age-appropriate

Yesterday I had drunch with La la la, Marathon Man, Thighs, and Spaghetti with her sis in tow.

Drunch consists of brunch with an all you can drink special. For under ten bucks you get unlimited mimosas, champagne, peach bellinis, or bloody marys from noon until four.

You would think that with all the mimosas I consumed I would have an immune system of steel. Yet here I am coming down with a cold.

I blame the hookup. Whom I discovered, via the magic of google and myspace, is 27. Dude. DUDE. His under-thirty booty gave me some British bug.

Damn young foreigners.

On the bright side, my crush is over 30, and I'm supposed to see him tomorrow. Unless this little virus gets me down.

Like I’d let a little sniffle stand between me and an obsession. Never.

busy week

My my, this week has been eventful.

Wednesday I had my first softball game with the new job. It was cold and rainy and totally awesome. We won with some outrageous score, like 20-10 or some such. My first at bat I hit a double.

Of course the best part about playing softball isn't so much the game as the bar afterward. Nine of us went out to Dive on 96hh. Seems the team is compromised of only 25% players who still actually still work for the company. It is like that on every team everywhere it seems. So these people all have known each other for years.

Didn't stop me from having a great time though. A few beers make everyone instant friends after all. Got some interesting gossip, and didn't get home until after midnight.

Thursday was about recovery. Had to power up for Friday night, Spaghetti's birthday party.

It was at the Irish Rogue, scene of the crime from last week's 3:30 am escapades. We had a reserved space upstairs, and we had the same bartender as our last visit. You know, the one who I had spray me down with the soda gun. That one.

The party started out chill enough. Almost all the Peteys were there. As were some of the friends and co-workers of Spaghetti whom I've met before. Great people, great times.

Then the shots started coming. Last week after shots I kept insisting that everyone look at my chest. Because I was so damn proud of my spectacular cleavage. So what did I do last night?

Heh.

These two English gentlemen came over to hang out with the remnants of the group towards the end of the evening. The one that lives in NYC was into Spaghetti. Which would have been a totally great birthday gift but her sister was already her guest for the evening, thus inadvertently cockblocking a tryst.

I went so far as to offer my place for an hour or so if she wanted a hook up, but she declined. So while she wasn't letting this guy get anywhere, I set my sights on his friend here visiting from the UK.

Honestly I don't remember what I said to him, but I believe it was somewhere along the lines of "you know...I live just across the street” and then started making out with him. He was cute, and a good kisser, and by god I was feeling randy.

So I took him home with me.

It was definitely fun. Drunken hookups tend to be. I'm not shy as it is, but you get a few shots in me and I'm pretty darn enthusiastic. Err, or until I get tired and just want to stop.

One interesting thing about this guy is he kept wanting to do it without a condom. I get the whole raincoat in a shower thing, but he doesn't know me or what creepy crawlies I may have. My whole theory on hookups and protection is the guy honestly should be grateful enough for the freebie to just get over it already.

Oh, and he kept twisting my nipples like he thought the secret to my pleasure involved taking them off. They do not screw off. Seriously, they still hurt today. I also found a bruise on my shoulder; totally don't remember where that came from.

All and all it was a really fun time, and considering the couple of weeks I have been through work-stress wise just what the doctor ordered. Now I need to work on getting a regular boyfriend to enjoy these kinds of benefits a little more often...

celebrations and libations

Last week I attended that black tie event. Went out and bought myself a nice new dress and shoes, the whole nine yards.

It was purdy. First a cocktail hour with tons of fancy apps, including of course mountains of shrimp cocktail. The little chum-eating buggers always impress people. But me, I only had eyes for the top shelf vodka to have myself a gimlet or two.

Tossed back a couple of drinks, bumped into a couple people from the mighty bird, had some delightful conversation. Totally glad Ctina was able to attend compliments of one of our vendors. Time with her is always way cool. *Sigh* I could live cocktail hour.

Hmmm, I think maybe often I already do.

Anyhoo, also bumped into my old boss. Who was very distracted and didn't get much more than a hello out there. But she was always like that, single-minded, so it was cool. I figured she had another place she felt she needed to be.

Then the dinner. My company had bought a whole table, so there were nine of us. If my head honcho knows anything, he knows how to assemble some fun people. They were all totally a blast.

Not to forget of course the white wine accompanying the salad, and the red wine coupled with the lamb chops...

Finally, the dancing. Oh, the dancing. Our table was rockin the house. It was sweet.

Later on I got to meet the ex-boss' husband, which was cool. Again all small talk, but really after twelve hours of debriefing before I left the last gig what more could there be to say?

The party was over abruptly at ten due to the arrival of our car service home. But see, I had another plan.

Thighs (that's right people, she now has a blog all of her own!) was out on the town with CB, and headed to the mighty Irish Rogue SOOOO conveniently located across the street from where I live.

