Contraceptive, Drink, Food, Weight Gain, Weight Loss

I Miss My Body

When I was 26, I was 105 – 110 pounds. I thought “Hey, I look damn good. So good in fact that If I gained a few pounds, I’ll look even better because I am SO skinny.”  I would see larger people and be grossed out thinking, “I could NEVER let myself get to be so big.” Well, here I am about 40 – 50 pounds heavier, thinking about my mid-twenties and pining for the days of physical activity, eating anything I wanted to,  and being completely comfortable in my skin and bones.

The story beings when I was 23. I moved to NYC to go back to school at FIT (three of the best years of my life so far). At the time, I was so poor that all I ate was pickles, popcorn, and dry Cheerios. I was always thin and athletic, but not in a disgusting way. I lost 15 pounds over the course of 3 years and was loving it! I loved that I could wear anything I wanted and be whistled at in the streets and be asked to “model” by Photography Club Pals. My jawline was fierce and my high cheekbones stuck out like a chiseled statue. I did, however, hate that my rib cage that would show on my chest. That was gross. Oh, and I was also starving ALL THE TIME. As you know pickles and Cheerios and popcorn aren’t all that filling. Someone asked me once why I didn’t eat a cheeseburger. I replied ” Well, shit. I would if you’d buy it for me.” Of course they didn’t oblige (jerk!).

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Lunch.

The last semester of school was the hardest. I was having all kinds of stress from work and school and then discovered I had an inguinal hernia. That’s the kind of thing boys usually get. It’s discovered when the doctor grabs their balls and makes them cough. I found mine in the shower… a small lump where my body meets my leg. I seriously shit a brick.

After surgery, I was, naturally, a hot mess. Then came finals and then the total freedom of graduation followed by the empty sadness of having to get a real job and wear dresses and fancy shoes. I found work at a production company doing this and that. After work we’d all go out for a beer and that’s when it happened… I started drinking beer.  I always hated beer, but now I love it. I need it with pizza, or on a hot day, or on a cold day….  I just love it (except Guinness. ew) and it’s cheap!

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Beer, will you marry me?

Once I started receiving health insurance, I went to all the doctors for all the check-ups and decided to get back on birth control. I opted for the Mirena IUD, since my plan would only cover contraceptive “devices” and not oral contraceptives, making the pill about $75 a month after insurance (Gotta love the American Health Care System).

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If it were only this easy!

Since the application of my contraceptive device, I have gained about one million pounds. To top off the Beer and Birth Control, I love pizza, bagels, tacos, pasta, and Netflix. I am eating a hunk of cheese as I type. I also worked a desk job for 3 years and hardly ever moved all day. So, there we have it. I am becoming a true American: lazy, fat, and unhappy.

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Anyway, once the pounds started to find their way onto my bones I was like, “Oh hey! I have boobs again!” And now I am like “Wow, I am using my belly as an arm rest!” Something has got to give, friends! I have recently switched to Light Beer (so gross) in the hopes that a difference might be made. I am also switching to imbibing only on the weekends and taking long walks in the park as well as bike rides (and teaching myself the fine art of arm circles and hoola hooping). I have switched to salads, too, but then run the risk of devouring half a bottle of dressing! YIKES (ok, that was an exaggeration, although salad dressing is delicious)! I may even join the gym, but the thought of a stranger taking my weight is just horrifying… and then having to work out with other strangers who obviously work out all of the time? Gross!

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I don’t even wanna know!

All in all, the biggest problem I am having is not being comfortable in my skin. I am so uncomfortable! I feel sweaty and smelly all the time, I even have knee sweat! I have a gigantic ass (which I’m actually okay with). My boobs are great as long as they hang out past my belly, but I’m now growing boob rolls. BOOB ROLLS!

I didn’t even mind the first few pounds that I gained because I was starting to look like a real person and not a skeleton in a skin costume. Captain Clam reassures me a thousand times a day that I am not fat, but I have “gained a few pounds.” I’d say I’m chubby, and these days I am so worried that my arms are fat. Imagine… of all the things. ARM FAT! Oh arm fat, I love you! NOT!

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Armpit Vagina.

