vocabulary

My partner in crime Ali Girl gets credit for sending me this one from urban dictionary:

1. Nanogasm

Obsession and erotic enjoyment derived from the mere thinking of Apple(tm) Nano Ipod or its accessories

user1: until then, IPOD CASES!!!! Seriously. I’d get a nano just to have those SEXXXXAY cases.

user2: are we going or are you just going to have nanogasms

Extra tidbit, although my date for this Thursday owns a nano, I doubt those are the particular kind of 'gasms I'll be having by the end of the night.

Oh my!

too good to be true?

Okay, so I got this via email today, and nearly passed out. I was hyperventilating from excitement.

Am I an Apple Rockstar? Do people like working with me?? Do I live the iLife????

Oh, all those dreams of working for apple...

Now the question is what job are they shopping me for? Really, this is a retail environment, after all. I am hoping management or back of house. Please please please let them not be shopping me for part time cashier work. My god my resume has too much good stuff for that. One would think.

And yes, I am going to the seminar to check this opportunity out. I can't not see what is up. C'mon.

misconceptions

I have this thing, a talent for setting people at ease. As mentioned in that personality test I took, I am great at "easily picking up the gestures, facial expressions and speech patterns of others."

This ability comes in really handy most of the time. I make friends easily, am good at helping others feel better about themselves, and am able to get things done more efficiently by alleviating people roadblocks.

Now add to my skill the fact that by default I like everyone. I honestly believe that there are amazing and interesting things about most people, and cherish those unique boons. It takes a lot for me not to like someone. So you know they must be the bizzaro world version of me if they become my nemesis.

The thing is that sometimes I feel guilty about my talent, because in some ways I am deceiving others. By mimicking them they see themselves in me, and that is not necessarily who I really am. For example, everyone whom I interview for a job thinks they've got it, because we got along so well. After meeting me people always guess my age as being close to theirs, as how could I really be ten years older when we are so on the same wavelength?

Now combine that with the fact that I have a really hard time trusting people. It takes a lot of time and patience for me to start confiding real things in new people. So although I have a lot of friends, only a few know the real me. I suppose that is not so abnormal, but I did not start out this way. I gave so much to so many people and got burned so many times I just learned to shut down. In some ways I miss having the ability to be more giving, but not enough to give up the safety and security of my ivory tower so far away from being taken advantage of.

Another disadvantage is I often distrust the affection of others. I really believe that what most people like in me is that mirror reflection. This gets more confusing when the affection is from a suitor. You know, I used to flirt a lot. I stopped that a couple of years ago. I mean, combine sexuality with my super-reflective powers and all kinds of misconceptions and hurt feelings are soon to follow.

So what is a girl to do when it comes to dating? Just let go and trust someone else's perceptive abilities, I suppose. Which is harder, to former or the latter? I don't know, I'll keep you all posted on that one.

inhibitions

Ah, tequila. Wondrous beverage derived from cacti. Last night I went to a friend's birthday party, and this was her shot of choice.

As a person known to imbibe from time to time, I have observed that different alcohols give a different kind of drunk. Wine is a chill buzz, beer a stupid one, vodka cuts like a knife, and jager just makes the world glow. Oh, but tequila. So good, yet so so bad.

I remember my first time with this beverage. I was a spry 21, living in Warren, and was throwing my first New Years Eve party with my roommates. My cousins Joe and Paul came, tequila bottle in hand. We had several shots in conjunction to playing some spinning quarter game. I was feeling pretty good (translate - completely knackered), but then noticed the party was getting awfully loud. Immediately I was able to ascertain the cause - the TV was on and the volume on high, thus people had to raise their voices to be heard over it. Well, I am fervently opposed to TVs being on at parties, so I got up, walked over to the TV, and shut it off.

And was yelled at very loudly by all in attendance. See, this was a New Years Eve party, and I had just turned off the TV in the middle of the countdown, ten seconds before the ball hit bottom.

Smooth.

Back to last night. Oh, sweet nectar of the agave. I had a couple shots, drank a little beer, played (and lost) a little beer pong. And the creature came out. You know, the ass-grabbing creature.

Four years ago I was still working at Tuscan, and my uniform included a very tight pair of stretchy silky black pants. I was about fifteen pounds heavier, and definitely very bootylicious. As I never have been a retreating violet, and I was known to partake in sexual innuendos with my coworkers, one day I decided to have an ass-grabbing contest.

