seriously

I just did algebra as part of my job. I'm not kidding. I could not figure out how to get a number, so I made up variables and did the damn thing. Note the proof:

If

N = G * (A/B)

then

N/G = A/B

1/G = (A/B) * (1/N)

and finally

G = (A/B) * N

Awww yeah, I am that urban legend.

calling all michiganders

Okay, here is the deal.  As I am the maid of honor and the only bridesmaid in my sister's wedding, it is my esteemed duty to throw the bachelorette party.

 

There is no truth to the rumor that really I am organizing because I am such a drinker and socializer.  Nope, no way.

 

Anyhoo, my sis has laid down a few ground rules. 

 

1)  No strippers

2)  Someplace equidistant from Ann Arbor/Tecumseh and Roseville/Warren.  (sis suggested Novi)

3)  No people taking off their clothes for money

4)  A locale in which we can reserve an area and activities are to be had.  (sis suggested Gameworks)

5)  No pizza or police men allowed who are feeling constricted by their apparel

6)  Alcohol should be served

7)  No hanging around people who have a longing for money being stuffed in their underwear

 

Now I call on you, my friends still in the wonderful mitten state, for some input and advice.  My sister does not play video games, and never did.  There HAS to be a fun place or two around Novi that focuses on something more down her alley?  We are not talking my alley, all I need is a lot of beer and a drunk corner to pass out in, thus my needs are easily served.  And this is her day.  Or at least the one before that day where she wears white and makes some kind of promise to some guy about sickness and jewelry.

 

Are there any dueling piano bars in the area, or any other fun adult type things?  Also, any hotel or limo/car service recommendations, specifically places you personally know are good?  I can search on the web like a mutha, but if ya'll have experienced some professional bliss I'd love to hear the good word.  (Or if you know places to avoid that is good info too!)  My sister said a hotel was not necessary, but I'd like to spring for a room or two to help relax the pressures of the evil word TOLERANCE that could incur from having to drive an hour home as certain parties may be prone to do.  That word is not needed at a bachelorette party thrown by me.

 

I mean at any bachelorette party for my sister.  Not about me, not about me...

 

Of course, any information will be accordingly rewarded with time and drinks spent with me during the long week before the wedding of which I will be in town, and most likely will also result an invite to the actual non-stripper night itself.  Cause that's how I roll.

 

Oh, and do you guys know any good stripper agencies?  Just kidding!!!  (Or not...)

by accident

I bought sunflower seeds with the shell on.  How the hell do you eat the damn things???

personal best

This is a training update, so I must warn that you are about to be inundated with all kinds of numbers and running lingo. Well, at least one or two.

Today I ran a four-mile race in central park and had my best time ever, a 9:51 minute mile, net time for the race 39:25! It was 50 degrees, and raining. The park was still dead and cold from the winter, trees barren of life. None of that mattered, running felt natural and fluid, I was in the zone from beginning to end.

This time means more to me than a notch on a board, it says to me that I can finish the marathon in my goal of four and half hours or less. Honestly, my times have been so mediocre that I have had doubts. I still have to shave off a couple more minutes (I have to run a 10K with an average 9:35 mile) by July 3rd when my training regimen begins, but now I have that little piece of me that knows I can. For gods’ sake, how much faster alone when I knock of these last fifteen pounds? Like lightning, I tell ya.

canoodling

I know you all are dying to hear how the dinner went last week.

Well I decided to go the trust my instincts, no recipe needed route. DTH guy is a self-proclaimed meat and potatoes guy, so I did meat and potatoes. I picked up the groceries, and made the following:

Cheese platter of gouda and parmesan romano
Antipasti of mixed olives
New york strip steaks with parmesan crust
Twice baked truffled mashed potatoes
Asparagus sautéed in ginger soy sauce
Finished with local bakery bought nut free brownies

Went off like a charm. He brought wine and flowers, so thoughtful and sweet. And the evening was perfect.

We talked, we laughed, and laughed some more. The conversation was delightful and flowing, no rough or awkward spots.

While grocery shopping I had a realization about why I had offered to make dinner, and later on I discussed with DTH guy. On our first date the previous Thursday, while picking up the check he had explained that he believed strongly in always paying the bill. It is more than just a traditional patriarchal ritual and more of the concept of treating me for the honor of my presence. Still sounds vaguely like prostitution, but I'll believe that's not the point.

Now, I happen to be a fiercely independent person, and have a very time asking for or even receiving anything. Someone buys me a drink at a bar; I buy them a drink and a shot. I just abhor the idea of being indebted to someone.

Knowing that any place we go he would pick up the check, how could I balance the scale? Cook dinner.

Yes, I have issues.

