Moving

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go...

I'm not moving but my blog is... If you are a reader, send me an email at lifeinprogressblog at gmail.com and I will send you the new link, username and password.

Change is Inevitable

Change is part of life. It keeps it exciting. It keeps it stressful.

This would be the third time this year that my "job" has changed. I've had a major purchase (new car). I've lost some people who were very near and dear to me. The only aspect which hasn't changed is my personal status (single) and my home address.

In some ways, I am happy that my career has gone through some changes this year. With each job change, you have to pour all your focus on the new position... proving yourself... putting in the long hours. The last 3 years has been exactly that. Me moving from one position to the other (5 in 3 years). Pouring my blood, sweat and tears into each new job. But a slight negative, of course, is the lack of focus on my personal life. I have not been in a serious relationship in 3 years. Do I unconsciously keep moving from new position to new position, just so I can ignore the fact that I am single and not-dating?

This has been a wonderful year. I have opened myself to new experiences. I have cleared my life of unnecessary things and people. I have gotten to know myself better. I have partied. I had my alone time. I've made many wonderful new friends and acquaintances. I have accepted and, even, embraced my single status. I have realized that I do not need "the significant other" to enjoy life. And it is that realization that leaves me somewhat frightened. Am I only to find love in the hearts of family and friends?

With a slight shock, I realize another year is coming to an end. And I can only wonder at the changes the next year will bring...

bon voyage, xpfsil

dearest geminipinai,

" it's so hard to say goodbye". i guess it's not really goodbye... more like, see ya on the wrong coast. but it still saddens me more than you can imagine. how many people do i have to lose to the "wrong" coast?

i've known "of you" for about 4 years but only in the last year have had an opportunity to truly make your acquaintance... and I am proud to call you my friend. i'm sure i've told you what i first thought of you... but i figure with all this cheesy reminiscing, i might as well remind you.

i first heard about your through my bro (hence the ex-potential-future-sister-in-law nickname). at that time, i referred to you as "biznit"... " so, how's your biznit?". my apologies... but you know how i am. and then i finally met you in person at my parent's 30th anniversary (actually you had to remind me about that meeting). you were quiet and shy. and, definitely someone i could not joke around with (at least that's what i thought at the time). then again you show up at our annual block party.... still quiet and shy and slightly uptight... though i think you might have even sung a karaoke song.

and, somehow, i (like many others) became obsessed with reading your blog. part of it was jealousy (like, why can't i have an interesting blog... with decent writing...) and part curiosity... exactly what kind of person would be interested in dating my bro? i don't exactly remember how we started conversating (not a real word, i know) or what our mutual interests were at the time... but i believe my crazy personality intrigued you. and about a year ago we went shopping.
and that was the beginning of the end.

you found a new job in the same industry and field as i. and you hated it. face it, you're not enough of a bitch. and now, in a move reminiscient of me, you are dropping everything, moving somewhere else and starting anew.

you are not the person i first met. you are courageous and warm. still slightly uptight (especially about the condiments and being on-time thing) but charmingly so. you are my existential crisis partner. you are my work email buddy where we bitch about everything and nothing... and i give you details of work hotties. and, on a beautiful sunday morning, you helped me realize one of my dreams - to jump off a plane and plunge to a potential death.

and now you are leaving this coast... leaving me bereft. i'll try not to cry tonight. but i can't make any guarantees.

be good. behave. don't do anything i would do. and find the good places to hang out for when i come to visit... hopefully this spring. and if you ever need to vent... or hear a friendly (and possibly drunk voice)... i'll always be there.

love always,
"the rebel"

Friends are God's way of taking care of us. If you should die before me, ask if you could bring a friend.
--Stone Temple Pilots

Best. Experience. Ever.

~ Begin Flashback ~

XPFSIL: Hey, got your out of office message. You sound awful. How do you feel?
Me: Like Shit. ::coughs:: I think I'm dying...
XPFSIL: Do you want to go skydiving October 1st?
Me: Ok!

~ End Flashback ~


XPFSIL and I arrive on the grounds at 8:15am. Both excited and filled with nervous energy. I quickly work on the mandatory paperwork, and at Fleong's suggestion, skip reading the releases/waivers and sign blindly.

The "training" is a video. The lawyer character tells us we must sign to jump and have no rights. "Basically you cannot sue us if you sign the document. And, even if you do sue, you'll lose." I laugh but in the back of my head I can't help but wonder if something will go wrong...

As we watch other divers falling from the sky, I try to calm XPFSIL... which is funny because it was her idea! Then our turn.

Chris is my tandem partner. He introduces himself and fashions the harness on me. The small talk is a nice distraction from the fact that a man's hands haven't been that close to my person in a good 6 months. We climb into the plane, all of us sitting in a column, one behind the other. Chris sits behind me pointing out various landmarks. I gaze in wonder out the window as I politely try not to sit right on top of him (yes, we were all that close). I feel him start fiddling around behind me and it turns out he's connecting my harness to his. Hands are flying all over and soon he makes me tighten the harness... I pointedly confirm his name is Chris... because by this point we're so close that I fear I might feel a "poke". Soon we reach the right altitude and people start tumbling out of the plane so fast I don't even see XPFSIL exit. Quickly and crab-like we scoot to the door...

Step 1: Exiting - You sit on the edge, tuck your legs under the body of the plane and grab the harness for dear life. Rock forward, Rock back and.... BANANA! Back arched, head back, legs back and curved.

Step 2: FREEFALL!!! He taps my shoulder. I take my hands off the harness and put them at right angles. I'm flying... plummeting quickly towards the ground... (but that doesn't even occur to me, funny huh?)



www.skydivelongisland.com
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FREEFALL!!!!! I can't even begin to describe it... It's amazing... It's... It's freefall.

I feel ecstatic. I am yelling. I am "woooing". I am giving the cameraman the thumbs up symbol.

Repeatedly, I gave the thumbs up symbol. Yes, I am that excited.

Before jumping, I started planning what I was going to write. "Orgasmic" was a word I wanted to use. But, in truth, it doesn't even compare.

The cameraman grabs my hand and spin around. It's amazing. I'm laughing. I'm screaming. I'm wooing. I'm still giving the thumbsup sign to the camera.



life after freefall....
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STEP 3: Everything after Freefall...

Without warning, freefall is over. The parachute opens, I feel a sudden jerk and I'm now upright. The sky is clear and blue. I can't help but look down. Lawn Guy Land is beautiful... thousands of feet up in the air... where my vision is not plagued by SUV's, pretentious people or that damned LI accent.

I point out someone who is spinning and we soon begin to spin.... round... and round... and round... all over Lawn Guy Land...



lawn guy land...
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I begin to feel slightly nauseous as we swing towards the ground.... left... then right... left.... then right.... and when I almost can't take it anymore... The landing... not especially smooth... ended sliding on my knees because I put my feet down too fast... but nothing broken... and despite the horrible looking landing... I was happier than I've ever been in my life...


the good earth.
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The amazing rush... the feeling that I can do anything... it's still with me now...

The impossible can be possible. I have found my faith again.

Existential crisis is over. I have been reborn. The same feeling that I had as I stepped off the plane in Texas... a new beginning... another opportunity... it is mine... and I will not waste it. I will pursue the impossible.

PS: To the folks I drunk-dialed on Friday night... Sorry about that... A lot of alcohol and a fear that my time on the good earth might be coming to an end... I'm sure you understand... I don't remember speaking with people... but I did check my outgoing calls... so I'm sure I called quite a few people.

PS2: To XPFSIL... My new adventure buddy. You made me finally understand that I can pursue my dreams without the man standing beside me. So... ROADTRIP!!!!!!

PS3: To readers I know - I have other pictures with my face (which looks totally weird with the wind pushing on it) actually in it.... send me an email and I will share the album with you. Use my personal email - "first name.last name @ gmail.com".

Sweet Charity

al·tru·ism   (l tr- z m) n. Unselfish concern for the welfare of others; selflessness. Zoology. Instinctive cooperative behavior that is detrimental to the individual but contributes to the survival of the species.

I'm trying to find my purpose in life.  I have a job and a semblance of a personal life.  All of which leave me feeling unfulfilled and desperate for... something.  So I'm going to try my hand at volunteering.  Just the act of signing up for an activity has seemed to brighten my spirits. 

 

But why?  Do I truly want to "help people"?  Is that my reason for being?  Or is it because volunteering leaves me feeling important, fills my calendar, allows me to network with other professionals, is another venue to meet eligible bachelors, is another thing to add to my circulating resume.

 

Your thoughts?

 

 

The Good Life

I've started reading a book called "The Good Life" and it has me thinking...

 

What is the good life?

 

Tell me what you think the good life is.  All opinions welcome.  (In other words, leave a comment!!)

On 9/11

... I sat in front of the television for months fixated by the devastating images.  Today, I change the channel.

 

... I thanked God for every day, good or bad.  Today, I sometimes forget to thank God at all.

 

... I let everyone near and dear to me, know it.  Today, I've been too selfish to think about others.

 

...  I realized that material things don't matter.  Today, I'm planning my purchases for  tomorrow.

 

...  I cried for the world.  Today, I cry for myself.

 

 

The anniversary reminds me of how selfish I am.  How I need to help others in need.  How I've only been out to help myself for the past year.

 

During the months following the tragedy, I used to cry while driving at the sight of a waving American flag at only half-staff.  I made weekly dropoffs at a local donation site with water, snacks and socks for the volunteers.  I woke up every morning, thankful to have another day.  That feeling stayed with me for about 3 years. 

 

But somehow, in the last year, I have lost that feeling.  That obligation to serve the world has left me. 

 

But now I remember why.  I remember why I must live each day to the fullest.  And, on this day, I make plans to go skydiving.

 

I am Amazed...

at how some people will check about 10 times a day to see if I've finally updated my blog.

 

Geez, guys... I was flattered.  Until I realized that you just don't have anything better to do.

 

:-)

Weekend without Labor

Friday, hopeful for an early end to a working day, I work uninterrupted only to find myself still working at close of business. I had fully expected to be raging drunk by this hour and, instead, find myself one of the few still working.

WT and I have dinner followed by "The Brothers Grimm". Unfortunately for me and my $9.75 donation to Loews Theaters, the only aspect worth mentioning about the movie is that I saw it.

On Saturday, XPFSIL drives down from CT to bring me a "barrel man", an ingenious little wooden figurine of an anatomically correct man clothed only in a removable barrel. I don't think I need to illustrate the consequences of removing the barrel.

We lunch in Huntington and explore the town. Silently we make our way to Long Beach. Me giggling over the beautiful day - Her mocking my corny taste in music. Dinner is at Roosevelt Field of all places. I am afraid I say too much and hope she doesn't take anything I say too seriously. After all, who am I? Just another person in serious need of a therapist (and/or a good lay) and certainly not one to dish out life advice. Remember, I am just another 20-something undergoing an existential crisis.

Dim sum with WT followed by an hour at work. Surprisingly I am not the only loser working on a 3 day weekend to commemorate NOT WORKING. We visit Forest Hills to see the local "feast" and I, in celebration, stuff myself sick with zeppoles.

As I write this in my wanna-be argyle moleskine, I sit on one of the many wooden benches that line the Long Beach boardwalk. The last rays of today's glorious sun hug my right side (hopefully evening out my hideous farmer's tan).

The unofficial last day of summer drawing to a close and I realize few lessons were learned this summer. A summer that flew by with little notice of its close.

Almost 6:30pm and the volleyball players (mostly males, majority of which are gym bodies with no shirts on) gather their belongings. I assume their night will usher out the last few minutes of summer with drunken revelry before waking for yet another day of work. As for myself, I wish to sit a little longer and hope the turn of season will bring more stories to tell.

Daddy's Girl

Over six months of planning and conspiracy and my Dad's SURPRISE 60th birthday party went off without a hitch.

Last weekend (not Labor Day weekend), my Dad questioned my reasoning for taking 3 days off with no plans in sight. My excuse "I need a vacation" was only partially true. The two days preceding the party were a flurry of party-related activity - wrapping of party favors, greeting/rescuing out of town relatives and other random party logistics.

I won't bore you with the boring (yes, I'm redundant) details.

The day of the party I ran around town and finally found myself at the catering hall to prepare for the onslaught of 130 party guests. Dressed but still wearing glasses (since I didn't have time yet to put on contacts), wearing my ipod to listen to the same damn sappy song over and over, I begin to delegate tasks to relatives. Thank God for a big family (except at Christmas time and when gossip-mongers are on the attack).

Tears sneak their way down his face as he realizes the party is for him... and he is surprised by all those who turned out to celebrate.

Blessing from the family priest, a funny/sarcastic biography presented by my little brother and, then, it is my turn. I sing the "Wind Beneath My Wings" without practice. Perhaps it is exhaustion or truly feeling the words of the song, I feel the tremor in my voice. Eventually the tears work themselves out, my voice cracking with emotion and I stop halfway through the song.

Happy birthday, Daddy. I love you.

Stupid

On Wednesday I went to work even though I was supposed to be on vacation. The rebel that I am, I wore jeans and flip flops. The commute was totally normal until I encountered the stairs. I walked up the stairs, somehow tripping on myself and almost falling flat on my face.

I am an ass.

Suzy, Troubled & Distraught

I have a friend named Suzy. We're the same age and look so similar you'd think we're twins.

Despite romantic difficulties, Suzy never doubted that one day she would become a mother. She figured everything would work out when the timing was right. So she went on with her life. Dating and screwing when the stirring became too great.

Then that fateful day. Typing an email she holds the phone to between her shoulder. The phone drops from her shoulder hitting the desk with an empty thump. She may never have children. That's all she hears.

