks "Are you all set, ma'am"?

Ugh...ma'am.

All in all it was a successful, if not bizaar adventure.

And let's face it: Knowing I'm the only one to put my ass on that seat (except maybe the person at the factory whose job it is to test them?), is excellent knowledge to possess.

Deep Olympic Thoughts

The breast stroke is weird.

The beach volleyball guys should not be required to wear shirts. The women aren't!

I don't like swimming (there's so much swimming!!), but I really enjoy watching volleyball, beach and indoor.

I'm sick of hearing about Michael Phelps already. I know he's breaking all these records and stuff and that's really cool and all but...it's really hard for me to get and stay excited about it. It's either one or the other (get or stay, that is).

Bella Karoly is nearly impossible to understand. Also, his mustache is fascinating.

Bob Costas does not age. He has whatever Dick Clark had, pre-stroke (bless his heart).

If I won a Gold Medal, I would be blubbering all over myself during the medal ceremony. Think about what an amazing accomplishment you would be celebrating. I would be sobbing. Some of these people don't even well up. Give me a break. Robots!!

Gymnasts are amazing. Holy shit.

Even more signs of the Apocalypse

I know you all remember this.

Well I have a few more additions.

"Living Lohan" (Thanks Rae. How could I leave it out?)

The "No Child Left Behind" Initiative

The Jonas Brothers. The only thing "Burnin' Up" is the bile in my throat. Way too skinny jeans, strange head bandanas and pretending to play instruments? All I can do is stare with my mouth agape until I'm pulled out of my trance by the screaming tweens. Yeah, and that shit is SOLD OUT.

LOL cats. Admittedly, I'm totally addicted and amused. But I know it's not good, not good at all. I realized it was sign of the end of days when I made one of my own out a picture of my parent's cats in the dryer. Whoa.

"High School Musical 3." THREE? Really? Why?!?!

"Million Dollar Listing." Where douche bags run free and it's amazingly hard to turn away.

How anyone can ever EVER think that Adam Levine is sexy. If sexy is a bag of bones in size 2 leather pants and a wife beater, then fine. Otherwise...NO.

That's it for now.

A Magical Evening, Part 2 of 2

Ok so...my lady friend and I sat and watched the swing dancing "lessons" on the back deck of the ICA. I use the term "lessons" loosely because the instructors were less than precise about their direction. They were actually both a big mess. Everyone was confused and hilarity (at least to us) ensued.

There were all kinds of people partaking, some cute, and some utterly ridiculous. There were more fanny packs and tourists than I care to speak of.

It was while we were watching that I realized this was the most fun I had had in the longest time, and I couldn't stop laughing. I was wiping my eyes from the tears every few minutes. I could blame it on being extremely over tired, or on being so giddy that it was Friday, or maybe my lady friend and I were just a match made in heaven at that moment.

So while we were on the back deck, we both realized that Anthony's Pier 4 was next door and that neither of us had never been and didn't know too much about it but had heard (in general terms) that the food was good.

It all started innocently. We opened our menus to paruse the choices and I quickly realized how ridiculously over priced all of the entrees were. Sure, it included dishes like prime rib and lobster, but the prices were 50% more than they would be in any other restaurant Boston waterfront restaurant. Then I looked around and realized we were the youngest people there by about 20 years. Then I also realized that this is where people who wanted to throw away their money and eat shitty food came to dine. And I knew immediately that this whole experience would be a large waste of money.

But it would NOT be a waste of time. Oh no.

Our attitude at that moment is best described as a quote from a classic 80's movie: "Sometimes you just have to say 'What the fuck.'"

So that's what we did.

Our waiter was shaping up to be a complete moron. He didn't know what Lobster Newburgh (a regular dish on the menu, which we found what just bisque with a tail in it) was. Either it was his first day or he had a touch of the Down's. I'm not sure. But either way, we decided it would be fun to mess with his head.

And so our romatic dinner as a lesbian couple began. I, of course, was the dominant one, ordering for my lady friend and not letting her speak directly to the waiter. She would slip up occasionally, I would threaten her life in front of the wait staff and then she would pretend to cry a bit. It was all was very well played.

The looks we got from him (and the water guy) were priceless, and there are not words that exist in nature to describe them. We made it a night where we got our money's worth.

But we'll never go back to that stupid place again.

A Magical Evening, Part 1 of 2

A lady friend of mine (she knows who she is) accompanied me to the ICA last Friday night. It's taken me a while to collect my thoughts on the evening, as I was overwhelmed by how much fucking fun I had.

Ok so...for those of you not in the know, the ICA = Institute of Contemporary Art. I don't tell you this to insult your intelligence. I tell you this because both my lady friend and I had to look it up, yet neither of us had admitted this to each other.

I had gotten some free tickets to the ICA from a co-worker and was trying to think who would be fun to go with, who might be interested in weird shit (because, let's be honest, that's what most contemporary art is), and who I could tolerate for a few hours on a Friday night after a hellish work week (because that list of people is quickly becoming very, very short. It's me, it's not you).

On this particular evening, I got caught up at work, even though I was determined to leave at 4:30, but of course one of the owners, right before I was headed out, had to talk to me for 8 minutes about how he was unsatisfied with his most recent flight (that he had just returned from, that I had booked, because I'm basically a personal assistant now) and what I need to do differently next time. Instead of telling him to book his own fucking flight if he didn't like how I booked it, I just smiled and nodded and flew past him, as he was asking me while I was leaving before 5.

So I finally met my lady friend at the train station and we made our way over the the Seaport. We couldn't find the main entrance to the ICA because apparently even the way you get in the building has to be unexpected, unique and different. Sigh. Then we couldn't figure out what floor to go to but found one of the exhibit halls completely by accident, after almost entering some sort of strange sound studio/office where I'm pretty sure a couple of guys were fighting about cubicle culture.

So for the next hour, we acted like 12 year olds, making fun of all the ridiculous shit that someone, somewhere, has labeled as art. Some examples: a video of an underwearless black dude walking down a sidewalk; some pictures that the artist definitely took when he was high as a kite, in which he drew a "half pipe" with chalk on pavement and then took a series of pictures "skateboarding" on the chalk half pipe; and then another video of the same pothead artist spray panting...and then re-spray panting a wall. However, not all of it was ridiculous. There was a really cool exhibit that we got into which experimented with the possibilities of sound and space, but not without some requisite pussy jokes that couldn't be passed up.

The staff at that place is...something else. I got more dirty looks in that place than I've gotten in the last week combined. That's a lot of dirty looks!

We were pretty fed up with the ICA at this point, only because we thought it was pretty stupid and mildly boring. THEN...we saw it.

On the back deck of the building, over looking the water, swing dancing lessons were in full...swing.