Upon realizing this, I came to terms with the idea that I will just have to learn to sit back and take it like a man. Pun intended. Since Saturday we went out two more times, and he came over last night after the Pisces bday party and spent the day with me today. In other words, things are going well. The more time we spend together, the more fun I am having with him, which is nice. We are officially to the canoodling stage of a relationship, in the rockstar dictionary. Soon I will post all the stages, just so ya'll can follow along accordingly.

And yes, he reads my blog. Keeps me honest.

One step closer!!

Just got this email:

To: bridget.rockstar@gmail.com
Subject: Apple

Hi Bridget!

Thank you for attending our interview seminars earlier in the week!
At this time we would like to invite you back for a second smaller group interview.

The interview will be taking place at the ******* building, and according to the availability that you gave us on your survey, we'll see you on Wednesday, 3/15 at 5:00pm.

We look forward to speaking with you again!!

Regards,

Andrea

Woo hoo!  Game on!

natural woman

Do you have something in your life that everyone wants but you just don’t care about? Maybe everyone loves Desperate Housewives and you just don’t have any interest, the world is insanely in love with KanYe but his music bores you, your whole family craves vanilla and you are perfectly happy living with just chocolate?

I was a tomboy growing up. When I was young my lack of femininity caused me insecurity and doubt in myself. It wasn’t until I got older that I learned that I not only am okay the way I am, I am pretty darn terrific. (I’m good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me…)

Eventually I learned the skills and bought the products (oh, the products) to become girlie. Or at least cute. I learned how to walk in heels, became comfortable in stockings, even occasionally wear jewelry. But by nature the most definitive instinct that supposedly exists for a female is still lacking. I am lacking a maternal instinct.

You know how someone comes into a room with a newborn and all the women start cooing at the baby and touching the baby and want to hold the baby…yeah no. I don’t love the baby smell, I don’t sense a longing for a child of my own, I do not wonder at the miracle of birth.

When I was in my late teens and early twenties and people would ask about kids I would always say “I don’t want children. I’M NOT SAYING I WON’T CHANGE MY MIND… I’m saying I have never wanted any and have a feeling I never will. AND I KNOW NEVER TO SAY NEVER.”

I had to 1) add in the defensive bit and 2) to yell because they inevitably would say, quite condescendingly “Oh, you’ll change your mind.” They just never could believe I could know myself well enough to make that kind of a statement.

Lordy, I always hated that.

Now that I am in my thirties my lack of desire to have children is easier to discuss in the open. Occasionally people still misinterpret my disinterest as a loss of hope in ever being in the right situation by the time the ole’ biological clock runs out. These days the doubters are much less common. Possibly because as I have gotten older I have so much going on and my life is so full. Maybe too my situation is a little more readily accepted because of prominent women figures that are admired despite their childlessness. (Gloria Steinem, Oprah…)

Who knows. All I can say is I never understood the allure of vanilla, but sure do love my chocolate. And I am so glad to be alive in a day and age where I am not burned at a stake or stoned to death for my “unnatural” views.

Oh, was that a bright side? Doh.

endurance

This morning, upon retrospect, I realized I have had drinks every night for a week.  Exciting life, diseased liver.

 

overwhelmed

The Apple job seminar was so exciting I almost cried. I would not be surprised if the entire time there was smoke coming out of my ears. The company is just so awesome, to work for them really would be a dream come true.

I asked some questions, some that were too sensitive to answer to the general public, which makes me nervous. Overall I think that they will call me for the next step, the small group interview. It looks like I really am overqualified for most of the positions they are hiring for, which just breaks my heart. It would be like seeing into heaven and then slamming the gates in my face.

Hope springs eternal.

Off I go to post-funeral lunch/wake/drinkfest to admit that I am not as strong tolerance-wise as boasted last night. Humility rocks.

hypothetical question

So if following a viewing for a dear departed irish loved one you were surrounded by seven strapping male second cousins and you yourself were the only female gender present, and - shot in hand - say you were to yell

"bring it on tommorow biyatches, I'll kick all your sorry asses!!!!"

Referring to drinks at the wake the next day, would you worry?

Aunt Margaret

The first time I ever came to New York was approximately 12 years ago when I was a grand age of 22 or so.  Three of my friends and two of my cousins decided to make the trip with me to celebrate new years eve in times square.  When I had initially mentioned my plans to my dad, he voiced that there was no need to find a hotel in the big apple, we had family to stay with.  Family which I had not seen since I was eight. 

 

At first I was wary, how do you call up people who are complete strangers and ask to stay for a few days with five people in tow?  I mean, they are family, but they are my dad's cousins...how removed is that?

 

Then my dad said the magic words:  "They are just like Aunt Pat, they love company."  My Aunt Pat LOVES entertaining, and with that I made the fated call. 

 

My god were these people excited to hear I was coming out.  Seems my dad was stationed in new york once upon a time when he was a young lad in the army, and he spent quite a bit of social time with these folks.  They adore my dad, and the excitement of having Reece's daughter out was almost too much for them to take. 

