fresh

You know, sometimes I forget how much fun it is to spend time with new people. Tonight I went to a bar with some peeps from work. We know each other through polite conversation, the friendly meeting type interactions.

But spending time outside of the office? Not so much.

Over the past three years my evenings have been consumed with training. Two years for the marathon, the balance for the half. This made me very economical about my time. If there were minutes left in the week they were to be spent catching up with the established friends. I owe the people I care about my time. That is the way it works.

So now here I am not on any race program, not running at all thank you to an injury. By god it is time I went out for laughs with any non-regulars.

We went to Rudy's, always a great place. No pretension, and plenty of hot dogs. And by god we laughed a lot. It was so much fun!

There is something to be said for getting to know new people. I think I'm going to work on that some more. How did I ever forget in the first place? When did the comfort of familiar friends replace the joy in discovering new ones?

Do people normally cap off at a certain point with friends? They make all the buddies they will by a certain age, and who they keep in touch with they keep in touch with? Does everyone always shift alliances and meet more people expanding groups, eventually making new ones?

Or maybe as people couple off and get serious-like with marriage and kids they don't have as much time or interest for the casual life, causing me in my resplendent singledom to expand my social horizons. They move on and I move out.

Yeah, I think that may be it.

seasons

God I love the fall. Love it love it love it. All of a sudden I have all this energy, this drive. Too bad my leg is a mess, I can't pour out the overflow into running.

But by bejessus I can clean. And shop. And surf the web.

Check this out - what a kick ass cast! Too bad the last scene of the trailer kind of reminds me of that Mary Stuart Masterson movie Immediate Family. But then I'll forgive it because of the director...

growing pains

The weather this weekend was absolutely gorgeous. Sunny, high sixties. With weather like that there was no way I could resist running in central park. It is after all one of my most favorite things to do here in the city. Doing so for me ties together the majesty of what this metropolis is about. The skyline, the diversity of people, how at the center of this cement and metal living thing we could just hold a little bit of fresh air.

Today I paid for it. Limped around the house. See, after the sad, sad attempt to run the NYC half a while ago I took some time off from my favorite hobby. But by god I missed it. So I've been picking it back up over the last couple of weeks.

It has felt great. Amazing. Once having burned myself out with all the training for the half I had forgotten the sense of joy I feel with the sport. And so what do I do? Run too many miles. Overindulge in something I had forgotten I even missed. And hurt myself.

Iliotibial band syndrome. The muscle from my hip down the outside of my thigh, wrapping around my knee to the top of my calf. Swollen and painful, not letting me bend my knee or lift my leg. Ouch.

The run yesterday felt so great too. I was in terrific form, moving like the wind. I felt free, alive. Now this.

How is it that I have fallen in love with a sport that innately hurts you? Read any runners magazine, blog, or website and the number one topic is injury. Prevention and recovery. How can we beat ourselves up to improve without breaking. After all, that is what training does, tears muscle fibers so they heal over. Making us stronger. Faster.

Isn't that just what we do in life? We get hurt over and over again as such so that part of us which is vulnerable scars over and is no longer as susceptible to pain or injury. So we are able to work through the past and are better able to enjoy our future.

The key to all of this is twofold. First of all after activity you need time to heal, recover. If you don't let those tears in your fiber scar over you won't be getting any stronger, just will be doing more damage and tearing deeper and longer at an open wound.

Secondly, don't push too hard and tear so much that you cannot heal, causing permanent damage. So hard that you handicap yourself.

So I have to remember to follow these rules. To navigate this path to learn from my past mistakes and allow myself to benefit from them. It would be tragic to lose my runs in central park instead of going faster and reveling in them.

sweet relief

As heartbreaking as it was to discover that Collins Bar was closed, I have found comfort in another locale. St. Andrews bar on 44th between 6th and 7th. Yes, the bartenders wear kilts. That is a strong selling point. But just wait until Thighs sees this...

That with the kitchen open late night and the 75% male clientele?

Whew! Another midtown sanctuary.

perceptions

If you were to ask me what my type was, I couldn't answer.

Not because I lack introspection or can't recognize a good thing when I see it. Quite the opposite. I see too many of the good things, which in many ways defies the idea of a 'type'. My range is far too wide to easily define.

For example, in the past I have felt the lust a-burnin for vin disel in pitch black. You know, the whole self-sacrificing warrior type thing. Like, say...Malcom Reynolds. Of Firefly/Serenity. Yummy.

Today? Someone says in my presence "I have a direct line to Stphen Hawking" and I am sold. Putty in his hands. Immediately.

Wait...you don't think that is hot? C'mon. To have the ability to call at any given time one of the most brilliant minds in our life span? And then they know who you are???

Too geeky hot. But I'm still totally into it. Oh, the nerd love...

blabber

Repeatedly I am shocked to find that people remember what I say.

Okay, that sounds weird. What I mean is for some reason after I speak I completely disregard my own words. Forget what I said, what I was trying to convey. And to be totally honest, when people talk to me I remember the general idea of what they are communicating, but am only able to paraphrase. Never can I repeat anything word for word.

It is a weird trait to have. Every now and then people will come back to me and say something like "Thanks for the advice" or "You were totally right about what you said to me that night."

My response? "I gave you advice? What did I say?" or "What the hell did I tell you?

At that point they refresh my memory "You told me to shut up in meetings" or "You told me he would make a pass at me in the next three months and he did” And it all comes flooding back. If people don't remind me later, I utterly forget what I tell them.

But what I find amazing is that there are so many people out there who remember what I say and take it to heart. It humbles me, because I really should be careful about what I say off the cuff. Or at least I make sure they know that it is theory or opinion, not fact.

My favorite example was from a long, long time ago. I was working in Michigan at the Mongo, and I had this customer that looked exceptionally familiar. We both recognized each other, but could not place from where.

After some back and forth, we realized that he had been a pilot that I had worked with one time a year and a half prior when I was a flight attendant. Such relief to remember where our acquaintance was from!

That is when it got funny. When he pointed out our history he then quickly gestured at his shoes and said, "I remember you!! You told me that you could tell everything about a guy by looking at his shoes! That if I ever wanted to impress a girl to make sure my shoes were neat and kept up. Look! Look!" He said, pointing again at his feet, "Now I always make sure that my shoes are presentable! You were right!"

Okay, you know how many times I have given out that advice? Really?

ONCE. To this guy. And he totally took it as gospel.

I am so full of shit. When I was doing it I was pulling some kind of I know it all crap. His shoes were scuffed and whatnot so I 'predicted' that he was slovenly at home, didn't take care of his things, was lazy etc. Because I read that all from his footwear.

Right. The fact that we were in a plane that seats 26 passengers, two pilots, and one flight attendant for three days didn't give me any insight at all. It was the shoes.

One thing I have been working on (and hopefully succeeding) is giving serious advice when drunk. Because then I get too heavy. So maybe I should just stick to advice on footwear. Helps the economy after all.

kryptonite

Everyone has weaknesses. Some dread them, but I herald mine.