I don’t think it’s bad to be big. In fact, I have a lot of friends who pull off a full figure very well and the absolutely adore themselves (as they should). It’s really about being comfortable and relaxed in your body. I know that’s ridiculously cliché, but after being a stick-thin starving artist and now being labeled as a “bold figure” by the gal at the Levi’s store, I am realizing that the skin on my body is not mine. There is a much happier person locked away in here somewhere, like I’m a sculpture that needs more chiseling (Wow, that was mad cheesy (I love cheese)). I seriously go out and am always thinking about how huge I feel and wondering if any notices just how fat my arms are. Some days I refuse to leave my house. It’s not abut the weight or the size, it’s about the flip and the flop; all that flab jumping about. I can feel it and it just feels wrong.

Thanks Goodness Gracious that I clean up pretty well when I slap on some make-up and hair-do, a dress, and what I like to call my “bike shorts.” I don’t feel that bad about myself when I’m in “costume.” Now if I could only get my thighs to have a fight and stop hanging out so much. I am learning the big girl tricks, like never leave home without baby powder… and just give up on wearing a belt entirely! I have also shunned bathing suits (that may have something to do with bad tattoos as well). All in all, I am ready to get my shit together… just in time for the end of bathing suit season.

I’ll keep you posted on my progress, because I know that you care.

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Adventure, Unemployment

Adventures in Unemployment

I lost my job about 3 months ago. I know I have brought it up a few times in my posts, and I am dealing with a strange sense of “employment withdrawl.” I still have horrible nightmares about “that place.”

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WAKE UP ALREADY!

I hated my job. I was always hoping to get laid off, but had no idea that the unemployment system would suck so much. I also had no idea that I’d actually ever be laid off. Still, I think I’d rather suffer on unemployment’s $405 a week than work for a sociopathic asshole, who, after three years, never bothered to even learn how to pronounce my last name correctly.

images-12No matter what though, unemployment sucks, even if it sucks less than a shitty job. The process of unemployment is confusing, as I am sure it is set up to be. After signing up online and claiming my benefits, I had no idea if I had even signed up correctly. I did not receive any sort of confirmation email and had no idea how to check the website to see if I was indeed going to receive the benefits. Finally, after 2 weeks of stress and poverty, I received my first payment, yay!

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MAKE IT RAIN!

Unemployment is sobering, and not in the sense that I now have limited funds to feed my beer belly. It’s depressing and awful and just makes you feel like a huge piece of shit. I literally have to force myself out of bed each day, force myself to take a shower and force myself to eat something (Ok, that last one is a straight up lie, but made the flow of my statement/plight extremely desperate).

Why do I even exist? A job does not define me, but it gives me the funds that can ease my endless boredom. Finding a job, especially nowadays, is just awful. I’m not a stupid woman. I have several degrees from leading institutions of higher learning and am quite the talent on the harmonica and kazoo (and am all around pretty awesome, just ask my mom). Too bad those instruments suck and are not special at all and are not even worthy enough to put on my resume under “interests.”

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HARMONICA TRAMP STAMP!

So, I was lucky enough to get a one day freelance project with a lovely woman who I do various layout projects for. Of course I was an Honest Betsy and claimed it on my weekly unemployment “check-in” questionnaire. These jerks took out $100 from my benefits that week and then froze my future benefits and needed me to fill out a billion years of confusing paperwork wanting to know why I was only ready, willing, and able to work for 4 days, instead of 5. A big fucking headache… that is what being honest gets you. I think of all the people who are working off the books, collecting unemployment, and beating the system… I totally understand why.

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EVEN THIS BABY KNOWS WHAT’S UP.

In the past three months I have applied for 54 jobs and have had five interviews; four of which were in person and one that was over the telephone. Half of the interviews ended well with a “we will definitely be in touch,” leading me to believe my sorrows would end soon, and yet they were just amplified with false hope. Nobody gets back to you. They don’t actually give a fuck. They have a job, so why should they care or bother to sympathize with your plight? I have been applying for bullshit jobs that I can do, but don’t actually want to do. I can’t even get one of those. And even if I did, then I’m back where I started: HELL!

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I want to remove the hair on my head in large clumps! GHHAAAAHH!!!!

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GHHAAAAHH!!!!