We met up. Pints were consumed. As were shots.

I remember telling every guy I met to look at my cleavage, that it was okay as I am proud of my boobage. I also remember asking to get sprayed down by the soda gun and the bartender complying.

I don't recall much of what Thighs and I spoke about. I also don't recall why I got a card from this guy Kevin that I met at the very end. Did we even have a conversation?

Last thing I remember for sure? Home at 3:30 am. Thursday night/Friday morning. Just to get up and go to work the next in a few short hours.

Oh my liver. My poor, poor liver.

buzz

Honey bees are disappearing.

How much do you want to bet it is because of genetically altered plants and foods?

You know - the tomato genes spliced with the genes of herring and pesticide? Totally really happening.

And this would be mother nature's way of saying hell no, she ain't gonna let it happen. You want to mess with nature go ahead, but we'll see if she lets us keep going.

second degrees

A couple of weeks ago I hear on NPR about how there is free opera at a Brooklyn bar. This opera singer thought to herself something along the lines of...

You know what?? Opera would kick ass in a small venue bar.

Listening to the story, I totally agreed. How awesome to hear a few arias while having a beer at a local pub? And the singers (real opera singers) were drinking right along with you? FOR FREE??

Beer not free, entertainment. C'mon, get real.

So I made a mental note.

Must.

Go.

See.

Today, I discovered that the woman who invented this is the sister of a friend (a friend I have not talked to or seen in three years, but I'm claiming dibs on friendship for this story all the same)

So totally have a listen to the truely awesome story. And then give a holla if you want to check out for real. Considering it is free and all I don't think my *somewhat* connection will be necessary.

blech

Today I received 400 new emails. And was in meetings four hours of the day. I worked from eight am to nine pm.

Do I really need to feel needed or important this badly? Ugh.

empathy

So running the NYC marathon last year was a bitch. Oh, it was hard. But it ain't a damn thing next to the Boston Marathon.

Dude, to run the Boston Marathon you have to qualify with SPEED. Not just run nine race the year before or win a lottery. And there is a reason for the gauntlet. The course is tough.

The topper is Heartbreak Hill. See, they always say after mile 20 you hit "the wall". Heartbreak hill is at mile 20 1/2, and it is just enough of an incline to really make or break you. Of course if you are running the damn thing at all technically you can't be broken. Doesn't make it any easier though.

Now as hard as it was in my marathon, I can't imagine doing Boston in the midst of a nor’easter. There is an advisory alert for the runners of the marathon posted on the main site. Basically it says what up - three to five inches and a little cold. Oh, and by the way:

FORECAST:
The most up-to-date weather forecast calls for a predicted Spring storm on Monday, including heavy rains (potentially 3 to 5 inches), with the start temperatures in the mid to upper 30's. Wind will likely be East (in the face of the participants for most of the race) in the 20 to 25 mile per hour range, with gusts to as much as 50 miles per hour. This will produce a wind chill index of 25 to 30-degrees Fahrenheit.

RISKS AND RECOMMENDATIONS FOR RUNNERS PARTICIPATING IN COLD AND WET CONDITIONS:
Combined with the rain, we are concerned that predicted weather conditions will increase the runners' risks for a condition called hypothermia. As with any athletic competition, as a runner you are assuming the risks inherent with participation. It is your responsibility to be informed about the risks associated with running in the aforementioned conditions, and the risks of injury or illness will increase with these predicted conditions.

While exercising in cold weather, our bodies attempt to maintain core temperature by shunting blood away from the periphery, thus minimizing heat loss. Hypothermia sets in when the body's temperature drops below normal, starting when the body loses heat faster than heat can be generated. Heat is produced by muscle action and shivering. Very low body temperatures can be life threatening.

WARNING SIGNS OF HYPOTHERMIA:
Mild hypothermia is heralded by goose pimples and shivering as our bodies attempt to raise our metabolic rates to increase our core temperature.

Moderate hypothermia will result in muscular fatigue, poor coordination, numbness and disorientation.

Severe hypothermia can result ultimately in cardiovascular failure. Treatment of hypothermia requires prompt recognition and treatment as mild hypothermia can progress to a more severe situation if not addressed early.

Officially, I am a pussy. Not only do I not qualify for Boston, but to handle THAT kind of crap? Lord.

Can't wait to see who wins though. And how.

the anti-girl

I am sitting here at my desk at work, procrastinating leaving because I have a hair appointment. Seriously, I am sitting here playing solitare.

Why do I dread getting my hair done?

Because they never get it quite right, so I have to go home and fix it. Sure, I would ask them to fix it there, but it takes me a day to notice what is bajiggaty.

Also, I hate the small talk. Typically I run out about 75% of the way through, and am just digging. Silence is even more exhausting, so I struggle through.