 

When we arrived to Tuckahoe we met the whole clan:  Joan and Ray, my dad's cousins, Ray Jr, Anthony, Jill and James (their kids) and of course Aunt Margaret, my dad's aunt and the matriarch of the Cooney/Meegan family.  We walked in that door and it was like coming home, they were so welcoming and generous.  It always amazes me how much family can have in common just because of our DNA. 

 

Right away we made the introductions and then IT WAS ON.  Drinks were handed out and we started playing asshole at 3pm, pre-gaming before we headed to the city for the ball drop.  Now, you know I felt right home since I could get to drinking right away.  It was just that much more amazing that all three generations were drinking and egging myself and my friends on. 

 

Then the moment of truth.  I lit up a cigarette, and realized my company.  Quickly I explained that my parents did not know I smoked, and asked my newfound family not to say anything.  My Great Aunt Maragret said in her raspy voice while laughing:

 

"Oh please.  I'm drinking and smoking and look at me!  I'm seventy-two and I'm fine!"

 

Awesome, absolutely awesome.  This really was my family.  It was the defining moment that I truly felt that I was among my own.

 

Aunt Margaret passed away this weekend, tonight I will be going to the viewing and hopefully attending the funeral tomorrow as well.  She was an amazing woman, and she lived long and full life.  The Irish family will all be coming together, and I'm sure that the joy she spread in her life will be celebrated and remembered with much aplomb.

 

Margaret B. Meegan

Born: November 27, 1921

Died: March 04, 2006

 

Services:Tuesday, March 7, 2006 at 9:30AM Immaculate Conception Church, Tuckahoe,NY Interment Woodlawn Cemetery

Visitation:Sunday 7-9PM Monday 2-4, 7-9PM

 

Margaret B. Meegan, nee O'Keefe, 84, died on March 4, 2006. Beloved wife of the late Joseph. Devoted mother of Peggy Dowd and her husband Pat, Joan Stabile and her husband Ray, the late Betty Ann Lubrino, Kathleen Cohn and her husband Walter and Grace Dellapi. Loving grandmother of seventeen. Cherished great grandmother of sixteen. Also surviving is Margaret's son-in-law, Ralph Lubrino. Friends may gather at Westchester Funeral Home, Inc., Eastchester on Sunday from 7-9 p.m. and Monday from 2-4 and 7-9 p.m. Mass of Christian Burial on Tuesday 9:30 a.m. at Immaculate Conception Church, Tuckahoe. Interment to follow at Woodlawn Cemetery

inspiration

Last night my bar night plans with my girlfriends didn't pan out, so I ended up watching Rent on DVD and tossing back a couple beers. The combination of the two resulted in the following, in order:

Light singing

Loud singing

Tears

Replaying the La Vie Boehm scene and acting out the dances in my living room

Replaying the Out Tonight scene and acting out the dance in my living room (very challenging endeavor)

Discovery and invention of speech for sister's wedding that made me cry

Determination I am an incredible speech-maker

Complete inability to recall said speech

Invention of blog post in my mind saying how much I miss Seattle Girl as she is such a neat person and cherished friend, making my self cry yet again due to my own verbal elegance

Texting DTH guy (named after the place of initial contact) saying "I miss the taste of your lips." Because such a normal thing to do.

Amazing how much one work of art can be the catalyst to so much.

Another inspiration I recently had to which I am utterly dumbfounded occurred yesterday morning. When discussing our next encounter, I offered to cook dinner for DTH guy.

Wha??? What the hell came out of my mouth? It isn't that I can't cook, I can follow a recipe, and even doctor it to make it better. It is that I honestly believe that paying someone else to do all the work is so worth it. Now I have to go shopping, prep and cook the damn meal, and then clean up. Since I am a bright side person, I am already looking to the challenge and adventure of it all, as I of course cannot prepare anything I already know how to make. Don't be silly, what would be the fun in that?

Said encounter is tonight, so off I go to find a recipe and get this thing off the ground. Wish me luck.

much love

All I gotta say is, I got five times the normal hits on my blog today than normal. Ya'll are dirty muthas. And that is why I am proud to call you my friends. :)

three times

Just in the first hour.

Oh my indeed. ;)

tribute

Yes, second day in a row without an original post from me, but this is too good to pass up.

I was forwarded this from Seattle Girl. How cool is that? Okay, maybe it is geek love, but that is the only love I know.

The date is still on for tomorrow night, so if all goes well no post until Friday. Oh, the suspense. Can you handle it?

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) ;}

never enough

Obviously four days, four shampoos, four conditionings, and one long hot soaking bath does not help to stabilize hair dyed dark red after being blonde...



My poor poor Brooklyn Cyclones hat after wearing it to the gym. At least no one will ever take it thinking it theirs by accident.

I realized after taking the darn thing off post-workout that people had in fact kinda been looking at me funny. I wonder if they thought I was working out so hard I was sweating blood? Or maybe they were thinking I had the Ebola virus and was liquifying right in front of their eyes?