Now, to add to the drama (because I just love drama so much)… A very good friend of mine, I’ll call him Uncle Paulo, saw that I needed a break from the prison that is my studio apartment and purchased a ticket for me to visit my bestie in LA. What’s that, unemployment? Not gonna let me leave the state without having an interview set up in LA? I didn’t want to commit any sort of insurance fraud, so I had to cancel my the trip, and oh, guess what? Unemployment needed me to prove it. That’s fine, except they won’t let you email the proof… you have to FAX it! Who the fuck has a fax machine? Like, oh yeah, let me just blow the dust off my fax machine and shoot this right over to you. I’ll be sure to use the broken telephone outlet in my Pre-War apartment after I google “fax machine” and do a little research. You are kidding me, right? Then no one calls to confirm that the fax was actually received (as requested on my cover page (thank you, research)). What a messed up system. You’d think people would have email addresses, but NOOOOO… it’s gotta be as complicated as possible. I am truly a prisoner in my own home. Thank you unemployment, I love you.

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TRUTH.

This is clearly an angry rant about a number of things I am pissed off about. The first thing being my old, shitty boss and getting laid off in the first place and then being replaced by 3 slave labor interns. What a cheap prick (I am obviously still angry and think he should rot in a ditch somewhere where his morals and “his “word” have long been resting. You’re a Jerk).

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Number two is the unemployment system in general, which was created to confuse and depress people who are actually ready, willing, and able to work (damn, we just need a break and are actually scared to be honest. Who are you, my Dad? (sorry Dad, just a figure of speech (my Dad is awesome, by the way))).

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Number three is my deep hatred of fax machines. I mean come on already. This is not 1988, it’s 2013. I could literally think about something and the information is transmitted instantly via telepathy and government probing and thought police activity. Get with the program. You could actually be more helpful to the people you are “helping” if you would just register with gmail and get a fucking email account for all of your employees. Does that make sense? Oh no? Neither does your website.

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DEATH TO FAX MACHINES!

I’m also pretty pissed about American Airlines in general and prospective employers and the shit they say and ultimately do not actually do. Seriously, if you say you will call me, call me, even if it’s not good news. You can even send an email. It’s easier! Or maybe you could even fax me the bad news. I had to recently purchase a fax machine, so it’s really convenient for me to communicate that way. Whatever way you want to send me the info, just do it. Don’t let me sit here avoiding interviews or applications because I am waiting for you and you have just simply stood me up! Are we in High School or something? Also, don’t tell me that “the job is yours if you want it” and I say yes and then you never call me again. Not cool.

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THAT PHONE SHOULD BE A CAT.

And Dear America, make jobs appear. Stop giving them to machines and other countries. Shop locally. Support Americans and America. Duh. I certainly do not want to have to rely on this government to give me financial support and I am sure you are not looking for a handout, either. But when the time comes, you might need it and be secretly grateful for it, like I am (thank you unemployment for thinking of me during these hard times). I am proud, yes, but I am not scared to share my story and I hope that this is the hardest time of my life, because it certainly can’t get any worse than this. But whenever I say that it does get worse. Fuck.

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Drink, Social Media

I was Drunk when I Wrote This

*Disclaimer: I am not currently drunk while writing this post. I am sitting on the floor drinking Keystone Light Beer (Always Smooth, apparently), which is merely beer flavored water. I may eventually peel myself up from the floor and have another, but this is a well thought out, sober induced, half researched blog post that I hope will be my best yet. So, please enjoy responsibly and take heed, fellow drinkers!

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CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!

Drinking and socializing have gone hand and hand since, well, forever… which means that drinking, socializing, and very poor decisions have also gone hand in hand in hand for the same period of time. What a messy three-way!

Overindulgence is sometimes unavoidable, like if it’s a baby’s first birthday party or your friends wedding in Vineland (Bumble-Fuck), New Jersey. You can’t always be sure WHAT is going to happen, especially if you and your friends are absolutely out of your minds to begin with.

There are many different types of “drunk” that exist. Please read below for my full synopsis, as I trust you will. Please note that I left out that person who always lets you know that they are drunk (Oh My God, I am SOOOOOO drunk right now!). It’s annoying. We all do it from time to time, so just beware.

Sad Drunk – Now, sad drunks aren’t always sad. They can be people who just have adverse reactions to red wine and think that John Denver’s “Back Home Again” is just so damn moving. It really is (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJUnnnXg_oY ), but I’m not crying about it (not yet, anyway!)! Get a grip! Stop listening to that sappy country folk music for the remainder of your wine binge, and listen to something you can dance to. Dancing is way more fun than crying and releases the same chemicals. DUH!