The pain is dulling. All day she moves as though in a fog. She grieves for the little girl and boy she never had.

A week has gone by. The fear still lingers but everyday her faith grows. Faith that she will beat the odds and find her dreams realized.

Rolling Green Hills

Do you ever feel like everything is against you? That's how I felt last week.

Long story short, went to get my passport and wasn't able to get it. Hence, trip to Ireland was null and void... at least for now.

Circumstances again prevent me from taking a most-needed vacation... so instead I will go to the gym.

Write About Me

That's what my ex just said.

I'm sitting at Starbucks wondering what to write... and he says to
write about him...

I was sitting at work yesterday jumping from one call to another, one
email to another, shuffling from one paper to another and i see a
"631" number.

Ex: Yo

Me: Oh my god! They let you back into the country?

It's the second ex that gave me a call. It's the second ex that I'm
sitting at Starbucks with right now.

When will I ever learn...

Hen Night

"Hen night" is essentially a bachelorette party. HC's hen night was
last night.

Dinner in packed Times Square. Did I mention how much I hate TS?
It's the people. But, yesterday, the oppressive humidity and heat
tripled my hatred. Ugh. It took me a few drinks to get over it. The
Italian restaurant we dined in is a tourist trap. If you're a NY'er
you probably know which one I'm talking about. I've been there before
but was sorely disappointed with the food this time around.

We settled in for the night at Kanvas (not Kansas) a lounge in
Chelsea. Liquor, music and dancing. That would be a good summary of
the evening. I don't think anyone was more surprised than myself when
HC actually started dancing. I've known her for over 10 years and
don't think she even danced at our senior prom! I am proud to say she
didn't break out the running man or the lawnmower!

I met "E", HC's friend. I became E's wingwoman. As E's wingwoman I
somehow ended up kissing "Popeye".

Popeye was a guy I noticed while still sober. I immediately named him Popeye because of his arms. Did I mention that Popeye was one of my favorite movies/cartoons growing up?

Somehow after a few hours of dancing and a good amount of alcohol, E and I were spanking Popeye and his friend, Brandon (?). Me getting a lapdance somehow followed their spanking. Which lead to grinding. Which led to kissing. Which led to getting my hair pulled. Which led to getting my ass spanked. Which led to Popeye somehow getting to second base. Did I mention all of this was at the bar?

E is trouble. E and I have to hang out again!

The evening ended at 3am - relatively early still. Blowing smoke out the train doors at Jamaica station, I made conversation with a young fireman who lives a town away from me.

Then weirdness... Some random dude walking through the train is like "Hey, you work at (company name), right?". "Um, yeah....". "Yeah, you work on 23 right?". "Uh, no. I used to be on 22, though. Do I know you?" "No, I was meeting a friend for lunch who works there and I saw you". "Are you serious? Are you just f'ing with me?". "No, really. I saw you on Wall St. Do you know Brian?".

All I could think was.... shit, he's going to tell his friend he saw me really wasted on the train. Damn. I wonder if his friend is cute...

It's Official.

I've run out of things to write about. I have nothing of interest to ponder over.

So, how do I remedy the situation?

I guess I'm going to have to start dating again.

There used to be a time (not too long ago actually) where I was bubbly and outgoing. Things just happened. Things just happened and I could write about them. But frustration at work has taken that out of me. I have literally let work suck the life out of me. I have to get back into the swing again.

All you men out there, be forwarned. None of you are safe from my (pathetic and unnoticable) flirting.

One of Those

Friend: why are you in long beach?

Me: i like this starbucks/area....

Friend: you're one of THOSE

Me: i'm going to walk on the boardwalk when i'm done with my coffee then head to the gym

Me: "those"?

Friend: peoplewhogotostarbucksandsitonlaptops
hoursonendwhileotherpeoplewhowanttosit
andbeonadateorresttheirfeet
can'tfindaseatcauseyouvebeenthereforthreehours

Me: lmao

Yes. I am one of those.

"Teamwork" = "More Work"

They've reorg us into a "team" at work. All it means is that a person like myself (who is usualy extraordinarily quick with many tasks) is stuck doing more work to help others.

Ugh. Don't they understand is that I want the least amount of responsibility possible? There was a time when I aspired to be a great, all-powerful, all-knowing manager. Then I woke up and realized that it's better to have a life.

Fat Update

I've lost more. Don't know how much but I can now remove a link from my watch.

1000 Miles

It's the "break-in" period for most new cars. Taking it easy on the transmission and engine are key during this time.

Did I mention that I just bought a new car almost a month ago? What kind you ask? A black one. It has 4 wheels and an engine.

Actually, if you didn't already know, I'm quite a fan of cars so the decision was not easy. But after taking a look at my choices and my needs (manual transmission, sunroof, cruise control, good amount of "pickup"), I decided on the Scion TC.

And after all the deliberation, hemming and hawing... it's a car. I'm comfortable driving it and the sunroof keeps both arms equally tan.. but it's still a car.

But the entire last month was all about getting through the break in period. Trying my best not to let the rpm's go over 3.5. Only 300 more miles... only 200 more miles...

The odometer hit 1000 as I pulled into my driveway Saturday night. The moment I have anticipated for the last month was upon me. And then it struck me. I've driven 1000 miles almost all by myself.

I wonder how the next 1000 will work out.

How Fat Am I?

Since I'm on a diet and trying my best to get my fat ass to the gym, I've decided I'm going to start blogging to keep track.

I am 20-30 pounds overweight. My goal is to lose 35 but I'd be happy to lose 20.

Fat lost so far: 5 pounds

How I feel: Like smoking a cigarette to celebrate

What I feel like doing: Sleeping

Comments: My clothes are fitting a little better but my belly rivals that of a woman who is 6 months pregnant.

When Life Gives You Lemons...

make a lemon loaf.

I'm sitting at a novel Starbucks - the entire front of the store is
open to the outdoors - eating a slice of their lemon loaf accompanied
by green tea (decaf - because my old body can't handle caffeine late
at night).

I've been on a diet but had the type of day that requires spoiling
oneself. In fact, I've had those types of days quite frequently over
the last few months thereby necessitating a diet.

One positive that made me smile today - the guy that I think is cute
at work (hereby forever to be known as "Macho Man") stopped by my
cube. Unfortunately he has a knack of stopping by when I'm
incapacitated by snorting laughter or work. This time around I was
actually working. Didn't see him around so much today which is
actually good. It's hard not to check out his butt as he walks by.

Did I mention I work in HR and sexual harassment of any kind is a huge
no-no? lmao.

Geez, what I would give to be sexually harassed right now.

Work has gone from bad to worse. I used to walk in and know exactly
what I needed to do that day. Now I walk in, get settled at my desk
and feel an overwhelming urge to walk out.

I spent most of this weekend outdoors - Saturday running errands and
Sunday hanging with friends and family.

Did I mention it's my anniversary? Next Monday would mark my 2nd year
being back in NY. Maybe my unconscious was aware of the impending
date this weekend. Saturday afternoon I drove out to visit my former
mentor's tea shop. Let's call her Capricorn Pat. A fellow Capricorn
that I first encountered when I started in HR. She impressed me with
her frankness and creativity. Then I heard her curse (repeatedly) and
became enamored. What have I learned from my mentor? HR sucks.
Period.

And the company that I left two years ago? I found out the CEO
resigned and joined a competitor. A huge disappointment to me. I was
soooo in love with him. Well, not in love. I just thought he was
really hot, intelligent, and charismatic. I thought he was going to
change my former company around. Now I don't even know if it'll be
around for another 5 years.

Oh, the times how they are achanging.

I want out of this corporate stint. I just don't know what else I
could do. Maybe I could grow lemons for a living and open a lemonade
stand on the side. "They" say the trick is to find a job doing what
you love... But I don't know what I love. I feel as if I am the age
where I should be past defining/finding myself. But the truth is, I
feel that journey has just begun...

My mentor called me "determined". And I was astounded. How can one
with no direction be determined? Or maybe... I'm following a course
that has been pre-determined long ago... and I'm simply trying to
uncover the tracks.

Well, that is enough deep thinking for me... I'm just going to hope
that for the rest of the week I end up with something sweeter than
lemons.

Confession of an Addict

Long time no update, I know...

I am an addict. I can't stop drinking coffee... I down about 3 cups a
day... "nectar of the gods" as I affectionately call it.
Interestingly enough, my alcohol consumption is inversely related to
coffee consumption (translation - I'm not boozing up as much anymore).
In fact, it's been several weeks since I've had a drop of an
alcoholic beverage. Surprising, isn't it?

I am an addict. I can't stop smoking. I blame it on work stress.
But it's really my fault. I know I can stop. I. Just. Don't. Want.
To. Today. partially because...

I am an addict. I miss sex. So much. Had my annual women-doctor visit.

"Are you sexually active?".
"Not today".
Discussion of unsafe sexual practices in my deep, dark and distant past.
"We'll also give you a pregnancy test..."
::guffaws:: "The time that has elapsed since I've last had sex would
be enough time for me to give birth".

I am an addict. I love my new car. I love driving a stick. I love
the pulse of the road in my hand. It's sexy... It's fast... Sunroof
open, sun beating on my dark arms, music pounding...

I am an addict. My arms are 20 shades darker than my tanned legs. I
look like two different people. Yet, I can't bring myself to stop
tanning. Damn.

I am an addict. I love food. Yet I hate it. I have to lose 30
pounds... that's right, 30! How? Drinking coffee and eating fruit.
Five pounds down... only 25 more to go...

I am an addict. I have overslept for the last 3 days... missing my
5:30 gym date for the last 3 mornings. This weekend will be spent at
the gym...

I am an addict. I love to dream about the possibilities. But am
usually too scared to action on them. Scared, why? I don't know why.
The possibility of public embarassment I suppose. Or the possibility
that I overanalyze a situation too much. Or the possibility of
falling head over heels in love which leads to the possibility of
heartbreak. All of these thoughts over a glance and a "hey"... I
know the potential is there... I know it's against the rules... I
know it would be wrong... but would feel so good...

Anticipation

The anticipation is killing me. It's exciting and the possibilities are endless. How will it all turn out? I wonder...

Independence is Overrated

Happy 4th of July and all that shite...

I celebrated the 4th of July. Not because it is the anniversary of America's (read USA) independence from the tyrannical hand of Britain. Not because the colorful and loud fireworks amuse me. And certainly not because of the family bbq's I'm forced to attend. I celebrated because... it was a 3 day weekend. A. Paid. Three. Day. Weekend.

What is the significance of a paid three day weekend? It's my first paid 3 day weekend in exactly 1 year. Why is that you ask? Because the 4th of July was also my second official day as a"Fill-in-the-blank Company Name" employee.

My First Day...

Was like any other. I wish I could say something happened that would make it memorable but it has already blurred into every other day from the past year. The last year with this company has been... challenging. Is that PC enough? The good, the bad and the ugly. I saw it all. And, I'm prepared for more ugliness. I keep on hoping things will get better. I try to appear optimistic to everyone else. But I'm just as cynical and jaded as the long-timers.

Meet the Sideways... Sideways the Fockers...

I left at 3:30pm on my first day of work. Battled the Hamptons Assholes in Penn Station. Stopped for a Coors Lite. And was drunk by 4pm. Arrived home at 4:30 only to collapse and sleep until 7. My mom awoke me and, not surprisingly, when I looked at the clock I thought I was late for work. Silly me didn't realize it was 7pm and still Friday night. I drove around aimlessly before deciding to get some movies - Meet the Fockers and Sideways. MTF sucked. Sorry, Ben Stiller. I still love your funny, cute Jewish ass but Meet the Fockers was a sequel. And, as we all know, sequels unequivocally suck compared to the original. I thought I would enjoy Sideways more... but I didn't. The whole cheating plot continues to irk my conscience.

If Only...

I spent Saturday with a special person at Long Beach. We discussed attributes of passing cars over coffee. Shared deep thoughts sitting on the boardwalk as a glorious sunrise colored the ocean various shades of pink and purple. Dinner and drinks at a neighborhood restaurant. And a night of dancing on Beech Street. And, true to his word, I was delivered to my bed safe and sound.

It was everything that would make a great date. Except I was with my cousin. If only I was with that certain someone instead...

Sunday is for rest... not line dancing...

I slept. They danced.

The Search for Illegal Contraband...

My mission, as I chose to accept it, was to find sparklers for HC's 2 year old daughter. I dressed carefully knowing my appearance could only help. "Look innocent but show skin" was the look I was going for and set off for Chinatown. I visited shop after shop. And all I had to show was a box of those sweet pork buns. No one would sell me sparklers. I think they're racist because I don't speak Chinese. dee-yo-gown-a.

B-BBQ

That stands for boring bbq. A family bbq. No booze. Nobody interesting. Just food (which I couldn't eat after seeing all the stuffed looking flies napping on the food) and more damn line dancing. I snuck out before I died of boredom.

Fire-fwerks

Fire-fwerks were the highlight of my weekend. After sneaking out of B-BBQ I went to HC's for just-prepared food and booze. BC, the most adorable 2 year old on the planet, and I chased fireflies and tried to spot fireworks lit by neighborhood punks (aka kids). She referred to both as "fire-fwerks".

Terms of Endearment

I have this habit of using terms of endearment. My usuals are: toots, pumpkin, baby, and stud. Embarrassing, no?

Little BC kept on saying "Honey" while we were playing. I thought she was looking for her dog "Sammy". Later, we guessed that little BC was actually calling me "Honey". Ok, let's say it all together now... "Awwwwww".

And, on that sweet note, I bid y'all goodnight. Don't know how much I'll be updating... Work (complete with a severance package) and planning for a (bacchanalian yet still classy) bachelorette party will be keeping me busy.