Gosh! It's so...glamorous!!

I realized I haven't written in a week. What is WAH-RONG with me??

I had a very magical evening last Friday night, one that deserves its own (if not two of it's own) blog entr(ies). So, stay tuned for that.

In other news, I think I've reached a new high with my hair. I know, I know. I'm writing about my hair. It's terribly superficial. Shame on me.

But anyway...my hair looks great lately. Sure it still drives me nuts and there are days, especially when it's 90 degrees outside, that I think I'm absolutely insane to have wasted going on two years of my life now growing it out. Also I have some stray grays which are...not that cute. But if I part it the right way, you can hardly see them. But I just fucking love it. I love twirling it while I fall asleep at night. I love running my fingers through it and making is shiny. I love the color of it.

I just love it!

Ok...I promise to write something more substantial soon. I PROMISE.

The one when I go off about people who are way too self entitled

I happen to be around quite a few people who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth...and I'm around them way too much. Professional hazard.

I hope that someone puts me out of my misery if the day ever comes when I think something is below me. We'll list manual labor, or anything that may fall under that category, as an example. I happen to work in an office that stores ridiculous quantities of paper, in all shapes, sizes and forms. Occasionally these papers will need to be brought out of the cobwebs for review, but guess what? It is VERY much below many people here to stoop to such a level. Get my OWN files from downstairs? And CARRY them UPSTAIRS? They can't be bothered. Some of these snobs can't even load a coffee cup into the dishwasher. They leave it for those of us who weren't blessed with the god given talent of drawing lines on paper. And plus, they are way too busy being assholes to everyone who "doesn't understand."

Even some of those on the last rung of the totem pole have their over-compensating sense of entitlement. That is even more mysterious to me.

I just don't get it. I went to college, then I did my time in the trenches. I did anything and everything that was asked of me and then some. I didn't bitch (too much) about having to do it, either. You work hard to be successful. Sometimes you have to drive a fork lift and wear fingerless gloves. It doesn't stop at getting a BA, an MA or even a fucking PhD. What is wrong with these people? Why do they think their shit doesn't stink? Why do they seemingly appear to think they are god's gift to the world?

Last time I checked, we weren't saving lives or curing cancer. So drop the fucking attitude.

Ugh I've had enough.

Scrab's Wart

Hello hello.

The groin is fine, for those of you who were wondering. It was unbearably intense pain for most of the day on Friday, but by the evening (+ three Mich Ultra's) I was feeling grand.

Work has been busy during the end of last week and beginning of this one. Busy is good. Busy is also annoying. I go back and forth.

My new friend Scrabulous ("Scrab") has been taken down from Facebook. This is TRAGIC and sad. I know some of you share my pain. Scrab and I were just starting to really feel something for each other.

In other (disgusting body) news, I have finally come to terms with the fact that I do in fact have a wart on the bottom of my foot. I've been in denial about it for a looooong time, and trying to pumice it off, dig it out, amongst other self mutilating methods. It just keeps re-surfacing.

Sigh. Yes, it's a Plantar's Wart. This means I have HPV...on my foot. This also means that it's highly contagious.

So if we've ever shared a shower, I'm super sorry. Really I am. You may have Herpes on your foot, too.

(SAD)

The Princess and the Pulled Groin

Unbelievable.

I went to the gym today (to note: actual gym with machines and weights and hot personal trainers who were playing boxing match with each other) and I over extended myself, thinking that would be a way to compensate for my long absence. I think the endorphines had a negative effect on my otherwise sharp (errr) mind.

I'm stupid.

While doing a squat into a calf stretch - a move none too complicated, straining or difficult because it's really just me trying to stretch my calf because of the fucking charlie horse I woke up to this morning - I felt a twinge in my upper thigh/crotch area.

Yeah...I pulled my groin. Cough cough.

I've never pulled my groin muscle before, I've only heard that it's really painful and uncomfortable and there isn't so much you can do for relief.

All those things are very, very true.

I feel a total asshole.

Nonetheless, I'm about to get some ice to put...on my crotch.

Top Ten Signs of the Apocalypse

It occurred to me while I was in the grocery store store yesterday that the world will most certainly, one day, come to end...and maybe faster than we think, if I don't try to put a stop to it.

It happened when I noticed that that Douche Bag Ty Pennington has his own fucking magazine. He's not just on the cover of a magazine, nor is he simply featured in an article in f-ing Better Homes and Gardens or some shit. No no...This is the TY PENNINGTON MAGAZINE.

I digress.

This was my first hint that the world is beginning to crumble slowly around us. Then it occurred to me that there are several other signs that pop up in my day to day life that signal the eventual end of life as we know it.

These aren't things like the melting of the polar ice caps or global warming or world hunger or terrorism or weapons of mass descruction or nuclear power. No...this shit has NOTHING on all that other stuff.

I'm sure it won't be in my lifetime but someday, at a distant point in the future, this shit is going to come crashing down around us and it will be directly traced back to Ty Pennington and his fake tanned, obnoxious, no shirt wearing ASS.

A further explanation:

The true signals of the Apocalypse include things that are so ludicrious, unnecessary and irrelevant, things that make the bile rise in your throat at their mere mention, things that actually lower your IQ, things that make you yearn for those few minutes back that you wasted even letting them cross your lips. These are the top ten people and things that are slowly breaking down the world as we know it.

If you are unfamiliar with anything in this list, I encourage to go ahead and Google it, so that you may learn how to help slow the end of days. I would put links in for everything, but that's way too much work, and I have online Scrabble to play.

Here you go:

1. Ty Pennington's Magazine (as previously mentioned) or anything that has anything to do with Ty Pennington

2. Kathy Lee Gifford's return from the crypt

3. Suzie Orman and her jackets

4. Larry King's inability to die

5. The Osmonds' inability to age or go away...forever...please

6. Oprah's fast approach to Deity status (focus on: Favorite things episodes)

7. Nancy Grace's ability to spawn

8. "I Love Money" and "America's Got Talent" (they count together as one)

9. Heidi and Spencer go to Iraq. As if they those poor people don't have enough problems.

10. Calf implants and anyone who would actually have surgury to obtain something so fucking ridiculous

Maybe next week, I'll have a whole new Top Ten. Goodness knows there is plenty of other ridiculous shit to talk about.

Growing pains

It became painfully apparent to me today that I cannot always relate, know or understand the experiences of others. I don't always have the answers and I am not always right.

Along with that, I feel as though I'm being extremely selfish in a couple of situations. I know I need to get my head out of my ass, but I'm having trouble. It isn't easy to change these stripes. The defense mechanisms (misplaced blame, or just plain ignorance) are rappant and obvious.

