Grown-Ups?

Well, internet, Thing Two and I are all moved in. The furniture is in place, the remaining boxes are hidden securely in the office closet (in the perfect location to give the illusion that we are well-organized and proper), the fridge is stocked. And sometimes the bed is even made. It was quite a process. Buying furniture, however exciting it may be, sort of pisses me off. Sure, we could have gone without and filled our spacious living room with giant pillows and various inflatable seating items but we thought we should be grown-ups about the whole thing.

A couple of weekends ago, we invited the family and friends to the house for a celebration of…well, being able to fit into my house at the same time. And we drank wine, we ate delicious food (courtesy of Uncle Paul, the wonderchef) and we slow-danced until we all fell down. (Because slow-dancing when you have gone through 754 bottles of wine on a Saturday evening is not only exhausting, but dangerous.)

Number of injuries : 1

Number of glasses broken: 2

Number of friends I’ve known for more than 15 years in my living room: 4

Number of children who stayed up way past their bed-times and played inappropriate zombie video games: 1 (And no, I am not speaking of Thing Two)

Times I wished I had invited Spliff: 0

I really enjoyed finally having somewhere to entertain people that I actually wanted to entertain instead of having to run it by a roommate or re-arrange my entire apartment to fit them inside. There was always something left to be desired when I tried to entertain in the studio apartment. You know, like…chairs. So, it was fun to be able to give tours and stuff. (Woohoo!)

Work is also getting better. L is picking up everything I have taught her so quickly and it is making my life easier tenfold. Compared to the last idiot they hired, she is a genius. Which is good, because she is at the end of week three and tomorrow she is covering my caseload for the first time. And I am not even worried. (Thank you, Cheesus.)  She even seems to almost be enjoying the work, which, I guess one might if they haven’t been getting shit on for three years. But, I digress. Things are getting better every day.

Now…if this day would hurry up and end…I have martinis to attend to.

After The Storm

Now that Thing Two and I are pretty much settled into our new place and L has accepted the position at my office, things are looking up. I feel more at home and comfortable (if we could secure some effing cable and a DVR so I can watch Jersey Shore before my heart collapses! Sheesh! What’s a girl have to do to get some New Jersey trash in her LIFE?) and with L starting the job on Monday, I am confident that some of this crazy is bound to die down.

Work has been a complete clusterfuck for about the last four months but just about three weeks ago, they fired the idiot who was replacing Spliff in her previous position because it was becoming evident that The New Girl couldn’t speak/spell correctly and was very loud at inappropriate moments in every conversation. And, well, did everything wrong also. So, naturally, since Spliffany and I basically do the same thing, instead of divvying up the duties, I was informed that they would just be…you know…all mine. Which has been fun, considering I work 4 ten hour days per week now and really sort of want to kill myself…daily. So, I have been praying for someone with computer skills, some knowledge of the English language and possibly, just possibly, a personality. I promptly convinced L that this is a great place to work (which it typically is, when all the work isn’t being dumped on you) and that she would fit in great (hello? Lesbian.)  So, now she’s got the job and is looking for an apartment as we speak to get back to our little beach town. She may have just saved my life. And possibly the lives of several of my coworkers.

Spliff and I are even getting along better. Don’t get me wrong. I still don’t want to see her outside of work and I still haven’t even mentioned that I am dating Thing Two (or, you know, living with him) because I still don’t want her in my life. At least, not any more than she has to be when she is all up in my grill every day at work. But we talk at work. And occasionally, I will get a text from her over the weekend when something is hilarious or whatever. And I am totally good with that. As long as the texts don’t turn into phone calls or dinners or, you know, that stuff. But I can tolerate her. And mostly, I don’t want to hit her with my car. Unless I think about this. Or the abbrev. But especially this. And then, folks, right back to square one.

Right now, though, I am actually worried about her. She might have appendicitis and has been out of the office all day going from doctor to doctor and blood test to radiology test. If I were still her friend, I would be there with her because that’s what I do for my friends and it is what I have always done for her. And I feel bad that she is somewhere across town alone, sending me pictures of her IV. (Yes. She is actually doing that. Because I love needles. No. Wait, that is the opposite of true.) See? Totally not a heartless bitch. Truth is, I guess I still care. (As long as no one mentions Pearl Jam. And then she’d be lucky if I didn’t yank that needle out and stick her in the eye.) At least enough to not want her to have to have emergency surgery.