Everyone was given a chance to grab my ass, and I would judge the best technique.

Too be honest, this was a fun game.

The winner was my friend Rudy, who at the time was in the fifteenth year of his relationship with the same woman. He had obviously learned a thing or two over the years.

Since learning this method, I have been known on occasion to share the wealth with others I know. As I have moved up in the ranks at my job I try to do this less often, as in some circles this kind of thing can be construed as sexual harassment. Me teaching this always results in large numbers of people 1) grabbing my ass 2) having their asses grabbed by other people, 3) watching or being subject to me groping a handful of tush. (Get it, handful? ahahahaahha)

Now, combine the fact I have not had any action in a while, the inclusion of tequila, and the repeated grabbing and rubbing. This may or may not have resulted in me making out with someone for a half hour at the bar. And it may or may not have resulted in this someone coming home with me last night. And it may or may not have resulted in various stages of nudity. And it may or may not have resulted in plans for more of the same later this week.

As they said in Grey's Anatomy, now the beast is awake, and it wants to be fed.

tactile

I learned in college that when you touch, taste, or smell something in your dreams, you really experience them as in waking life. See, all sensation has to travel to your brain, where it is received and then interpreted. So technically, if all those sensors go off in your brain regardless of where they originated, how are you to know the difference between reality and fiction?

Normal people who dream have a kind of block that stops the action/reaction sensors that go off in the brain from traveling to the rest of the body and causing movement. Thus why this was discussed in my psych class, because people without the block would sleepwalk.

Ahhhhhhhhhh.

Knowing this kind of puts a whole new spin on dreaming. It makes sense that sometimes you wake up and are confused because a dream just seemed so real. Of course it did, to your brain it was!!

So last night I had a rather intense dream about a guy seducing me. It was one of those dreams that seemed to last forever, and you can remember every detail. Oh, and it was hot. I didn't want to give in, and I held back. But he was just too good, and eventually I just didn't want to say no anymore. Really it was all about the chase, and how much I enjoyed it. The pursuit was slow and sensual. Eventually I was won over, (and over), and then woke up. Perfect timing. Stretch, grin...

Freeze. It was about a real guy, a guy I know. It was totally unexpected, I never would have guessed this guy would have ended up in my dreams, but he did.

This has happened to all of you before, don't lie.

By god, next time I see him I am going to blush and stutter like a fool, and he will have no idea why. How can I not, when those sensations were real, even if only for me?

No, I'm not going to tell you who the mystery man is, but if you catch me in the act of the uber-blush and call me out, I will spill the beans. Just cause I know you all love a challenge. (Shouldn't be too hard, I am rarely flustered!)

job security

You know, a few years ago when I was still an assistant I would often say to people that I wanted to get paid to think, not to do. It was necessary to go through the doing to learn how to think correctly for a specific business, of course.  But that is how you get ahead, by being an idea person, someone with solutions.

 

Since my last promotion, I am definitely responsible for more thinking, but still I am still overworked because there are still things I have to do.  Reports to create, data to analyze, things to make work.

 

I just came up with an idea that may put me one step closer to full time thinking.  And to think you don't need to put in overtime.

Woo hoo!

double entendre

My sister and her fiancé have two dogs, Molly and Murphy, both girlie types. (I know you wanted me to say bitches, but they are such sweet furry things.)

My sister has been known to talk about her dogs. A lot. It is love, sheer love. Devotion. And sometimes a bit of something else.

As a late birthday gift, I sent her a little something from Neighborhoodies, a way cool local shop for customized gear. Their website is super user friendly, the choices are stellar, and the product high quality. Oh, and the customer service rocks. I mean, just check out this email they sent me when I placed my order...

Dearest Bridget,

Welcome to the magical world of Neighborhoodies.

Things are a little different here than in the outside world. For instance.

When your order arrives and you, with a maniacal anticipation, bust open the package:

1. you will laugh out loud with delight
2. you will never want to take off your neighborhoodie.
seriously. you will sleep in it for days.
3. you will tell everyone who you know about this amazing site.
4. strangers will approach you on the street and ask you where you got such awesomeness. sheesh, don't be such a wiseacre - tell them about us; it's how we grow together.
5. remember! neighborhoodies is not a cult. it's just the way things ought to be.
We craft each order, lovingly, by hand, one at a time, in our Brooklyn studios.