Halfway to 2006

http://wisegarnet.blogspot.com/2004/12/26-nyes-later.html

In an effort to calm down from work-related stress, I made the mistake
of reading through my Dec 2004 archive... Big. Mistake.

2005 is halfway over and I don't have anything interesting to say
about the last 6 months. Sadly enough, I had such high hopes for this
year. All I've done is work. And, right now, I'm not even liking my
job all that much.

Outside of forced human interaction at work (it's a mandatory part of
my job), my personal life is non-existent. Partly by choice. I've
managed to become more and more a recluse in the past 2 months. I
come home, read my books and attempt to sleep without getting
nightmares.

I feel like I need a change. Something different. Maybe I'll quit my
job, pack a backpack and try to rough it. I'll get a job that doesn't
involve being hunched over a keyboard all day in a human-size
aquarium. Maybe I could be a waitress or a bartender. Maybe I can
escape the hustle and bustle of "the city" and move to the boonies.
Where life is simpler. Maybe I could get a factory job. I've always
wanted to be good with my hands. Or, maybe I could become a tollbooth
collector. Wouldn't it be nice to be a mail-person in a small town
where everyone knows your name?

Life used to be so exciting. Now my head hits the pillow dreading the next day.

Ugh.

Book Worm

For the last few weeks, I have successfully read at least 1 book a day. You may be wondering, "why the hell would anyone do that?". The answer, I've always been an avid reader. My strict childhood left few other activities but sitting at home and reading. Now in my relative "adulthood" I'm still a big reader.

A few books I would highly suggest reading:

• Sammy's Hill - absolutely hysterical about a capitol hill staffer
• A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - second time i've read it... it only gets better the second time around...
• Bergdorf Blondes - the life inside a paris-hilton-like socialite... it's better than i thought it would be
• The Pilot's Wife - couldn't put it down...
• Sushi for Beginner's - a book about sushi? actually, it's one of those cheesy romance books that i adore...

I have a few more stacks... but I figure that's enough to keep you busy for now... oh, and don't forget about The Old Man and the Sea...

Blushing Furiously

If you needed anymore reasons to call me a dork, here they are in
chronological order:

- Long Beach on Friday night: My cousin has been feeling a little
lonely so when he called Fri night I didn't have any other choice but
to drag my lazy butt out of bed, get dressed and go out. We ended up
driving to Long Beach and he was amazed at the resemblance to
California (but no palm trees). Parked the car (thank you for free
parking), and walked down the boulevard searching for 1) Food, 2)
Alcohol and 3) Cute men/women for us to stare at all night. We found
1 and 2 but not 3. We called it a night early and I drove back
wishing I lived closer to the water.

Dork Reason 1: I went to a potentially extremely romantic place with
my cousin and couldn't even find a cute man (relatively close to my
age) to at least smile at.

- Dim Sum and Museum Saturday: It didn't happen because I passed out
and didn't wake up until 12:30pm... and I was supposed to meet WT at
11:30 am. Imagine my embarassment when I heard "hey gigi, i'm on the
way home already".

Dork Reason 2: I'm a sucky friend.

- Line Dancing: BECAUSE I didn't go to the city I got stuck line
dancing. At home. In my basement. With my family. That's right. I
was LINE DANCING at home in MY basement with my FAMILY. And, then,
just to amplify my embarassment and horror... I somehow ended up the
dance leader directing my rhythm-less, profusely sweating family.

Dork Reason 3: LINE DANCING - 'nuff said.

- Hooters: Not mine, that one with other women's t&a stuffed in
tight white tees/orange shorts, a bar and horrible wings. Went there
with the cousins after line dancing.

Dork Reason 4: I went already knowing that I hate the wings.

Dork Reason 5: I caught the eye of a cute guy then realized he was
married. Bastard.

- JBH: We went to a local townie bar and left after 1 drink. No one
there worth my drunken staring so we went to another bar.

Dork Reason 6: Started talking to a guy because I was bored by the
non-conversation conversation. Cute, young and blue collar. I ended
up home alone.

Thursday? Already?

I can't believe it's Thursday already. The week flew by. And, the
question on everyone's mind, what are you doing this weekend?

My answer, nothing. Not a damn thing.

I'm likely going to end up at the museum checking on the Chanel
exhibit and maybe even buy me a new ride.

I've tired of the "beer and coffee" diet that I've been on lately. So
I'm making an attempt to be sober for the next month. That will
inevitably mean sitting at home Fri and Sat nights twiddling my
thumbs.

That actually doesn't bother me one bit. In fact, I'm looking forward
to it. I've gotten into the weird routine of buying a book heading
home from Penn Station and finishing it that same night.

I am hoping that my voracious reading habits will make me a better
writer, maybe even help me work on "my book" (which, technically, I'm
writing but doesn't seem to be going anywhere). But, the sad truth is
I'm just spending money and ruining my eyes reading in low light.

I've never been one for imagination. Sarcastic wisecracks, that I can
do. Write imaginative stories and come up with interesting
characters, something I can't do.

I'm just happy that it's Thursday and I haven't killed anyone (myself
included). I'll thank smoking and finding my i-pod (or tampod as IC
refers to it) for assisting me in that almost impossible feat.

Thank God for Fridays.

:-)

Praying for a Toxic Spider Bite

Ok, it's going to take all my willpower NOT to b1tch about work, so here goes...

I felt an irritation in the crook of my elbow. So I started
scratching it thinking it was a mosquito bite. Surprised that it
wasn't itchy I look down. And, to my horror, find that I have a tiny
itty bitty arm zit.

I'm secretly hoping that it's really a toxic spider bite and I am
going to pass out from the poisonous venom. I will just about do
anything to not have to go to work for a few weeks.

Weekend Quotes

"I don't eat jalapenos"

I planned on a "hot date" for Friday night. I already had an outfit all picked out - a black silk robe... that's it. Just me, my dvd player and chinese food. Instead, hearing a tinge of loneliness in his voice, I head out with my cousin to quench his wings craving. We end up at a local bar and I start putting away pints of their Pale Ale... ok, well, 1 pint... accompanied by the best wings ever and a huge plate of nachos. When we're done, a bowl full of chicken bones and pile of jalapenos is all that remains. We finish the food frenzy with our own orders of rice pudding.

So much for my hot date....

"California dreaming... (hums)"
Don't you just love The Eagles? That is The Eagles isn't it? Well, that's one of the old school songs that was playing at Better Burger. They have great "air-fried" fries... but no mayo. I felt a little bereft that I couldn't eat their fries with mayo and ketchup. Haven't tried it? It's great...

"Am I hitting your knees? Let me see how far back I can go before I hit you."

Went to see Batman Begins which kicked ass. But before the movie began, I grossed out friends and friend of friend with women details. As in, how I hate shaving my legs but I always shave my underarms, etc. And, to cause a bit more trouble, I started rocking in the stadium seating 'make out" chairs. I wanted to see how far back I could get before I hit the guy with the long legs in back of me. Turns out, pretty far. Anyway, as we waited 1/2 hour for the movie to start, I can take pride in saying - at least someone finds me funny.

PS - Hey, long legs guy. You know what they say about long legs... Call me.... 555-555-1109.

" Fight!!!!!!!"

Ok, it wasn't a real fight. It was more of a drunk girl hitting a guy on West 4th. But it was definitely amusing... until a van stopped blocking my view. Good thing the fight was almost over. I liked the drunken rage... reminded me of an ex.

"Hey, you look like Neil Patrick Harris!"

You know, "Doogie Howser, MD". Omg, I was so in love with him when I was younger. Hot, young doctor. Just my type. I'm not sure if it was him or a lookalike. My imagination will maintain that it was really him and I like totally impressed him with my pool playing skills at Fat Black (great place with live jazz, pool/ping pong tables, scrabble and other board games).

Dreary

I'm working downtown today and can't concentrate at all. It's noisier
than I'm used to. I'm sitting in the middle of a huge cubicle farm
and unless someone puts a beer at the exit, I don't know if I can find
my way out.

I officially accepted the job and don't have any regrets... well, at
least not major ones.

Oh god, I just got caught on personal email by a big director. Oh
well. Me thinks I need a privacy screen.

Privacy is something I am unlikely to find here. All these people
milling around. My monitor faces the cube entrance. Everyone can
hear every word I say. In fact, I bet they can make out what I'm
typing right now because I'm using one of those loud clickety-clap
keyboards.

I guess on the upside I get to hear what everybody else says....
there is a huge shipment of legos on our floor. I like legos. I like
to sort them into the different colors and build towers alternating
the floors with the different colors.

This kid asked me if I wanted to try speed-dating with him. My
answer, verbatim, was "hell no". My thinking - how much embarassment
can one person take? I'm so shy I bet I would spend the entire 10
minutes stammering "hello" and that's about as far as I would get.

I know I have a ton of things to do at work but I can't seem to get
around to any of them. Maybe I should become an admin. I'll get paid
lots more than I do now (plus o/t) and I'll be able to sit and stare
vacantly at a wall.

Today feels like a Monday. I barely even realized that today is
Thursday. More and more the days have been just blurring into each
other. I hardly even notice the weekends anymore.

I think I need a new hobby - reading is just becoming tedious at this
point. I don't need to hear about these fictional couples who walk
happily into the sunset together.

Maybe knitting? I'll even get a rocking chair. I can knit myself a
shawl to sit in my rocking chair and knit huge blankets.

Ok, maybe not knitting.

Dance lessons... I was planning to take Latin Dancing through the
Learning Annex but I never signed up. What if I don't have a partner?
What if I decide to wear heels and fall flat on my face? What if I
CAN'T DANCE?!?!

What else is there?

I'm in such a fog that I entered the wrong pin number when I went to
the ATM. Actually, for a few seconds I forgot my pin number and ended
up entering an old one.

Dreary, absolutely dreary.

I can't wait to run out of here at the end of the day and get back to
my midtown home.

Letter of Resignation

Dear Team,

This letter is to inform you of my decision to resign effective
yesterday, June 14, 2005.

My desire to continue in my previous capacity is overshadowed by a
lack of all-important time. As you may know, I currently have another
full-time job which takes up to 60 hours per week of my life. The
unpredictability of hours, as well as the overwhelming strain on my
body, soul and mind, have caused me to (pardon my French) "F' Up"
several events.

It is at this point that I disgracefully resign from my position as
VP, Global Events Management.

As always, I appreciate your support and patience. CV has graciously
accepted the role. I think you will find her organizational skills
and city knowledge a welcome change. I have no doubt that you will
support the transition as I have.

With humble regards,
Me

OCCUPADO!

Is there a more embarassing moment than hovering over a toilet bowl,
working on getting a nice wad of t.p., only to look up and realize
someone has walked in on you?

It's happened to me on several occassions. I must have some
latch-locking deficiency.

The last time was this past weekend. I was POSITIVE I locked the
door. In fact, I remember checking it. But I must have uncanny
ability to pick dysfunctional latches because, as I attempted to
drunkenly hover over a
not-so-filthy-to-the-eyes-but-you-never-know-what-nasty-thing-lives-on-the-toilet-seat
to rid my body of the toxins of 2 hours of straight drinking, the
stall door opened.

Is it just me? Is there anyone else out there who has walked out of a
stall red-faced due to an involuntary flashing??

Stretched...

I feel completely stretched to my limit and crap keeps on pouring on
me. I'm like one of those papertowel commericals... where they pour
water a papertowel and you hold your breath until the exact moment
when you know it's going to break... and it surprises you by still
holding up...

Well, that's as poetic as I'm going to get today. I know, that wasn't
poetic at all. All I'm hoping is I make it until 5pm, pack up my desk
and enjoy my evening...

Who wants to bet a fire breaks out at work and I'm stuck here? Or,
will I pack up and just leave?

Fat is Funny

Fat is a funny thing. Did you ever notice how it jiggles? Like it's
happy to be around and wants to show everyone. Or how it rolls up on
itself. Or, when youo get as fat as me, it starts to pucker into
cellulite.

Fat is especially funny on my body. Please note, there has never been
a time I haven't been fat. But the fatness is never static. It comes
and comes and comes... then goes for no reason whatsoever.

I realized today at 7pm that I haven't eaten in over 24 hours. This
has happened a few times in the last week. I just forget to eat. I
have no appetite. Of course, I'm still smoking like a chimney. My
pants feel looser and my armfat ceases to stop moving in only 10
seconds rather than the typical 20 seconds.

All those factors probably have something to do with the fact that my
face doesn't seem as fat as it usually does. Or, maybe I'm just
allergic to food. It causes my body to swell up, get it?

Haha, lame attempt at a joke.

Anyway, congratulate me. If I keep on this track, maybe I'll end up
at my high school anorexic weight again.

My New Title is...

Corporate Pee-On. But you can call me Pee-On for short. Shit, you
may as well just call me Pee.

I'm taking the job. I'm not exactly happy about it which is weird
considering I've been waiting almost an entire year to hear their
offer. My fear, I tell them I accept and they rescind the offer.

Opera, Wine and KFC?

I love summer in NYC... the (hopefully) sunny and warm weather...drinking wine outdoors and just chillin'. Luckily there are a bunch of FREE (that's right, F R E E!) events that allow the combination ofthe 3 all-important summer factors.

Here are a few that I plan on attending...

Broadway Under the Stars - Bryant Park - Mon, June 13- If you didn't already know, I love showtunes! But I promise NOT to sing along... maybe just a little humming here and there...

Met Opera - Central Park Great Lawn - Tues, June 14 and Wed, June 15- Tosca is on Tues and I forget what is on Wed

Monday Movies - Bryant Park -http://gonyc.about.com/cs/summer/a/hbobryantpark_2.htm- Haven't been but heard it's a good time had by all!