But the solutions I need to suck it up and deal with these issues don't seem to be readily available in my emotional tool kit.

I would be an idiot to think I had "it" anywhere near all figured out.

First of all, it's hot as hell. I'm not sure what is happening to me. I was always a pretty sweaty person, but recently it's even worse. I'm sweating like CRAZY.

It's not like I've never been through a summer before, or am not familiar with heat, humidity, stickiness, chaffing, etc. Been there, had all that.

But this summer has been markedly different. It's hard to describe the type of hot I experience. There is no relief for it and sometimes it makes me panic. I feel like one of those women you hear about having hot flashes, but only in the comedic way that had been beaten to death. Am I having hot flashes? It can't be...

But a few other things that are bothering me are:

1. Who the fuck are the marketing people at Six Flags? First it was that freaky old bald dancing bald guy who was so obviously not old OR bald. Now we have some cracked out Asian kid with his head in a circle talking about how many flags things are worth? WHAAAAT?

2. I love the Counting Crows as much as any fan, but Adam really needs to stop fucking whining. I downloaded the new album a while ago and hadn't listened to the whole thing until recently. I must have known in the back of my head that I would be disappointed with it. It's not that it's bad, it's just that Adam has been writing the same fucking songs for 10+ years now. We GET that you are a hot mess and can't hold onto a relationships. We GET that you are depressed ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Admittedly, I had really high hopes for the album when I saw them in concert last summer. Adam had been working out (and we know that physical activity is a proven quasi-cure for chronic depression) and he put on a great show. The few songs he did from the new album were promising. I thought maybe the new album would be like "Hard Candy," which is an absolutely amazing album.

3. Guess what, Madge? There is already an album called "Hard Candy." It came out over 6 years ago by a little band you might have heard of called the Counting Crows. Fire your marketing people. I can't believe I got suckered into spending $115 to see you at the Garden. Ugh.

That's all. I'm so hot.

Spoiler Alert! The one where the pug kills the baby

First of all, the biggest shout out ever to Donald for giving me one of the best, most thoughtful, and-for-no-reason presents EVER.

That's right, kiddies.

Donald found, by some miracle of Buddha, Seasons 4 AND 5 of Footballer's Wives.

It is quite the momentous occasion. So momentous, in fact, that I had my cousin come over yesterday for an emergency viewing session. We got through the first two episodes of season 4 (Tanya and Amber have their babies and then one of them dies at the paws of Amber's PUG. YES A PUG KILLED A BABY.) and made arrangements for her to come over again on Thursday for a continuation. It will take us a while, but I don't feel right watching it alone, and depriving her of the joy. And plus, it's much more fun to watch them with someone who appreciates the amazing outrageousness of it as much as I do.

Disclaimer: There is no menu and therefore NO subtitles. Shannon, the trashy wife of HOT Harley (it's ok to think he's hot, he is legal), is especially difficult to understand. Buuuuuuuuut we decided to make up what she was saying and were pretty sure it was dead on accurate.

So, thanks again Donald my love. You've made this girl monumentally happy.

Get the plunger

I love my landlords.

My kitchen sink clogged up yesterday and I panicked a bit. I couldn't do my dishes and we all know that dirty dishes cause chaos and we also all know that if I cannot properly manage the chaos, I will tweak. This applies to MANY upon many other things (loose trash, dirty clothes, dust bunnies, small specs of miscellaneous material, etc.)

Anyway, my landlords are super adorable and so nice and I feel like I've been bothering them a bit too much lately.

First was the day after they had left for Florida for 5 weeks back in March (time share) and my heat just stopped working. That took a couple days for them to patch up for a far. Good thing I had that space heater.

Then a few days ago, the cold water wasn't coming out of my washing machine. Turns out the hose was clogged. They fixed it right up.

And then the sink yesterday. They came over lickety split and it was all better!

Whenever they come to fix something, they always come together. He isn't so great with the English (they are "off the boat" Italian) so she does a bit of translating. Oddly enough, she speaks to me very slowly and loudly, like I'm elderly, or a small child.

My step mother endearingly refers to them as Lilo and Stitch which is very suitable, for various reasons.

They recently offered me my pick of the vegetables they are randomly growing on the side of the house however they have not yet told me that I can use the in ground pool.

Hrmmm. I wish they would do that. I hate to ask. I hate to be imposing.

When I discover that facebook is not so great for my mental well being

I've been up on facebook for a couple weeks now and it's really been a mind fuck. I've been seeing all of these people I went to high school with that I haven't seen since then, but also connecting with some current friends that I adore. I went looking for certain people because I was bored, really more bored than curious. Another reason I need a new job. When it comes to the ghosts in my life, ignorance really is bliss. People I haven't seen since age 18 have *shocker* continued to live their own lives without me watching. They got married and are having babies and some are even exactly the same.

Anyway...I went searching for one of my ex boyfriends, one I don't think I've ever talked about here. I found him, and now we're "connected" and all that. He was my "first" in a couple of ways, all the way back in the day. He's younger than I am (shocker, I know) and is seemingly traveling around the world and living the dream in the big city. It's so strange for me to think that he is the same person that I was once so madly and deeply in love with, so many years ago. Right now, it seems like a different life and I feel so tired from having lived it. And I can see he has changed, but he really looks exactly the same as he did almost 10 years ago. It's totally creepy and unsettling and gives me heart palpitations. How can so much time have passed, and each of us be so different, but really not have changed? And, much more importantly, why can't I let certain shit GO?

I might know the answer: He was part of shaping who I am, for better or for worse, and that's something I can't forget. And maybe I was that for him. But I should be proud of it because I've learned from every thing I've experienced, ex boyfriends included. And the past is past but it's healthy to visit once in a while. I just can't get stuck there for too long.

But I'm not looking for anyone else I'd rather not find.

Update: The guy my sister gave my number to (mentioned in a previously written post) ended up being a real shallow prick. I sent him some pictures via email and he waited about 4 days to write back that I "wasn't his type." I won't lie, it made me feel like shit. But then I realized that it doesn't really matter and it could have been worse. We could have ended up on a date, sight unseen, that would have been awkward and miserable. It might have put me over the edge. It's entirely possible.

Hi...is your mom home?

At work yesterday, I got a mysterious voice mail from a not so eloquent woman who claims she had sent me her resume and were we still looking to fill summer positions? She left an inaudible last name, no first name, and a phone number.

There were many things wrong with this voice mail:
1. Last time I checked, it was July 1st and the summer is in full swing.

2. I don't know your name. Why would I call you back?

Normally I wouldn't return this call, but I was kind of bored and curious about who like this exists in the world.