Thanks for becoming a customer. Neighborhoodies wants to be your favorite company of all time.

If you have any questions, send us an email to love@neighborhoodies.com


cheers!
-michael
(founder)

So knowing my sister has this intense love for her pets, what could I possibly put on a hoodie for her? Then it hit me. Awwwww yeah....



In case you can't quite read, it says "ask me about my girls". Oh yes, it all comes together. See, it is written across her chest in pink...her girls...you know...

This of course was not the only photo sent to me -



Once again, all about the woofies. Gotta love the sister for her puppy love.

Oh, and they do doggie outfits and underwear too. Gifts for years! Or at least as long as I can come up with witty ideas to pay someone else to stitch on fabric.

They just keep coming

Here is the email I received from my brother yesterday morning:

Subject: We have baby!

Hello, all!

The Cooneys of Redford have a new baby: Teresa Rose Cooney was born this morning at 8 lbs 4 oz. and 20.5 inches. After Teresa's daddy gets a bit of sleep, pictures on cooneysite.com will be forthcoming.

Pete & Mary C

That would be number four on their part.  And they don't plan on stopping any time soon.  They alone will repopulate the earth with Catholics.

ode to Jack LaLanne

Last Thursday I woke up and I knew it. I was coming down with something. My head was heavy, I could feel the germs gathering force at the back of my throat.

Oh no, not my birthday weekend!

I spent all day popping Tylenol, knowing that after my bar night I had the whole weekend to recover. This is the year of health; I do not want to be sick all the time anymore. Hells no.

Friday I slept all day. The germination had not progressed, but was still present.

Same situation Saturday when I awoke. I got up, went to the gym, struggled through a workout. Then I hit the Amish Market and bought my salvation. Ingredients to my power juice. I came home and made my elixir. That night I hit the town with my peeps, we all went to Dead Poets, of which I have heard many wonderful things but myself had never experienced. Turns out I got to drink for free as I share a birthday with a famous literary figure.

Sunday I woke up, made and drank more juice. I again rested all day, even though the germs in the back of my throat seemed to be losing force, no need to tempt the army to one last charge.

For those of you out of the loop, last year I went on a liquid fast lasting two weeks for the health benefits. I bought the Jack LaLanne Juicer, and discovered that guy is not a quack. Myself having a *slightly* flawed digestive system, I was amazed at the difference drinking the fresh juice of fruits and vegetables had to simply having a very healthy diet or even taking vitamins. Not only did I feel better as a result of my actions, but also I have not had an episode since. (Knock on wood.)

But I digress.

Today I woke up, and by god I am better. I am ecstatic! Once again I have had my faith in the juice reinforced. Not that I necessarily want to live as long as Mr. L, but I'd like to feel relatively healthy while I am still kicking.

Just in case you are curious, here is my recipe for the uber juice.

five regular carrots
a bunch of kale
one medium beet
one cup strawberries
two cups red grapes
two fuji apples

Yes, this actually tastes good, like grape apple juice. Gotta love the natural sugar.

Things to keep in mind - if you user a blender instead of a juicer you will make one disgusting fiber filled drink. Just don't do it. Also, the sooner you consume after you make it the better, juices somehow magically leak their nutrients into the air once made, losing potency very quickly. My scientific mind does not understand this concept, but if the LaLanne says so, it must be.

the anatomy of fictitious men

What is it in that second X chromosome which makes women innately love chick flicks? Or at least the romantic leads involved in them? Heathcliff, Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice or Bridget Jones version), Doctor Zhivago, Lloyd Dobbler. The archetype of the love tortured, faithful and true, strong yet sensitive male.

It isn't that they are mirages. Great fiction is based on what is true. Many of these famous characters are even created by men. I have myself met many of these mythical creatures, and even dated a couple.

The fact that they are rare is what keeps us hooked. That and the fact they are two dimensional on screen, free of flaws, fated to utter incomplete perfection.

Now that I have lured you in with my educated ruminations, I bring you back to the base reason I started this debate. The men of Grey's Anatomy - whom we so lust for but yet if we dealt with in reality would so suck.