If you know me, you are aware that I love a challenge. Tell me I can't do something...and by god I will exhaust every resource in my power to prove you wrong.

Tell me you know for sure that I will do something...and hells bells I won't touch it with a ten foot stick.

So if you really want me to go somewhere, participate in some act, or confront a challenge - act like I won't. If you do it well I won't catch on and I'm putty in your hands.

and by the way, I have no idea where the hell this trait came from

salve

Since the announcement that the 8GB iphone was going down in price $200, a few people have asked my reaction. Yes, it was annoying. That is a lot of money for the bragging rights for three months.

But it seems that Steve Jobs got an earful. Enough to give us a $100 store credit.

Seems pretty fair. Smart move apple.

fantasy

Honestly I don't know if other people do this, but I have many awesome fantasy lives. I read a lot, so that helps supplement the interior drama life some. But when that doesn't satisfy the itch, I bring my own imagination into play.

About four months ago I remembered this one guy I new. Once upon a time. He was hot. And deep. I thought he liked me. Maybe. So at that point of time in my life I was reading tarot cards. They gave me much direction in my life, and also acted as a stimulant in social situations where I felt insecure.

This guy was also interested in the tarot. But when I offered to read his cards at a party when I was reading others he turned me down. Because to read them would be too personal for that setting.

As a friend, I called him a couple of days later to set up his own personal reading. I won't lie here - I thought he might be interested and this was the icebreaker. Knowing that I made the call. But when he answered, he turned me down.

Huh.

Guess he wasn't interested after all. I mean, here I was. Calling him asking to be alone with him. He turns me down. Done. No excuse, no reschedule. Must have misread the situation.

Here I am many years later, and for some reason I started to think about him again. In fantasy form. What are the odds that we end up getting in contact again soon?

You tell me.

you can't make this up

My job is to make sure we have just enough books to sell. But not too many. Because god knows I can predict what four year old children will want to buy over the next six months. Who doesn't?

That is the basic job. But really I am a traffic cop. Look for problems, move slow traffic to the side of the road, make sure all the breakdowns get towed to the appropriate garage.

Today? We got a complaint from a customer (being a chain of booksellers) that a carton of books was received that smelled badly, like petroleum products.

So as part of my job, I had to email a guy to walk into a building the size of a football stadium to go smell about 120 cartons of books.

Smell them.

As ridiculous as I felt in asking, what warms the heart was his reply.

"A spot check was performed and all the stock smelled wonderful!!!"

Dude. I do not tire of telling this story. I had to ask someone to go smell books. As part of their (and my) daily job.

Awesome.



On a side note, for all of my ruminations about my employees, of course they performed in ultra stellar mode today. Which was a pleasant relief. The key I think to surviving this holiday season will be me delegating appropriately, and not assuming too much of myself and too little of them. Game on.

ice, ice baby

Over our Jersey Shore weekend Spaghetti ruminated about a Times article she had read singing the praises of cold brewed coffee. Supposedly the nectar of gods, far superior to the regular brew just tossed over some ice.

With a little research I came across the recipe. Simply add grounds and ice water to a container. Stir. Leave overnight. Next morning filter out the grounds, and mix one part water to one part cold brewed coffee.

Simple as pie. But me? Ha. "Why dilute with water?" I scoff to myself.

So by god I drank my jumbo mug full of the straight stuff. And it was DELICIOUS. Very tasty. The cold brewing really brought out all the subtle flavors that you don't get with a hot cuppa joe.

Oh, but then the caffeine.

Heh.

ROCKET FUEL. I did not stop moving at lightning speed until 3:30. My coworkers were afraid of me. (Really, they were.) I was a force not to be reckoned with.

Which came in damn handy today to tell you the truth. First of all, the CEO of my company retired today. Not too much of a surprise, but oh the drama.

Sure they named his successor. But at the last gig I saw what happens when a changeover at this level happens. It tends to be the aftershocks that will getcha. A successor is named, and some juggling is done to replace or restructure whatever gap needs to be filled. But the real question that sits on everyone's lips concerns the loyalties.

In my experience I have seen people with over 20 years at a company get tossed out of the door head over feet because of the political ‘favorites’ game. This is the time when you see how battle lines that are drawn over time really come to fruition. Because at a certain pay grade job performance is more a matter of opinion than measurability.

So the extra legal drug was an aid in the drama. But also, by god, there have been a lot of fires to put out as of late. The last two nights I was at work until seven, tonight until nine. Don't ask how many hours my employees worked. Because I might twitch.

Therein lies the ethical question. How hard do you work, and why?

I work hard because I identify myself with my job. If my job is not in order, my responsibilities not handled well, I consider myself a failure. Therefore I have to stay until I know everything is taken care of that needs to be because I refuse the concept that I could not succeed.

To do my job well I must make sure all issues that need action have been moved upon or reminded to the person lacking response by me. The regular duties must of course be maintained, minimum daily and weekly tasks. My boss must not be in need of my assistance. I can't tell you how many times at the mighty bird I would try to help Seattle Jane or Brown Sugar. Not that they would give me much, but at the very least if they were overworked I was taking on every extra thing I could to get them out from under their load.

So of course I can't expect my employees to try as hard or be as intuitive as me. But if there is anything I have learned it is that I need to delegate more. And maybe explain exactly how I measure their basic levels of success. Because a lot of the extra work has been compensating for where they did not act as they should.

So even though this week looks like it, I don't plan on repeating my same work patterns as last year. Putting in sixty to seventy hours while the people under me feel overworked at forty-five.

Now how the hell do I explain that to them?? Crap. Having employees sucks.

But at least I know do dilute my damn coffee before I have a talk with any of them. Could you just imagine me on an illegal drug? Yeah. No.

superslither

This is too funny - the second half is what kills. Dude.

just awesome

If you Google my name I am actually the first result to come up.

For years it has been pages upon pages of long dead women, genealogy studies with women sharing my name who died over 100 years ago.

Hooray! I'm number one!! A dream come true for a techie like me!!

the shore

Just looking at me you can tell I am not a beach person. But I'll tell you what. You put me, Spaghetti, and Thighs together with the 'Seaside' Jersey Shore and by god, I'm converted.

Now, you have to understand. We have a routine.

The rental car is picked up. We drive down, stop at the grocery store. Buy the same ten items. Then stop for booze. Maybe dinner.

We drink, talk, sleep. Wake up.

And prep for the beach. The cooler is packed with fruit, sun chips, ice tea, water, and maybe a snack bar. Someone puts the beach chairs and umbrellas in the trunk. We lotion up and pack up. On the way to the beach we stop for a sub. Cut into three pieces. Of course.

We go to the beach, find a spot. Set out the towels, put up the umbrellas. Space out the chairs. Then do our thing.

There may be talking for an hour or two. Conversations about the trashy magazines we brought along and random publicity gossip. Catch up on the drama in our lives that takes a little more comfort to unsurface. Then silence. Relaxation. Acceptance of each other and ourselves.