Then there is the sad drunk who is completely inconsolable. Their loved one left them or perhaps a family member passed away. They need to be out of their apartments so their sorrows don’t suffocate them, but they are totally killing the buzz. So… you drink a gallon of wine with them and join in the sympathy party (Gosh, you are such a good friend). Lesson learned: Sad people should not drink wine, unless everyone is ready to be supportive and you are in a living room with a good girl movie and pounds of food.

Angry Drunk – This isn’t always that tough guy trying to prove he’s got muscles and mega testosterone. This is sometimes that sassy bitch who just needs to fight a lawn chair at a Bennigan’s because she’s just plain angry. Maybe she was accused of trying to leave the bar without paying, even though she was just going out to smoke and find her pal who was smoking and making friends outside. I mean really, not all angry people drinking are trying to be angry drunk. It’s a strange balance, but when you are off kilter even just a little, madness will make haste.

Cocky Drunk – This is that guy who knows everything and has so many jokes that are offensive and annoying and the only way to actually like him is to be equally as drunk and cocky yourself. These conversations will last for hours and offend everyone else in the area… mostly because those people are tight ass pricks. Am I right?

Sexy Drunk – This is when you are so drunk you have no idea what is going on. This is not sexy at all, but YOU think that YOU”RE so sexy. This can be applied to both sexes, but I think women are more prone to this typecast since they spend so much time getting ready and are generally prettier than men. Men are just desperate. Either way: GROSS!

Happy Drunk  – This is the best type of drunk (if that phrase even exists or is ever appropriate). I like to think this kind of drunk isn’t even “drunk”… maybe more of a tipsy spirit who is just ready to let loose, tell mad jokes and dance a bit, laughing and carrying the crowd’s energy on their shoulders. They never have too many drinks and are the one’s holding back someone’s hair in the bathroom, fetching water, and comforting the sad drunks (see above). They are loved by everyone, even if they are fat or ugly, and leave an excellent rep in their wake (unless you are an angry drunk, then you hate them because YOU HATE EVERYTHING!!!!).

TMI Drunk – This is the drunk who is not funny, not boring, but just is. They want to tell you everything about everything and leech onto you like you wanted a leech as a pet. They are not liked, nor are they hated, They are just drunk and should go home and get an exciting hobby that isn’t dull to talk about at a bar. Maybe they need a cat or something.

Now that we have covered all the types of drunk that exist for the purpose of this blog post, there are a variety of social outlets that can be applied to the personalities of drunkenness. Most areas covered in this post will be digital, but it’s important to address personal interaction. We all hang out with other people, obviously, and that generally leads to going home intoxicated and then doing stupid shit on the computer machine or cellular telephone device.

And here is the breakdown for your pleasure.

SKYPE ME!

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Drunk Skyping (even at 4:44 am on a Wednesday) is okay, as long as it’s mutual and not a job interview. You can even Skype with cats! Yay! Online dates should maybe start out sober and then progress with a few drinks, but be careful. It’s easy to fall into one of the typecasts above if overindulgence occurs (don’t take my word for it, I date in analog).

FACEBOOK ME?

This is the most detrimental part of a social media online reputation. I mean, who doesn’t have a facebook? Oh right, people not worth being friends with (Wow, that was a joke. Sorry.) This is not the place to be drunk posting or messaging. I, myself have been called out on it, and all I asked was “how are you.’ Of course, it was 3:36am. My bad.

Here are examples of what might be posted by each of our typecast drunks:

Sad Drunk: My heart is broken. 😦  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2Rch6WvPJE

OR:

Thinking of you, Old Friend:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3FixiNdni0

Angry Drunk: OH EMMM GEEEEE! You thnk I’m tslking bout you but I’m not. Not everything is about you! Get over yourslef! (Typos are for effect only).

Cocky Drunk: Ramma Jamma, my ninja! Crackin’ Bottles and shit. Still at da club!

Sexy Drunk: Totally random selfie (at 4am)!

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DRUNK!

Happy Drunk: I wish I could pet you… and a zebra. Brunch tomorrow?

TMI Drunk: All this person would post would be 1 million Shared links from Friends Posts (mostly pictures of cats), Buzz Feed, and I Fucking Love Science.