Let's start with the obvious - Dr. Alex Karev.

Why we love him - He's the bad boy with the hidden sensitive side. You know, the one who will change for you. Also, as the bad boy he clearly presents with an animal magnetism, his sexuality worn on his sleeve. Nummy.

Why in reality he sucks - They never change for you, that is crap. Also, his forewarned hidden sensitive interior will lose the battle to the harsh outside one every time it really matters. You will be hurt and betrayed over and over again, as maybe you should for expecting anyone to morph for you.

The flip side, Dr. Preston Burke

Why we love him - He's the guy who falls for you just because you are there. You push him away and push him away again, yet he just wants to get to know you. You complete him. His obvious perfection was a fallacy, he needs to use every ounce of emotional energy he has to prove to his true love that even though he has no idea what you are really like inside, he loves every ounce of that hidden darkness.

Why in reality he sucks - Let's see, the guy is a world class cardiac thoracic surgeon. He is in impeccable shape. He probably saves puppies and kittens in his spare time. The man is addicted to challenge, and once you cease to be one, he'll find another.

The longing side, Dr. George O'Malley

Why we love him - He thinks of you first. He gets you, he really does. Because he watches you, thinks about you all of the time. He is a sensitive guy, always there for his friends and loved ones, always taking one for the team. He is utterly devoted to you.

Why in reality he sucks - This guy never gets the girl. He pines and pines and waits and waits and misses his window. By the time he actually gets his gumption up to say something, he has stored up so much pent up emotion that he freaks the chick out and she turns him down flat. As much as I love the piner, the very thing that makes him in theory appealing in reality makes him undatable.

Finally, the romantic lead, Dr. Derek Shepherd

Why we love him - He is sensitive, smart, strong, and a romantic. He is also very moralistic, so much so that he pulls away from a woman he loves to make his marriage to a philanderer work. And when he looks into your eyes he sees your soul. Most importantly, he is mysterious. Oh, what ideas lurk behind those baby blues?

Why in reality he sucks - He wants what he cannot have. The grass is always greener, and when he gets close enough to you your lawn looks like it needs to be watered. And that mystery? It is the potential you fell for, not the reality.

The key to a good romantic movie or book is one believable romantic male lead and the key to a good TV series is several. The show inevitably has to jump the shark – not because the writers get stale or uninspired, but because eventually when we get to know the characters long enough we see more of the flaws than the fantasies.

I’ll still enjoy it while it lasts. I know who my favorite is, who is yours? (Men in this case would be even more interesting to hear from, but so much less likely to have anyting to share.)

good times

The party went off without a hitch - I have so much gratitude for those who were able to come, it is wonderful to feel so well liked and appreciated. Seeing everyone was wonderful, and I was so flattered that everyone made the effort to come out. Looking at all the wonderful people surrounding me, I cannot help but feel like a success in life.

That being said, nothing that constitutes great gossip happened. I had enough foresight to drink the mother's milk, guinness, the whole night. This helped me from drinking my way over the edge. Also, I had but one shot throughout the evening, of jagermeister, which has always treated me well. Seeing and talking to everyone was great fun, and I believe everyone enjoyed themselves a bit.

Great way to start a year, I tell ya. As for today, I laid around on my ass and it was great. I slept almost all day.

Tomorrow is my actual birthday, and it seems RFW has worked out quite an agenda. She definitely is going above and beyond, which at first makes me squirm, as I do have to work on being able to accept the generosity of others.

bring it

Tomorrow is my birthday party.

It

Will

Rock

And if you all are lucky, I will remember some of the greatness and be able to blog about it.

in your honor

As an early birthday gift (but yet oh so appropriate that it has been shown to me on v-day), ali girl - my work partner in crime - has led me to the best thing ever.

A special item named for me.

Awwwww yeah. Bow chinka bow bow.

in like flynn

flynn must have been a very busy man...

shout out

Bacon, this one's for you. Just for the title, really.

yin and yang

Here I am again, up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday. Today's early rising has more to do with last night than anything else, as in I had a lot to drink and I never sleep very well if I have more than six cocktails the night before. For some reason after such an endeavor I'm up at first light. Or in this case, at the darkest before the dawn.