These events are FREE (have I told you that yet?) and only require apicnic blanket, some booze (can you believe we're allowed to drinkoutdoors?) and munchies. All events start around 8pm but it's a must to stake out a spot earlier in the evening (it gets crowded quick!). If you'd like to join in the summer fun, let me know and be sure tobook it in your calendar, PDA or little black book. Feel free toinvite friends and bring picnic blankets, wine, and other sustenance (SA, I'm putting you in charge of the Hummus... but if you bring Onion Hummus, do us all a favor and bring along plenty ofAltoids/Gum). Also, we learned last year that cheap plastic-lined tablecloths makegreat make-shift picnic blankets especially after a rain.

Yours Truly,
VP, Global Events Management

(SA, I gave myself a promotion)

PS - There's no other feeling like basking in the dwindling sunlighton the soft grass of the great lawn with beautiful music all aroundyou, buzzed on good pinot grigio (my favorite, hint, hint) with buddies.

PPS - I highly advise against bringing beer... Unless you like frequent visits to the vile and highly contagious porto-potty.


Above is an email I sent out to a bunch of pals last month. Obviously, I couldn't make this evening's event due to before-mentioned interview (which I think went "eh"). But I'll definitely be in attendance tomorrow evening. So... pass the note along and say hello to any red faced asian girl laying on a striped picnic blanket (especially bought for this purpose - I tired of the ghetto tablecloth idea).

And, to my pals that will endure the event with me, I've bought a bottle of MERLOT (yes, yes... Sideways... I know...) and am thinking of bringing along a bucket of the Colonel's finest original recipe. Classy, no? Opera, Wine and KFC?

A Game of Chicken

Bawk! Bawk! Bawk!

I feel like a chicken. I forcefully announced on Thursday that if I
were to get at least one interview by close of business Friday I would
be working through the end of my contract (July 15). I had a call
back by cob Thursday for an interview today (which I probably should
be getting ready for now since it's in 1 hour) and by cob Friday had
another one scheduled for tomorrow morning.

So... Do I have the balls to quit as I promised myself Thursday? I
could just ride out the contract (they need me to stay at least until
mid-July to find someone else - short-staffed as usual) and collect
unemployment... Enjoy the beach and sun for a month until I get
established at another company... or I could be a chicken and accept
the offer currently on the table... branding me an OFFICIAL SUCKER but
at least an EMPLOYED OFFICIAL SUCKER...

Advice please... Please someone tell me what to do!!!

Wife-Beaters

'Wife-Beaters" are those white ribbed tank tops. I live in them on
weekends. Since I have today off, I drove to Long Beach to sit in
Starbucks and study up before an interview this afternoon. Hopefully,
in between a conference call at 1130 am and 3pm interview I'll be able
to squeeze in a walk on the beach.

I've also noticed that wife-beaters are great for picking up guys (not
on purpose, of course).

I've been sitting here for about an hour and already got a phone
number. Shit, if only I could wear wife-beaters to work.

Good news, I have another interview this week. That would make a
total of 2. One is on the Island and the other is for THE ISLAND.

Wish me luck!

Do you think I could find a place where I could wear wife-beaters to
work and there are hot, straight, professional un-married men?

PS - Another guy came over. Old dude. I could see his white nose hairs.

Taxicab Confessions

Friday night -

Taxicab Ride #1

On my way for a karaoke-funfilled night with AO - JO's brother. We
headed to Midtown East for drinking, singing and drunken dancing.

Taxicab Ride #2

Stumble into a cab back with AO for a ride to Penn. In previous 5
hours, I managed to get extremely drunk, get a lap dance, slip my hand
into the back of a guy's pants to find out that he wasn't wearing
underwear (command with jeans! can you say "ouch" wth me?), sing a
song (badly, as only i can) and get extremely turned on by
before-mentioned no underwear, lapdance,
singing-voice-that-can-make-you-swoon... damn celibacy is killing
me... too bad he's bi and already has a girlfriend (who is very cute
and a darn good dancer)

Taxicab Ride #3

Still with AO going back to "the Park". I passed out on train and,
luckily, missed the puking 2 rows back. I guess it wasn't projectile
because I didn't have any puke on me

Saturday Night -

Taxicab Ride #4

Going from a boxing match at Madison Square Garden to another bar.
John Duddy was fighting. He ended up winning the match but I didn't
think he was totally 100%. Oh well, "You can never beat the Irish".
At bar #1, we pay $10 each to see the Tyson-McBride fight. Woohoo!
McBride beats Tyson. Of course that's because Tyson QUIT but didn't
matter. He definitely wasn't on top of his game. Just fightin to pay
da bills. Outside the bar I end up hooking up with this guy. Not a
good kisser. But I suppose any is better than nothing.

Taxicab Ride #5

Going to another bar I sit on guy-I-hooked-up-with (GIHUW) lap. It's
4 of us in the back seat. He proceeds to kiss my neck and almost cop
cheap feels. I feel bad for the two girls sitting with us. I hope
they don't notice. I find out later that they did. I wasn't really
into it but it was the most action I've gotten in months.

Taxicab Ride #6

Couldn't get into the bar because GIHUW forgot his ID. Walked around
westside following a can't-control-herself-drunk (CCHD) who obviously
had no idea where we were going. I insisted on heading south yet she
headed north. Uh, loser... Another cab ride to another bar where we
settle in for the evening.

Taxicab Ride #7

CCHD got kicked out of the bar because she was annoying a group of
customers. Shit, she was annoying me too. I was just dancing,
watching the other customers and hooking up with GIHUW who proceeded
to almost beg me to come over his place. Uh, no. We proceed to cross
a street and CCHD falls all over the street. She obviously doesn't
want to get up and just wants to get some attention. HC and HC's
sister in law try to pick her up and I just watch. HC demands I help
her up and I just shake my head. HC, don't you know she's doing this
on purpose? A bad drunk can't be helped.

We loiter on a street corner for almost an hour. I watch the hilarity
ensue. CCHD keeps jumping into the street being the stupid drunk that
she is. HC's husband (PC) and CCHD's exboyfriend are sent out to
collect her at various points. PC tries to hook up his sister with
some scary Mediterranean dude. Finally, when he start pushing up on
her, I request PC to get him away from her. PC, for reasons
unbeknownst to me, picks him up and not-so-gracefully deposits him on
the sidewalk. Creepy mediterranean dude takes this as his cue to
leave.

I get tired after wearing heels all day and sit on a ledge. GIHUW
joins me and proceeds to continue on embarassing himself. A hookup is
a hookup. Sorry, buddy. HC, I know he's PC's friend but come on - I
don't know if his dick is clean!

Final cab ride in Manhattan to Penn with 2 couples in the backseat.
Lots of kissing and groping. Then I'm off to Long Island.

GIHUW, sorry but not smooth enough for me. Low self-esteem is not a
turn on. Neither is all tongue while smooching. You seem nice enough
but just not the guy for me. Note, I also can't deal with a guy who
drinks all the time. I have trust issues (meaning, I need to be able
to trust someone).

Taxicab Ride #8

My last of the weekend. From my LIRR stop only 12 blocks home. Dude
next to me wants to talk to me but, thankfully, doesn't. I avoid all
eye contact. There's only so much cab-hookups that one girl can
handle in a weekend. He did have nice eyes and shoulders though.

I Quit... or Do I?

About a year ago, I walked into my Sr. VP's office, told him I wasn't
happy and have decided to give enough notice for them to find a
replacement for me. I left a month and a half later.

I've been at the same company for almost a year working as a
consultant. I accepted the position because I was supposed to be
converted after 2 months. Politics and bureacracy, rarely ever found
in companies (::sarcastic::), reared it's ugly head and prevented that
from happening. Yet I waited it out and after a year of working my
(fat) ass off, I finally have an offer.

Here's the offer (in my words) -
You will have no title and work for crap money in an organization that
changes every damn day and expects you to work until you pass out
exhausted. But, if you stay and prove yourself (even though you've
already been here an entire year), maybe we'll promote you, actually
give you a title and add some peanuts to the crap to almost resemble
the texture of crunchy peanut butter.

The original offer had a title but for some reason they decided I am
not worthy and took it away.

So... I have two choices:

Choice A: Be a sucker, take the no title-pennies they are offering.
Keep on working insanely hard and pray they promote me and give me
some type of increase.

Choice B: My contract ends July 15, 2005. I leave at the end of my
contract, collect unemployment while looking for a job and enjoy my
summer.

The promise of an increase isn't enough to keep me here. I've had
that at another company which ended up freezing increases and
promotions. Besides, it's not so much about the money.... there is
all-consuming Pride.

If you had to make a bet on which choice I end up choosing, which
would you pick?

Kiss Me - I'm Irish!

Not much time for updating but here's a quickie...

- Manager resigned and her last day is Wednesday. I am devastated
beyond belief. Met my new manager and she seems nice enough. I've
also heard that she's great... I'm going to move to the downtown
sometime in the future. Not ecstatic about that but there's not much
I can do about it. Two nice things about moving downtown: 1) In
house cafeteria, 2) Slightly shorter commute

- Friday night it rained and I slept.

- Parents and I took an uncle out for a birthday dinner. Then,
because he had never been to Jones Beach, took a walk on the beach.
Picture it - 26 year old walking along the beach with her soon-to-be
60 year old dad, 61 year old mom and 65 year old uncle. Sad, isn't
it?

- Saturday night went out with cousin to nice local bar for strong,
tasty drinks (I also like my men that way). I got a kick out of
hearing the Irish accent I knew I would be hearing Sunday. Is it me
or do Irish accents get even hotter when drunk?

- Sunday was a little 2 year old girl's birthday party. I got there
around 4pm and didn't leave until 2:30 am. I drank, played cards and
pretended I was 5 years old while chugging bottle after bottle of
beer.

Oh, and I got kissed by two Irish guys - one Saturday and one Sunday.

Once I get a breath in at work I'll share the sordid details...

Thoughts...

So much going on yet still nothing interesting to say...

I've fallen into a rut that I can't seem to break out of. I work and
I work. Then I work more. There are distractions in between work but
then I feel guilt and get to work even earlier and stay later.

My fear is that one day I wake up 10 years from now and all I have to
look forward to is work and whatever tv show that will be on that
night. I have always been a workaholic and very focused on growing my
career but I've gotten to thinking that having too successful a career
can be more of a detriment. But I guess in some ways always focusing
on work keeps me from having to think about the lack of success in
other areas.

As for the present moment I'm going to return to the vicious cycle....

You are an Inspiration

www.azadandray.com

I attended a wedding on Sunday (see link for the happy couple) and,
honestly, had the best time. And, yes, I cried. My eyes welled with
tears when she walked down the aisle. She looked so beautiful. I
cried when I heard "Because You Loved Me" during the father-daughter
dance. And the tears wouldn't stop during the cake cutting and
"Growing Old with You" playing in the background.

I can blame it on old age but it's more likely plain old
heart-wrenching loneliness but, whatever the cause, this is the most
I've ever cried at any wedding.

Well, I'm going to shed a few more tears... while I do that, here are
the lyrics to one of my favorite songs ever....

Adam Sandler - Growing Old With You Lyrics

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad
carry you around when your arthritis is bad
all I want to do, Is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches
build you a fire when the furnace brakes
oh it could be so nice growing old with you

I'll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold
need you, feed you, even let u hold the remote control

Let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink
put you to bed when you've had to much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you
I wanna grow old with you

"This is Anna..."

I have a friend.

We were at a house party, of a friend three times removed, standing in
a coveted spot - a perfect trianguation of the bar, food table and
pool. Close enough to the booming speakers to feel the bass pumping
through my blood but far enough to be able to speak without shouting.
The sun beat down through clear blue skies. The growing crowd sighed
collectively earlier when the sun finally broke through the clouds.
For the past three weeks the weather had been rainy, cold and dreary.

"Anna," she reiterated the introduction firmly, "Not Annie or Ann".

An entire pitcher of white sangria did not effect my recollection of
our first meeting. "Average Anna" was my first thought upon our
introduction. Appearance, demeanor, everything just seemed average.
Anna is not the type of girl you notice walking down the street.

to be continued....

BUNNY!!!

The number 1 reason I look forward to summer (besides raging hormones
and the possibility of seduction) is being able to lay on the Kentucky
bluegrass-filled lawn of Central Park.

For reasons outside of my control, I ended up working on Saturday
(ugh, so much for 3 day weekend). I left after 3 not-so-grueling
hours and walked into a warm, sunshine-y city. Met a friend and
friend-of-a-friend at the Park and just hung out on the lawn still
slightly damp from the previous evening's heavy downpour.

The sight of ominous looking clouds and a caffeine craving sent us to
the TimeWarner center. While walking out of the park, one of the men I
was with exclaimed "BUNNY!!!" with a childlike passion. True to his
word, there was a black and white bunny hopping around the lawn with a
blue harness trailing behind. We all echoed "Bunny! BUNNY!". She
paused by a rock, examined some grass, found it to her liking and
began nibbling. Bunny ran about 50 feet to a nearby fence entertained
a little one in her stroller then ran back to the owner's vicinity.

I do have evidence of this alleged Central Park Bunny sighting and
will post the pic shortly.

Secrets

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

I read through the entire listing of secrets and found that, funny
enough, i share quite a few of those secrets.

secrets are a funny phenomena. what we keep from others and
especially those that we keep hidden even from ourselves.

if you show me yours, i'll show you mine...

to be continued....

Screw the Blurkers!

Anonymous said...
Screw the blurkers!Oh, wait.That could be scandalous...L

I think reader "L" has a good idea.... I could do with a little random nameless screwing!