The Sound of Settling

So, for the past week, Thing Two and I have been trying to adjust to our new digs while simultaneously trying to chase people out of our new digs and into…you know…anyone else’s. We’ve just moved in and have already had a lengthy visit from L and several drunkards passed out in random spots throughout the apartment. I know, I know, this is what I wanted when I got a place with rooms. A place where my friends would feel comfortable staying (and not having to sleep in the closet or with half of their body in the “kitchen” while the other half is blocking the way to the bathroom).  So, I would like to say, “Yes. Mission accomplished. Now get out.” 

L’s visit was not completely just a social call (however, the actual amount of ANYTHING other than texting she does in a day is miniscule at best). I had lined her up an interview at my office since we recently got rid of someone (who I trained for three months and complained about every day until FINALLY, the powers that be recognized that she was illiterate and maybe mildly retarded). Even though L has successfully avoided working at all in the last two years, I knew she would be a better fit for my office than the last one. (L can read. And she is a lesbian. Which is almost a prerequisite to work in my office. I am not sure why they hired me. I am going with boobs, though. My boobs are good.) Either way, she got the job and will start next Monday but in the meantime, she has to find somewhere to live. There was talk of her moving temporarily upstairs into my old studio while she gets settled into the position at work, but being that she hasn’t worked in a billion years and has no money and her dad will be paying for the place (at least initially), he gets the final say. And of course, it is a studio. So…he is protesting and being pretty annoying and practically insisting that Thing Two and I just let her and her two yappy little dogs move into our place. You know. “For now.”

No.

It isn’t that I don’t want to help my friend out. But I think I did my part. I got her a job. I shouldn’t have to give her a place to live too. And feed her. And try to grow accustomed to my new life with Thing Two while she is all up in our way. I am just not a fan of this idea. It took me forever to get out of roomie-hood and into this rather adult way of life and the last thing I want is a squatter. Dammit. Of course, if it comes down to it, I will give her a place to stay (hopefully, VERY temporarily) but, I just kind of want to settle in now. And I don’t think that is too much to ask. It isn’t, right?

Top 25 Obsessions

I have been working really hard at maintaining the title of “Worst Blogger Ever” and I think I have been doing a pretty good job. So, to stay true to this title, I have decided not only to post a meme, but to post a meme that I have stolen from Sarah’s blog! YAY, ME!



I like music memes. They make me happy. Sue me.


Top 25 Most Played on my iPod!

25. Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley. Seriously. This is the most hauntingly beautiful song I have ever heard. And I know that he didn’t do it originally but it is my opinion that he did it best. R.I.P. Jeff.


24. Call Tyrone – Erykah Badu. I love, love, LOVE this song. It makes me want to get a loser boyfriend just so I can tell him about himself.

23. Ballad of Big Nothing – Elliott Smith. It’s Elliott Smith. That is all I have to say.

22. Hard Sun – Eddie Vedder. This song is from the “Into the Wild” soundtrack. It is incredible. Of course, I am biased because…well, I love Eddie Vedder.

21. Already Gone – The Eagles. This is my favorite Eagles song which is ironic because my father once told me that this is the song that reminds him of my mother. Eek. Either way, it makes me happy.

20. Volcano – Damien Rice. This song (and this album) sort of makes me want to slit my wrists but it really is beautiful. So…Ummm…

19. Letter to Elise – The Cure. Best song EVER.

18. Hang me up to Dry- The Cold War Kids. Honestly, I usually don’t like anything that I see advertized on MTV but when I heard this song, I knew it was love.

17. Amanda – Boston. I don’t know why I love this song so much. I really think it has something to do with Ricky Retardo.

16. Good Vibrations – The Beach Boys. There honestly is nothing better to listen to while lying on the beach. (Which is something I have been doing a lot of lately.)

15. As Is- Ani Difranco. She is a genius. A FUCKING GENIUS.

14. Rehab- Amy Winehouse. I have jumped on the Amy bandwagon. I really like her. She might be a lunatic junkie, but she makes me smile.

13. Sunshine Smile – Adorable. This song reminds me of Rack, Tory, Alex, some acid and trips to the mall. Because everyone knows that when you are 16 and on acid, the best place to go is to the mall.

12. Amber – 311. I like this song, but I don’t think that I listen to it this much. It reminds me of Zebrahead because for some reason, this was my ringtone.

11. Life by the Drop – Stevie Ray Vaughn. This song is like, two minutes long but it is awesome. It reminds me of Joey G’s in Madison, Indiana and that guy who played guitar with his teeth.

10. Come Pick Me Up- Ryan Adams. I think that I have explained this one before. I will listen to this song on repeat for days.

9. Shame on You – Indigo Girls. This is one of my favorite songs to sing in my car. At the top of my lungs. With the windows down so that I can dazzle (scare) pedestrians with my vocal stylings.