So I call and the same woman answers. I say who I am and where I'm calling from and I'm returning a call from this number, but the person didn't leave their first name. She apologizes. So I ask her what email address she used to send her resume. Then the fun began. It went something like this:

Me: What email address did you send your resume to?
Crazy Lady (CL): Well it's not my resume. It's my son, Jeremy.
Me: Ok (inaudible insult)...what email address did your son send his resume to?
CL: Oh I have that information in the other room. Would you mind just holding on for a minute?
Me: Ok.
CL: I have so many fans going, I can't hear you very well. Could you speak up?
Me: OK!
CL: Ok to hold?
Me: Yes!
CL: Thanks so much. Be right back.

Now at this point of the conversation, I am wondering a few things.
1. Who still owns a phone with a cord?
2. Why isn't Jeremy calling me himself?
3. How OLD is this woman and how old is Jeremy?

CL: Ok I'm back. thank you so much for holding. What was the name of your company again? I'm sorry I've just been making SO many phone calls today.

This is something you don't ever EVER say to a potential employer.

Me: My name is Stephanie and I'm calling from ________. What is your last name?

CL: It's _________.

Me: I haven't received any resumes from anyone by that name. Did you find the email address he used?

CL: Well....uhm...let me see here...he's really better at these email things than I am...

Me: Can I ask why he didn't call himself?

At this point, I'm scared of the answer I will get, but I"m pretty sure it will be lame. However, I was braced for something like "Oh he's deaf and mute and you're a horrible person."

CL: He isn't very good on the phone but he's much better in person. Are you still hiring for the summer?

Me: Well, we are in July now, so we are set with summer interns. We had them set up in the spring.

CL: Oh. He started looking then but...(inaudible)

Me: Let me give you my email address. Send his resume to me and I will keep it on file for next summer. Have him check in with me early next year. Ok?

CL: Oh thank you so much. So it's too late for this summer?

Me: Yes...and I think he needs to get over the phone issue. He needs to be able to speak for himself.

CL: Now, I don't undertand that.

Me: I'm sorry?

CL: Agencies call on behalf of people all the time, what's the difference?

Me: The employment agencies are offering a service to firms and their contractors are their employees. Do you employ your son?

CL: Well no but-

Me: Send me that resume and thanks so much.

CL: Ok thank you-
*I HANG UP*

Update: I have not received a resume.

Stand by Me

I started writing this post on Monday...

Ugh. Work today is just killing me.

I slept in half an hour late and drove to work. For whatever reason, I really thought that extra half an hour of sleep would change my life. No so much luck.

I like my outfit, if not only because it's comfortable and I don't think I'm bloated. That and my boobs are managing to restrain themselves today.

I kind of have a lot to cover, so let's begin.

1. Last week the shrink told me that we're completely recalibrating my pharmaceutical cocktail. At first I was really hesitant, because I've been on the same "new" medication for a few years now and when we've tried to change things up in the past, we've always ended up going back to old reliable. She thinks this new stuff is the wave of the clinically depressed cure future. I'll let you know.

2. I saw my ex, The Mailman (and his current girlfriend) for the first time in about a year and a half on Sunday. He used the word "beautiful" to describe me (while at the same time I was suffering from a severe case of swass) so it went pretty well. His current girlfriend is still a skank ho.

3. I turned down a date on Saturday. With a fitness instructor/social worker who thought I was a hot ticket. Why? I've turned over a new leaf. I'm seriously considering going cold turkey on dating for a while...like until my 28th birthday. I thought the idea was GREAT until...

4. Today (it's Tuesday now) I got a text message from a mysterious number telling me he had met my sister at Foxwoods and she had given him my number. He lives in the area and maybe we could get drinks sometime?

4a. There are several things wrong with this.
1. My sister and Foxwoods don't belong in the same sentence.
2. What the?

Turns out my sister WAS in fact (randomly) at Foxwoods (I did some detective work) and she did in fact give some random my phone number. I'm not mad...why bother. It's not like she does this all the time. OR ever. Apparently this guy is cute and so is his friend. I returned his text about an hour ago now and have not gotten a reply.

So now I ask: Uhm...why text some random chick and then when she texts you back, not return it? Perhaps he's in shock like "oh wow I never thought I would get a reply" or maybe he's trying to figure out what to write back to me. As you can tell, I'm already annoyed by this whole thing.

The only redeeming quality for all this is that my sister claims the following about this guy (and I quote): "His celebrity look alike is Jerry O'Connell"

For those of you not in the know, Jerr Bear has been looking SMOKIN' hot lately.

So yeah, I'll meet him...if I ever hear from him again.

If a coworker fell asleep, would hear their head hit the desk?

I get to sleep in a whole extra hour tomorrow. It's very exciting compared to the lack of anything else going on.

For whatever reason, today at work is particularly mind numbing. It's super quiet. I don't think anyone has spoken outloud in an hour, or at least not that I could hear.

It's very dark and ominous outside. It makes me want to curl up under my desk and use my flip flops as a pillow (they are cushy) and my skirt as a blanket (it has large pleats).

Meanwhile...what I do hear is a very slow and monotonous thumping. It's curious. I think it's a ghost.

The only emails I have gotten in the last hour have been spam. We have quite the spam problem here lately.

It's not as if I don't have things to do. There's filing and and a handbook to proof read. But who wants to do that shit?

I'm so bored I could cry.

Banana Phone

Yesterday found me out near Route 84 for a dance recital.

The theme of the recital (featuring THIRTY FOUR separate dance numbers!), was "Dear Diary." Most of the dances had nothing to do with a Diary, but I really have to give credit to the woman who puts this show together every year. She's had a dance studio for over 30 years and teaches kids of all ages all kinds of dance. Every year she has to come up with a different theme. I would definitely have run out by now and just starting using themes like "Fruit Chew Flavors" or "Between the cushions of my couch."

My darling niece (she's 7! can you believe it?!?) was in two of the 34 numbers; number 7 and number 31 to be exact.

Number 7 had the best set I think I've ever seen at a dance recital: A huge cardboard banana telephone booth with various actual size plastic bananas hung inside as "phones." The number was set to a song most aptly titled "Banana Phone." I think it was one of the strangest, cutest, most bizaar things I have seen in quite some time.

I'm almost speechless, obviously.

Hmmm...perhaps you are correct, Anonymous

Now, while any blog is typically, by nature, a self indulgent thing to have, a certain anonymous someone feels I am wrapped up in myself and has identified themselves (I think) as a "friend I used to have." I couldn't tell with the shoddy punctuation. But I'm almost CERTAIN I know who you are.

I did not publish this comment because it's an unfair judgment. If this person feels as though I have neglected them in some way, they should really just speak with me directly, instead of making an anonymous comment on my blog which has NEVER professed not to be self indulgent. Look at the title, for goodness sake!