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I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE!

TWITTER OF THE THUMBS

Now, with Twitter it isn’t as easy to tell the level of drunk, since It’s okay to misspell or abbreviate things. Plus, twitter can actually be somewhat anonymous and it’s always ticking away, so a tweet at 4am may not be scrutinized as closely.

Examples as follows:

Sad drunk: #Wishing the #stars would stop falling from the sky. #WishUponaStar #ImissYou http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNIPqafd4As

OR

#OMG, have you seen this #Video? So #Moving! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAcgBf-JJFk

Angry Drunk: Fuck you @Diddy YOU SUCK because I said so! GHAAAA!!!!!! #IHATEYOU

Cocky Drunk:  Kicking #AlexTrebek’s ass in #TrivualPursuit. And I’m #DRUNK!

Sexy Drunk: OMG, I am so hot, I had to take off some clothes! heehee!

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Nice pink phone.

Happy Drunk: Just saw a grandma with an eyebrow ring. I love the universe!

TMI Drunk:

RT @OMGFacts After WWII, a Japanese pilot was made a honorary citizen of an US city he bombed! Details –> http://omgf.ac/ts/gB2 

RT @MarilynMonroe Warning: these pranks may cause severe anger http://bit.ly/1b9GXdE 

OMG BEY! RT @E1i5e Her stage presence slayed me dead to the ground… #beyonce http://instagram.com/p/bIvGxYr7mF/ 

TEXTING, TEXTING 1,2,3…

One time I sent out a mass text to all of my friends. I really thought I was being funny. I wrote “drunk text”. It was awesome and I was so clever. Sadly,  I have done it a few times since then and it has gotten old. I am waiting at least one year to do it again.

Be careful. It’s never okay to drink and text. Especially while driving.

THE NUMBER YOU HAVE REACHED…

Thankfully, drunk phone calls only happen with my friends (oh my god, as far as I know). When I was any of the drunk stereotypes in the past, cell phones were huge Zack Morris – type beasts and I would much rather be alone locked into a “state” in my room listening to Sophie B. Hawkins (As I Lay me Down to Sleep on REPEAT! KILL ME!), Courtney Love, Tonic, Counting Crows, or Live… no matter WHAT mood I was in. Nowadays, It’s a conversation with friends or Captain Clam and they are also usually drunk so we can be our drunken selves and cry and laugh and cheer each other on and be merry.

Just be careful. you can definitely have conversations that you don’t remember, even if you had it from 12am – 4am. Time tends to disappear when infused with the spirits. A good hint is to not drink while you are using the phone. Ha! Like that would ever happen.

EM@IL ME!

Wow. One of the WORST things you can do drunk is send emails. It’s okay to formulate a draft when you are drinking, but don’t hit that send button! And never send a drunk email from your phone! NEVER EVER EVER!

So, now that we have indulged our drunken spirits in the different types of drinking, socializing, and poor choice making, let’s figure out how to solve the problem of ourselves.  I would like to hold the internet responsible for our poor drunk decision making over the past 15 years and propose something called the “Double Goggle Initiative“.

Here is how it works:

Your electronic device works as a “breathalizer”. It is able to determine your drunk typecast based on keywords and a variety of other things based on what has been written. The DoubleGog (as I have affectionately named it) will analyze text based on the following:

Key Words, Content, Curse Words/Bad names, “love” or any other repetitive emotion

Typos and how many times it took to spell a word right

Grammar: Can what you wrote actually be understood?

What is the time based on where you are and the message destination?

Who are you sending this message to?

DoubleGog should ask a variety of questions based on your drunk typecast  (see Above) before authorizing transmission of the message.

Possible questions could be:

How many drinks have you had?

Are you crying?

Do you know what time it is?

Do you realize who you are sending this message to?

Have you actually reviewed this message?

Do you understand what you are saying?

Are you sure you want to send this message?

Are you sure you do not want to sleep on it?

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DENIED, Idiot!

DoubleGog would act as a counselor and friend when all of your other friends are fast asleep or sending their own drunken messages. And if DoubleGog deems that you indeed have no idea what you are doing or are in an emotional state that will not allow you to be rational, you will be denied the right to send the message at that moment in time.