8. Black Hole-Greyhounds (with Ani Difranco). I didn’t know who these guys were until they opened for Mofro several years ago. They put on a great show but I really wish they would put out another album. (Hint, Hint, Guys.)

7. No Diggity- Blackstreet. This song is awesome and I listen to it constantly.

6. Ain’t No Sunshine – Bill Withers. L says this is MY song. Because I am a ray of sunshine. (She doesn’t say that, I just made that part up.)

5. Keep it Loose, Keep it Tight – Amos Lee. Listen to this song.

4. Wagon Wheel – Old Crow Medicine Show. I heard this song when I went to Raleigh to visit B and have been obsessed ever since. This entire album is amazing. Even if you don’t think that you like bluegrass. Go. Listen. Now.

3. Tiny Dancer – Elton John and Ryan Adams. This is the only thing that is better than the original Tiny Dancer.

2. When the Stars Go Blue – Ryan Adams. No, that country fucktard did not do this song originally.

1. Pearls on a String – Ryan Adams. Evidently, I listen to Ryan too much. I should branch out. I know. Anyway, I just downloaded this album pretty recently (Easy Tiger) and I love it. I love this song because it is freaking catchy as hell…and I can’t stop listening to it.

There are some songs that I listen to A LOT that didn’t make it onto this list and I am confused about that…but…this should give you a pretty good idea…So…what are YOU listening to, Internet?

Magfest and a Gay Penelope

Okay, so...

I haven't had a whole lot of time to write lately...which is a total travesty and I know that you (all 1 of my readers) are going nuts from the suspense that I have caused. I know...seriously...I know.

So anyway, over the past few weeks, I have gotten a lot done. By a lot, I mean...well...nothing in particular, but this nothing, my friends, has kept me super busy...

Over the past weekend, I had the pleasure of attending Magnolia Fest...and if you haven't been and you live in this area, SHAME. ON. YOU. First of all, I want to say that even though I didn't get to attend the entire thing, I LOVE it. LOVE LOVE LOVE. I got to see a bunch of great bands and run around like a little hippie child for two days and I was in absolute heaven. But this heaven did not come without a healthy dose of hell. First of all, I got free tickets...so it was totally rad. I was so excited I nearly peed on myself. But then, because Spliff had agreed to go and then had gotten her weeks mixed up, I had to take someone else. A problem since everyone I know works during the week and I needed someone for Thursday and Friday (since I was supposed to be putting up posters and stuff, hence the free tickets...) So, I did the obligatory, ask all your myspace friends thing...and came up with only a few candidates who I felt were...well...tolerable. Let me just say, that I picked the wrong fucking one. I didn't so much pick him as he just became the most convenient...and then later, the most annoying.

Anyway, said person is staying with L and her girlfriend, so I decided to pick him up Friday morning and get on the way so that we could make it to the festival by one. Okay, so I downloaded directions to L's new house on MAPQUEST (Curses to you, you fucktards!) and got totally lost. I was 20 miles out of town before I could turn around after 20 minutes of detouring through downtown (which, by the way, is the worst place in the WORLD...) so, naturally, I was a little...aggravated already. Anyway, so I am in a place called Hell...oh, I mean Starke...and it is seriously the middle of the NOWHERE which I have heard isn't really a town but a huge speed trap...meanwhile, I have to pee so bad that I am pretty sure that it is coming out of my eyeballs. At this point, I think, well, it can't get any worse. And then it starts to rain. I hate driving in the rain. I hate trucks. I hate hydroplaning. I hate it all. Worst of all, I hate talking on the phone while driving in the rain while having to pee. WHILE BEING COMPLETELY LOST IN THE SPEED TRAP MECCA OF THE UNIVERSE WITH NOWHERE TO TURN AROUND. But alas, my phone rings...and not only is it an unknown number, it is a relay call. MEANING? There is a deaf person on the other end. MEANING? The phone call will last for 45 minutes. Now, don't get me wrong, I love everyone. And I love said deaf person, but they have just passed a no-cell law in Florida and it is one thing to have to talk for three seconds to say, "I am turning around and will be there sometime before Easter" but it is quite another to have to wait for an operator to type that and then wait for a typed response and so on and so on...you get the picture.

So, my bladder is exploding, I am lost, driving in the rain, on a relay call, and I am in the speed trap from hell, so I can't even hurry up. Yep.

Once I picked my guest up, things went alright. He was so thrilled to have been able to come that I thought he would burst, but...then, if he had talked anymore, I might have stabbed him. Have you ever seen the Penelope character on SNL? Picture her, only shorter, male, blonde and gay, and you have my companion. And now you can see why I wanted to stab him.