I get the feeling that the person who posted it needs some attention. Happy now?

I almost didn't address this, because you know I detest drama. But you know what? It's the last fucking thing I need and I'm standing up for myself.

Julie Andrews would be so proud

I didn't want to post so much, only because I don't want it to be some depressing, dark, damaged entry about how my life just keeps sucking.

I'll try really hard to put a positive spin on it, just for you. Or not. Let's see what we get.

Perhaps I need to learn to accept that this is IT, this is the hand that I've been dealt and, for better or worse, I need to suck it up and deal with it. After all, I have medication to manage my freak outs and a variety of wonderful friends and family who are relentless in their support (Positive Spin #1).

For those of you who I haven't chatted with in some time: I do apologize. When I get like this, I tend to shut down and not want to say much to anyone (phone, text, email, you name it). It's my coping mechanism, I suppose. I'm learning more and more about myself each day (Positive spin #2).

In summary:

1. My job has turned into a full on witch hunt of sorts and, as a result, my faith in the general goodness of human nature has significantly faltered.
2. Whether it's due to living alone, or isolating myself because "no one understands me," it turns I'm terribly lonely, but not so much willing to do anything about it.
3. Some important relationships have taken quite the hit in the past year, to the point that it feels like my whole world has been turned on its head.

Then, a more recent blow:
While I took dating off the table to focus on the new job search, the new job search hasn't been going all that well (despite my best efforts, but only sometimes), so I took a gentleman caller up on an offer for a date. Well OF COURSE it hit me all of a sudden that I really like this guy and, long story short, he is emotionally unavailable and wants to be just friends. For whatever reason, this put me way over the edge, much further than it should of...and now I'm embarrassed and ashamed.

I don't think a new "friend" is a good idea right now. I hardly talk to my existing ones for fear that they will grow sick and tired of hearing about my depressing shit. And plus, I'll always have this hope that we'll be more than friends some day. And that sucks...like when I was 19 kind of sucks. No good.

So, we're back at square one, aren't we, Friends?

But the beginning is a really good place to start, right? (that's #3)

I'm not sure if it's sad...or it just is what it is

I have a new guilty pleasure. It's call Footballer's Wives and it's AWESOME. For the first time ever, I have had to ask myself if I can watch BBC America with my current cable subscription and if not HOW DO I GET IT.

First of all, I would like to concurrently thank and curse my cousin for introducing me to this. Curse because 1. It's a time suck (what isn't?) when I'm supposed to be looking for a new job at every waking moment 2. It is so amazing, that when it's over (there are currently only three seasons, 8 episodes each, available on DVD via Netflix. The current season, #5, is the LAST season.), I will be so utterly depressed that there is no more. I would like to thank her, and tell her I love her, for the same two reasons.

JOAN COLLINS is in the last season. Whoa.

Meanwhile...the new summer intern at work is sitting next to me and must think I do nothing all day. Don't know why she would think that...In the last hour, I have printed out directions to my interview (see below), read all of Go Fug Yourself AND researched my new beloved addiction (see above). That's some solid work to me.

Good news: I have a phone interview on Thursday and an in person interview on Monday.

Hooray! Rejoice!

Reason #976 why I should never leave my apartment

I went to the gym last night. Good for me. Second time this week.

On my way back to my car after a mediocre work out, I notice upon approach of Lola that she was blocked in. Now...I wish I could draw you a diagram of the situation, but I'll do my best to be descriptive. On the side lot of my gym, there is a really ghetto auxillary parking lot. When the gym is busy during the week, cars tend to go into this overflow section because it's closer to the entrance than parking at the back of the lot. And plus, the back of the larger lot is next to this adandoned lot which is kind of sketchy when it gets dark.

ANYWAY, in this particular overflow area, there aren't marked parking spots, so you just kind of pull in behind another car and then everyone else follows in a row. It usually works out just fine. Well, last night FOUR different idiots decided to make a THIRD row which, as you may have guessed, blocks those people in the middle in. One of those blocked cars was my Lola.

It didn't take long for the mess to get straightened out. I think the funniest part of the evening was the reaction of one of my fellow blocked in gym mates. At first glance, he seemed like a sensible guy, but with each second that went by (in a total of ten minutes), he got more and more agitated by the situation, and at an accelerated rate. Sure, it was annoying. But what can you do? Just deal with it and wait...why get all upset? He kept repeating "I have to BE somewhere!" and passing back and forth and checking his phone. I was like "Dude, where do you have to be in your swim trunks, flip flops and muscle shirt?" Hrmm. He didn't so much like that question.

So when we were leaving, I asked him if needed help backing out, because he was in the middle of the pack and the manuevering may have been a bit tight. You know...me being a nice person. It happens from time to time. But he already didn't like me, and he huffed and puffed and said: "What would I need YOUR help for?"

Well...nevermind then.

right...about....there

So I stayed awake last night, tossing and turning.

I'm bored again.

You know the drill. After about a month of taking a "break" from dating, I get the itch again.

Now that some harrowing work events have come to a close for the foreseeable future, my job has gone back to sucking just enough for me not to be all that motivated to find a new one. I've come back full circle from utter misery to simple complacency.

It is terribly hard for me to get motivated lately. And that applies to everything: going out with friends, getting to the gym, job searching, grocery shopping, dating...everything seems to require way more effort than I'm willing to expend. So I end up at home, in my absolutely stellar apartment, usually going about my daily routine and quite happy about it.

Now I must clarify.

I'm not living in filth or anything. I haven't stopped obsessively cleaning/organizing/putting away or showering or going to work. It's just that when I'm home, I really don't want to leave. And just the thought of going anywhere after work except home/couch, leaves me exhausted. I can't get my work clothes off fast enough when I get in the door. There is a trail of them up the stairs and into the bathroom. My shut in warbrode is getting quite a bit of use.

But I've digressed. And definitely contradicted myself. If I'm saying I don't have the energy/motivated to do much, then why would I want to open up the dating can of worms again?

Great question. I'm not sure of the answer.

Alas...Bored. Dating. Continue...

So last night, while tossing and turning, I was thinking about how I would pen a new "dating profile." It occured to me that maybe I should just write about why I like things, rather than a laundry list of what those things are, or a list of the character traits I believe I possess. Can I really explain, eloquently and genuinely, why I find the majority of reality television to be an actual study on the vast human psyche, which also happens to be extremely entertaining when done right? Or will it just come across that I am a one dimensional couch potato?

T vomit

I really don't have anything new and exciting to tell you. Things are the same.

Yesterday was very humid and the T was supah miserable.