In conclusuon, my dear fellow lushes, Don’t drink and drive, and don’t drink and type unless perchance, you are blogging. And if you really want to see what drunk blogging looks like, read my blog “I Heart Sandwiches.” I’m pretty sure I could have used a DoubleGog intervention on that one.

I love you.

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Opposites Attract

Things That Don’t Mix So Good

This post goes out to my mom, a sassy, yet extremely polite, little lady who gives the best damn hugs and head rubs in all the land. If you ever meet her, she will make sure you are well fed… and that’s an understatement.

Undoubtedly , there are things that are in the natural world, spiritual world, and technological world that simply will not mix. Here are some of my latest findings. I know how curious you are, since I am so cool and all.

Moms and Computer Machines

This little tale is what inspired the blog post you are currently reading. I hope my mom can forgive me, as she explicitly asked me not to write about the incident, when during said incident, I told her I was going to blog about it.

I called my mom asking for a favor. I have to prove to my Credit Card Company that I am indeed collecting unemployment and am eligible to not have to pay monthly payments until forever. I do not have a printer to print out the Official Benefits Page (I effing HATE Unemployment), so I give mom a call and email her the page. Of course she obliges my request (because she loves me so much). She has to go upstairs to her computer room, wherein lies her “new” computer. The computer wants to update 1 million applications. We wait…. and wait…. ultimately the file will not open. So I send her the file in a different format…. three times. Then we check her “other” computer. Still no success.

Long story short… After three emails, 12 different ways of trying to open the file to print, one dead cell phone, yelling and screaming into speaker phone, sweat, tears, and about 9 hours, she calls me back to let me know that my sister (love you, Chrissy) came over to help her and all she needed to do was download “Adobe Player.”   Thanks, Mom!

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Mom, You’re the Best!

Deadlines and Poor Internet Speeds

It is seriously like your computer KNOWS just how stressed out you are when that deadline is lurking. I swear I give off an electric energy that makes my computer either NOT work or the internet ceases to function properly until I calm the fuck down. WHY?

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Oh My God, are you KIDDING ME?

Bras and Heat Waves

OH MY GOD!! Please make it stop!

As soon as you hit a certain age (30, which is the new 25) you sweat like all the sweat that you ever had in your whole body has never let itself loose. Any movement makes the ducts flow, dripping saline and grossies, and you are left with boob sweat and stained t-shirts and ruined dresses and poor self-esteem.

And when you do take your bra off, you realize just how big your boobies actually are and you praise the gods for the heat wave… until you need milk and eggs and cheese. Then you go to the store and forget you have no bra on… and even the girls are looking.

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WooHoo! No Bra!

Whiskey and Wine

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Gaaahhhhhh! I am such a mess!

DON”T EVER DO IT.  It’s just ugly… like Angry, Sad Crying on Valentine’s Day. True Story.

High Heels on a Picnic

This action is actually Do-Able, if you are careful, play your cards right, and simply don’t give a damn about the shoes you have on. Any situation can be overcome with a little bit of grace.

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Strawberry Fields Forever!

Every year, a Strawberry Fields Picnic in Central Park (Manhattan, duh) is held and hosted by me and a group of friends (who are now scattered across the country and world). This year, I did an early Spring Picnic. Captain Clam and I needed to get out of Brooklyn and see some old friends. Of course, Central Park is a reasonable meeting area for our  (generally) debaucherous gathering.

What I didn’t depend on was the attendance of my good old friend from Long Island popping in with her New Girlfriend. Of course she had RSPV’d via facebook, but facebook is so unreliable when it comes to me and event planning. Everyone is a liar or a pessimist these days. ANYWAY, the new girlfriend shows up dazzling (!) as if she is meeting the most important people in the world (OMG, me!). So here she is, buxom, beautiful, totally confident, wearing full make-up, toting replica pearls, and dragging along a bag full of quiche (qhiche!!)…. and wearing heels. Not little heels, but HEELS. I do believe I  made a joke about it (someone had to), but I definitely made sure I could get away with the joke before it fell out of my foul mouth. See was game and totally wonderful!

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Oh, I got this.

Eventually we came back to Captain Clam and my BK studio to catch up. We ended up playing the “BEST OF BOTH WORLD’S DRINKING GAME“. It’s the double Start Trek TNG BORG episode drinking game that I made up. You drink whenever anyone says BORG. It’s dangerous. I am still finding replica pearls in my apartment!