Once we actually got there, things went alright, aside from the bitching from him when I got to drink beer and he didn't because he is only 20 (bastards) and doesn't even DRIVE...but we listened to music and looked at cute boys and when the day was done, I was content to have him sleep through the whole drive home.

The next day, I had invited Thing Two because I needed a buffer so that I wasn't homicidal. It worked out rather well and I managed to shush the gay successfully throughout the Toots and the Maytals show. Thank Cheesus. The show was great and I got some fantastic pictures...which I will share later...and I was able, after several road closures and detours to make it home by 4 in the morning, leaving me three hours to sleep before work! WOOT!

Now I have a bitch of a cold and am trying to recover before the Ben Harper show on Thursday...Holy God...Help me.

Birthdays and Drag Kings

Because my new job is a weekend only one, I was pretty excited when I heard that I have one more day of orientation and can't start actually working until it is completed. That meant that I would actually get a couple more weekends before I became a slave to the oldies. This past weekend, I had decided to lay low and not spend a ton of money. It didn't work out that way at all.
Friday night was pretty normal. Dinner and beers at "The Regal Beagle" and then home to feed my addiction...("Intervention"). The plan for Saturday was pretty simple: A little shopping for some casual clothes for work (I can't wear tube tops there...damn), a trip to visit the 'rents and give them their birthday gifts, and then a birthday dinner for L. We were going to skip the invitation to the lesbian bar for a drag king show because the bar is a million miles away and we knew there would be beer involved. Needless to say, the day was packed full of stuff to do and Spliff and I were eventually convinced that A could drive us to the bar and home so that he wouldn't be the only straight person in the place.

The drag king show was awesome. The bar was tiny and scorching hot but the girls were super nice and L got a birthday lapdance from a chick dressed like a scantily-clad cop. We got to meet a lot of L's friends and I instantly fell in love with her friends Joey and JD, a gay couple. Joey is super young and super sweet and they spent a lot of the time trying to teach me simple words in sign language so that I could speak to JD. (I need a lot of work. A LOT.) I will say that it sucks being unable to speak with someone that everyone else in the group can speak to. It made me really want to learn sign language. And it made me feel sort of bad about not already knowing it. Seriously, the only thing I have ever learned in sign language is "there is a peanut in my belly button"...and of course I don't even remember how to say that. And I would have liked to say it to JD because I am sure that it would have given him a chuckle. Either way, we had a great time and I am so happy to have met so many new people.

Sunday afternoon A, Spliff and I met L and her girlfriend for brunch where we had too many mimosas and too many shots. We sat there for over four hours, basking in the sun and giggling and then, when we were all sufficiently toasted, we headed out to hear some weekend reggae at the OC. By the time I went to bed on Sunday night, I was hammered. There is something about daytime drinking in the sun that makes you so drunk. SO FAST.

We had a good time. L and her girlfriend are adorable and Joey and JD are a pleasure to be around and Joey even asked me to be his "fruit fly"...(giggle, giggle). This was a really great way to spend one of my last weekends of freedom...so thanks, guys, for making it effing awesome!

Farewell

The office party was actually a great time. I was worried at first because a) I am not a huge fan of hanging out with people I work with and b) the people that organized the whole thing are the same people who are always doing their best to make me look like an idiot. But this time, it turned out well. My Smoking Buddy and I met at my house, because in a prior discussion, I explained that since it was MY party, I felt that I should be able to get hammered without having to worry about how to get home. Translation: You’re fucking driving, and I am drinking my face off.

That settled it. We got there around seven and ordered appetizers and beers that were bigger than our heads and we chatted until the real fun began. The real fun is when the waiters, cooks, bartenders and anyone else who is employed there, get on stage, one by one and sing songs and play instruments. But, nope, it doesn’t stop there. If you are really (and I mean REALLY) lucky, you will have coworkers and friends who want to embarrass the bejesus out of you and will make you get on stage to do an interpretive dance (along with other people with bastards for friends) to “The Unicorn Song”. At this point, if you are me, you will simultaneously shoot your friends the bird and try to get the hand signal for ‘elephant’ correct while your friends laugh at you and take pictures.

After most of my coworkers had filtered out and had been replaced by Jennagiraffe (who is so bizarre lately, I can’t even tell you), Spliff, Fish Head (and an old friend of ours from the O-Tree days), and L (and her new girlfriend), we (The Smoking Buddy, FH, L, Spliff and I) battled the rest of the bar for…a can of Spam. I don’t know what came over us. We needed to win that Spam. And we got it. We managed to beat out four tables of twenty people each by screaming. That’s right. We screamed as loud as we could, somehow managing to be LOUDER than tables of TWENTY…to win a CAN OF SPAM…and then we WON.