Just to be safe, I'm wearing my dark colored hats to the gym for the next week. I don't want anyone calling 911. Ooh, unless the EMTs are hot and want to give me mouth to mouth. Hmmmmm.

good advertising

ahem

looking for a band

This is from an exceptionally talented friend of a friend. I saw her perform with her old band, she is great! Spread the word if you know of anyone who fits.


"hey you beautiful, creative, talented people.

i need a band.

i've decided to turn to you as a huge group of
radicals, dreamers, and inspired people. Mama needs
some back up.

i want a drummer who is so slammin' and wicked
sensitive, who is skilled or could learn how to be
skilled at triggering samples. Extra bonus if you can
sing.

i also want a keyboard player who is hip on sampling
too and can sing.

if you have any knowledge of different instruments,
that is a major plus.

i'm getting ready to do a residency in New York City
(every thursday in March) and want to rehearse in the
weeks before then. Then we'd go on tour, as soon as
my new record comes out. so it would involve a lot of
your time and flexibility. It is, of course, a paying
gig.

i know you're out there.

you have to be hard-working and prepared to tour. you
preferrably live in the New York area. and you are
wild and fun on stage.

email us at my_dogbites@yahoo.com and send me to where
we can hear your stuff, tell us a little about
yourself, what your availability is, and anything else
you want us to know about you.

lots of love and witchy inspiration,
bitch
xoxo"

disbelief

c'mon...

over it

Okay, could there possibly be any more press coverage about this whole James Frey thing with A Million Little Pieces??? Is this mass media hysteria because it was promoted as non-fiction or because Oprah is in the picture? She gets a little something that trips her up, puts her flat on her face, someone pulled the wool over her eyes and we all got to see. I think THAT is the issue at hand.

For those of you who don't know, my company didn't publish this book, but yes we published his second, My Friend Leonard. Sales were already good before the controversy. How long that will last, I don't know.

With all the lies that our government spouts every day, how much do I care that this guy promoted his book as being 100% accurate? It still is a great story. Did the smoking gun ever look into the truthfulness behind The Basketball Diaries or Naked Lunch? Would it make them less engaging or worthwhile as books?

All I know is the book was written very well, it is a captivating and entertaining work, and still one of the better things I have read in the past year, exaggerated or not.

let the countdown begin

There would be approx 40.4 weeks, or 282 days until I run the NYC Marathon.

Yes, I will be counting down for the next ten months.

Maybe it will be more inspirational if I count down the mileage it will take for me to train and complete this darn thing? That would leave me with....761 miles to run until I, Bridget Rockstar!!, finish the ING New York City Marathon.

I should start a running tally on the sidebar, eh?

heaven

Oh my lord, do I need more of a reason to try desperately to get a job at the Times? Man, if I could work there and be able to wear sneakers every day it would be LIKE A DREAM COME TRUE. At least, a dream not on my already very long list.

career tips

Once my boss gave me the advice to dress for the job I want, not the job I have.

 

I want a job where I can wear sneakers every day.  The job I have does not allow that.

 

Chicken or the egg, chicken or the egg...

wicca

Okay, guilty pleasure time again. Thanks to Seattle Girl, I am utterly addicted to a teenage series called SWEEP by Cate Tiernan. Seattle Girl gave me the first eight books of the series when I was laid up for a month recovering from my hernia repair/abdominal reconstruction.

I was immediately hooked. You know, not sleeping reading one right after another hooked. Recently I have gotten my hands on books nine through thirteen, and I am obsessed all over again. As I just completed book number twelve I was crying. Again.

How embarrassing, to have pre-adolescent material make me cry. Yet I love it all the same. Guess the little girl inside of me is still alive and kicking.

This is mostly a series for females; some guys may dig it, but not in the absolutely guaranteed way gals will. If you have been stressed out and could use some R&R, know someone who is laid out sick, or owe a gift to a teenage debutante, check this series out. As a very brief synopsis, these books center around a young girl discovering she has magikal powers, in the way of Wicca, and how she in this modern day and age copes with them and incorporates this new discovery into her life. It is touching, charming, and absolutely intoxicating. Do yourself or your friend a favor, don't buy one at a time, you'll end up making way too many trips to the bookstore because once started you CANNOT STOP.

The first three books of the series, listed in order are Book of Shadows, The Coven, and Blood Witch.

Make haste, and may the Goddess be with you.

lemmings

I often joke that I like it when someone else does my thinking for me.

For example, TiVo. Similar to DVR, they both record TV, can record one channel while you watch another, and allow you to select to tape a whole season with one motion. TiVo you have to buy the equipment (anywhere from $50 - $250), DVR equipment is free. TiVo either costs $13.00 a month OR you can buy lifetime service for $300, DVR costs $10 a month. TiVo you can download stuff to your computer or ipod, DVR none of that. TiVo requires a phone line the first time you set up (which I do not have, cell phone only, baby!), DVR does not.