I'll be at the W bar at 12 midnight tomorrow in a scandalous red dress. Interested blurkers need only kiss my neck.

Changing my Mood

My readership has fallen and I've been getting complaints.

My recent pessimism (and lack of public sex) seem to have cost me
readers. So, I'm making a promise to change my blog mood (and thereby
my overall mood) to one that is light, airy and downright bubbly.

Have a wonderful weekend!

The Princess and the Pea

Do you remember the story of the Princess and the Pea? They were testing a young woman to see if she was really a princess. They had her sleep on several thick mattresses with a small pea underneath one of them. When the inquired as to how she slept, she replied "dreadful, there was something poking me all night in the bed". I believe that's how the story goes.

Anyway, that story came to me tonight as I was making my bed. See, I don't make my bed when I wake up in the morning. Instead, I make it when I get home or right before I go to bed. I arrange the sheet and comforter and when it almost resembles a hotel bed I throw myself in. Weird huh?

The funny thing is that when I don't make my bed (too tired, drunk, sick), I wake up feeling unrested and antsy in the morning. And, during the night, I'm plagued by odd dreams.

And then I got to thinking some of the guys I used to date. One guy, let's call him "Dumped at the Altar" (not by me, mind you) was fanatical about his bed. When it would come time to do the deed, he would gently place his decorative suede pillows on the floor, fluff his sleeping pillow, turn back the comforter, slide underneath the sheets and carefully smooth the comforter over him. He was not one of the freakier ones in the bunch if that's not already obvious. And when the deed was done a good 45 minutes to hour later (I love sleeping with men on antidepressants) he would fix up the bed before we would nap.

I always slept great in his bed.

Call Me Chewie

I'm home today and fighting off dry heaves. Gross, huh.

I'm wearing black capri yoga pants, a blue tank top and a pink sweater. A fashion icon I am not.

I just looked at my legs and realized I have not shaven since the weather got cold... what is that? Like 2 weeks or maybe even longer?? I should consider myself lucky that I'm asian and the hairy genes are not predominant in me. But still, there is a group of about 6 hairs on my right leg that are now approaching 1/2 inch in length. Yeah, I know, nasty.

Also, I heard through this mailing list that it's possible to catch HERPES when getting waxed. Needless to say, I'm probably never going to get my eyebrows or hairy upper lip waxed again.

So, feel free to call me Chewie!

Rock Bottom

I've just hit rock bottom. I had to leave my desk to take a walk
around the block for fear of breaking out into tears at my desk.

Why is it that when you think it can't get any worse, life has a
twisted way of just turning your world upside down for the worser?

I know "worser" is not a word but I can't be bothered with semantics
at this point.

Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...

It's Time

lost but not forgotten...
Posted by Hello


I lost my watch a few months ago in a bad driving incident. Actually I was getting a ride to the train station and left my watch on the seat to free my hands to put on earrings. The driver slammed the brakes stopping for a standard stop sign and, when I recovered from the whiplash, the watch was nowhere to be seen.

I searched frantically and could not see it anywhere. I went so far as to shove my hand all the way into the crack and pulled up nothing but a really dirty hand - gross.

Unfortunately, it was bound to happen. I cannot go an entire year wearing the same watch. It either breaks, gets lost or I just stop wearing it for no reason whatsoever. It's not the reason I'm unfailingly 10 minutes late for everything - my genetic material is to blame for that.

Lucky for me, I was able to find its twin online yesterday for 20% off. Hopefully this one will have better luck keeping me one time.

What DO You Want to Do?

I just got home from talking with a friend for quite a long time. I haven't seen "IC" since, literally, last year.

A brief update on dating status is usually the foremost topic of conversation. Then small talk during group dinner. Later, we find ourselves alone and it all comes pouring out in our normal "deep talk" formula.

1. An indepth discussion of our relationship status including feelings, hopes/regrets and objective thoughts.

2. Reminiscing on past loves and segueing into lessons learned (always in hindsight)

3. Family Issues (with an emphasis on parents and sibling inequity)

4. A current state self-analysis versus us in the past "now vs then" (religion/spirituality, if not already a point of conversation, make its way in)

5. Work


Work is where it always ends. Seemingly appropriate, since work dictates our everyday lives. We wake up to go to work. We go to sleep in preparation for work. We sleep in late on weekends because we don't need to work. Spend weekends running around with errands so we won't have to be plagued by them after work. Work dicates, for the most part, our spending habits/after-work activities. Ex. I want to go out and drink but can't afford the $15 drinks at that lounge so instead I will go to this one for their $5 beers. Heard from a friend, "I can't hang with those guys. They're too rich for my blood.".

We discuss our current feelings about "the job". Eventually leading into the "what DO you want to do?" discussion.

Here's the thing about IC - we're "ex" friends, meaning we met though our ex-boy/girl-friend. In fact, for a while, IC worked for my ex, Jason. While he was my ex's employee, Jason would complain about IC's lack of initiative and "corporateness". The truth is, IC just recently began getting exposed to the corporate life after spending most of his years in retail. And I think it's kinda hysterical how he actually compliments my corporateness... because I'm the least corporate person I know.

I guess there's something about my job (or maybe it's me). People come to me for advice... finding a job, how to deal with a manager, etc. They come to me for advice, I tell them what I think or would do and usually they do the exact opposite. For example, a frustrated friend complains about wanting a new job. My answer, "ok, go get one" and I proceed to detail the different methods I used to get a new job. And, inevitably, at our next meeting I hear the same complaint. "Have you started searching?" I always ask. Would it surprise you if I told you the answer is usually negative?

IC is one of the few people who actually followed my advice, step by step by step. And it worked in his favor. He got the job he has been wanting for 3 years.

He always thanks me for helping him. But I always tell him, it wasn't me, it was all him. He worked his butt off and prepared for hours on end for his interviews. Of course, it couldn't have hurt that we went together to Church to pray prior to 2 of the big interviews.

I'm proud of him for being in a job that he loves. And I'm going to help guide him to the next career step if that's what he wants.

It's not that I know everything in my field. Not the case at all. But I just want to share some of the "insider secrets" that I happen to have learned along the way. It's just unfortunate that few people ever listen.

But my first question will always be, what DO you want to do?

(Make a lot of money, sit on my ass all day, sleep are not suitable answers)

Out of Tune Torture

Another hectic day of work ended as I quicked emailed one last excel file to my manager, locked my computer and ran to the elevator. This was not my usual "get me the hell out of this place before anymore hairs turn gray" rush home. I had plans after work. I was going to a concert. I was going to my little cousin's concert at my old high school.

I walked into the high school and was surprised at how small it now seemed. I laugh when I enter a bathroom stall. I'd forgotten how low the toilets were and that they didn't use real toilet paper. Instead it's little 4 inch squares that must be pulled out from the dispenser one by one. As I sat waiting for the performance to begin, I marveled at how young the kids looked. I remember how, at their age, my friends and I thought we knew everything - Ha! It seemed as if every other child had a cell phone (I was taught that pagers and cell phones were only for drug dealers - double ha!). And I made an attempt to spot the sluts... it wasn't too hard. Girls barely just beginning puberty sporting short skirts that end right below their butts, tight-ass jeans, low cut shirts and other outfits that I'm still not allowed to wear.

Then the torture began. 7th grade orchestra and intermediate orchestra followed by intermission (so the prepared folks who brought earplugs could take them out). Both orchestras were atrocious. I mean "eeee, ee, eeeeee, eee, eeeeee, eeeee, eeee" torturing a mouse bad.

The chorus was blah. I used to be in chorus and I always thought we sounded really good. This chorus sucked. They sang a Beatles medley and I don't think they even know who the Beatles are!

Then another orchestra. I tried to think happy calming thoughts while my ears were being assaulted.

Then the band with my cousin on the trumpet. The band sounded good except for one wind instrument (maybe a saxophone that was flat the entire time).

And, finally, it was over. My ears have still not recovered.

The Scent of Distraction

This new grad has been working with my manager and I for the last few weeks. He works in a different location and really only sits with us once a week.

At first, he seems like a nice enough kid. To me, he seems like a really confused kid. But added to that confusion is a definite "brown-nosing, ass-kissing" demeanor. It's really bad.

Last week he came to work with us and sat next to me as I breezed through Excel formulas. Well, as I unsuccessfully attempted to breeze through Excel. I was distracted by his cologne. He was wearing Polo Blue.

Let me say, for the record, there is NO physical attraction but Polo Blue is an aphrodisiac. I smell it on the streets and my head whips around. Dirty thoughts immediately fill my head. It became impossible to concentrate on my ass-kicking Excel skills. Instead I started thinking dirty, filthy thoughts not meant for the workplace.

I silently applauded when my manager interrupted to have him start working on a project at his own desk. Whew! Close call. Another few minutes and I would have... well, let's just be thankful she interrupted.

Sick

I called in sick today. My throat hurts. Ha! No BJ's for me. (Just kidding, of course).

Tricky Hackers!

Just to give y'all a heads up... There are viruses going around on instant messenger.

I use AIM and a got a message from my little cousin "hey check out my pics". Usually he'll just IM me with the URL - www.flickr.com. So I tried responding. I guess he realized there was a problem, logged off and logged back in.

Turns out, clicking on the link would result in a virus being downloaded onto my computer. Good thing I didn't!

Just something to keep in mind...

Shall We Dance?

Walking home from the train station some assholes started whistling and catcalling. I gave them the finger and kept on walking. My mood became even worse than when I was sitting at work.

Then "Smooth" by Santana and Rob Thomas filled my earbuds. "One, two, cha-cha-cha" overtook any bad feelings. "One, two, cha-cha-cha". I love this song. "One, two, cha-cha-cha". I always loved this song.

Back in the day, seemingly centuries ago, it was my dream to dance to this song with my then-fiance, Jason on our wedding day. I can still see it now. He's wearing a nice tux with a snazzy red tux. I've changed into a low-cut red dress reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe with a skirt that flares out gracefully with every step and turn and a pair of high heels that have since become my trademark. Unfortunately, when all the wedding planning started, I remembered one small point... well, two. 1 - I was too fat to ever wear a dress like that and 2 - Jason couldn't dance.

Not just that he couldn't dance but he was an ATROCIOUS dancer. We're talking "white boy shuffle" bad. Awkward hand movements that always resembled "the robot" bad. Like no rhythm ANYWHERE bad.

Not that I'm a great dancer, not in the least. But I can pick up steps and have decent rhythm. And grace while dancing is not as noticable as my booty-shaking (must be a Filipino thing). But I love to dance regardless of the forum or music.

When reality hit me, I was disappointed but the monster called "wedding planning" took over. Almost every thought and action leading up to the event was about "The Wedding". When I went to Texas, Jason was left with the remainder of the wedding planning and my thoughts, which used to be about getting married, soon were completely concentrated on work.

I managed to make some friends and even go to bars and clubs for almost the first time in my life. I felt so awkward the first time I walked into them. I didn't know how to act, how to order a drink, how to sit on those infernal bar stools not made for short people. I didn't know how to brush off yucky hands from touching me. Or how to give "The Look". So, like every shortcoming, I had to learn.

For New Years Eve, Jason surprised me with a visit in Texas. We crossed the border and ended up in a Mexican club. We tried to dance salsa which I had started learning in the short-time I had been there. It was awkward. I felt stupid. Here I was on a stage with the man I was going to spend my life with. And I couldn't even dance with him. And, right next to me, my dance teacher was dancing his heart out.

Today, I still don't have a partner to dance with. But I don't care. I'm still going to learn how to dance... One, Two, Cha-Cha-Cha!

Life-Altering Decision

I don't know how it happened but somehow my life has turned mundane.
I mean, I still go out (but not as much) and have a good time. But,
most of the time, it's the same old, same old. Wake up, get dressed,
take the train, turn up the volume of my ipod to block out talkers,
email/calls at work then home. Check email, watch a little tv and
attempt to fall asleep at a decent hour.

There are few deviations. Today is an exception that I keep in the
back of my head... it is Monday... 24 is on Mondays... I must be home
to watch 24.

There is one question/decision that lurks in the back of my head everyday.

11:00 AM - my body starts reminding me that a decision must be made soon.
11:30 AM - my brain loses focuses on the 4 emails I'm trying to
compose simultaneously
11:45 AM - I scream at the top of my lungs, "I'm hungry. What's for lunch?"

My coworkers look at me like I've lost my mind. My growling stomach
now sounds like a lion who wants to be let out of his cage. Still, no
one is ready to eat. I yell again, "I'm hungry!! What's for
lunch?!?!". They continue to ignore me.

I start going through my options... Healthy or Crap?

- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

Nothing catches my attention. So I repeat my mantra again...

- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

I think fondly back to a time when my only lunch options were Subway
or Burger King. Damn, still no decision and it's already 12:07PM.

- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

I marvel at how clean my desk looks... so shiny and organized. Then
remember that I only work after lunch because my brain cells can't
think on an empty stomach. After lunch, my desk will look like a
tornado blew through and puked up papers, pens and those f'n little
yellow post-its.

- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

Maybe I'll put on my ipod... a little soothing music might help....
as the milkway... my cherie amour... mmmm.... milky way...

- Chocolate
- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

I only have 2 pens left... I need to raid the supply closet...
- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

Weakened by my condition, I manage to whisper "I'm hungry. What's for
lunch?". There is no answer... turns out I didn't say anything. I
couldn't form my vocal chords into cohesive sentences.

- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

Ooh, a call! Maybe someone wants to run out with me and grab food!
It's my boss. She wants to know if I have pepper. I reply "only
ketchup".