Last night I was out with the Jeweled Hornet and Spaghetti, we hit a bar called Prey at 22nd and 5th. Nice enough place, we were there for some kind of cupid party. The premise was every single girl who came was supposed to bring a single guy. Kind of a live action friendster. Since the Jeweled Hornet knew two of the hosts, we were able to come sans sausage.

I have never been to one of these things before, it was interesting. Interesting because everyone was so open, friendly, and pro-mingling. It was like the knowledge that we were all there for the same reason just relaxed everyone. It was really great; I would have to recommend this to anyone who is willing to give it a try.

Best news is I met a great guy, named Rich. He wasn't even there for the cupid party; he had a friend's bday celebration to attend instead. I don't even know how it was that we started talking. He was fun aplenty and a great kisser. Oh, and he has the sexiest dimple. Hmmmmm.

Worst news is I lost him. He was shuttling back and forth between hanging with me downstairs and spending time with the bday party upstairs. When the gals and I were ready to leave I couldn't find him anywhere to exchange digits. So tragic.

As very *slight* consolation, I got my first official email from Road Runners confirming my qualification and inviting me to participate in the marathon. Those nine races last year have paid off; I am one step closer to this goal I have longed towards for years. It is all about training and keeping healthy from here on out. Yay marathon!!

the original emo girl

Quite often Spaghetti and RFW have mentioned that I am in to “emo” music. I have always agreed, yet never really knew what they were talking about. All I knew was that Weezer fits the category, and I fit Weezer. Or very much would like to…

The other day on NPR there was a show about emo music, and they were not talking about it in glowing terms. So I visited my dear old google and found it defined several times over on urban dictionary. My personal favorite was:

“An entire subculture of people (usually angsty teens) with a fake personality. The concept of Emo is actually a vicious cycle that never ends, to the utter failing of humanity, and it goes something like this:

1. Girls say they like "sensitive guys" (lie)
2. Guy finds out, so he listens to faggy emo music and dresses like a dork so chicks will see that he is sensitive and not afraid to express himself (lie). He dyes his hair black, wraps himself in a stupid looking scarf, develops an eating disorder, and rants about how "nobody understands".
3. Now an emo guy, he meets Emo chick and they start dating, talking about how their well-off suburban lifestyles are terrible and depressing (lie)
4. Emo guy is just too much of a pussy. His penis is too small, he's too depressed to bathe, and has more mood swings than emo chick, and he doesn't even have a menstrual cycle. Emo chick dumps him, saying "It's not you, it's me." (Lie) as she drives off with Wayne, the school jock and captain of the football team.
5. Emo guy goes home and cries, proceeds to write a weak song and strum a single string on his acoustic guitar. Another emo chick sees how he is so in touch with his feelings, and the cycle continues.

This is the sad truth of the emo lifestyle/music, and now that I look at how pathetic it really is, maybe the emos DO have something to cry about!
When she sees how sensitive and emo I have become, she'll definitely go out with me!”

Way harsh ty.

I am the original emo music girl. For god’s sake, I’m in love with Barry Manilow. (Yesterday Kim pointed out the article that validated that I’m not alone, hooray!)

Thing is, I DO like sensitive guys. I am not the machismo or bad boy type of gal. Let me clarify though. When I say sensitive, I am not talking about some whiny self-centered over emotional person described above. I’m talking empathetic, thoughtful, and being susceptible to the attitudes, feelings, or circumstances of others.

My dream guy is still Lloyd Dobbler. But that is a whole other post.

As part of my emo love, yesterday I ended up buying the song For You I Will (Confidence) by Teddy Geiger, otherwise known as that artist that is being sold on the TV show Love Monkey. God, could I be any more predictable? Granted, I am not the cross section that was being marketed, but what can I do, I like what I like.

After purchasing the song I watched the video, and got pissed off. Dude, why do the emo girls fall in love with the popular chicks? Same thing happens in the Weezer Perfect Situation video. Goddamn it all, why should guys of great substance fall for the girls of little? The chicks in these videos just annoy the living crap out of me. Why can’t they fall for the quiet, withdrawn, mousy girl dressed in black?

Of course, mid-mental rant I realized I no longer am the quiet, withdrawn, mousy girl dressed in black. Funny how self-images persist, isn’t it? Maybe there is an emo boy out there pining for me after all…

distraction

It is that time of year again. Time to help me pretend that I am not, in fact, getting any older - even though my birthday mercilessly comes around every year. To do this I gather all of you around me to join me for a night that involves inordinate amounts of alcohol.