I usually walk the mile or so to the Orange Line instead of jumping on the Red, which is closer to work, but yesterday I took the Red. You see...it was very hot and sticky and I was wearing a skirt. Do I need to say more?

Well, I get on the Red and immediately smell vomit...that smell that you just cannot mistake with anything else. And I look...and it's all over the seat that I'm standing across from. So these two sassy black girls get on after me and start going all "Girlfriend!" about the puke, which is hilarious, and almost makes it all worth it.

So then this snobby Asian girl gets on and is all "Can you PLEASE move in more?" when the train is completely packed and her skinny ass should just wait for the next fucking train. (Everyone acts like there will NEVER be another train to come and that THIS train is the LAST train that will EVER take them home EVER) The sassy black girls were about to warn her about the puke but then were like "Uh uh bitch! Not with that attitude!" Oh...it was so awesome. I was dying.

Anyway...the snobby girl puts her hand DIRECTLY on the railing that is covered in puke and then touches her hair. The sassy girls and I are hysterical.

Sigh...it was so great. Proof that there is justice in the world.

Yummy!

Look at those legs! Pick the D. Cook video...Obvi.

http://www.guitarhero.com/idol/

Surprise!

I have never loved being this wrong.

I will admit I thought the finale was SUPER painful, of what I actually saw. I went to bed half way through...right after the train wreck that was the Brian Adams resurrection, which was preceded by the drugged Diane Summer disaster. I did DVR the rest of it, and will most likely fast forward through all of it until the winner announcement.

My man won! As DC points out, this will make it signigicantly more difficult for me to bed him. But because of my selfless nature, I don't so much mind.

Could he have made a better album if he came in second place? Most definitely. Will he still do fairly well for himself? Of course. Just look at my girl Kelly.

But he looked very happy and humble...and all good words that start with "H."

I very much wish it was Friday. This week is taking forever.

Idol blah

So little Archuleta is going to win. This I know...

I'm still disappointed because I really want Cook to win. But it would be a big upset and people would yell and scream and protest.

Alas...I still want D. Cook's hot ass.

New pants update

Yes, they came in the mail last week. Have you been dying for the conclusion? It occured to me today that I haven't written in over a week. Whoops!

Blah...They didn't fit.

Waaaaaaa waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

However...I returned them to store and found another pair I like even more. I'm planning on buying them online in another color. So for now, the pants problem has been partially solved.

No, I didn't get that job I had mentioned.

But it's ok...I only cried for 4 hours instead of 8.

I'm tired of using technology

Ok...yesterday and today have been entirely new experiences for me on the technology front.

I know you've all heard of phone sex. I've never really been able to get into it, save a handful of times, as I have had lots of long distance boyfriends.

But text sex? Oh good lord. I'm into it...and then some.

The identity of the recipient will for now remain anonymous. I just hope that actions speak louder (or...ok...maybe just as loud) as words.

It's become evident

My blog has been pretty lame lately.

Maybe it's my life as a shut in. I don't have any decent material anymore because stupid, annoying people do not pierce my bubble nearly as often. And those that do are at work, and I can't really go into detail on that (so unfortunate).

I'm obviously feeling a bit insecure. Here's why: I just bought a couple hundred dollars worth of pants on gap.com. I definitely had my fingers crossed when I hit the "submit order" button. I have a vague idea that they might fit but let's be honest...it was a random and careless thing for me to do. Especially since I used the recently paid off credit card. Whoops.

All this...and who knows how much longer I will be gainfully employed.

My prediction: The pants will come in the mail and I will either 1. Wear them a few times, trying to convince myself that I made a wise retail decision, but be uncomfortable the entire time because they are baggy everywhere they aren't supposed to be or 2. Put the pants on and be just thrilled and pat myself on the back for an (actual) wise retail decision (I did get 10% off) OR finally 3. Try them on, realize they don't fit at all and then suck it up and either return them at an actual store(which is what all this was supposed to help me avoid in the first place) or in the mail.

Let's pull for option two. Let's pull REAL hard. I need this break.

the world would be so much better if everyone were more like me

I am surrounded by crazies and idiots.

Work continues to suck my soul. It's found a new and creative way to do so...color me impressed.

I have a second interview tomorrow for a job I REALLY want, right in downtown. They even gave me homework, so those of you who know me well know that homework for a job interview is right up my alley. Nerd Alert!

I know this is asking for something without offering to give anything (you should be used to it be now), but I could use some good vibes to counteract the incredibly crazy volume of bads ones.

Exhibit A: See above reference to WORK.

Exhibit B: I've been trying to "hang out" with this one guy I met at a party a couple of weeks ago, but to no avail. It seems incredibly difficult. He has been deemed insane. I second that.

Exhibit C: More on the man front, the creepies and crawlies are really coming out of the woodwork lately. I need to get that magnet removed...

Thank you to all, but especially to AC (down with the poisoned cream!), CM (your voice mails keep me going) and my dearest Donald (I miss you more than you miss me...duh) for your recent and wonderful support, despite my being a thoroughly miserable bitch...albeit a thoroughly miserable bitch with fantastic hair.

what the...?

I swear things like this only happen to me.

Volunteer guy has a girlfriend. Just weird.

And you were doing so well!

I really thought I had gotten over the hump yesterday. I had a kick ass interview and they want to see me back for a second round. The job, the company, the money, the location...it would all be great for me. A (young) guy I met while volunteering went out of his way to contact me (and you know how much I love male attention).

Things were looking up.

Then, once again, the shit hit the fan. It seems to happen way too often lately. I should be absolutely covered in splattered poo by now.

Today I saw, with my own eyes, a complete betrayl of my trust. Someone who I thought had been my friend, my true blue, and a constant, has actually been playing me all along.

To say that I am confused is an understatement. I don't know what to believe, or what pieces of the truth were told to me. It's a complete mind fuck, and I want OUT.

And yes, you guessed it, it has to do with my increasingly dysfunctional, soap opera-esque J-O-B.

the drama finds me...again

I'm sorry about the lapses in posts. When I'm quiet, I know it makes some of you cranky, nervous, anxious...My drama is like crack to some of you apparently.

Today was a killer of a day...I've had too many of them lately.

My boss, and subsequently another key member of his staff, are both done here effective today. They both technically "resigned" but were really more fired. The way they've gone out could have been handled much better from their end. MUCH better. They've put me, and another remaining colleague, in an awkward position. It's not pleasant and we're both really irritated. The events of today leave me to assist with a messy clean up.

I'm completely on edge. I want to get out of this absolutely insane excuse for a work place, but I haven't quite reached the point with any propects where it's safe for me to leave. By safe I mean being able to jump from this income to another. I've got some things lined up but they require frequent leaves of absence from the office. As much as I don't care for my current employers, I still hate lying in general about my whereabouts. Doctor's appointments, car trouble, and family "emergencies" are all wearing thin. To make me feel even worse, one of the owners today told me that they "trust" me. Oye.