Car Keys and a 12 Pack 

Unless you’re hanging out with 12 people for at least an hour, DON”T DO IT. It’s dumb… and so are you (if you do it).

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 Strong Accents and Telephone Calls

Wowzers. I just can’t do it.  My old Landlord is Isreali, and I would make him meet me so we could talk. I had no idea what he was saying when we were on the phone. I have a heavy Lawn Guy Land accent myself, so it’s like a turkey and a chicken talking (does that even make sense?). It’s not happening… It’s like calling an American based company and getting an “outsourced” employee. The American Dream is spreading! Sadly, I am void of accent comprehension. It’s not anybody’s fault.

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I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?

Cats and Cats

I am a crazy cat lady. You did not hear it here first, unless you never met me (a future blog post is in the works). I love cats and I love MY cats…except Squirrel, he’s a dick, and he belongs to Captain Clam.

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I might be pretty, but I’m still a dick!

Squirrel was acquired during the small amount of time that Captain Clam and I lived in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. He showed up so cute and little at our window one day. We fed him and eventually let him in and he peed on our bed.

When we had to move, he was still a little baby. Captain Clam was in love with him and I couldn’t say no… so we took him to the neuter van (ASPCA.org) and brought him into the family. My older cats hated him… and they still hate him one year later. Sadly, the little bastard hates me too, and all I want is a good snuggle from time to time. He eats my plants and terrorizes the geriatric cat population. It sucks getting old.

Shout out to Wee, Mr. T, and Merdok. Don’t let Squirrel Bring you Down!

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Tequila and Anger 

DON’T DO IT …Unless you really just wanna dance!

5nxu

Good Shows and Bad Endings

This heading is self explanatory. But let’s recap, shall we?

Merlin – skipping ahead for no effing reason = not cool. And what happened to the white dragon?

Movie: City of Angels – Are you serious? I started crying from halfway through the movie until the very end! WHY?!

Lost – Just plain stupid. Wasted my time imagining the possibilities.

Arrested Development – Should have just left it where it was. Or maybe it was because I watched that last Netflix season in one day…. Sadly, I wasn’t entertained.

Nip/Tuck – Where was the drama in the ending? BORING!

Movie: Cabin in the Woods – So good until the end. LAME! But thanks for the Sigourney Weaver Cameo!

Sopranos – LAME. Sorry. Please don’t give me concrete shoes and RIP Mr. G.

Smallville – We never really got to see you fly! Why Not? Whaaaa!!!! ‘Nuff Said.

Movie: The Ledge: First of all, Jax from SOA would never do that! Or would he for Tara? I don’t know! BUZZ KILL… Did you REALLY have to kill him at the end?! So LAME! But Liv Tyler was a beauty, as usual! Damn.

The Tudors Why not just go on to the end? Kill that cheating bastard? History demands his death!

Dollhouse:  Why was this show ever even canceled? Eliza Dushku is so hot right now! And this show could have been even hotter. 2 seasons?  Gross.

Prison Break – Seriously. How many prisons are you planning on breaking out of? And REALLY? You can remove tattoos just like that? BORING… and NOT TRUE.

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What the….?

I know, I know…. I only touch the surface and there are a lot more incompatible things in this world. It’s a weird world though. Luckily, you can disagree with me, or even add to my obvious very in-depth scientific research. I’d like to hear from you. There are some things that don’t mix, but sometimes they do.

I love you.

Thank you to My Sweet Mom, Carol, of course, Priscilla and JoJo, My kitties, Isaak, JKwasna, JDHuizing, LTDan, GBueche, and Captain Clam.

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Bucket List, Things to Do, Uncategorized

That Good Old “To Do” List

I recently saw a good old friend; the kind of friend who I hadn’t seen for over a year, but, as we always do, we were able to just pick up where we left off in this shit show that is “life.” It seems that we are both going through some hard times. Her hard times are a lot harder than mine and yet she is still making the extreme effort to help pick me up from the dirt and mud and shit. Gotta love those good old friends (and we do).

When I lost my job 2.5 months ago, I was devastated. I still am, sadly. It wasn’t even a job I liked. It kept me up at night and kept me in bed in the mornings with the dread of a thousand panic attacks. But it was a job. It wasn’t that unemployment check that you hope gets directly deposited each Wednesday without any hiccups (and trust me, with this unemployment system, there are some serious fuck ups…. but I digress. That is a blog post for another day).