More often than not we are too beat from the beach than to do more than have dinner somewhere nice and then drink on the porch of the house the second night. Not that it is a cop out. Quite the opposite. We are interesting people, time spent together is always fruitful.

Honestly, I started this post to tell you a funny story about something that happened this past weekend because we did a little something that broke the mold.

But you know what? I'll save that for later. For now I'll just rejoice in the splendor of relaxing times spent with my good friends on the edge of the Atlantic.

Because I'm not a beach person. But I am a Toms River Beach House girl.

iphone for all

You thought the iphone couldn't do everything?

Ohh, yeah. Oh yes, yes it can.

Bwa ha ha ha ha ha.

net worth

Recently I was blown away by the article in the NY Times stating that in a couple of major cities such as New York women in their twenties are making more than men of the same age.

Although women's earnings still lag behind throughout the great majority of the country, in some big cities people of the female gender are kicking ass and taking names.

Many reasons are discussed upon to give cause. More than 50% of the population graduating from college are female, women are more likely to move to NYC to make it big, etc etc.

Sure the statistics are heartening, even though I wonder about what happens after childbirth and the glass ceiling. What really caught my ear was a point that came up on NPR because of this article.

Reverse Cinderella syndrome. Let's think about romantic comedies. I'm telling you, 90% have the woman as a super-successful career woman who just is lacking...something. The guy? Most likely well-meaning bumbling idiot. Who although not fiscally responsible will add that missing bit of heart and life into the woman's current meaningless and empty existence.

Okay, not really a bad twist perse. I like the strong woman themes, dig on the total ability of the heroine to build a strong independent life. But why does the guy have to be a loser? C'mon, we are ALL bumbling idiots. Can't I find a bumbling idiot who is in the same successful* category as me?

*(Successful very loosely defined as being able to earn a steady living therefore supporting one's own rent and lifestyle, also having pride in what he does. Seriously, I've done it since the age of 20 for gods sake.)

It really amazes me how quickly our culture has shifted. Is it a backlash? Or an offshoot from Sex in the City culture? Or maybe just the new reality that women in our generation look down on being financially dependent and therefore this is the last relief we can truly have? Someone to help us relax?

Dunno. But as always I'm not fitting any stereotypes so whatever. Sure I'm making money, but hell I'm crazy fun. How can you live a Cinderella story if you are really good at saving yourself before you ever get into any trouble?

Crap. Stupid romances.

solidarity

Yep.

grass roots

Tyler Perry is someone I really admire. I finally submitted and watched Daddy's Little Girls.

Twice.

Dammit, I loved every minute. But not just because of the story, but because of what this Mr. Perry does.

First of all, his complete library of books and movies speak to a positive lifestyle. Resounding of community and personal responsibility with the honest to goodness belief that right always will beat might. Even when odds are overwhelmingly against you, if you stay true to the powers of good then you will be rewarded. But you have to hold out when everything is at its darkest. And you will always be tested, always. So true to life. And true to my innermost belief that goodness does win when given a chance.

Secondly, he works friggin' hard. This man is constantly writing, producing plays, filming, and touring. To top it off he has an open distro list to which he sends letters. Just to keep his fans appraised of his goings ons and to give positive messages. Such a constant outpouring of creativity, and what seems like a bottomless well of generosity to which he gives everything that he can to his fans. Wow.

Finally, he believes in what he does so much that he just sinks all of his money into it. He spends his own cash to make plays, films, and TV shows. Everything he makes goes right back into getting his message out there because this guy believes it is right.

Yes, he is only a man, he is human. But aren't all superheroes? Or at least most (for those geeks paying attention.) So I give this guy mad props. Because so few people follow their beliefs to this extent. Especially once they have achieved a certain amount of fame or money, or are part of the media machine.

So I guess now I'll just have to netflix Madea's Family Reunion. (By the way the fact the man is totally cool appearing in TV and movies in drag add to his way coolness level too) Oh, and I totally can't wait for Why Did I Get Married? More Tyler, and damn such a kick-ass cast!

Love this guy.

lookee

Two friends got their pics in the Times!! They are two of the lovely ladies at the table. La La La is face front and Bacon is in pink on the left.

How cosmopolitain they are...

wait!

When did this happen? And why? And where did all the beer go? It needs a home...

recommended

Netflix is always trying to recommend movies to me. So once and a while I let them do so. Go in blind, with trust.

So I let them send me Dhoom:2. Never saw the first one, but whatever.

It is an action flick. Intro scene involves the theft of crown jewels. From a moving train. So we are talking mission-impossible type scene. Parachute to the moving train, disguise, then of course snowboard/sandboard off the back of the train. Intense action, neat.

But then this happens...



Did you watch? You can't keep reading if you didn't. Because I sat there with my mouth hanging open.

I know, I know, this is bollywood. And they have the whole singing and dancing thing going on. But seriously, just stop and try to picture Tom Cruise, Toby Macguire, Bruce Willis, or even Shia LeBoeuf in that scene???

On the other hand, this actor is H-O-T hot. Dude, he can dance! And those abs. And pecs.

Final thing to note - there was an intermission to the movie. Because when you add in FIVE (count them, five) dance numbers movies become two and a half hours long. At least.

Sure, I enjoyed it overall. But just having a hard time adjusting to the song and dance breaks. Dude. C'mon.

rediscoveries

Last night I went to a Mets game with a social outing from work.

Dude, it was so much fun! Seriously, these are some incredibly awesome people. And a baseball game pretty much is always a good time. Especially when the home team wins.

This game was blind luck. Or fate. We got an email saying we could buy tickets for a game, one per person. You didn't know who else would go, if you would know anyone. So I signed up. Because I trust in my innate ability to talk. To a wall, if need be.

When the list of takers came out I knew about one third, 15 or so people. Even better? A few that I have had drinks with before.

In case you all didn't know...You have drinks with me, you are a friend for life. An acquaintance is someone I haven't had a drink with yet. It really is that simple.

So I knew I would have a good time no matter what, these peeps were fun. And maybe I'd meet a couple more fun types.

Who knew it would be a bad travel day? Or a kabillion degrees out? All the same my 15 was reduced to 6. And maybe I took a few pics. Oh, good times.

On another note, I am totally still enamored with my crush. I have to admit something, he totally is single. I lied. I was worried someone might say I'm a pussy for not making a move. Because I totally am.

Seriously, this guy is still around. Dammit, if this guy walked up to me and winked in just the right way I swear to god I would jump him in public. Because I don't know if you are aware, but sometimes I can be really impulsive.

Shy about flirting. But aggressive sexually. Yeah, ironically a good combination.

My parents must pray a lot. A lot lot.

Oh!!! I almost forgot! I got a new joke!!!!!

Are you ready?

I hope you are, because if you know me then you will hear this A LOT over the next few years. (forgive me)

Ready?

What did Kermit the Frog say at Jim Henson's funeral?

.


.


.


.


.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

nothing

*I know you are groaning now. but you love it.*

incomplete

I've never dropped out of a race before. But I just couldn't do it. After mile 4 I was sick and if I was feeling that off that early in the race? Talk about torture.