The luxury of it all seems like a waste too. I don't really enjoy the whole shampoo and head massage thing. I could be spending that time drinking. I have priorities.

So here I am about to ship off. Ugh. Blah.

slips

If you have an office gig, do you ever walk by someone's workplace and just catch a really cool random snippet?

Like "He kept trying but just coudn't get it in"

or "Something was crawling down there"

Those are good moments. Especially if you get to stop, back up, and call the person out for the comment.

I so got busted two weeks ago. At exactly the right moment I broke out with a very heartfelt and emotional...

"MOTHERF****ER"

As soon as the dude was walking by, I knew I was busted. Then he came back to laugh. Cool.

Not so cool? Now the only thing he says when he sees me is that exact same comment. Dude, funny for like three times after. Move on. Really.

my sister would be proud

I ate two new animals tonight. Goat and Ox. And they were both tasty.

Carribean restaurant, if you must know. Not that it is on any goal list of mine to eat a certain number of species that crawl the planet, but my sister being vegitarian and all it can't hurt to make up for what she isn't eating.

On a WAY more interesting note, went and saw Janeane Garofalo, Marc Maron, and Henry Rollins doing a spoken word slash comedy show.

It was awesome. Of course.

By nature I am a loud person. Most definitely I am a loud and distinctive laugher. As is Thighs, who also attended tonight.

I wonder, does the rest of the crowd find us anoying? Do the entertainers hate us? Or do we act as a living, breathing laugh track? Not that I'm going to tone down or anything. Just hoping the joy is contagious and whatnot.

Lordy, I love me some Henry Rollins. This is about the fourth or fifth time I've seen him do some spoken word. There is something about all that unrelenting aggresiveness combined with awkwardness that gets to me.

Okay, that sounded weird. But whatever.

Janeane was totally in her top game, and I had never heard of Marc but he was totally worth the time. If you get a chance to see the show I say go for it.

And if you happen to bump into Henry afterwards...put in a good word for me.

failure is an option

Yesterday I had a moment with the crush. It went something like this:

He smiles wide, and looks right at me. "Hey, how are you doing today?"

Me totally blanking on anything to say. "Fine for a...what is today, Wednesday? Yeah, Wednesday...."

"Right...seems like it should be later in the week doesn't it?" Another smile, warm and friendly.

Still nothing coming out of that factory of grey matter I used to refer to as my brain. "Well not really. I don't know. The weekend just seems far away"

"Yeah"

...

Awkward silence

...

He heads off. "See ya."

He leaves. I commence to banging my head against a wall for ten minutes straight.

Seriously, how NOT SMOOTH was that? The world's worst small talk ever? Why don't I just talk about the weather for gods sake?!? How can I be such a success at social situations but a total nincompoop when it really matters?

That's all I got?? Wednesday? WEDNESDAY??

Failure. Straight out failure.

In retelling this story to Thighs and her peeps last night, she reacted very strongly to me using the word "failure". She wouldn't let me say it. Downright refused.

I understand exactly where she was coming from. A few days back Spaghetti had posted on her blog about a dish gone wrong and used the word about four times. My reaction was just as strong, and I distinctly recall having to hold myself back from vehemently validating her in the comments.

Thing is, we are allowed to fail. I do not have to always be perfect, or right, or a winner. Not all the time. And my friends do like me even when I am human, as positive as we all try to be. So I have a plan.

Next time you find yourself in a losing situation, instead of using the F word, just say you are having a Wednesday moment.

Sums it up, dead on.

so over it

Today I received yet another notice that I am automatically qualified to run the ING NYC Marathon.

Unlike the reaction I had to the email notification two months ago, I feel nothing.

No, that is not right. I do feel...like I don't want to do it. I don't want the long hours of training. I don't want to miss hanging with friends one weekend night a week to prep for a long run. I don't want to run 26.2 miles ever again. Unless I am in danger and have to. Then maybe it will be okay.

Two weeks ago I was going for a run in the park, and ran opposite of the last leg of the More Marathon. That would be the marathon only run my women over 40. As I moved in the opposite direction i watched as they went by me. All I could think was:

"You poor bastards. Why, why, why???"

Can you believe I wanted to do that same thing just a year ago? Experience teaches us so much. My lesson from the past twelve months?

Just because you can do something doesn't mean you have to. Even if it is extraordinary.

fast

Today I'm running my first race since the marathon. The coogan 10K in Central Park. There will be bagpipes at each mile.

In lieu of acquiescing and signing up for the marathon, I've been working on setting some new personal records, or PR's if you will.

So far my fastest 10K was run in one hour four minutes and two seconds. A 10:19 average minute mile, if you will.

This I will break. Question is how much faster will I go, do I beat it by a few seconds or a whole minute? (oooooh a whole minute, whoa)