The clincher, for me, is that TiVo will go and record stuff it thinks you will like based on your previous viewing patterns. DVR does not think.

Um, hello? Is there any question here? I like having hundreds of people doing extensive research and completing complex algorithms to give me things I will like! That being said, this is only cool if the suggestions pan out. The suggestions from the itunes store NEVER work for me. Maybe because they don't know anything about my existing CD collection and have incomplete background knowledge of my tastes. TiVo takes into account what you record and what you just end up watching!

Bacon recently informed me of itrain.com, a site that offers workouts for your ipod. Ooooooh, aaaaaah. Bigwig trainers creating mixes plus adding motivation and instruction all for 99 cents? Awesome.

But I have saved the best for last. If you have not checked out pandora, you are soooo missing out. You type in a song or artist that you like, and a custom playlist/radio station is created for you. You can create a whole slew of stations to play, and the program goes so far as to explain how it picks your music using the genome project algorithm. And it is free.

*Sigh* I love the digital age.

taking votes now

What do you think, should I do it??

I have in my mind a number of people it will take for me to say yes. It is not unreasonable or unrealistic. Vote now!

modern science

We can't cure cancer. We can't cure AIDS. But by god...

misunderstood

For the longest time I believed that "approximately" meant exactly. I mean, whenever someone uses the word approximately, they get really specific. It was approximately 4.568 meters long. It weighed approximately 47,895 pounds. It is approximately 27 stories tall.

Being that most of my knowledge is gleamed from context, you can see my dilemma. And my shock when I discovered that approximately meant almost exact or correct, very similar. Almost?!?! I mean, if you are going to be kinda close couldn't you round it up or down a bit? Bastards.

Anyhoo, today I had another misinterpretation blown away. Moot. As in, oh, we don't even need to discuss bridget drinking, which is a moot point. As in not even worth discussing. In other words, because the conclusion can be assumed, as it is understood.

Dead wrong.

Moot - In Old English, mot meant "meeting," particularly a formal get-together by citizens to deal with legal issues. Its roots are shared with the modern English word "meeting." In legal use, "moot" shifted use in the 1600s to refer to a point of discussion, particularly one that as open to debate.

Good thing my sister got me that word origin calendar, as you all get to share in my newfound tidbits of knowledge.

Since approximately 11.7% of my language has been acquired from context while reading, I suppose whether or not I should start looking words I don't immediately recognize up in a dictionary is a moot point.

Bwa ha ha.

relief

Woo hoo! Something for me to see valentines day weekend, instead of something like the insipid "The Notebook".

gravity

This is AWESOME.

chemistry

The year of sex.

That is what Spaghetti and RFW have deemed 2006 to be. See, we have this...problem. We go out often enough, and have great fun. With each other. We historically don't look around or interact with new people. Granted sometimes I'm with a group of twenty, which should occupy anyone. Can I help it if I have such engaging, interesting, and fun friends?

For me, I think I will make 2006 the year of dating. I seem to have enough opportunities for sex arise (pun intended). Over the xmas/new year I had two passes alone. Not that I have acted on any in a while. If you are a faithful reader, you pretty much know when the last time was.

I have had some fun one-night stands since I have been in New York, but where they are fun and interesting I'm just not quite that girl. It is like dressing up for halloween, it is neat to see what you look like as a smurf, and fun to sing the song and complain about gargamel for a night. But wearing that blue paint every day would get tiresome.

Did that analogy make any sense? In my mind it did.

So I am going to wink and email on match. Not just sign up and do nothing. I even registered to this new site, chemistry.com, match's beta version answer to eharmony.com. Boy, that psychology test was long. The funny thing is that my profile results came out as this:

You have a great overview of reality. You see many angles to the same issue and enjoy discussing multiple solutions to complex problems. You like to use your imagination and engage in creative theorizing.

You have executive social skills, easily picking up the gestures, facial expressions and speech patterns of others. You are intuitive; you generally understand people, and your sympathetic nature makes you pliant, adaptable and likeable.

Yet despite your charm and poise in large social situations, you often enjoy solitude or intense conversations with just one individual or a few close friends.

You are good at doing and thinking a lot of things at the same time. But when you focus on an issue, idea or problem, you like to concentrate in depth. You leave no stone unturned.

And with your insight, charm and intellectual bent, you make warm and interesting company.

After reading this I was blown away. I never have been so accurately described so concisely. Freaky. We'll see if it gets me a date or two.

applecare rocks

My ipod officially died, the apple service department took one look, pronounced my love dead, then lickity-split started engraving my new one. So I get a brand new ipod mini, how cool is that??

Getting applecare is TOTALLY worth it.

prayers needed

My baby is sick, a mere eleven months after birth. He is off to the hospital for a cure. Fortunately this is possible as I have insurance.