With your help, I will be able to forget the amount of money I am currently spending on anti-wrinkle cream, ben gay, and various prosthetics to make my body still appear a young and nubile 25. Also, quite possibly you will all distract me from the fact that my hangovers from such occasions get significantly worse as the years pass. But we are not thinking about that. We are thinking about helping me spend one night in glorious DENIAL people. Help a lady out.

If spending a whole evening with me was not enough to convince you, there is the added fact that if you were so unfortunate to miss any of the other birthday occasions flanking mine (because everything revolves around me of course) you can then make it up and wish Jason, Katie, or Karen a belated or early birthday. Of course, Peter and I actually share the same birthday, so if he comes by there is no end to the celebration!

Mark you calendars, prepare your liver, and pass the word to anyone I may have missed. Because I need as distraction as I can get. (Oh, and I love the company too, of course!)

When: Thursday, Feb 16th, after work
Where: Barrow St Ale House
Home of the Thursday night $15 all you can drink special
(Who loves ya?)
15 Barrow St (east of Varick)
(212)691-6127
Why: Bridget loves spending time with you (on her birthday, at least)

PS - I sent the above out via work email, after hours, and so far I have gotten one "talking to" about the appropriateness of said action. Ah well.

I just like this one

BASKET CASE - Someone who is out of control mentally or unable to perform may now be called a "basket case," but the term originally applied to someone who was physically unable to move.  The term arose as a consequence of injuries suffered by British soldiers in World War I; in those years, a "basket case" referred to a quadruple amputee, someone carried in a basket.

 

Kinda gives you pause before using it again, doesn't it?

award show overkill

Even though my friend Spaghetti is out in LA working 'em, I just could not get enthused about the grammys. They seem kind of sad in comparison to the VMA's, I don't know. Like do I need to have them tell me who sold the most records? We have that info (and music) shoved down our throats all the time.

Instead I watched Inherit the Wind starring Spencer Tracy. Love that guy. I eventually switched over to the grammys for background noise to accompany me as I surfed the world wide web.

Some really badly put together tribute to sly and the family stone was on. Exactly the kind of thing I was hoping to miss. I get to browsing intently.

My attention is drawn back to the television - did they just say Jay-Z with Linkin Park? I enjoy them together, and that song they do, I'll watch.

How neat, Jay-Z is wearing a John Lennon shirt. Cool.

Melody is changing, aw, Yesterday, by the Beatles. How appropriate with him wearing that shirt.

Holy mother of god Paul McCartney just came onstage and joined in.

Dammit, I was wrong about the grammys. If the rest of the show was this good I'm pissed I didn't watch. Bastards, did they have to go and make this year a comeback and leave me out of the loop?

Oh wait – they just showed previews for the rest of the show. I think it is safe to say I saw the best part. Guess I’ll find out on gawker tomorrow, there is no way I’m leaving this on to see Christina Aguilera and Herbie Hancock. Gawd.

my dirty little secret

Memories of childhood, getting tucked in, dad saying,

"Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite!"

Cute, right? I've used it since then myself. Until I the Leonard Lopate show on NPR the other day did a whole episode on the darn nocturnal bloodsuckers, as there has been a resurgence in New York. Yes, for the first time in sixty years there is a bedbug infestation in New York City.

Huh.

Out of curiosity, I went online and found this article and then this one. Hold up - did they say a problem specifically in Hell's Kitchen? I started to think back to all those raised welts I have been getting since September. I had started noticing them when I simultaneously returned from the rafting trip and started using a new laundry service. For the past several months I have been washing my sheets, blankets, and clothes obsessively trying to get rid of this leftover nature spunk or new laundry detergent that obviously I am allergic to.

You know what happens when someone starts talking about bugs? You immediately start imagining them crawling all over you. A tickle here, a twitch there. Now imagine that paranoia in your bed at night. Now imagine that you feel a twitch at five am, turn on the light, and find one.

Crap.

Oh, the horror. The shame, the guilt, the self-loathing. The next hour was spent ripping my bedroom to pieces, needing to search out the extent of my problem. I found two more, and subsequently their home, which actually is in the molding on my bedroom wall. I guess they like wood more than beds. Surprising, but relieving. So I sprayed the hell out of their evil lair.