So I've already tried to brainstorm on the story that will go along with my notice. I've already planted the seed that working here doesn't necessarily fit in with my career goals. I didn't outright say I was looking for another job, but I did hint that I wasn't 100% happy, even before the beginning of the current downward spiral. When (and if) the new job offer comes and I weigh the pros and cons and eventually accept, I will tell the owners here that an old recruiting contact who is now at such and such a place has the perfect opportunity for me. This opportunity is much more focused on what I really want to do, so no hard feelings and by the way, I did my interview on a Saturday and never took work time to tend to personal business... Obviously I'm still trying to fine tune it.

My heart has been in my throat all day. In addition, a guy that I met last weekend that I really like and had fun with is turning out to be quite the pussy. But it's OK. I'm not dating right now anyway.

So send me all your positive thoughts. I need them now more than ever.

Barf

I partied last night. I didn't go to bed drunk, and I didn't really FEEL out of control drunk throughout the evening, yet I am still hung over today. I've been nauseous all day, and haven't left the house. Oh the indecency!

But I had a FANTASTIC time, probably the most fun I've had in quite some time. The difference between last weekend and this weekend is very different and for a couple of reasons.

I told one of the owners at the crazy farm where I work that I was "thinking about the direction I wanted to go in" i.e. IF I wanted to stay employed where I am. It's not so important that she know I already made the decision. What matters is that I handled myself really well and her reaction was very reasonable. I'm fairly certain that's because she wants to be rid of me anyway. At the end of our hour and a half long discussion, during which I really needed a shovel for all the bullshit I was hearing, I felt both relieved and dirty. I was fake, I lied through my teeth and I pretended I didn't want to reach across the table and slap her.

No bridges were burned and I remained composed. Good for me...

Get out the blazers and high heels

Hmmmm pudding...

Oh sorry.

It's interview time!

I went to a staffing group today that specializes in my particular brand of professionalism. They seem to want to work for me. I'll make an appointment with another. There seems to be an upswing in interest in me (ok, I was hungry for any interest at all), which is good because, as you may have read in a few posts back, I was feeling very much rejected, in multiple ways.

But it's never taken me long to bounce back. This time is no different. I'll keep you updated on the job search.

(Hmmm David Cook...I'm SO happy they fixed his hair. Paper bag no longer needed.)

Glamour Puss

Andrew Lloyd Webber. Hmmm...He looks like a toad. However, he uttered a phrase I had forgotten I loved and that is "Glamour Puss." So worth it, just for that.

Obviously I'm watching Idol from last night.

And I've concluded, although I already knew, that Broadway is hard to sing. It makes me have a bit more respect for Johnny Depp, Madonna, all the people in Hairspray..etc. etc. You get my point.

I'm only half way through and yet to see He Who Is Most Utterly Fuckable, so I'm not really paying attention. Everyone has bit it so far as far as I'm concerned.

Brooke? I don't like her. She restarted the song. Big no no. Even I know that.

Blah...they are all dead to me. Except one.

I just got a little excited

I found a Senior Recruiter job posted on Monster for a creative firm. This is a job I'm perfect for. Here's hoping that I get a phone call.

The bad news: I think it's in Rhode Island. Waaah Waaaa.

puffy eyes

For a couple of months now, I think the fall out from dating and a bad job has gained some serious negative momentum, which all was leading up to what happened yesterday.

Friday night, I put a voice mail into 30 something Match. I was sick of waiting to hear from him and wondering what the fuck his deal was. I thought he liked me, I definitely liked him. Friday night I also went on a "date" which, due to all fault of my own, ended awkwardly. I feel terrible about it, because I think I may have sent out a vibe as confused as I was. I was exhausted and didn't know what to do with myself besides takes action. So I made the call to 30 something.

Hindsight, as always, is 20/20. The signs were there that 30 something Match just wasn't that into me, or dating in general, even before we went out on our first date. I shouldn't be shocked that the return call ended in the realization that I would not see 30 something Match again. Yet, it still knocked the wind right out of my already limp sails (hooray for forced metaphors).

After a hellish couple of weeks at work, and doing everything I could to hold my shit together, I broke down...and in a fucking nail salon. The phone call, while not the entire reason, was certainly part of the reason, and definitely a catalyst. AC, bless her heart, was there to tell me that it was OK to just leave and lose it. And that's exactly what I did. I curled up on my couch, sobbing fetal style, and wished, more than anything, I could call my mommy. Because in the end, my deep desire to just be loved is what my insecurity and fear of rejection all boils down to. I look at every guy and every date to save me from myself...and that is so completely fucked up. I'm still searching for unconditional love in all the wrong places.

I just deactivated my Match account, turned off all email alerts and made my profile private. Until my account is truly expired at the end of May, I should have taken care of any temptations in the mean time.

I can't do this anymore. I can't keep putting myself out there to look for something that is too much to ask from an intimate relationship. Yesterday was yet another lesson in this, and I think it's finally sunk in. I need to figure out what makes me happy and be secure in myself before I try to find happiness in someone else. Doing it any other way will just lead to more of me eating girl scout cookies on my couch and blubbering off and on with all my shades drawn, while it is a gorgeous day outside.

While I feel good about my decision and I know it's the right thing to do, the loneliness is hitting me harder than ever. I am scared shitless.

To some of you, this all may sound a bit doom and gloom...even unnecessarily melodramatic. But my intention is not for anyone who reads to worry.

I'll be ok. Just give me a couple days in my pajamas watching bad reality TV and even worse romantic comedies, while simultaneously trying to find a new job, and I should be right as rain.

Dating and men are OFF the table until I get my shit together. And this time I mean it.

I just can't wait

Still no call from 30 something Match man. I know you were all curious. I re-read my last post and apparently it was a bit confusing to some. Hrmmm. My apologies.

I'm all whatever about it, you know? If it's not meant to be it's...not.

In other news, I have Monday off and this particular Friday cannot go by fast enough. I have lots to keep me busy so I'm about to get to it...and do it to it.

Hugs and all that...

Updates!

Work totally ROTS. My boss resigned yesterday and he's pretty much the best thing I've got going here. I hope it's the beginning of the end for me. Now I am slated with the task of having to find his replacement. Awkward!