- Ketchup
- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

My hands are cold. I need protein...mmmm.... burger with ketchup...

- Burger
- Ketchup
- Salad
- Pasta
- Hot Dog
- Burrito/Quesadilla
- Sushi
- Fruit
- Indian
- Chinese
- Sandwich
- Pizza

Craving Cheese

I was unable to leave work until 8 and I was pissed. My evening's plans ruined by work once again. I managed to cheer up on the ride home and, on the walk home, started craving a cheese calzone. I walked into the local pizzeria, placed my order and sat to wait.

Waiting, I admired the scenery and noticed someone who looked like my ex, Jason. I ran out for a cigarette and came back in. I looked again... he really looked like him. Then I saw the mole, shit, it was him. The ex I haven't seen in 3 1/2 years was in MY hometown at MY pizzeria.

I didn't say hello. I figure it doesn't matter if I ever see/speak to him again. I've heard he wasn't too happy with the way things ended with us and there's no sense in dredging up the past.

I don't miss him but I do miss what we had. He was my best friend. We were so close that we knew what each other would be thinking at times.

But that was 2 lifetimes ago.

I just read a blog that kind of put it into perspective. A person of the opposite sex that you really click with and enjoy spending time with is a friend. A person of the opposite sex that you really click with, enjoy spending time with and love to fuck - that should be a significant other. And, thinking back, I wish we could have been just friends.

Had I seen him 2 years ago I would have probably tried to talk to him. But today it's different. He's my past that I let go a long time ago.

The weirdest thing? I spent almost 7 years loving this boy... and, until today, didn't even remember what he looked like. And now I know because we were both craving cheese.

The Keys to My Heart

I stole this from a friend's blog...

The Keys to Your Heart

• You are attracted to those who have a split personality - cold as ice on the outside but hot as fire in the heart.
• In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored.
• You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change.
• You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please.
• Your ideal relationship is comforting. You crave a relationship where you always feel warmth and love.
• Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.
• You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage.
• In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.
  
  What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

All this from picking a bunch of animals... And, unbelievably it's all accurate.

Better Late Than Never...

You've always given me a hard time. It seemed I was never good enough in your eyes. And the fights, most of which I've managed to block from my memories, made me uneasy about myself for many, many years.

I starved myself, for you, to the point of becoming anorexic. I got straight A's but, unless it was a perfect 100, it didn't merit your praises. In fact, even 100 on a test wasn't good enough "what about extra credit?". Your accent and habit of speaking in foreign tongue embarassed me to the point I refused to be seen with you in public. I was never religious, skinny, smart or talented enough.

At least that's what I thought growing up.

And, now, I know better. You taught me to challenge myself and never settle for second best. You showed me that the material things in life are not what's most important. You demonstrated the true meaning of love. You sacrificed so I might have a better life.

I have finally come to understand some things I never bothered to learn about you. I found out that your childhood wasn't just "humble and modest" as you claimed. "Dirt poor" is the real translation. Your childhood home might have been featured on a Sally Struther late-night infomerical.

I look closely at your face. Time has brought wrinkles and colored your hair silver. But the years have been kind and you still look relatively young. It still hurts to notice how your once quick pace has slowed to almost a crawl. How, like many old people, you don't even notice when a grain of rice sticks to your lips.

I'm crying as I sit here tapping away on the keyboard. Knowing that it's taken me 26 years to be able to hold a conversation with you. Twenty-six years to finally thank you sincerely.

You are a rock, anchoring me so that, no matter the distances I may have drifted, I can always find my way.

Happy Mothers Day.

"Just a Bet"

A friend and I made a wager... on my "sex life".

I made a comment about waiting until marriage to have sex... he
scoffed at me... indignantly i reaffirmed my commitment... he mocked
my sincerity...

so, we made a bet.

it's been 7 MONTHS since i last got laid. and, needless to say, it sucks.

he's a really good friend... and he knows me very well... he knows i'm
all about sex...

geez... i should never make bets... i forget that i always end up losing...

City of Dreams

Since high school, I dreamed of moving to Boston. My original plan was to go to Boston College. But laziness (and a high school sweetheart) diverted my dream and I ended up at a Long Island state university. Then, the same high school sweetheart (turned fiance, now ex-fiance) and I planned to move to a Boston suburb so he could pursue a job with his dream company. That position never came to fruition, we broke up and I moved to Texas.

And 4 years later, I now have an opportunity to move to Boston. For some odd reason, I found myself surfing Boston's craiglist... well, not so odd a reason... I was unbelievably bored at work... and happened upon a job posting.... which I jokingly applied to. The recruiter called me the next morning, to my great surprise. In fact, I have an interview tomorrow with a large insurance firm managing a diversity and intern program.

But I don't think I'm going to go. I don't know if I'm ready to leave the Big Apple. I've only been back for 2 years and, funny enough, I barely remember life outside of NY.

Reasons to move to Boston:

• I'm still young
• A new city full of men I've never encountered
• Maybe I'll become a Red Sox fan (Johnny Damon is hot!)
• Cheap rent
• A new city to explore
• I love Irish pubs (and Irish men)
• A fresh start (in a life that has started becoming somewhat stagnant... work... bars... work... work... books... work... work... gardening)
• Close enough to dear old mom and dad
• It's a small city where I would feel safe at night

Reasons not to move:

• I don't know a soul there (that didn't stop me from moving to Texas)
• I love living with the parents (cheap rent - yes, I pay rent, home-cooked meals most of the time, I've been able to build a good relationship with them)
• It's another big company... I don't especially love working in HUGE companies
• It would mean recruiting... again... which I've done... which I don't know if I want to sort through millions of resumes right now...
• I don't know if I would be learning anything new
• They don't pay for relocation which just blows
• I might start partying hard again... like in Texas... to keep my mind off how lonely I was...
• Partying hard leads to sleeping around... which can be good and bad... but, right now, that's not what I'm interested in...

I don't think I'm going to the interview tomorrow. I better email them now to cancel. Right now I feel as if all I have is work, my family and friends. It doesn't make sense to leave them for a job that won't even advance my career.

But, one day... One day...

Ahem

i am exhausted and i haven't a clue why. i didn't do much besides
hang with the family this weekend... (the term "hang" really means sit
at an aunt's house, eating their food, playing with their children,
grooming their guinea pig, etc).

my lack of updating this blog is depressing. i just don't have
anything to write about....

saw train boy again this morning but our respective ipods prevented
any communication (god forbid i take off my ipod before i'm seated at
my desk!)...

i had to come to work too damn early for a stupid conference call
about nothing (like seinfeld, except not funny/amusing/interesting).

work is blah... probably cos i can't concentrate.

and i'm uninspired.

i heard from the dimples but he wants help with his resume... and i
just don't feel like it...

and i'm supposed to interview in boston tomorrow... and i don't want to go.

i'm lazy, apathetic and boring.

i think i need a day off. i think i need a week off. maybe i need to
get off...

Grunting the Day Away

I started young, just 16 years of age, and haven't stopped since I felt that first rush of power. It became addicting. I don't know if I could live without it. I like the rush... the sense of entitlement... the spending power... the feeling of cold, hard cash.

But, I'm just a grunt. At least that's how I feel.

A new grad has started working with us once a week. And he reminds me of how I used to be. So anxious to make it to the top. Ready to take on a management level position. Uninterested in doing the grunt work.

But I've been in the same field for the last 6 years. And everyday I'm reminded of the incompetence that is so prevalent "at the top". The way I see it, the grunt work is the basis for everything. Making it to a high level position while completely skipping over the "crap work" leads to incompetent managers. You can't develop strategies until you are familiar with the intricacies (and consequences) of the actual work.

I started at the bottom of my field... the "scum"... in recruitment... photocopying resumes. I spent hours pulling out staples, copying, restapling and sorting into general categories. But it wasn't a waste of time. I read the resumes. I looked at the job openings. I began to recognize terms and eventually began to learn how to identify good candidates.

I began coordinating events. It taught me how to prioritize and troubleshoot. Most importantly, mostly because my manager was notorious for half-ass late work, I learned how to "fight fires". In fact, I now consider myself a professional fire-fighter, always able to work my way through a dilemma to an equitable solution.

My boss' temperament, as acidic as vinegar, made my sweet, amenable phone manner and presence, all the more potent. In a rage she transfered calls to me, I calmed them down, made a few jokes, giggled and got my way. Sure, there are times when I have to really assert myself and use my "serious voice". But, I found it was easier to pretend I was naive, treat everyone like a subject matter expert and, essentially, let them fix my problem for me.

In almost every position I've held, I've been "the shadow". Just watching, listening and taking notes. I've never been one for attention. I hate meetings. They waste my time. I hate meeting people I haven't "worked with" before. As a result, it takes a while for people to get to know me.

Then the word gets around. They might never meet me in person. But they know my voice. They always recognize my giggle. And they know to come to me. I become the "go-to" person.

The process of gaining credibility with clients takes longer because of my hatred of time-wasting meetings. How can a manager trust someone who sounds like a 16 year old on the phone? How can you trust someone who's always bubbly, happy and giggling? But, I actually like that. It gives me a chance to build a friendly rapport. I don't try to impress them with big vocabulary words (which I do know but choose not to use). I ask the right questions, don't mince words when it's necessary and get the job done (for the most part).

I feel bad for this new grad. He's so anxious to climb the ladder that he doesn't understand that each step provides more knowledge and maturity which can only help you when you "make it".

As for me, I'm just a grunt. A giggly, smiley grunt. And it suits me just fine.

Staring Straight Ahead...

The "Train Boy" saga continues...

For those of you not in the know... "Train Boy" is this guy I see on the train coming home. We get off at the same stop and always ride the last car on the train. He's kinda short (but I almost qualify as a Lilliputian without heels so I don't care much about height), drives a blue SUV (I hate those gas-guzzling monsters) and works for a large advertising firm (almost the same name as the bank I work for... funny coinqui-dink).

He has a very calm demeanor about him at least from what little I've noticed. When I walk on the train platform whether or not a train is waiting for me, I run in my heels... clip, clop, clip, clop... frantically zigzagging around what/whomever is in my way... and usually matching my steps with the rhythm playing through my headphones (weird habit). But he's more of a leisurely stroll kind of person... patiently making his way through the crowds.

When I'm sitting on the train, I simultaneously sip on coffee/smoothie/water, quickly flip through a book/newspaper/magazine, bop my head in-time with whatever's on the ipod (quickly fast-forwarding through songs so I hardly ever finish one) and do my makeup. When I'm standing, I do all of the above and fidget around and, like an excited electron (been studying too much physics in my spare time), the probability of finding me standing still is inconceivable. Sitting/Standing on the train, TB hardly moves and concentrates on the paper enigma (at least to me) in his hands.

What else about TB? A sexy voice... mmm.... He's cute as a button (in a clean-cut, baby-face, guido-preppy way), always does the crossword puzzle (IN BLUE PEN... quite impressive) and has this intriguing (or is the word annoying) habit of looking at me but not looking at me.

And it happened again today... I'm standing on the train platform swaying to my ipod, sucking on a fruit smoothie and reading a book on physics... I know IMA GEEK... As he's walking by me, he glances at me, I blush and pretend I don't see him. WHY? I DON'T KNOW! I'M NOT REALLY A SHY PERSON...

Through a stroke of dumb luck, I take a seat across from him. The two of us separated by an Indian Guy that probably attending high school with me (us?). As I do my train thing (put my hair up in a ponytail while reading, sipping liquefied fruit and bopping my head rhythmically), I see out of the corner of my eye his head turn my way several times. Yet I don't turn and smile ::hits palm to forehead several times::

And as we approach our station, half the car gets up. And there I am standing awkwardly in the seat as TB stands in the aisle. I stare between TB and Indian Guy trying to seem as if I don't notice him. Which is stupid because we've exchanged conversation before (well, just once before).

Do I say hello? NO.

Do I offer a shy dimpled smile with my head lowered (my eyes coquettishly glancing above my dirty glasses)? NO.

Do I ask how the advertising business is going? NO.

Do I let my left hand (which is anchoring me to prevent me from embarrassing myself further and is precariously close to his hand that performs the same function as mine... his hand, btw, is hairy... so are his arms... I dig guys with hair... ) innocently brush (his hairy yet not gorilla-like) left hand? NO.

Do I quickly check out his ass? OF COURSE!

And that's it... the train empties onto the platform... he somewhat glances back at me (at least I think he did a few times) and I walk home to blog about the experience.

You must be asking... Um, what the hell is wrong with this girl? Why doesn't she just say hello? You've already spoken to him once. Make him your train (f) buddy! At the very least, smile at him!

My answer...

Fear of disappointment. I tend to go into situations (read "relationships") with expectations. My own expectations for myself are high (yet still realistic) and I have some degree of control over the outcome. Take, for example, work. I have the ultimate power over my job. I can leave if I don't like it, suffer or totally change career paths. My job is 100% my choice. I've finally learned that, in relationships, your own expectations mean nothing. Because the relationship, more than likely, will end either by your own hand, his hand, family, friends, work, religion, cultural differences, lack of (or too much) sexual libido, career decisions, etc.

I don't mean to generalize about women, but if they're anything like me, they meet a guy, hope he's the one and, invariably, he disappoints (either because he's just a disappointing person or the woman had too high expectations). And then the disappointed woman (read "I"), kicks herself for that one smile that escaped her lips and led her down the road of heartbreak yet again.

Fear paralyzes me. The smiling reflex (along with the lifting of the eyebrows which signifies interest) becomes a squinty smirk. The flirtatious tossing of hair over the shoulder becomes a jerky pulling of hair. The intended sexy licking of lips results in drool on my chin.