Keep your fingers cross he gets back safe soon, I am so lonely without him.

oh, monday

Believe it or not, I got my sorry butt out of bed to go to the gym this morning. I always aspire to be a morning workout person, but so far have failed.

Today I was surprised at the deserted state of my gym. I thought for sure there would be a post-new years bunch, still shiny with their resolutions. I know they go at night, maybe most resolvers are nocturnal?

Anyhoo, I got to use one of the "good" treadmills, the ones that have all the fun programs and features. Even more of a boon since of the eight that exist at my gym four were broken. Yeah, high quality place (Ballys) let me tell ya. There are seven mediocre treadmills and eleven basic models still available for use, but what do my dues do, pay the bill for receptionist phone conversations?

While enjoying my run in the elite spot, I noticed the news flash - Dick Cheney rushed to the hospital for shortness of breath. Maybe a heart attack, maybe just too many retained fluids. Dude, just how sick is this man, anyway? How many times has he had a heart attack? How many times has he needed emergency care?

You do know what is next...

threshold

I have reached my limit of sleep. It is 3:21 am and I am awake, awake, awake. Seems that sleeping all day every day all week has recharged me to the point of overload.

In an effort to keep occupied and hopefully knock myself out, I have researched grad schools and picked ten to apply to, revisited the plot and outline of a book I have long considered writing, and come up with a brilliant plan and concept for a bar for me to own and operate.

Problem is that whenever I start thinking of any of the above endeavors, I come up with more really groovy ideas and get more excited and further from sleep. I was considering the bar idea while lying in bed and I literally sat up because some of the ideas became clearer and more focused.

Tomorrow/today will definitely be a super duper workout day at the gym; I need to wear myself out so that I get back on a regular sleep cycle for work. In the meantime I need to start acting on all these great inspirations, I think the book first would make the most sense. This will be weird, I have never written fiction before. Do people often collaborate to write books, like in music?

You would think I would know the answer to that...

proof positive

I must be better; I just took apart my showerhead and fixed it - very much healthy rockstar behavior.

Like the time I tried to fix my electric clothes dryer while living in hamtramck. I took that sucker apart and replaced the heating coil, discovering not once but twice that touching the coil while the dryer was plugged in was not a bright idea. Even though I therefore glowed bright enough to light the apartment for a while.

I never did put that dryer all the way back together...

random question

My living room windows face south; therefore my apartment gets a lot of light. This is a valuable asset when living in Manhattan, and I am thankful for it. Also, as a norm for this city, I have radiant heat, and there is a radiator stationed under one of the windows in my living room.

I was sitting still thinking (or in a cold medication stupor, you choose) when I noticed the bright panes of light on the floor were being distorted by the waves of heat coming off the radiator. But when I look out the window nothing in my line of vision is distorted. I look back at the floor, the light still looks as if smoke is rising past my window, but when I look back out my view is clear as day.

What is up with that?

In movies there is often that scene where the characters are caught in the desert and the scenery is altered and maligned from the heat, sizzling and moving. So I get that it probably takes a significant area emitting heat (such as a desert compared to a radiator) to affect our vision. But then why is a small area emitting heat visible to us at all, via light reflection? I mean, sight is sight, it all comes down to what our brains can process, right? Why can my same eyes perceive the same phenomena occurring only on the floor and not through the glass?

Ohhhh, the mystery.

For all you schlubs who don't have a radiator under a brightly lit window, next time you are driving into sunlight on a cold and very sunny day turn all the heat onto the windshield and you will see the same effect on your dashboard. You too can share in the wonder.

And yes, I did just spend a half hour of my life looking back and forth between the floor and the window. Get over it.

clogged

Upon arriving home from Vegas I discovered that my shower head is clogged. This was determined when water sprayed out in all directions except the one it was supposed to. As I have not gotten out to a hardware store as of yet, I have resorted to baths.

Also backed up? My head and lungs. An excess of phlegm has caused me to stay home yesterday and today. I am comfortably drugged, almost enough to alleviate the guilt to starting the new year with sick days.

I love the word phlegm. Don't know why, I just do. I think I feel like I'm part of a special club for being able to spell it. Or maybe it is the twangy sound of the word. Dunno.

RECIPE FOR PHLEGM (as taken from "Why Do Men Have Nipples?" by Mark Leyner and Billy Goldberg, M.D.)

Ingredients
1/2 - 1 lb. fresh okra
1 - 2 cups water (the less water you add, the thicker your mucus will be)

Instructions
1. Chop the okra into large pieces and place them in a saucepan with a tight-fitting lid.
2. Add water to cover and boil the okra, about 10 to 15 minutes, until it is a dark grayish green and very soft.
3. Tun off the stove and remove the lid. Let your slimy substance cool.
4. Strain the slimy mess into a bowl and discard the okra.