After leaving there, FH, OT Friend, SB and I decided to hit up the oldest, weirdest bar at the beach and were not disappointed. I felt that it might be a little strange if I walked in carrying a can of Spam in my purse, but as soon as I saw the man with the seventies porn ‘stache talking to FH, I remembered, there is nothing in this bar that is less weird than Spam. FH managed to attract the first group of weirdos who approached her by calling her Rachel and then proclaiming that she was rude. Because she didn’t answer. To something that isn’t her name. This is all still a mystery to everyone involved, but I think that everyone had a good time placing bets on whether or not I would punch the idiot in the face or if I was going to just continue to laugh in it. I didn’t have to punch him. But I am pretty sure he won’t call anyone Rachel again unless he is sure that that is her name. And I am quite certain that he then will not approach the girl sitting just three stools away to tell her what a bitch the other girl is without first saying, “is that your sister?”

After FH could no longer stand the weirdness and had gone home, SB and I were approached by yet another herd of morons. This time younger, barely old enough to drink, actually, who wanted to buy us shots. Of course, we didn’t argue and took the shots but then when we refused to go back to their HOUSE and smoke POT, they got really angry. Well, correction: Pretentious blonde dread-lock boy got very angry.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“What? You think you’re too good to smoke?”

“No. I just don’t smoke.”

“That’s fucked up. My friend just bought you a shot.”

“And then I thanked him.”

“I wouldn’t have let him waste the money.”

“Listen, if you buy a girl a drink it does NOT mean that she then has to rush right over to your house to smoke pot with you and whatever other things you infants do after you leave the bar.”

What has happened to boys in the last couple of years? Seriously.

A Celebration, A Breakup, and a Voicemail from Random Randy

To celebrate the announcement of the new job and the end of my misery here at work, Spliff took me out for martinis. The problem is, happy hour ends at 7:30, but it actually never ends there. Because the cute bartenders pour and pour and never charge full price. I know, this doesn’t sound like a dilemma, but it is. And I’ll tell you why: I can’t be expected to be coherent after two. After three I will fall down. I will forget where the car is. I will forget my own name. I will not be able to concentrate on Grey’s Anatomy and I will be bitter about it the next day. So, when we tell cute bartender, “We can only have two”, and he pours number three and says, “Oh, I paid for that one”, I am torn between kicking him (or attempting to kick him, not easy after three martinis) or kissing him. Neither of which has occurred, but I have strongly considered both. I figured that if I was coherent enough to actually kick him, then I wouldn’t have any REASON to…and if there is any kissing involved, I will let Spliff do it. I mean, seriously…she knows she wants to.

I do have to say though, Fish Head, that guy “Randy” who left a voicemail on your phone? Not a friend of mine. I went outside to call you back and you didn’t answer. He was smoking a cigarette and he asked me if he could leave the voicemail. I have no idea what he said. So, I apologize. I hope the scary man didn’t frighten you too much. I personally think he was on martini number three, if that gives you any peace of mind. But you know how those crazies love me. I can’t help it. But I try to look at it this way, one time while I was having martinis a guy basically acted like he was surprised that I could read (and knew how to correctly say Chuck Palahniuk’s name) and then told me that “we should breed”, so I think our friend Randy was pretty harmless, don’t you?

I finally spoke to L about her breakup with K. She seems to be doing pretty well considering the stress of everything. The dividing of things has started. This, in my opinion, is the hardest part. It’s the part that makes it all real. Even if you know you don’t want to be in the relationship anymore, there is no avoiding the sadness that comes with the “dividing of the things”. But you get through it, you move on, and you do it all over again with someone else, hoping that this time, it will never get to that point. Hopefully, L will wait long enough to jump back in without carrying the baggage of this relationship with her into a new one. I worry sometimes that she is too hasty…but what more can I do than try and help her get through it with martinis and nights out with the girls? Evidently, that is my role in the whole thing. Get her liquored up and listen to her when she needs me to. Damn, I am a good friend

Call me Judas

I got a friend request from “god” last night on myspace. Naturally, I felt the need to check out God’s profile. Because it isn’t every day that he sends such a blatant message. Turns out, God is a 37 year old female from Washington DC. That’s as far as I got. As soon as I saw that she was from DC, I knew she couldn’t be the god for me. My god wouldn’t live in DC. Denied. Just call me Judas.

In other news, D is in the hospital again. I feel so terrible that she has so many problems and I wish there was something I could do. Spliff and I wanted to go and see her yesterday, but when I called the room, there was no answer and by the time dinner was over, I was so tired that I could barely even watch The Simpsons. I hope she doesn’t think I am an asshole for not coming.