It isn't so much the fact that I didn't finish that bothers me as the owning up to it. All the people who will be asking me over the next week how I did. Why is it so hart to admit to a weakness?

The funny thing is I can't decide what to do with the race bib. I'm thinking of putting it on my fridge to keep me humble. A little humility never hurt anyone.

halos

Being good is boring.

It has been two weeks since I had a drop of alcohol. I'm dying here. And watching a kazillion episodes of Rescue Me has not been helping.

Tomorrow is the half marathon, and I am paranoid as hell about it. I know I can go the distance, but holy jesus on the cross it is going to be hot, humid, and sunny. Oh, and I have to be at the park by 6 am. Yes, that would be SIX IN THE MOTHER FUCKING MORNGING.

You all know me, I'm as positive as they come. But this is going to be a bitch.

So I'm doing everything in my power to make sure I'm as hydrated as possible. I'm skipping a sure to be kick ass engagement party (Yay Meg Kakfel and Mr Meg Kafel!!) because it starts at 7:30 and I'm afraid I'll stay out too late or be tempted to eat or drink something that will surely be my downfall.

Would it be wrong to finish the race and then immediately walk into a bar and order a shot of whiskey? Oh, but bars can't serve alcohol until noon on sundays and I'll be done running around 9:30 or so.

Ugh, so here I am eating healthy all week and especially today. Counting down the hours until I can party like a rockstar again. This is it people, I'm done with distance running for a while. A few 5K's and 10K's maybe, to keep my speed up. But I'm ready to start having some adventures again.

All the training and long runs have been really taking too much of my time and energy. My social life has been weak. Enough is enough, I'm bored with it already.

No more ms goody two shoes. Rockstar is ready to play.

where's the fire?

So I went and got myself hooked on that damn damn Denis Leary show Rescue Me in true rockstar fashion.

Which means I netflixed the first three seasons and have watched them pretty much straight thru. Or at least as fast as they mail them back to me.

Dammit, I didn't want to like the show because Leary is such a jerk. But his huge maligned personality actually really works well with the show.

Honestly the characters are great and the story lines take brilliant unforeseen turns. They really know how to throw some punches. Figuratively of course, punches thrown in the actual episodes are acting after all.

One thing I find interesting is that as much as I'm loving this series I don't really relate to any of the characters. Even more sup rising, as hunky and brave and sexy as these guys are on T.V. I don't find myself really attracted to them. Just goes to show jocks really aren't my type I suppose.

And yes, because I have exactly that kind of insanity watching so many episodes so quickly and immersing myself in their 'lives' means I did consider the idea of going into the fire department myself.

It only took me 30 seconds to realize that sure as heck wasn't going to happen. No upper body strength here people! NONE AT ALL. Seriously, the last time I went on a strength kick working the weights and all for weeks I tried arm-wrestling with Thighs who hasn't breathed near a gym in three years and she just wiped the floor with my sorry weak ass. So no heroics for me.

You would think though I'd be into at least one character though? Guess I understand now how some guys could never really get into Sex in the City. Different strokes.

Luckily for me I won't have to get cable to watch season four that is playing now. It just became available in itunes. Oh apple, you treat me so well....

wanderlust

It's been almost three years for me in this apartment, and I've been itching to make a move.

For the size and location of my apartment I have a really great deal. I know this. It has enough space for my stuff and for guests to stay the night. It is close enough to work that I walk every day. (LOVE THIS) There are tons and tons of bars and restaurants right off my front stoop. Merely a fifteen minute walk to Central Park, my running path of choice.

Of course there are some things I am not a fan of. Like having to walk up the stairs to the fifth floor. Not having packages delivered to my apartment because there is no one to sign for them. Having no laundry in the building so I drop it off with a wash n fold place.

All of these things that I complain of are totally normal, everyday compromises that come from New York living. Not really bitchin, just taking stock

So the question comes up - my next move, do I continue to rent or make the big move of buying a place? Having equity. Ooooooh responsible investing.

The really interesting thing is that I started to write this post last week. And today, for the first time since I moved here, I got notice of my rent increasing. Not by much, only $100 a month. Not bad since I lived increase-free for the last three years. Nice timing.

Honestly, to buy a place at this time I would have to leave the borough of Manhattan. God, even the idea of financial security can't pull me away at this point. Guess I'll have to start bucking up for those broker and moving fees for another rental.

Anyone know of any good one-bedroom apts on the west side opening up? I'd really like an elevator this time around...

stupid sephora

Sephora got me sick. Or at least playing with all the pretty pretty makeup did.

I actually had to leave work early Thursday because of it. Do you know what it takes for me to leave work early? Near death.

Or extreme nausea.

Thursday I woke up with a killer cold, but that I can power thru with a little medication. But around 10:15, in the middle of a meeting, it started to hit.

You know that nausea where you feel the gurgle and then you break out into a cold sweat? Oh yeah. Luckily I didn't have too much to add in this gathering so I was able to practice deep breaths and concentration to keep myself in check.

Next meeting I had to run, so I found my sweet relief with some sprite. Sprite, the nectar of gods to anti-blowing chunks.

Unfortunately the nectar's abilities were short lived. Around noon I was under my desk hoping that a quick lay down would calm down the rumblings.

Not so much.

So I had to bail. Get myself home to the sanctity of my apartment to avoid any public, er, eruptions.

Two and a half days of drugs and sleep later I feel back up to par. But now I'm worried about my half marathon this week. I was really stressed and busy last week so didn't run at all, which is bad-bad-bad. Not running for a whole week worries me. Can I even do the damn thing?

Seriously, I'm considering not doing it if the temperature is going to be above 80. Because why put myself through that? I don't have anything to prove. And the not running for a week thing really worries me too.

We'll see. Decisions decisions.

love and loss

Finished it! Loved it! I laughed, I cried (about once every third chapter), I was enthralled.

But now there is such a sense of loss. I mean, it is all over now isn't it? Seventh and final book. Story arc has come to an end.

Whenever I do this, read a book so quickly because it is so good I just can't put it down, I always ask myself once it is done, "Why didn't I read it slower? Savor it?"

To no avail. When I a story it I immerse myself in it. Something like this of course is a bit special, because I was terrified of spoilers. For frickity sake I work in children's book publishing. Multiply usual spoiler issues by fifty.

So after the joy of the story comes the mourning that it is over.

Now what do I do? Cleaning my apartment seems so mundane after living the last 24 or so hours in Potter world. *Sigh*

temptation

It has been so very, very hard not to read the spoilers about the new Harry Potter.

Against all odds, all of my natural instincts, I have resisted.

Best news ever? I don't have to travel as far as I thought to get my book. Seems the Virgin Mega Store in Times Square will be open until 1am selling the book. Forget me walking half a mile to Columbus Circle.

No worries, I won't spoil it for you all. The real question is...will I finish this in less time than the last?

Does not matter. You know why?

Like life, it is the path you take that fulfills, not the destination. Bring it.

thrill-a-minute

Do you know what I just did to put a little adventure in my day? The idea that got me smiling and giddy, just to test something out and try something new?