At this point I don't know what you will do with the phlegm, but enjoy!

happy new year!

Vegas was awesome.

Seeing my friend Dawnalicious and meeting her charming girlfriend was wonderful. I may not be a good correspondent, but there are some people you just were meant to get along with, time and distance meaning nothing. She looked happy and healthy and content with the life she is building out there. It is always so heartwarming to see your friends doing well.

Sin city is indeed a testament to all that capitalism has to offer. It is ironic that I spent last new years in Disneyworld, because Vegas is definitely the adult version. All those structures, lights, shows and more to make you believe you are not somewhere real, but in a perfect fantasy world.

New Year's Eve? Oh, what a great time. Kzoo Jen and I attended a party at the Nine Irishmen in the New York New York casino (yes, I am fully aware of the irony); wow it was a total blast. I met all kinds of fun people, drank a lot, danced like crazy, and got some real up close and personal time with a Scotsman from Edinburgh named Keith. No better way to start the New Year than with a snog, eh?

Inside the pub there was a Celtic band, and outside on the replica of the Brooklyn Bridge was a cover band performing dance music. This was on the strip but with the luxury of a bar, restrooms, and heating lamps. All the joys of spending new years on the strip with none of the misery.



This party was called "Horns and Halos", and we got to pick and wear one or the other. This is each of us early in the evening, god knows how we looked after our tenth Guinness.


Me being naughty…


Kzoo Jen being nice.

I got carded to gamble. When I asked the roulette guy what the legal age was, he told me 18. Then the four Australian men at the table spontaneously confirmed they would have ID’d me as well. *Joy*

Unfortunately my recovery time was not so great the next day, I threw up three times in the first hour and a half of my flight home. My poor, poor row mates. They were very kind and understanding. When I first got sick I explained about how the first month I spent as a flight attendant I was airsick, they did find that entertaining. And I was hopefully able to appease the fear of turbulence a bit for the woman next to me. Only a little though.

Another fun distraction, after getting back to NYC someone took my suitcase from the shuttle instead of his own. I have this guy's luggage, since he took the wrong one. No, I have not opened it as of yet. If he doesn't return mine I will. I hope I get mine back, I only had clothes and shoes in the suitcase but I will miss my kick ass boots if they are gone.

Check out the extra security thing we were put through in the Vegas airport. It was before the metal detector and blew all this air puffs at you. Neat.



Oh, and did I already mention that I made out with a hottie Scotsman? Just wanted to make that clear.

Happy New Year!!!

here comes a new year

My time in the Detroit area is about done, in a few hours I will be on a plane to Vegas. Oh sin city, what do you have in store?

Some things of note from this trip:

- One of my sets of married friends are expecting their first child, due in June - hooray and congrats Kim and Tony!!

- Detroit is still a mess, maybe even worse off than last year. Most of my favorite bars are long gone too, which so saddens me.

- Royal Oak is still booming, more and more condos and lofts getting built all the time. Even Mongo, a restaurant I worked at for four years, has moved. Madness.



- Saw Brokeback Mountain, and my heart still hurts. So beautiful, so tragic. I will be carrying this story with me for a while.

- Brought all my running gear to keep training, have not had one workout. I have to play catch up back home in NY. Will be fun with my new heart rate monitor, oh joy to gadgets!!

- I really need to watch the volume of my voice while in a busy restaurant waving my arms and saying "There is a party in my pants! Party in my pants!"


(That would be a GM seat-belt buckle made into a pants belt)

- The ex sort of kinda made a half-assed effort to meet up. Either ya wanna see me or ya don't, it annoyed me that he couldn't just pick one.

- The "marrieds" are kind for putting up with my excess, well, gas last night while playing Scene It! I could have blown up the room with the methane I was producing. Actually it was a distraction method that *failed* as the other team won.

- Bob the waiter now knows way more about marathoning side effects to the male torso than he ever wanted to.

- I almost had a Detroit hook up, friend of Bacon and I had a little smoochie the other night. I told him I'd call but didn't. Evil me, but my schedule has been a little packed. Next time he comes to NY I can make up for it...

- Did I mention I'm going to Vegas? Not that I’m excited or anything. Can't wait to see my friend Dawn who lives there, hooray!!!!

Thanks again to all my friends and family I got to see and spend time with, you all make the trip worthwhile! Happy New Year!

strange bedfellows

Over the past few days I have had plenty of time to catch up with the parental units. My mom retired a couple of months ago, so I think they are rather craving company other than their own. Even though they have been married over 35 years, both being home most the time is a bit much love to ask of anyone.

At one point over the last few days, I had a very interesting conversation while alone with my mother, which I have been sharing with people since it happened.

My mom and I were alone in the living room having a discussion of nothing in particular when suddenly she shouted at the cat, "Naya! Get out of that room, you know you are not supposed to be in there!" referring to the guest room in which I have been staying.