I got a call from K yesterday as well. Seems that L, despite having stuck it out for over two years, finally left. I don’t doubt that there was love there. I did, however, doubt that it would last forever. Knowing L as well as I do, I had a hunch that it wouldn’t be too long before the arguments became much more than just that. Either way, K sounds horrible and L seems to be handling things okay for the time being. K is staying with her mom and plans to move out this week. It really is sad. I know that K has been overbearing…but she is a good girl and so is L…but maybe they’ve served their purposes in each other’s lives. I do feel a little odd though, being one of the first ones that K called. We’ve never been all that close and she has spent the last two years trying to prove to me that she isn’t like her father or brother (Boy to Avoid…) and now I just feel like she might need a little more support than L does.

My brilliant supervisor decided recently that our workstations should all be moved. Walls should be removed, cabinets replaced, equipment moved around. She felt that we would “work better as a team” if we could all see each other and communicate. Which is funny, because the only thing it has done for me so far on day one is make it nearly impossible to hear while I am on the phone and make it really easy to see the two girls that I like in my office. One of whom is currently making faces at me. No one is all that excited about the new look. Honestly, I hate it. But then, there isn’t much about this place that I don’t hate these days. So, I guess it doesn’t really change much. Aside from the fact that everyone can see my computer screen when I am trying to blog. And now, I get to make faces at coworkers across the room. El YAAAAY!

So, that said, I should probably…stop blogging now…

Booze and Boobs

The weekend slipped silently by and now I am back at work again. I hate that feeling. You know the one, like when you feel like you never even had a weekend at all? Yeah. I got it. I want a do-over.

I spent most of it in bed trying to fight the urge to sprinkle pain killers in my rum and coke or on my (heavenly, most delicious, beautiful) veggie sandwich. But…I hardly remember Friday evening at all. I know that I was cranky and tired and achy, so I am sure I was a riot to be around. Saturday, though, I boycotted the pills and spent the evening celebrating an old friend’s birthday at L and K’s. Of course, in order to enjoy or celebrate anything at that point, there had to be booze. Luckily, back in the day, L and I were the bar wenches of our social circle, so sooner than I could even sit down, I found myself behind the bar, making shooters, while the birthday boy explained to JGJ why he has always been scared of me. (I love that, by the way. Cause I am a damn ninja, that’s why.)

The birthday boy was passed-out, face down on the couch by 10:30, with a trash can strategically placed next to his head. This, my friends, is what happens when everyone at a party gets to make you their own special birthday cocktail. Shocktail, rather.

It was a fun night though. L, as always, spent a lot of time telling JGJ and the others who haven’t been around a whole lot, her slightly skewed versions of memories that we share and then politely asked me to be a part of her “boob collage”. Yes. A boob collage. And no, I did not participate. I have varying opinions on this.

1. I have a great rack. It’s been scientifically proven. So, why wouldn’t I show it off? (This is the one compliment that I will take and actually believe.)
2. BUT, I don’t really know where this “boob collage” is going to be displayed. And I don’t really know how I feel about walking into someone’s living room and seeing the girls just sitting there, staring at me. That’s not so cool.
3. But it isn’t like I haven’t had a picture of my boobs taken before and there was a lot of alcohol involved. Granted…it was in New Orleans several years ago and was taken by a guy I never saw again who had earlier showed me and Tory his penis after we explained that we were “The Penis Patrol”. So…from where I stand, it never actually happened. (A big “SHUT UP” goes out to anyone who accompanied me on this trip. And you know who you are.)
4. BUT, that was in New Orleans. You are SUPPOSED to flash in New Orleans. Duh. And as long as I didn’t end up on some video with Snoop, I am cool.

Anyway, I am totally not letting her take a picture of my boobs. You would think, for a chick with boobs the size of L’s, you would never need to see anyone else’s ever again! Damn. Those bitches are bigger than my HEAD. But…there is a lot about L that I don’t understand.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Portions for Foxes" - Rilo Kiley

In Need of Bing

I suppose I could have done something remotely exciting this weekend worth blogging about…however…I didn’t.

Friday night, in attempts to sleep through the obligation free evening, I overdosed on NyQuil and slept until ten on Saturday.

It was rainy and cold when I woke up. I really did think about doing constructive things. Really. I did. But then I thought, “Well damn, shopping with mom doesn’t sound like fun. Come to think of it, neither does showering or even getting out of bed.” So I didn’t. Well, not until about two. I broke out my good old VCR and the complete series of “My So-Called Life” and drooled over Jordan Catalano. It was a great rainy day, if you ask me. Good coffee + Jared Leto + Rainy Day = Bliss.