Adventure taker that I am...

I went and got a SECOND cup of coffee to drink in a row. And I'm not even tired. Just doing it to see how much fun my job is on extra caffeine.

LIVING. ON. THE EDGE.

irony

I am a big frickity-frackity chicken. Over the last week and a half I have been emailing a guy from match. His profile is great, he's cute, the whole nine. But then it comes to phone time.

*freeze*

What, me talk on the phone? Work without visual stimuli to aid in my response? Ugh, I hate it. I prefer email that has NO visual cues or in person which is entirely reaction-based.

So here I am, stymie-ing this (seemingly) great guy because I can't quite get across how much of a phone talker I am not. Seriously, when I have tried to explain thus far he just says give him my number and he'll call. Which for ANYONE else would totally make sense, because NORMAL people only worry about first contact.

Not that I aspire to be normal, but in online dating the whole phone step is kind of necessary.

(Here is where I admit this is maybe the fourth time in the last couple I have gotten this far and then...*crickets*)

But I like this one a little better than the others. So I'm going to just see if we can skip to the meeting part. Is that wrong, to make someone have to change a pattern to deal with a quirk? Or is that the most honest up front thing you can do?

In case you don't get the irony - you didn't know that I just spent a kajillion dollars on this fancy new iphone (Mookie) which I love for every other but its main use.

testosterone

One of my favorite episodes of This American Life is the one about testosterone. Really, it is just brilliant. My favorite bit is when the staff ends up testing their levels of the hormone. So entertaining, but more importantly enlightening. Makes you look at people in a whole new way, as in how much of who we are and what we do comes down to the secretion of a gland or two?

Today I finished reading The Sun Also Rises by Hemmingway and then watched Fletch and Fight Club.

Honestly, I only really get Fight Club. It is smart and has a brilliant twist. And Edward Norton is an amazing actor. I would totally do him over Brad Pitt. If I had a choice. Because that is SO likely. But I digress.

Back to today’s events - I kind of get Hemmingway.

Okay, not really. I have tried reading his short stories about hunting and bull fighting. They just don't seem all that interesting. The Old Man and the Sea was good. I think. As a really in depth metaphor.

As for Fletch? Frankly my dear I didn't give a frick. It didn't strike me as so funny. Maybe because I'm twenty years out of context or have never really had a problem not recognizing the quotes.

I write about this because it kind of ticks me off. It bothers me that I can't get that perspective, that I can't empathize. Why the heck not? It isn't like I am a stereotypical girl in any way, but I understand those who are. And I totally understand most unstereotypical guys. But when it comes down to the most testosterone-y of men I just can't relate.

But then again do I really want to?

If I did I suppose I could try to join an armed force. Talk about immersing yourself in it. I did try applying to the FBI the other day. They turned me down because I had smoked pot within the last three years. So maybe I'll try again in a couple of months...

fuzz

Today I laughed a lot.

Last night I went out on the town with Spaghetti, the Jeweled Hornet, and some Jersey girl love. We hit a bar downtown and had a few martinis and even more fun.

This morning I had a mini-hangover. At this point in my life the type of hangover where I wake up and think, "thank god this is it". Dehydrated, a little tired, and that soft fog that settles over the brain.

Fortuitously last night I stopped drinking fairly early because I knew how crazy today would be. Lots of meetings and plenty of me acting and reacting. This was the kind of day where you have to be nimble, on the balls of your feet because you need to shift direction often and well.

And oh, did I.

In a normal day I always...ALWAYS have something playing in the background. NPR or my ipod most of the time. If it is too quiet I get restless and distracted.

Which is what made today so interesting. The hangover provided a natural background buzz. This was a day where I was on my game, floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee.

The real surprise came from how much more I enjoyed life. I was more relaxed, just let life wash over me a little bit more. By god I think everyone appreciated my good mood.

It is one thing to be a happy drunk, but a happy hangover? Who knew?

adventures in movie going

The last holiday week was just jam-packed with cinema. One of the handy-dandy things about being single and childless is when I have time off I can indulge in all kinds of things I like. Such as MOVIES.

Last weekend, bought Sean of the Dead. Watched it about ten times. Briliant. Of course.

On July 4th saw Ratatouille with Spaghetti. Pixar did a great job again. Not my favorite of theirs but well worth viewing. The computer animation just gets better and better.

Then I made a little trip to Virgin Records in Times Square - since it is so far away from me (note two blocks) - and bought two mega faves. Fight Club and Bring It On. Because everyone buys those two movies at once.

Finally, yesterday I say Transformers with Thighs. Dude. It was awesome. No, I never watched the cartoon. Didn't matter. I found myself in one of various "oh my god" positions many times. As in a kick ass scene happens and your jaw drops...but the intensity isn't over so it stays open. And then five minutes later you realize the mouth should be closed. Two and a half hours should be too long for an action flick. But it wasn't.

Just to round the holiday week out, I looked over my blogs from two years ago. Here I am feeling stagnant in my life and I had accomplished HALF of the major goals I had laid out. Why is it so easy to forget the wins and remember the losses?

Interesting what order I listed them in and what order they were accomplished in though. Kind of makes one wonder - what do you think you want and what do you really need?

sunlight

My apartment is south facing and gets a ton of light. Really I am lucky in that way, which despite the proliferation of tall buildings being erected in my neighborhood I get so much unfiltered light.

One morning, noticing how bright of a day it was, I decided I should wear sunglasses on my walk to work.

I exited my apartment in sunlight. Walked ten yards.... and experienced about twenty more yards TOTAL of direct sunlight on my half-mile walk to work.

Literally, a corner here and a short stretch there. My walk to work consists of indirect light. The sunglasses were a moot point. Not that I mind, I am a pale person prone to sunburn. And I also firmly believed, based on my extensive running outdoors, that the sunlight drains my energy.

Just because sunlight makes the world exist doesn't mean I need to soak it in myself. Sweet ironies of life.

nostalgia

Having watched that damn High School Musical so many times has got me thinking about my own high school life.

Being 35 it has been a pretty long time since my wonder years. In many ways my life has shaped up in the way I dreamed it would. Living an independent metropolitan life, successful and surrounded by interesting and diverse friends.

What I wonder about is the level that my expectations have now risen to. What do I want from myself now?

When I was in my senior year I was out of school every day at 12:35. I had my own car, worked part time at Pizza Hut as a cook, and was the treasurer of the Drama Club acting as second in charge to the stage crew.

My friends and I were drinkers, but racking my brain I don't remember drinking on school nights. During the week we just had good clean fun. And I do mean squeaky-clean. I didn't lose my virginity until college and ditto for drugs.

But I did hand out with friends during the week. Reminiscing I had so much fun, and I suppose in a way it is sad that looking back now it takes so much effort to figure out how we kept ourselves entertained without drinking. Nowadays I talk to friends about going out and the bar is the focal point nine times out of ten.

What I do know is as a teenager we spent of time just...being together. We hung out. Didn't watch TV (except for our one afternoon soap opera.), didn't really go see movies. Literally just finding company to be out of the house was enough. And it was brilliant fun.