"She isn't supposed to go in there?" I asked, confused.

"No" she replied curtly.

Completely clueless, I ask, "Why?"

"Because your dad sleeps in there during the week."

*Pause*

Crap. I gotta ask. "He does? For naps or something?

Stumbling and rather incoherent, my mother gets out something along the lines of, "No because his snoring and my tossing and turning and we don't get much sleep."

So I stop asking questions.

At this point in the story normally my audience gets quiet, squirming in their seats, obviously uncomfortable. See, they happened to focus on the wrong thing.

That thing being that MY PARENTS HAVE A STANDING APPOINTMENT TO SLEEP TOGETHER EVERY WEEKEND. Ahem. Ahem.

Dude, I just don't want to know.

scrooge

I hate Christmas.

That's right, I said it. I hate Christmas.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for pity here, I'm looking for solidarity. I do not feel like I'm missing out on something, or lacking in the spirit of the season. Giving gifts is fun and that I can stomach. It is everything else I don't care about, and wish I could avoid.

Maybe I'm not sentimental, maybe I don't get into tradition, maybe I don't believe in picking one day over the next as being more significant. All I know it that when I see a character in a movie or TV show that state that they have not been home for a decade I experience a pang of jealousy.

Yes, I enjoy seeing my friends when I am here, that is what makes these annual trips at all bearable. But I am seriously considering arranging long trips to non-Christian countries over the holidays for the next few years. Really. Really really. Heck, I should get a boyfriend just so I have the excuse that I have to spend the holidays with his family. Or an imaginary one, at the very least. Huh, what profession should I pick for my imaginary boyfriend? Oooh, the potential is unlimited. A trapeze artist could be fun. Maybe an Elvis impersonator? But I digress.

I guess if you feel sorry for anyone, you could feel sorry for my parents. They went and made themselves a non-sentimental daughter who craves freedom and independence. They have grandkids they can dote on, so they'll be okay.

Anyhoo, looking forward to tomorrow downtown drinking with Bacon. Good times to come, hurrah!

"home" for the holidays

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go...back to Detroit. Motown. The Motor City. The place I come from. But I really can’t call it home, not anymore. It is a place I used to be, a whole different life. Returning to Michigan never seems real until I am at this point, my life for the next week contained in several carrying cases, preparing to walk out the door.

This year I don't feel any anxiety or need to prove that I have “made it” here in NYC. Normally I do, but I have a happy distraction to tear my thoughts away.

Vegas baby, Vegas. I can't wait to see my friend who lives out there, and I can't wait to see what that town is about. I expect this New Years Eve will be memorable. Woo hoo!

Until then, I have some fun events planned around xmas with friends and family, so I believe this trip should at the very least be busy, if not downright pleasurable.

Okay, enough procrastination, time for the traveling. I'll be seeing some of ya soon!

moments

It is always a happy moment when I have my ipod set to random and a Disney tune comes on.  I just heard "Kiss The Girl" from The Little Mermaid, and did a happy chair dance in time with the music.  :)

bedtime

New York is the city that never sleeps...unless there is a transit strike.  I tell ya, once those subways and busses are gone this place becomes a ghost town.  Every store, shop, restaurant, and gym was closing at eight or eight-thirty the last couple of days.  It is awful hard to finish up your xmas shopping when it takes longer for you to get everywhere and your window of opportunity has drastically shrunk.

 

As I made my way home around nine last night, having completed *almost* all of my last minute shopping, I could not help but noticed how deserted the streets were becoming.  Even the people who were left walking were practically sprinting, trying to get home as fast as their little legs would carry them.  It really felt like a small town where everyone goes home to have dinner with their families or something.  I don't really know where those people in small towns go, they just do.

 

Living here you often hear how NYC transit is one of the select few systems in the world that runs all 24 hours of every day.  After this strike experience, I wonder which came first, the chicken or the egg; do the subways and busses run constantly because we need them to or do we stay awake until all hours because we can?  If the subways were to shut down for a couple hours every night, would we become a more pure city, partying less and sleeping more?  Would we experience less excess and more morality?  Look what happened with the smoking ban - take away the accessibility and the usage dropped. 

 

Thank god no one in this city wants to stop the excess.  We like our 24 hour party, thank you very much.  Knock on wood.

misplaced guilt

Somebody brought in a dozen Dunkin Donuts to work today, and as a team player I consumed two.  The whole time I'm doing the guilt thing, telling myself over and over I'm going to have to work out extra hard and long for my sins.

 

To really asses the damage (and further flagellate myself), I just went on the website to check the nutrition content of what I had eaten - and the donuts are listed as only having 200 or 210 calories apiece!!!!  That would be less calories than their muffins, bagels, and pretty much every other damn food item on the menu.  Here I thought buying the bagel was the smart way to go. 

 

Bah.  Knowledge is power.  Next road trip sugar all the way baby!