And, everytime the fear overtakes me, I feel a part of my heart ache with longing. The longing to trust whole-heartedly. The longing to know, despite my highest expectations, he'll invariably and consistently exceed my heart's most secret and unspeakable desires. The longing that he will do so, not because I voiced an angry ultimatum or a nagging reminder, but because he truly cares. The longing to find that one. The longing to crush fear and proceed with that "first love" kind of innocence. The longing for a true and pure love will ultimately break down my fear.

Until then, I'll continue to stare straight ahead... and wait for someone to turn my head for good.

Dear Readers,

Those who read my blog will get to know a side of me that isn't obvious when knowing me in person. Many entries are very intimate and not in just a sexual nature. To read my blog is to get a glimpse into my inner psyche and, truly, my soul.

"I am who you think I think you think I am."

I write because I fear old age and the memories that will no longer come to mind. I write because one day I hope to write a book and introspection can make for intesting writing. "Know thyself." I write of my experiences, thoughts and frustrations. To really know and understand me is to read my blog.

I entrust you with my blog URL. Feel free to leave comments... I especially enjoy funny and raunchy ones.

Ths is a 4th generation blog. It all started as a way to communicate my goings-on with my family and friends when I lived in Mexico. There were pics and generic stories. But it wasn't really me. I closed it and started again only to realize that anonymity and written word should be synonymous. So here we are...

Why am I telling you all this? Shouldn't most of this come as quite obvious? Probably. But I get surprised reactions after people have read it. Most comments are "I didn't know you were (fill in the blank)". I guess that's the thing about people... No matter how well we think we know people they are almost certain to surprise you at times. And people are never as simplistic as they may seem at first.

- Me

Subway Etiquette

I hardly ever sit down in the subway with today as a rare exception.
So, here's my dilemma -

When a woman is sitting and a man stands directly in front of her,
where is she supposed to look? There's no way I'm going to stare at a
random man's crotch! And looking down at the floor seems to be too
close to the crotch. Looking up would only result at the actual man
standing in front of you. And the option of closing your eyes may
sound like a viable option until I think that he may be doing
something in front of me like say "wacking off" - ugh, yuck.

So, what's a girl to do?!?!

Call Me Sweet Charity

Friday evening, JO and I went to see Christina Applegate in Sweet Charity which is currently still in previews. Opening night is May 5th. She was great and I loved the show. Christina in Sweet Charity almost didn't happen due to a broken foot while they were in rehearsals. But she persevered and I would highly suggest seeing it.

But, truthfully, the reason I loved it so much was because I was Charity in our high school production, a whole 8 years ago. It seems weird, but that experience has helped to shape me into who I am today. In some weird way she's my role model.

For 4 years I was always a chorus girl. Singing in the background... dancing in the background... but always with a beaming smile because I WAS ON STAGE. I loved the feeling of being on stage... the lights almost blinding... the smell of freshly painted scenery... the camaraderie which went along with being part of an exclusive group. For 4 years, I received a line or two but, I was always just a chorus girl.

Then senior year I auditioned for Sweet Charity. I sang my heart out. My voice so strong, I could be heard through the closed doors and down the hallway where everyone waited their turn anxiously. I put all my emotions into the reading part of the audition, almost to the point of bringing myself to tears.

In my heart, I hoped to get that part. I especially wanted to beat out my classmates who I (not so secretly) disliked. But, really, I just wanted to be Charity. Even back then, before I had my heart broken, I identified with Sweet Charity. But, a huge part of me knew that I couldn't get the role. I mean, I'm a chorus girl. Chorus girl" became my identity.

My parents wondered why I even bothered. I didn't even sing in church and I was always in the background behind all the action. And it hurt, to know that your own parents didn't even support your hobby. Yet I did it for 4 years.

Surprise, vindication and heart-stopping fear when I saw my name posted next to the lead role. And an all consuming feeling of inadequacy. Why did the director cast ME? Did he just feel bad for me? OMG, I'm going to make a fool of myself. I can't even dance! And I confronted my director, UPSET that I had gotten the role I had to deeply wished for. How could you do that? I can't dance! I can't sing! And, he assured me, that role was me and I COULD do it. But, did I want to and would I?

I did. And I worked my ass off. I learned the dances. I sang the songs. I practiced everywhere. And, on the fateful day, I became Charity... innocent yet jaded... sweet yet sexy... weak yet a fighter...

The lead character is named Charity Hope Valentine. A girl who won't let life bring her down. Someone who perseveres throughout life's inevitable downturns. A woman who desperately seeks a real lasting love. Despite life's adversities, Charity picks herself up, dusts herself off and keeps living with an everlasting hope that life will work out.

And that is me. More so today than ever. Unwilling to let life beat me. Still hoping I may walk around the corner and bump into the love of my life. All the while singing a song to lift my spirits.

God is Blogging

I've tried going without blogging. Even so far as deleting 2 blogs... but me blogging is inevitable. There's something cathartic about it. I can express myself in words in a way that my vocal chords won't allow... without shame or guilt... until I push the publish button. But even that doesn't stop me. It's true, there are some topics that I wish I could write about but the courage is not there.

Blogging has made me a little more courageous and more self-aware. First I started documenting all the fun stuff that I've been doing... then I turned more inward and exploring my thoughts and experiences more holistically. I've been trying to live my life differently everyday. And, I hesitate to say this, I'm trying to find God. I know He's there... but I've yet to open my heart and soul to Him fully.

I know many doubt His existence. But, to be totally blunt, if He doesn't exist then I don't want to live. What's the point of life if He doesn't exist? To me, God is Love. And I want that. I want to experience it. I want a pure Love.

Religion? I guess I'm Catholic. For a long time I was "Catholic" kneeling and sitting when told, saying the repetitive words of prayers, but really disagreeing with many of the dictates of the Catholic Church.

What am I now? I am a Spiritual Catholic. Catholic by tradition but not like an American Catholic. I want to understand what His Will for me is. If it is living everyday alone with His Love then I accept and welcome Him. If it is to eventually find Him (Love) in another, then so be it. I guess the whole point is, I've stopped questioning Him. It is His Will and not mine. I've stopped fighting.

I believe in free will and "fate". God gave us free will yet he has also determined a purpose for us. Everyday our free will allows us to choose His Way or another. It is our choice to follow Him or our own selfish, earthly desires.

So, why do I say God is Blogging? It is for me. I know everything I write, He has already seen in my heart and soul. Wasn't the Bible written by prophets? I'm in no way trying to say I'm a prophet. Not at all. I am just a simple human on this earth trying to find her way home, to Love. And I intend to write without the censorship of shame holding me back.

Moving Sucks

I hate moving... it's the worst thing in the world. I had to get rid of my old blog because a coworker found it (despite my request that he not read it). He probably read most of it but, regardless, I thought it prudent to start a new one.

Once I've finished unpacking, hopefully I'll have some interesting stories for y'all!

test

Pre or Post Crack?

I was singing along with my ipod to an old Whitney Houston song...

Cubemate: Is that Saving All My Love for you? I used to love that song.

Me: Yeah, I love all the pre-crack Whitney songs... (while
frantically tapping away on the keyboard)

Cubemate: Wait? What? Pre-Crack! (starts laughing hysterically,
almost to the point of rolling on the floor)

Me: What's so funny? Whitney was great pre-crack... but post-crack?
I don't think I even know any of her songs post-crack.

Cubemate: (now rolling on the floor laughing, discarded staples and
paperclips in her hair)

Me: No really, what's so funny?

A whole conversation between myself, cubemate and a director followed.
We googled Whitney's discography to determine the "crack-line" (ie,
Bobby Brown) and the viability of her music pre- and post-crack.

But, I still haven't figured out what was so funny. Oh well...

My Confession

• I hate meat markets. In fact, I detest them. I go out to hang out with friends... not to pick up people. Like everyone else, I appreciate eye candy, but can't stand "the scene". Stick me in a park reading a book by myself and I'm happy as pie.
• I love high heels and can go 7 days a week (including 5 commuting hell days) wearing them. But they do hurt. And I'm getting tired. I think I'm the only one who looks at them and am on the verge of switching to flats.
• While we're on the subject of clothes, I'm happiest in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt while bumming around town. When I'm out, nothing makes me feel more confident than a nice dress (and high heels natch).
• I've promised to save myself for marriage. Technically, it's too late. But I think the thought counts more than the mechanics of the whole thing.
• I think Pope John Paul II was cute, and much cuter than the new pope. He had a kind and peaceful face.
• My life, for the most part, revolves around 4 shows - 24 (Jack Bauer is the man), Alias (Vaughn is hot), Desperate Housewives (Mike is hot) and Grey's Anatomy (great writing, great stories, great characters). I think I need to Tivo.
• I love smoking... even when it makes my eyes tear. And I also hate it.
• Almost every evening it's pain and tears... for 20 minutes... Windsor Pilates DVD is kicking my ass.
• I don't believe in birth control (anymore). Don't hate me when I say this... but I think I'm becoming a conservative.
• Peace and solace in tough times come easiest to me in one place... and it's not my blog... a little chapel in St. Patrick's cathedral.

The Flash Strikes Again

Per my previous blog... I volunteered on Saturday from 9am to 3pm. I
thought it was going to be some planting, weeding, etc. I did not
expect hard, manual labor but my callouses and bruised hand can attest
to the difficult day we endured.

About 30 coworkers/friends of coworkers gathered... wiping the sleep
(and/or hangover) from their eyes at 9am on the Lower East Side. It
was a beautiful sunny day but slightly chilly. We were branded with
company tshirts and hats then put to work.

I was (unlucky) enough to be on a raking team. I'm sure you're
thinking, raking? that's soooooo easy. Um, no. Try raking two
entire fields and you'll know what I mean. PG was sent off to
assemble cultivators. CV and I scraped the right side of a field
slowly making our way back and catching all the leaves left behind by
the others. PK raked and also managed to know the names of all the
coworkers on the field (especially the males ones! Thanks PK!!). By
11am we were wondering what time it was. We did another time check
after what felt like an hour, it was only 11:25. After 2 hours we
were in dire need of a bathroom break which also turned itself into a
nice ecology lesson on estuaries, river pollution, etc. by one of the
teachers on hand.

And finally lunch.... Working for a large international bank ($$$$$)
I expected a nice hot catered lunch. We cheered when the SUV pulled
in with lunch... then frowned when I saw it was only Subway sandwiches
and chips. Damn large international bank! After downing my meager
lunch, I sunned myself on a large concrete rock-thingy with whale fins
and guiltily smoked, taking care to dispose of the remaining cigarette
butt in my jean pocket.

After another hour of raking we were reading to move onto planting -
YAY! We got the background history of this funny looking shovel (I'll
call it a rabbit shovel for the purposes of this blog). To use the
rabbit shovel, you stick it in the ground and jump on it with both
feet, it should sink all the way into the ground then you loosen the
soil and pull it out. It was fun! We planted an endless pallet of
plants... posed for a few group photos and were finally on our way to
the much anticipated after party.

Afterparty 1 was... at a bar... somewhere... I know I had 2 glasses
of wine, got my butt kicked in pool TWICE (got hustled) and flashed my
coworkers. Oh, and HY finally woke up and joined us.

And then we went to another afterparty... Oh wait, you want me to back up?

Ok, so I flashed some coworkers... I was at least wearing a bra. I
was in this tiny little bathroom and just took off my shirt to change
into tank top. I was contemplating taking off my bra right when the
door opened... to the entire bar. Well, at least I didn't take off my
bra!

The second after party had free beer. So I helped myself to 2.
(Current drink count on almost empty stomach: 4) Ate a free hot dog,
got a free DVD (anyone want a baseball bloopers DVD?) and enjoyed the
sunshine.

Then we were off to Loreley, a beer garden. It was cold. I was
drunk. I was ready to consume another pint of beer, when I realized
that it was only 8pm and I was really drunk... so I drank half and
gave the other half to tall Irish dude. Drunk with me were: PK, this
girl Patty, Howard (not the duck), TC (some cute dude my friends met
at another NY cares gathering), BH (tall Irish dude), AH (wheelbarrel boy), MH (chinese guy) and HY (who left us another
unfinished pint).

At some point in the night, I bummed a cigarette from AH. And he kept
on providing them to me. Yay! Turns out, he's not from NY, and
that's why he seemed pretty nice. Interesting fact about AH, he
originally came to NY because he was with a hiphop group... turns out
he can sing, really well!

And then I went home... drunk and alone. lol.

Fastforward to Monday... I walk into my boss' office. She's on the
phone and points down to the ipod shuffle hanging around my neck.
Turns out, I just walked around with my blouse wide open, bra hanging
out.

Drinks drunk: 4.5
Known flash occurrences: 2
Times I got my ass beat in pool: 2
Callouses: 1
Blisters: 3 (2 from shitty flip flops on Sunday)
Not puking in front of coworkers: Priceless

I hope that's the end of my flashing... but it's not the first and
highly unlikely to be the last... the adventure continues...

Nothing Happened...

I know it's been a while... but I don't have much to update you on. The Pope's death and Britney Spears' pregnancy have all been covered in the blogosphere... except I think the end is near.... look at the facts, a great spiritual leader imho has passed and Britney is having the anti-christ...

As far as me... I've been working more and hanging out less. Received a few calls on jobs none of which I was interested in.

I'm volunteering on Saturday with NY Cares and my company... not especially excited about it but it's the only thing I have planned for this weekend... I am happy because 3 friends will be joining me at 9am... Bewildered because they'll be joining me at 9am... I guess they're hopeful that they'll be some nice, single guys there. I don't have the heart to tell the girls that the only attendees with a penis are probably gay.

