I bought sunflower seeds with the shell on. How the hell do you eat the damn things???
The History Of Yoga
9 years ago
Monday, March 13, 2006
Sunday, March 12, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, March 10, 2006
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!
Thursday, March 09, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
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.
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?
"bring it on tommorow biyatches, I'll kick all your sorry asses!!!!"
Referring to drinks at the wake the next day, would you worry?
Monday, March 06, 2006
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
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
Saturday, March 04, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, March 03, 2006
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. :)
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
tribute
Yes, second day in a row without an original post from me, but this is too good to pass up.
I was forwardedthis 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?
I was forwarded
The date is still on for tomorrow night, so if all goes well no post until Friday. Oh, the suspense. Can you handle it?
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
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!
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!
Monday, February 27, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
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!)
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!
Woo hoo!
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
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 fromNeighborhoodies , 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.
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
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.
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