I finally did call L back though and accepted her invitation to come for dinner (and lots of wine). It started with just L, K, Markie, and me but ended with an older couple that K works with, L’s brother and a whole lot more pot than I have seen since I was in high school. Since I stopped smoking, I am always affected in one of two ways by being with a bunch of people who are smoking. I am either irritated or amused. I expected that I would be irritated, but given the mix of my company, the night was hilarious.

I am not used to being the only sober person at a party, but let me tell you, it isn’t near as boring as I thought it was. We played Scene It…and since I was the only one who could comprehend the questions, I won. (I never win anything.) Even though Markie kept trying to move my game piece back several spaces, I still managed to kick ass.

The rest of the weekend was spent listening to the rain and watching some of my favorite chick movies.

Movies I watched this weekend:

How to Make an American Quilt
When Harry Met Sally
Say Anything
St. Elmo’s Fire

I realized though, I haven’t heard ONE Bing Crosby Christmas song this year. And that is sheer crap. Bing Crosby = Christmas. And that might explain my inability to get into the spirit this year. Get this Criz some Bing, stat! Or some Harry Connick Jr. cause, that man makes me melty…

Fun for the whole family...

When I left work yesterday, I got a phone call from L. She hadn’t called in a few weeks and had recently gone on a cruise with her family and celebrated her two year anniversary with K. Being that L and K have been “engaged” for a while, I wasn’t surprised to hear that they had had a ceremony of sorts on the ship. (It makes sense to me that they would choose not to make a big thing out of it at this point…and considering that unless they go to a different state, they can never actually get married.) So, she called to tell me that it is official. She is officially off the market. I was talking to her when I walked in to my apartment and realized that Ernge had decided to get sick all over my sheets. I let L go with the promise that I would call her today and try to get to her house this weekend to drink some Shiraz and catch up.

I had made plans for a happy hour of sorts with a friend from work. He insisted upon buying me a birthday drink and I will never turn down free beer, especially with the added bonus of pizza (with any kind of olives they can find and nothing else). I met him just before seven after dropping the pukey sheets at Pookie’s and starting the wash. Two pitchers of beer later, it was nine o’clock and I had to go back to Pookie’s and pick up the sheets.

When I got back to the house, Pookie was on the phone with her new boy and the sheets were still in the washer. She gave me some extra sheets but I decided to stick everything in the dryer and try to wait on it before I went home. We went to the store for brownie mix, came back, checked on the sheets, stuck some brownies in the oven, and went outside to smoke. A few minutes later, we heard the screeching of tires from about a half-block away. We looked over just as it sounded like a tree had fallen on a car.

We bolted off of the porch and to the corner to see what had happened, Pookie frantically speaking to a 911 dispatcher. When the first cop pulled up, it was still unclear what had happened and all that was visible from where we were standing was an overturned and severely smashed silver something or other and a white Cadillac in the next yard with tire marks through the grass. The smell of gas was almost intoxicating. Add the lights and sirens and you have Thursday night entertainment for the entire neighborhood.

The neighbors were all outside now, most in pajamas and socks looking at the wreckage. Some with faces stricken with concern, and some wearing the shameful stench of nosiness.

Turns out, the screeching of the tires we heard was from the Cadillac when he tried to slow from his 90 mph speed (in a 30 mph zone), so as not to hit a truck turning out. The smashed silver thing had once been another truck, which had been parked on the side of the road in front of a duplex and then barely missed driving straight into the house next door.

It was a frenzy of flashing lights and police radios and it was almost too familiar to take.

I sat inside most of the night, waiting for the street to be cleaned and the flashing lights to be gone, so that I could go home. And on the way there, I don’t think I had ever held the steering wheel so tight.

Hissy Fits and Horrible Englishmen

So…the sleeping thing, didn’t so much happen as it did…well…not.

I nearly passed out on the drive home from work but pressed on, ran some errands and finally settled down at about 7. An hour later, I was on my way to LIP to see L’s “Uncle D” who is in from England. This would have been fine, if I had stuck to the three beer maximum that I had set for myself. It also would have been fine if L didn’t order 3 or every shooter that she saw the waitress bring to the table next to us. It would have been better still if she hadn’t gotten completely hammered and insistent on staying after her girlfriend and roommate left.

Needless to say, when K and M left, the agreement was, since I had already stopped drinking, that I would bring L and Unky to my house. This agreement, of course, caused a massive argument between L and her girlfriend. (Gotta love lesbian drama, lemme tell ya).