Back then hanging out doing absolutely nothing was totally enough. Now everything has to have a destination or a purpose. At least to motivate me to want to come out. I think I'm going to work on that. Just being, enjoying the company of others should be enough.

That being said, here are the pics from my last purpose-driven outing - last Saturday at the Astoria Beer Garden to celebrate the engagement of Ron and Erica. Awesome couple, awesome time.

Pics were taken by iPhone, who has from here on out been deemed the nickname Mookie.

overkill

I was kind of excited with the first trailer.

The second also rocked my world.

By the third I thought there could be no more. What other funny bits could there be???

Yet here we are, the fourth trailer has been released. And by god I'm still laughing. Damn they're good.

expensive toys

I was having second thoughts.

Who wants to be THAT guy, the one that buys into the hype and media? Who drops a kabillion dollars on a gadget? Who is the geek to buy the toy on the first day.

But...the movie I went to see with friends ended and the apple store on 5th ave was/is open twenty-four hours. And at 10:00 pm there was no line to get in, and the ten employess in front of the store were actually still cheering on everyone who entered. And the line was so fast, I walked in, waited one second behind two people, then they gave me my phone.

So here I was back home, worrying about switching services and keeping my number. Silly me, this is apple after all.

Again, two minutes. Service switched in itunes. The toy is syncing right now. At some point I have to go to bed in order to run ten miles tomorrow morning. But I don't know how with so many features to learn and play with.

Oooooh shiny. Now I have no excuse for not calling back or texting a reply. Crap.

that guy - geek version

My ipod broke during my trip to Missouri. Which is okay, I've had it for three years. What is even better, it gives me an excuse to go buy the new iphone.

Normally I would wait and drool for a few months before buying a new item like this. Let the bugs wear out and whatnot.

But there is that excuse....gotta replace the ipod.

Or even...my phone is over two years old

My favorite...I do have Friday off so I could wait in line for a midnight on sale...

Who am I kidding, I work all those extra hours just to buy and own the shiny.

Ooooh.

Aaaah.

*Heart*


(And for those of you really paying attention, this will be my first of two midnight lines I plan to wait in this year. Who's joining me on July 21st?)

p.s. Phone goes on sale 6pm Friday. So much for my midnight run.

haunted

Okay, I have officially become a tad bit obsessed with High School Musical. I bought the music. Then the movie. Then listened to the music all day and came home to watch the movie.

Seriously, is there some strange subliminal message embedded in the damn thing?

HELP ME. PLEASE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...........

disney and fellatio

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

stages of life

Yes, I know I’ve been gone for a while. And boy is there a lot to catch you all up on. I just didn’t feel inspired to write, guess that happens to the best of us. So I’ll do my best to give you all the good dirt shortly. In the meantime let’s get back in the game…

So yesterday someone offended me so much that I almost got into a shouting match. At work. At a department lunch.

What could they have possible said that would offend me so that I saw red?

That people who live in Manhattan only do so at that EARLY stage of their life. You know, the one before they grow up and realize how foolish it is not to have a yard and space for grown up stuff.

Okay, so he totally didn’t say it exactly like that. But he kind of did. And man o man that just rubbed me the wrong way.

It is interesting that of all the conversations I have had over the years this is the only one that really got my goat in that quite a while. This guy was speaking from experience, his friends who had lived in the city in their twenties all picked up and moved to the burbs in their thirties. Thus in his mind that is just what people do moving through the stages of their lives.

One thing that bothered me is that he refused to accept that there were people who didn’t fit his known mold. I kept trying to tell him I’m in my thirties and by god I don’t want a yard (Mowing?? Gardening?? Pshaw.) And think a one bedroom is plenty of space for little ole me. Heck, I have guilt at the idea of owning too much stuff because that makes me a capitalist pig who can’t pick up and move to another country on a whim.

Because I do that so often. Yeah.

He also really implied that once the mystique of the city wore off and your priorities were in place leaving the city was the right thing to do. That’s kind of what really got me the most. My priorities are totally together, living here is still a dream come true. It is expensive for a reason – everyone wants to live here! Supply and demand.

It is rare these days to find someone who wants to put me into a square hole when I am a firework peg. Someone who insists that eventually I, too, will succumb to their idea of what is right. Which is really fortunate as a whole, it is nice not to have to deal with that with any near the frequency that I did back in the Midwest.

Also I get it that maybe it is a bit of cognitive dissonance on his end and all. Sell hard because you are really selling yourself kind of thing.

So no I didn’t beat him down. And I changed the subject lickity split. To keep the peace an all. Cause I’m good like that.

what??!!??

Okay, according to CNN the crime rate is going up in major cities.

Like Miami.

And San Diego.

Oh, and don't forget Grand Rapids, MI.

Seriously?? Grand Rapids??.

Maybe the article should be about random cities with increasing crime rates instead? Most interestingly, they cite gang related violence as being the main problem.

Not Detroit. Not Flint. Nope.

Gangs in Grand Rapids. Seriously, I can't get over it. Must be a bitch fighting for territory when the downtown consists of about five blocks. Damn.

ease

When is taking the easy way out the worst way?

Lately I have been complacent. I've been making enough money to not have to worry about it. My job is going well enough that most of the time I don't give it a second thought. The apartment is comfortable and rent hasn't changed in two years. Friendships are all strong and stable, reliable. No rumblings from the tummy, and I am running-injury free.

So I've been laid back. What is weird is that with the lack of struggle everything becomes more and more quiet, including my thoughts. I still have them, but the drive to express myself is so muted.

Thighs says that I should enjoy this time of comfort, but I feel guilty for this stasis, for the lack of movement. Mostly because the mere fact that I have been in publishing for over six years seems to me an eternity, and all I can think is "Why have I allowed myself to linger here so long?"

As I get older I wonder if I have the stamina to go back to school for a PhD. I still really think that I would really enjoy teaching and think that I have a talent in that area. But the question is what path do I take to get there?

How and when aside, as much as I'm trying to let myself stay still and calm for a minute I have an underlying sense of guilt for not doing more. The clock is ticking, when do I make my next move?

Honestly though, my biggest fear is that the complacency will win. That my inner drive will quell and my life will fade into obscurity and normalcy. That the comfort and safety of routine will suck me under like quicksand. I don't want my most exciting self to be over.

When do you get to be past your prime? Is it inevitable?

I’d rather burn brightly and end quickly than fade away so slowly that my light blends with the rest of the sky.

stupid movie

Over the weekend I hit the jersey shore with spaghetti and thighs.

We spent a gorgeous couple of days on the beach, saw a minor league baseball game (go blue claws!) and walked the seaside heights boardwalk.

Oh, and drank a hell of a lot. We finished off two fifths of vodka and three six-packs of beer. Can't say we don't know how to toss 'em back.

I had brought along five movies in case of inclement weather. To be safe I covered the whole spectrum. Casino Royale for action adventure, Venus for drama, Wedding Crashers for comedy, Scrubs season 5 disc 1 for short attention spans, and of course a romance...The Notebook.