Now I have to go through a three month process to safeguard myself from any little bedbug babies coming back to avenge the death of their parents. More laundry, more chemicals to poison the hell out of the little bastards, potentially more bites. Luckily they are not harmful, just annoying and gross. (Oh crap, did I just pull a bright side out of this? God I have issues.)

Slowly I have to get over the embarrassment of this whole thing, and even though they came through my wall I can't help but feel like it reflects on my cleanliness. This may be one of the few things in my life I am genuinely embarrassed about.

And I'm sharing with all of you. Brilliant.

Anyhoo, part of the fun of this lies in the fact that I can't have guests over for a while. Including the boy toy kind. Cause sure as heck I'm not bringing any boys home with me to get eaten.

By the bugs, I mean. Geez, get your minds out of the gutter.

revelation

Something occurred to me today.  My job revolves around projects and tasks.  Once every two weeks I meet with my superiors to prioritize, report progress on, and discuss said workload.  At this point in time I also discuss the time frames needed to complete everything.  You know, due dates.

 

Here I am, working late yet again, and it hits me like a bolt out of the blue - when I am picking my finish dates I'm assuming that I will be working late.  I have been doing this to myself!  I have been setting my own bar too high!

 

Now how to train myself to think inside of 40 hours, this will be challenging.  Learning how to say NO.  Concept.

links

As time goes on and my ramblings get more obscure, more and more search engines point people in my direction. Some of my favorites that have lead people here include:

crave cheese hangover
johnny galeki's penis
I've spent my entire life trapped in a cage sticker
I went to rudy's blog
my breasts
hillary duff's nipples

Still haven't gotten any hits because of "Weezer love slave", but the hope is still alive.

out of the saddle again

 

I just discovered Doctor Who on Netflix.  Guess you all won't be seeing me for another month...

 

groundhog day

Happy 40th birthday Paul Ferries!!! Are you going through your midlife crisis? Have you bought a shiny red sportscar?

blog love

Oh joyous day of days, Anderson Cooper has started his very own blog. Now instead of imagining our conversations in my head (and the actions that would surely follow) I can instead dream that these blogs are little snippets written to me and me alone.



Hopefully this extra diversion will distract me from all the rumors that he is gay. Oh silver fox, say it ain't so!!

Yes, I have an active fantasy life. A coincidence 360 was moved later in the evening, when one can watch from bed? I think not...

you've got to ask yourself a question

Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?

As long as I can remember, I have considered myself lucky. To the point where people want to slap me. Really, I am aware that my endless optimism at times can be like fingernails on a chalkboard. It has been a challenge for me to catch myself while listening to the woes of others and NOT mention the bright side, instead to just say something like "That sucks." People appreciate that effort, really they do.

It is ridiculous the things I brush off.

Yeah, when I was a flight attendant it turned out I was airsick the whole first month. I'm just lucky I got over it.

It's a bummer I lost my luggage coming home from the holidays. Luckily none of my weezer stuff was in it! Or that I didn't lose it at the beginning of my trip! Now that would have been unlucky.

What, I had two major surgeries in one year? Lucky I have a job that continued to pay me while I was laid up both times!!! Whew, dodged that bullet!

I was surprised recently when I was discussing this innate sense of good fortune with one of my close friends and she mentioned that she believes she too has luck, but all bad. She has an awesome life, I was shocked! Part of the reason she feels this way is because she views someone with good luck as the type that wins the lottery, or who has things just fall in his or her lap. I think that even more this outlook has to do also with her father still to this day often blaming things on the bad family luck. Everything she has is because she worked hard for it, and even is more deserving to bask in her success because she overcame her family curse.

This got me thinking about what influence my upbringing has had on my outlook. Growing up, my parents always said I was born under a lucky star, I was told so as far back as I can remember. The funny thing is, they often said this to comfort my older brother because I would beat him all the time at any game we played. Really - I always won.

Why?

Because I cheated ALL the time. Ooops, oh yeah, interesting how that one works. Funny, but realizing that doesn’t make me feel any less fortunate.

I guess I was lucky I never got caught.

(Except it was good luck getting caught that one time in Disney, since I got in trouble for that little thing instead of...you know) ;}