I ended up taking D to my house since L decided to recruit someone to take her home and then argue with me for 30 minutes about not wanting to leave. At 3am, he was sitting on my stomach, tickling me, and trying to convince me to call in sick today so we could go swimming. I tried to explain to him that I have actually already gone swimming at 3am this week and I am good for at least another month. But…it didn’t make him stop sitting on my stomach. And Horrible Englishmen evidently tickle very hard.

Tonight, to avoid NOT sleeping when I say I will, I am taking a sleeping pill at 6pm. That is all there is to it. I don’t wanna hear any shit, okay people. Leave me alone.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Tainted Love" - Soft Cell

Easy Skankin....

A patient once described this place as the "waiting room for the morgue".

Last night the wind was howling and the power went out. But I did get to watch the American Music Awards and witness the spectacular presentation skills of Anna Nicole. God, she is a mess. "Do you like my BODDDDDY???" I have been tossing my arms up all morning and saying that...I love it. I feel like she isn't a real person!

I guess this day is going by pretty quicky, which is good because I feel like I could crawl back into bed and sleep for a year. It is so gloomy and damp outside. It is the kind of weather that makes me wish that I was invisible. I wish that I could just lay around all day and that everyone would forget that I exist until the sun came out again.

The birthday party was pretty good. I will tell you though. I really don't like hanging out with girls that much. It is like, the minute a cute guy walks in, they turn into psychotic bitches. What is up with that??? K. and L. were like hissing at each other and shit. It was a shameless display, if I do say so myself. And it all started with my conversation with him about a lizard...which was apparently a very private moment for us...(we weren't aware, until K. pointed it out). Sad, sad bitches...

Rick says my black shirt has super powers and that I keep it cryogenically frozen in a glass case in my closet and bust it out when I need to. He blames the rotation of the Earth on that shirt...I think he has been smoking crack.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Kaya"-Bob Marley

Let it shine...

7 Days left!

So, today I went to lunch with L. I asked her, despite her “engagement” ring, if she would ever considering going back to boys. She said she never thought about it. I doubt that. I could not just decide one day that I want to date chicks. I would think that she would have had to have always liked chicks in order to do that. Because, for those of you who believe that being gay is a choice, can you just change your mind right now and DECIDE to be ridiculed by your peers AND your president? (Not MY president though, MY president would never be such a bigot…) I couldn’t do it…and I am one of the LEAST homophobic people that I know. I love L. but she confuses the hell out of me. She liked boys more than anyone I know and then one day, we go to the gay club to watch the drag show, and then BAM! She is dating a chick…(one that we have known for years and had dated a friend of mine, no less.) That is weird. Weird, weird, weird. So, I will sit and ponder.

Something about today reminds me of my grandma. It makes me want to sing, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…” It makes me smile. I always pictured a little tiny Asian girl with a candle when I was little and I heard that song. I have no idea why that is.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: “Strange Magic”-ELO

Looks like Ivan will spare us. Good news. I wasn’t really looking forward to Florida falling into the ocean…

I got an email from the psycho married guy today. No idea how he got my email address or why in hell he felt the need to use it. Things were going so well and then…BAM.

And here it is:

Hello,
I was gunna talk to you before I left but I decided not to I wish I could though. I wish things were different but their not. I just want to let you know that I do miss you and that I wish I could of talked to you more or hung out with you more. That was all I wanted. I know it felt like forever when I was waiting to see if you wanted to go to the movies but oh well. I hope your doing good and I would love to be friends with you but I don’t think your gunna talk to me.I still want to give you the poems I wrote cause they mean something – to me anyways but I know that is a long shot. Be safe and just know I do think about you time to time wondering what is going on..


With love,

KC

First of all, I would just like to say that I don’t understand WHY I got this email. Secondly, I don’t understand what the hell he is talking about the movies for…we never went to the movies…we never did anything except hang out with some of his coworkers who happen to be my friends. I don’t know what his deal is. And I don’t want any damn poems! I need to move.
My friend who is a brand new lesbian has decided to “marry” her girlfriend (of course, they can’t get married for real in this state but…) I don’t oppose gay marriages, but they have been dating less than a year, moved in together after 3 months. The thing that bothers me is that my friend likes guys A LOT and her girlfriend doesn’t at all. My friend has expressed that she isn’t sure that she wants to be with a chick forever. She wants to eventually have kids and stuff and this conversation JUST happened! Now, all of a sudden, she is getting “married”?! What the hell? So anyway, she wants me to be involved in the ceremony, so I will…I am just worried that she is fucking her girlfriend over hard core. I feel bad for her. Because I know my friend, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the minute someone else pays attention to her, she will leave her girlfriend and crush her…like a bug. I guess I should stop getting stressed out about stuff like this…but I hate to see bad things happen to people. Damn conscience.