We watched the standbys - Wedding Crashers and Scrubs. I've already seen Casino Royale, so when I got home last night I threw caution to the wind and watched The Notebook for the first time.

Crack cocaine for women. Female porn. Damn damn damn stupid romance. Yes I am a sucker for this kind of thing. Skipped back and watched the good parts a second and third time around, the whole nine yards. I was so wound up after the damn thing I couldn't go to sleep until forever.

Honestly it is a really simple premise. Tell a story about TRUE LOVE. The big magical phenomenon. And I want to believe. Hell, I think I do believe. Which is why I always am a sucker for these stories.

But in the light of day one has to wonder. There is a really fine line between drastic measures to prove your love and insanity.

Have you seen Say Anything? Romantic if you believe they were meant to be together, stalker if you are the girl and really wanted to break up with the guy.

The Notebook? Romantic if you believe they are destined to be together, madness to dedicate your life to prepare for someone if they really are going to marry someone else.

On occasion I have dated. These relationships didn't work out for a reason. It wasn't because the guys didn't stand outside my window playing music or didn't pine for me for years. In fact, if they would have done those things I might have been a little frightened or sad.

So what is romance? I guess maybe it is attention when you really want it. Platitudes from someone you desire. And when we watch movies you kinda want the hot guy, so you can totally dig it. Which makes sense because when the ugly/strange guys pining in movies, the genre is a comedy. Say like The 40 Year Old Virgin.

Still I watch the damn stupid romances. Rationalized them to death and it doesn’t matter. Love them, can’t help it.

too much you tube

so what is on my mind these days?

sharing the love

okay, so I'm totally a month behind on this.

but it is too funny not to share.

tough enough

When I was 18 my biggest worry was figuring out how to pay for college.

My parents had already told me they were strapped for cash and couldn't help with tuition. My grades were great so I didn't doubt that I could get into a school. Didn't much care where, I never was much interested in an Ivy League education.

At some point I had the opportunity to take an aptitude test for the military. Always being a good tester I signed up, figuring what the heck.

What I didn't realize is that soon I would be getting LOTS of calls from military recruiters. Didn't think much about consequences back then.

One thing we all know, you can get money for college by going into the armed forces. And by god I'm never one to do something halfway, so I figured if I was going to go into service for our country no way was it going to be for anything but the toughest group. The marines.

Arriving at the marine recruitment office, the recruiters were tickled pink to meet me. We talked about the benefits that would be bestowed upon me for serving my country. Honestly I recall the deal sounding pretty good. And I didn't mind the challenge. Although I was kind of an anti-establishment person, I figured eh. I'm tough enough to get through.

Then it occurred to me to ask a question. Someone had put a bug in my ear, something about how women weren't allowed in combat.

Now when I said I chose the marines it was because they were the toughest group I wasn't looking for an easy way out. The whole point was to prove that I could take anything and then dish it right back out.

So I asked the question. The response?

"Yes that is true! You are very lucky, you will always be safe, never on the front line!"

Getting agitated I reply, "You are joking. That is ridiculous."

Now getting confused, the recruiter demanded, "You don't understand. You are lucky to have this protection."

"No, YOU don't understand. I refuse to be a part of any organization that doesn't see me as an equal."

Angrily he replied "Excuse me, have you ever had a bullet pass within an inch of your head?!"

Now I was pissed "No, but by god if you can take it I can too. That is my point, I have to take the crap as much as anyone else. If I am considered weaker or need to be protected I will never be on equal footing."

At this point he calmed down a bit, sensing that he was losing a sale. "Well, this restriction was actually imposed by congress, so it isn't the armed force that came up with it."

That kind of made the whole concept a done deal for me. Serve a country that saw me as weak? Forget it.

Now, please keep in mind this was two years before the gulf war. We had been in times of peace for over twenty years and Sadam Hussein was barely a blip on the TV. As I have gotten older I am thankful that I didn't have to put my life on the line, and have total respect for those who did.

Luckily I discovered a school that arranged for you to work fulltime half the year as part of the program, with a great wage and even greater benefits. Full healthcare and paid vacation while going to college? Oh, and did I forget to mention in was 75% male? Graduating from an all-girls high school it seemed too good to be true.

Every now and then I look back and wonder where I would be if I had joined. Never having the pink hair, not having all the crazy jobs and experiences. Would I have left after serving my time? Would I have gotten knocked up or married like so many of the women in the armed forces? Would I have stayed and gotten promoted through the ranks?

Honestly, I'm relieved that I made the choice I did. One little question that popped into my head made all the difference in the world.

Of course, aren't most the monumental decisions of our life balanced on the answer of just one question?

Oh, and I totally still believe that I'm tough enough. Booya.

I think I get it

Okay, for my entire life I have never wanted children. I have spoken about this before. Nothing new here.

As I have gotten older I am less and less motivated to pop out a mini me. Let's think here.....

Have you heard a new parent talk about how little sleep they get? Of course you have. Because every new parent complains about this. For some reason they had no idea it was coming. (You would think that expecting people would have spoken to the more experienced, wouldn’t you?)

Time? What time? You don't have time; your life is now decided by the schedule of your offspring. Fuggedaboudit.

Money is just silly. It is that strange number that is being stashed away to pay for unexpected doctor bills or future little handheld games. Or a college future if you are just that lucky.

This could go on and on. All the things that people sacrifice in order to have children, I have never quite understood. I really blame that missing genome somewhere, the whole missing maternal link.

It just seems like so much to give up for so little reward.

All for a smile? A hug? That one moment at sixteen in the middle of all the screaming when your kid says "you know mom/dad...you aren't so bad"
How many years of your life did you give away for that?? Oh, and being blamed for everything wrong with their lives because you had the AUDACITY to give them said life in the first place?

Yes, I have issues.

So anyway. Last week I met someone who had recently completed her first marathon. Quickly I proceeded to telling her how much I hated running my marathon, how painful it was to complete, how much time and effort I put into preparing myself for such tortuous event etc etc etc.

She loved running her marathon, every minute. And wants to run another. I gave her mad props and then silently declared her insane.

Then maybe I happened on this past Wednesday to watch a show you may of heard of.... Lost. A character was journaling his top five moments in his life.

The show ended and I thought...what were my happiest moments?

Of course the first to come to mind? Finishing the marathon.

Oh...

Wait...

I get it!!

Lots of effort, not a logical ratio of effort to reward....

Ding. Ding motherfucking Ding.

Still don’t want kids though.

battle of the blahs

Lately I have been doing less and less on the weekends.

It started off because of my marathon training. At least 30 hours would be 'reserved' for my long run, time including no-drinking prep before and much needed nap after.

Then the holidays wore me out.

And now....what? For a while there I was worried that my problem is that I was getting old. But a couple of Iron pills later I could feel a resurgence of energy. With which I did nothing.

So here we are on the brink of summer. My company has summer Fridays (almost didn't this year, close call), and my department opts for the every-other-Friday-off option.