Before my last day at my crappy job for the worst person I have EVER met, I used my last week to think about a lot of stuff. I got a tax ID for a business, printed a bunch of resumes, organized my work computer, and made myself a to-do list (among other things). It’s on a hot pink extra large post it note.

After visiting with my old friend, I literally rummaged through a closet to find this tiny scrap of paper. I read it now and laugh at how hopeful I was. I do remember feeling like unemployment would be like a summer vacation. Unfortunately, it’s not. And being just above broke during the summer in New York City really depresses the shit out of even the most hopeful of optimists.

So… Without further anticipation, since I know you want to know what I was thinking 2.5 months ago….

Below is the list. I have added commentary for your enjoyment because I love you.

Truly.

To Do

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Eben

That’s my Captain Clam. He’s the love of my life, so naturally I’d “do” him. No more information is necessary.

Visit the Girls

I have friends scattered throughout the world. Two of my faves are Westerly. One in Austin, TX and the other in Los Angeles, CA. I am dying to see them and miss them terribly. I send them snail mails with small tokens of my affection, like seeds and giant erasers. No one ever writes back. They have real jobs and are busy.

Climb a Hill

I’ve gotten fat and need the exercise. Plus, I want to see the top of the world.

Fly a Kite

Fun. Enough said.

Um, Make a Kite

See above.

Bake

Captain Clam bakes. But it’s too hot this summer, so I think this one will wait until the fall.

Photograph at Least 10 Strangers

This is my favorite to-do item. I have been inspired by my bravery 2.5 months go and have been out taking photos. I have yet to photograph anyone with their permission, but I am working up to it and am starting a beautiful project that will no doubt make me famous and adored by all. No. I’m kidding. It will just make me happy. This project will have the shit blogged out of itself, so stay tuned.

Remove Mustache

Seriously ladies, we all have one. Unfortunately,  I am too broke for threading these days. BUT I did get a tan and the sun has bleached it and I am happy enough with the results. Mustache removal is up there with baking…. waiting until autumn.

Start a Business

Unemployment forbids it. They want to make you suffer for being an entrepreneur. Corporate America is a curse on Humanity. This one will have to wait. Sorry, etsy.com.

Get out of Town

Self explanatory. Who wants  to host me and Captain Clam? And who want to cat-sit?!

Sing Karaoke

Well, duh, what better way to ward off stress. And seriously, I got me some pipes. No joke.

Yoga 4x Weekly

Ha! yeah right.

Spring Clean

I actually did this one. The great purge of 2013. Was simultaneously rewarding and sad. Sigh*

Sing in the Subway —> Start a Band

Two dreams joined together by an arrow on my small, hot pink post-it. This dream will come true one day. For now, it stays on the hot pink post-it. But I am up for collaboration, so BRING IT.

Sunbathe Topless on the Roof

Yeah, maybe in about 30 pounds! Yikes. I still might do this soon, so cover your eyes!

Haircut

Did that, but I think I need another one. Waiting for fall again! I’ll learn to bake and remove my mustache at the same time. woohoo!

Toenails

Not even sure what this means. Probably a pedicure. Yeah… too broke for all that, but I definitely purchased polish, so perhaps I will ask Captain Clam to hone his painting skills this week.

Ice Cream Cone

Yum. What a goal.

Win Lotto 

Does a $2 scratch off count? I won my money back!

Volunteer

I have done extensive job searches and have even inquired to jobs that I am not qualified for to see if the need volunteers. No answer. Assholes.

So, on the back of the paper, It seems I scribbled some wine induced “to-do” items. They are as follows:

Kiss butterfly

Pet sheep

Tie-Dye Blanket or Socks.

Yeah. Those would all be nice.

So here it is. I am sure to add to this list and am trying to not feel pathetic.

Job loss is so depressing. It’s hard to get up and shower and get dressed. I haven’t worn make-up in at least a month. It’s like a bad break up. But life goes on. Oh Blah Dee Oh Blah Dah.  Blah being the key word.

So here I am… bored out of my fucking face and yet completely inspired by my good old friend and a little piece of hot pink paper. It’s all clear to me now. I will be okay.

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