I wasn't expecting to hear from 30 something Match last night, as our date was less than 24 hours previous. But I won't lie...I was hoping I would hear from him. But there's the rub (thank you, Pessimist Prime, for reminding me how absolutely versatile this saying is): Hope and Expectations in this brain of mine seem to be one in the same. I already know one of his hesitations: his schedule and my schedule don't mesh so much. He is up all hours of the night doing whatever he does. But I'm not about to feel bad about going to bed at 10pm (or earlier) when I have to get up at 530 during the week. Will I be flexible on this? Sure...but only if I get the same amount of willingness in return. That's the way it should work and, despite my loneliness on the male companionship front, I will not be that girl who gives and gives and gives and GIVES and gets so little in return. I would rather be alone than have my head fucked with like that again.

Amen and Hallelujah to THAT!

Honey

After some serious reservations with going on a date with 30 something Match guy, we did meet up last night. He picked me up at work...in his CAR. Granted, it's a shitbox, but it's still a car.

He's spacey and loses track what day it is. He is in no way a linear thinker. I'm pretty sure he's not so great with money. He's a perpetual student.

He's smart, interesting, wonderfully strange, funny, witty and above all, cute as hell.

What is a girl to do...but wait to see if he calls.

young as you feel

My new temp told me a few different times today how young I look. I think she was expecting some stuck up manager type...surprise! I told her compliments would get her everywhere.

Anyhow...it's more and more apparent to me that I AM still very young. I may feel old and tired and...OLD but I'm not. Hooray!

But speaking of my look, I seriously need some new and better pictures of me on Match. Photo shoot!!

complete insanity

I need to be brief. Today is crazy.

I spent most of the weekend stressing about how today would go. All in all, it wasn't too bad. It went by very fast, which is all a girl can hope for.

The walls seems to be crumbling down around me here at the ole office and I am proud to say that when worse comes to worse, I've been the rock. For a while there, I may have forgotten, however briefly, just how tough I am.

30 something Match has been completely MIA since I spoke with him a week ago. We had made plans to go out tomorrow (Tuesday) night but I am beginning to think I've been blown off.

Instead of feeling sorry for myself and using the phrase "die alone" in a sentence, it's safe to say this happened for a reason.

I should really be focusing 100% on the following things (in no particular order):

1. Finding a new, fabulous, amazing and high paying job in a recession
2. GO TO THE FUCKING GYM more than once a week
3. Think about loooooooooong hair
4. Nesting at home
5. The wonder that is DVR
6. Reading more...books, magazines, whatever
7. Figuring out why I break out like I never did in high school
8. Staying better in touch with friends and family
9. Get a hobby
10. Have more fun
11. Save more money
12. Volunteer time and money much MUCH more to worthy causes
13. Find the perfect mascara
14. Stop avoiding Sudoku. Everyone's doing it...
15. Crosswords!

....

I'm just going crazy now.

Love to all.

Shit!

So I'm home on a Friday night, looking for a new job. I don't know whether that's sad or ambitious. Maybe a little bit of both.

Unfortunately, it seems to be slim pickings, which makes me very, very nervous. I think just one phone call or email back to show some interest in my resume would make me feel a little better, even if it is for something waaaay lame. At least then I know someone is reading it.

It's a bit strange because it's never been difficult for me to find a new job. Does that sound arrogant? Forgive me...

All of a sudden, it's a challenge and it's completely freaking me out. Any thoughts of sticking it to my current employers before finding another j-o-b have very quickly left me. I need to keep what I have so that I don't lose my cushy pad. I don't have nearly enough money saved to live off for for any extended period of time. No way am I wracking up the credit card debt after just paying it all off. I have to stop being silly.

In other news, Match seems to be just dead weight. Focus moves 100% to career.

Everyone is taking crazy pills...again

So I have this temp. She's nice enough, does a decent job. But turns out she's TOTALLY insane. Like whoa. But I'm getting someone new in here on Monday.

Also, topping today's list of annoyances:
When you tell another person something...like say you heard someone else say something, and that is all you heard. And then they keep asking you questions about this situation, even though you have already made clear that you only know certain details about said situation, all of which you have already told them.

A comment on comments

It has been pointed out to me that making comments on my postings is a tad challenging. I really do apologize, but it is the only way. This shit is free, after all.

Keep at it...I know you don't have anything better to do.

*wink*

Apologies

I am sorry I've been so cranky lately. Work is obviously getting me and turning me into a super bitch.

I called in to work today and have slept most of the day away. I need to go to the gym and look for a new job. I need to stop whining.

Two dear friends, in their own unique ways, recently reminded that shit isn't so bad. In fact, things are pretty fucking good.

In addition, 30 something Match guy, previously mentioned, had not called because, in short, I'm a complete idiot. Luckily, he emailed and I've since cleared the air.

He's a busy little bee, so we can't meet until early next week. I'll keep you updated, of course.

Bitch-tastic

Yes, I have a boss man here. He's nice, a father figure type. He gets on my nerves from time to time with his high and mighty tendencies but overall, he's a good dude.

I went into his office today and got a talk to about how I need to be applying for jobs everyday to get out of here, stop feeling sorry for myself and do something about it. It was a good little chat.

Neither my mood or physical condition have improved from yesterday. If anything, both have gotten worse. So I'm doing my best to put my head down and get things done and waiting for the day to end.

New 30 something Match guy has not returned my call from Saturday night, so I'm already counting him for dead. Don't email me and call me and say you want to go out to dinner with me and then NOT return my call. LAAAAAAAME. Maybe he's just busy, you say? Well if he's too busy to call me, he's too busy to date me. Oh...and I cancelled my Match account again. Isn't it a wonderful rollercoaster ride?

OH BY THE WAY...I went through all the trouble of re-activating the comments feature and no one has fucking commented. Start it up, or I'm turning it off again. That's not a threat, that's a PROMISE.

Misery...although not entirely

Warning: If you are a bit queasy or scared of TMI (that's "too much information" for those of you not in the know), you may not want to read today's post. I'm not holding back.

First off, I have a RAGING yeast infection. I haven't had one in quite some time and it's really coming at me with a vengeance. I am so miserable and I know I have a "my crotch really itches but I can't itch it so I am going to whince and scrunch up my face in hopes that it helps with the pain and agony" look on my face. Those who are observant may have already noticed. There is only so much some special cream and frequent trips to the ladies room can do for me right now.

Secondly, a new Match crush may have fizzled out before it started. I hate being the last one to leave a voice mail. I hate the game. I haven't even met this guy yet but I have already started to like him. As in...I'm actually excited to go out on a date with him and meet him, rather than dreading it. He seems very busy (going to school and working) and I'm unsure if he really has the time to date. I like lots of attention, after all. Who knows...I guess only time will tell. Stats: early 30's, designer, lives in Boston, originally from the South.

In other news...I got a $185 haircut yesterday for $50. I'm not sure how much different a haircut that expensive is from say a $30 haircut...I'll let you know as it grows out.

A new favorite thing

Enjoy.