Which means I had better god damn well make sure I'm not sitting on my sorry ass at home on those long weekends.

Memorial day is covered, a weekend at Frank the Tanks' on the Jersey Shore. But what to do what to do with the rest of my time?

A wedding in MO in June.

One day in Philly for a baseball game with Thighs.

And methinks some trips to visit friends. See Kzoo Jen maybe? Drop by to visit Seattle Girl? Finally get around to seeing my cousin in Portland? Maybe a quick hello to Dawnalicious in Vegas?

Or maybe some adventure destinations? (Drawing a blank here)

Who am I missing? Anyone up for weekend adventure?

step aside dreamgirls

There is a new sheriff in town.

THIS is how you put a broadway musical on the silver screen. Even though it started on celluoid in the first place. Either way, just watching the trailer gets me stoked. Never felt this way about beyonce and jennifer hudson, let me tell ya.

Just listen to that title song "You Can't Stop the Beat". See what I mean? Electric.

seasons change

The summer has officially begun.

Not because of a solstice.

Not because of Memorial Day.

Not because of the weather.

Because tomorrow we are off to the beer garden for the first time this year. Oh, the Astoria Beer Garden. The sun, the picnic tables, the bratwurst, THE BEER.

We will start at 2pm. Most likely we will not leave until after dark. Friends will stop by. We will drink and laugh, and it will be awesome.

And don't worry; I'll bring my camera. To share the love. Or at least the inebriation.

oh well

The crush has a girlfriend.

C'est la vie.

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)

free booze

I love getting invited to company events....that have an open bar.

Promise me some complimentary beverages and I'm golden. By nature I'm comfortable with mingling, and can navigate social situations fairly easily.

So needless to say I was stoked to get invited to a party by my boss' boss. Along with four other hand picked invites. Seems I've been selected as one of the worthy ones. Or fun ones, take your pick. Then I noticed a line that I never see on the email.

This is a black tie event.

Errrrrr. I've had drinks with the bigwigs a few times in my life. But I never had to dress up or anything. Dude, I'm going to have to buy a dress. A nicer dress.

And Shoes. Like, heels and stuff. They type you don't walk home in.

One thing I am not is a shopper. I have my staple clothes and I have my staple shoes.

All this ran through my head within seconds after reading the line, and I couldn't help but laugh out loud. What I go through for a free drink, I tell ya.

scales

It is so not a joke. A dating site where you are only allowed to join if a committee votes you as an 8 to 10 on the hotness scale. 10 being highest of course.

Really

mnemonic weddings

See, I thought Ev and K were kind for picking June 10th as their wedding date. Since my sister got married the same day in '06, no way I could forget to show up.

Then La La La and Marathon Man brought out the 8-8-08 date. Saweet.

And now? Ali Girl and Fish are getting married...

Wait for it

Wait for it

9-8-07.

Seriously. These are the weddings I have to remember. Luckiest bastard EVER.

need a little help

It was a really hard lesson to learn, but no one takes advice. Even if they seem like they listen a little bit. Nada.

But that's okay. Everyone has a life path to follow, and important lessons most often need to be paid for. Knowledge sticks a little better if you earn it. For whatever reason things that are just handed to us seem worthless, and god knows advice comes damn cheap.

So what do you do when your friend is in an abusive relationship? How many times do you support them when they cry on your shoulder, only to have them run back into the arms of their abuser? Only a week ago they were nursing their wounds, and now they are looking for any glimpse of hope to forgive. I'd say forget, but that doesn't seem to be a problem at all.

I don't know what to do. We all want to protect the ones we care about. When you see a friend in pain don't you feel that pain as well?

Do any of you have experience with this kind of thing? How do you forgive your friend for staying?

Like I said, I already learned people don't listen. But how can I learn to stay and have to watch?

girls always date jerks

We've all heard it said. Chicks always go for the assholes. Nice guys lose, you know the story.

Always pisses me the hell off.

Like nice guys don't date banshees? Don't we all hear about the stereotype of the overbearing nagging wife? Same song, different dance. Women just don't bitch they same. They just talk trash behind each other’s backs. Quietly. (Ah, the subtle differences of the gender wars.)

But lets put it in perspective. It isn't that love is defined as masochists and sadists, by opposites attracting, or even power struggles. What makes it happen is way more basic.

Somebody has to make the move.

It is just that simple. Jerks are the guys who ask the girls out, who act confident and because they believe they are hot stuff can charm the girl. Overbearing wenches are manipulative women who capitalize on the chivalry of men. The types of people who can take advantage of nice people sometimes do. Sad fact of life.

So let's make a pact. Stop being that person complaining that you are the good guy screwed because you are nice. Because it is one of two things. Either you need admit you have been lacking in the advance department, or maybe you should realize that you aren't so nice after all. And yes, I have met assholes that thought they were the nice guy. Irony in life I suppose.

Still have your doubts? Look at me. I don't date jerks. And I rock.

Case

In

Point

liver love

Seriously, I have been out drinking five out of the last seven days. And we are not talking just one beverage here, we are talking minimum four drinks each night. Ten on St Paddys day of course.

Its been a good week.

Hangovers? Not so much. I was turned out to the MIRACLE ELIXR. Purple vitamin water. Dude, you know on TV when the doctors are hung over so they plug into a "banana bag"? It is saline with potassium to re-hydrate. What is in the magical purple vitamin water? Potassium and B vitamins.

Golden.

Another fun thing about this week is the fact that I have had ample opportunity to interact with my crush. Oh lord I'm crushing hard. This guy is a friend of a friend, and we don't cross paths all that often. This week we did.

Problem is he is really nice and very unassuming. Perfect to date but hard to get to flirt. I'm workin it though. Because I am totally obsessed with it.

Seriously, Thighs (formally known as RFW) had to listen to me go on for at LEAST two hours last night about every look and every comment that has passed between me and mr crush. God knows how many stories I have already told duplicate times. You know, like the time he did a double take when I came in the room. Yeah, I talk about that one a lot.

Lord I'm impatient. Can't we just date already? Oh wait, that would involve me actually asking him out. Might just pine for a while longer, methinks.

respite

It's not you, it's me. I just haven't felt that special spark lately. It feels like more of a chore than a pleasure, I can't seem to get any kind of enthusiasm behind it all.

So I'm taking a break. I could come back. I mean, I have been doing this with you for years now. But who knows? I could quit as quickly as I had started this whole thing.

I think it is because my job is sucking my dry. Or it could have been the flu that I just got over (without ONE OUNCE of vitamin C or zinc, I think they are all fallacies). Or it could just be corporate life in general.

If we are meant to be then...I'll be back.

drunk awakes

What do you do when you wake up reaaaaaallly early because you tossed a couple back the night before?

You watch this

Booya.

da vinci code

Spoiler alert if you haven't read the book or seen the movie.

So if you were from the loins of jesus christ and potentially the savior of the world responsible for the enlightenment of the human race...

How would you date??

Really. The pressure. God, its hard enough to date as it is.

Pun TOTALLY intended.