I've been trying to lay low as of late. I haven't had the joie d'vie (is that how you spell it?) that is usually part of my bubbly personality. In fact, the bubbliness is reserved to cheer up other people around me.

Morale is horrible at work... and getting worse by the minute. I ask my manager everyday if today is the day to clean off my desk. And, in some ways, I would be a little relieved if/when she tells me today is the day to get the hell out. Right now I feel as if I'm in limbo... and just keep working because it keeps me preoccupied.

And the worst part was being reminded that tomorrow is the last day to file taxes. Not because I have to file taxes but because over 1/4 of a year has passed... and nothing...

Nothing has happened... Everyday I wake up hoping something will be different... and every evening I realize the day flew by and nothing happened... I keep expecting my life to change somehow and it hasn't... Not that I haven't made attempts, I have... but I'm the same as yesterday, as last month, as the beginning of the year...

I feel like I'm on the verge of something big... yet nothing materializes... like waiting in the ocean to bodysurf... and that big wave you expect to carry you back to show never appears... everyday for the last month... and nothing... I'm waiting... waiting to be fired... waiting to be hired... waiting for someone... only I realize the sad truth... that maybe no one is waiting for me...

I guess I'm just babbling right now... maybe that's why I haven't updated in so long... I just wish something would happen... I've about lost patience. Correction... I have lost patience.

Please don't leave me comments telling me to keep my chin up... because, right now, I want to wallow in my self-pity... it's depressing... and humbling...

How about you keep me in my current mood and tell me about one of your most humbling experiences?

A Place In The Sune

Like a long lonely stream
I keep runnin' towards a dream
Movin' on, movin' on....

'Cause there's a place in the sun
Where there's hope for everyone
Where my poor restless heart's gonna run
There's a place in the sun
And before my life is done
Got to find me a place in the sun

~ Stevie Wonder

After a few cloudy days, my sun has finally returned. And I'm feeling better than ever. I've officially fallen in love.

I need to thank HC and BC for "babying" me this weekend. BC is HC's beautiful (almost) 2 year old daughter. Did I mention she's beautiful AND smart? I feel bad for any little boy toddler's out there right now... because in a few years BC is going to be breaking hearts.

What is it about seeing a little baby that cheers me up? The innocence? The cute babbling? Her copper bouncing curls? The wide-eyed look when you manage to capture their interest?

Or their smile when they recognize you? A smile that makes you so happy to be a part of their life. A smile that warms your heart. A smile that can almost bring a grown adult to tears.

Because she doesn't care what you're wearing. Or if you have makeup on. She doesn't care if your old sneakers have seen better days. And she certainly couldn't give a damn if you washed your hair that morning.

It's enough that you're there. It's enough that you're you.

And... I've fallen in love... with that... Nothing makes me happier than watching a toddler run around and cause a ruckus. She brightened my almost ruined weekend. And, for that, I thank you. Although you may have learned a thing or two from me (ie, surf porn... oops, I meant NickJr.com), I have learned so much more by just watching you.

And... I talked to "Train Boy". I jumped on the LIRR after nearing killing myself by running in 3.5" stilettos and tripping on my too long pants. And there he was looking right at me. And I was scowling because I almost took a tumble down the hard concrete metal-tipped steps. Turns out the company he works for has the same "first" name as mine, except missing an "E". It was a quick exchange... but at least I finally acknowledged him. Too bad my hair was a mess.

And... I have a date on Friday. I'm back on the horse.... maybe I'll like this horse enough to take him for a nice leisurely ride... or a quick romp in he park.... bwahahhaha...

Just kidding... or am I?

World Meet Me

I feel pretty,

Oh, so pretty,

I feel pretty and witty and bright!

And I pity

Any girl who isn't me tonight

Okay, so last Thursday's events had me down for the last few days. And I started to question all my friends, "Be honest... and don't say no because you're my friend... am i fat? am i ugly?". Of course they said no. I started to think a conspiracy theory was in effect because they all added, "you carry yourself well". Note, these friends don't know each other. Paranoia set in. "Does that mean I carry my excess weight well?", I began to ask myself (and them). I still don't understand exactly what they meant... but it's something about how I present myself... not just being well-dressed (which admittedly, especially on weekends, I am not) but about being self-confident. Which I usually am. I try to have a chipper disposition whenever possible... and I usually do feel good. Until Thursday, of course.

I couldn't bear to go to work on Friday so I called out. The fear of crying at work was a realistic one. Slept until 3pm and met AS for lunch - Italian salad, eggplant roll and a cannoli. My first meal since Thursday's Papaya Dog. I guess there's no chance of me becoming anorexic again. lol.

Saturday I found myself at a bridal shower. Nothing worse than being single AND unattached at a bridal shower. I had to leave. The "smug-marrieds" were too much to deal with. Not that they were smug and/or all married... I just couldn't handle it in my state of mind. (BTW, I got "smug-marrieds" from Bridget Jones' Diary... reminder to self, stop reading BS romance novels... not good... not good at all)

That evening I found myself at the house of another "Smug-Married" couple, HC/PC. Let's call them "Couple C" or CC for short. H is my girlfriend who I've known since high school. She's Filipina, skinny as hell and a smart cookie. H also reads this blog. (*Kisses*). And P is a strapping Irish lad with a heart of gold and, supposedly, a big unit (get this, his nickname is "Horse"... hmm, wonder why...). I get to CC's house and H is not home. But P is home with a friend of his, S. I say hello, greet CC's beautiful daughter and we go inside to await H's return.

Party Shuffle

I-Tunes has a feature called party shuffle which shows the next (pick a number) of songs to play randomly from your playlist.

• Something (Musiq Soulchild): Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way she woos me. I don't wanna leave her now. You know I believe and how. Something in the smile she knows that I don't need no other lover. Something in her style that shows me. I don't wann leave her now. You knnow I believe and how. This remake reminds me of the first 3 months of a passionate relationship. When he's just totally wooed by you and he gives you the look "I can't believe how lucky I am". It's about the honeymoon stage. Or it could also be about a long-term love... that's likely the real point of the song. Reminds me of my first love. How he always believed in me and used to be amazed by me.
• If I Ain't Got You (Alicia Keys): Some people live for the fortune. Some people live for the fame. Some people live for the powers. Some people live just to play the game. Some people think that the physical things define what's within... When I listen to this song, my heartaches. I think about the my path and my priorities. I'm so afraid of being further rejected that I delude myself into thinking that my career is where I should devote myself. In the end, a successful career won't mean a thing, if I ain't got you with me baby.
• Still (Brian McKnight): Funny when you stop and think. Times goes faster than you blink. Nothing's ever like it was. Girl, we've got a special thing. And all the happiness it brings is more than enough. I know it's hard to believe you're still the biggest part of me. All I'm living for. I still think about you. I still dream about you. I still want you and need you by my side. I'm still mad about you. All I ever wanted was you. Still the one. This song reminds me of my first year without Jason. Correction, the first 2 years without him. He occupied my every thought. And although I slept next to another I still dreamed of him. I still worried about him. And then one day I stopped. Until I heard this song again. Now I hear it and wonder how he is. And hope the damage isn't irreversible. I hope he gets a chance to love again. The innocent love that is not jaded and cynical.
• Slow Motion (Juvenile & Soulja Slim): Sex. Obviously this song is all about sex. Straight up fucking. God, I miss sex. Oh well. The beat brings to mind woman on top just swiveling her hips. Sighs.
• Ordinary People (John Legend): A great song about love and its trials. Ordinary people in love past the infatuation stage trying to negotiate their whims to save their love. I love the piano background. So simple and powerful addition to the lyrics.
• One More Chance (Notorious BIG): One of my favorite songs... mid-90's cruising around with Jason. Enjoying the sunroof, sunshine and laughing as he tried to rap along. Nowadays I can't help but sing along. Ever heard me attempt to rap? It's more pathetic than it sounds. LOL.
• My Immortal (Evanescence): The first time I heard this song was driving to work. I listened to the lyrics and something in my heart ached. I thought about my father. I've always been a daddy's girl. And... I thought about his eventual passing. And I cried... as I was driving. Not silent tears but large, bawling, almost uncontrollable tears. I'm no longer the infant he could cradle in just one arm. I'm a woman who's been hurt by her parents and have hurt them back. And I promised myself I would try my best to repair the damage to our relationship. And I sit here now, wondering if I've made any impact in the last year and a half since I made that promise. And I hope I have. Because I don't know if I could live with myself knowing that I had ruined our relationship beyond repair. And I'm almost sure I have... Because I see the way my mom and dad now anxiously await any attention I give them. No more fighting... just joking. And I wish they were home. I'm hungry. And crying as I listen to this song.
• Heaven (DJ Sammy & Yanou): I love this song especially the slower version. Makes me want to bop my head and drive really, really fast. And weave through traffic. I've been trying to learn to play the slower version on the piano... it's one of my favorites. :-)
• Near You Always (Jewel): Please don't say I love you. Those words touch me too deeply and they make my core tremble. Don't think you realize the effect you have over me. And please don't look at me like that. It just makes me want to make you near me always. This song reminds me of Daniel. Had he ever said that he loved me I could have never left Texas. Thank God that wasn't the case.
• Rich Girl (Gwen Stefani & Eve): I want to win the lotto. Not for all the money but for all the opportunities. I would be able to stop working for a while and do good with that money. Volunteer... maybe in South America or the Philippines. Pay off the mortgage of... everyone I know. Wish me luck, the Powerball is at $75 Million. I have 4 tickets and lots of dreams.

The Bitter Taste of Rejection

Growing up, I used to be uncomfortable with my looks and especially my weight. I've never been the typical skinny asian. I've always had curves - an ass, hips, boobs (just a B cup) before J.Lo made curves fashionable. The peak of insecurity hit in high school and I started starving myself. I became the thinnest I had ever been (a size 4) and everyone loved it. I was always getting compliments. I know started noticing guys looking at me in a way they never had. But I couldn't even sit and eat half a slice of pizza without getting nauseous and feeling the urge to throwup. I wasn't into purging (can barely stand puking as it is) but my stomach had shrunk so much that I could barely intake any food. My daily intake was probably less than 600 calories and it was mostly just fruit juice because their ominous white labels made it easier to count calories.

And then I met someone who loved me for me. There are sayings that love can make you a better person. Well, let me tell you, love also makes you fat. I ballooned. Graduated high school as a size 6. Freshman 15? Try freshman 30. End of freshman year I was a size 8. It gets scarier. At my largest (end of college) I was a size 12. Although I was in love, my insecurity returned and my self-esteem was down to an all-time low. But he was a good man and stayed with me even though I never wanted to sleep with him. I always feared he would be disgusted at the sight of me naked.

Working almost 20 hours a day in Texas shed tons of pounds. Surprisingly the loneliness helped me lose weight and not gain more. I drank about a gallon of coffee a day and I barely ate. At the end of three months in Texas, I was down to a size 6. I looked and felt great except I was always exhausted. And those months away from him brought something else... a craving for human contact.... which was the beginning of the end of the relationship with my then boyfriend of over 6 years.

Forward to today... I'm actually okay with my weight. I'm a size 8 and could certainly lose 20 pounds but I'm fine. I eat what I want without guilt. And I'm okay with my looks. I've never deluded myself thinking I'm beautiful. I'm ok. And I never thought I was extremely ugly... except when I was out drinking the night before and my makeup is everywhere and my hair is all over the place and I have morning breath that could kill a camel.

But yesterday, I've never felt so awful about my looks ever. I won't get into details but I think I lost every ounce of self-esteem that I have worked so hard the last 4 years to build back up. It's been 20 hours since I last ate. And I can honestly tell you my appetite is non-existent. How could one brief moment, being spurned by an asshole, degrade everything I have worked so hard on for the last 4 years?

It took me 26 trying and painful years to be able to say that I'm a good person who's not ugly or overly obese. People are always telling me how I'm "vivacious" and have a wonderful personality... are they secretly telling me I need to lose weight? What will it take for someone to finally see that there's more to me than what's on the outside? I'm not a vapid but beautiful moron. I have substance, intellectual and bodily. But that doesn't make me less of a person that isn't deserving of an ounce of respect.

I hope yesterday's events don't trigger me into another unhealthy downward spiral. Because when others say that I've never been prettier/skinnier, that is when I am unhappiest.

Sin City

the shortest movie ever...

A friend invited me for a free preview of Sin City Wed evening. Who am I to resist a free movie?? I left work "early" and we stood in line (or is it on line?) at the Chelsea Clearview on W. 23rd for 1.5 hours only to be turned away.

An elderly gentleman and his lady friend were behind us the entire time... and were very annoying. Is there something that attracts annoying people to me? First they spoke to each other about the open bar after the movie. Um, sorry, I'm not really here for the open bar. Besides, how great could it be? There's a few hundred people vying for the attention of max 2 bartenders who are likely irritated because no one's tipping. No thanks. ::waves $:: ooh, can i have a watered down drink here please?

And then they wouldn't stop bitching about the length of the line. It's FREE! If you don't get in, big deal. Not the end of the world. It was definitely a pain in the ass to stand there for almost 2 hours in 4 inch heels... but the weather was nice... got to catch up with my friend... and smoke. Doesn't get much better than that for me. The elderly couple took turns pacing up and down the length of the line estimating the number of people ahead of us. Sad... so sad...

We took it all in stride, figuring we just weren't meant to see Bruce Willis that evening at ended up having dinner at 1849. Cute place with veeeerrrry comfy red cushy chairs.

Anyway... I hope the movie sucked. Because then I wouldn't feel so bad about not getting into the preview.

:-)

Solicitation

Work is unbelievably slow.... so slow that it has become painful. Add
to that the fact that my personal email doesn't get any emails besides
offers for viagra, peni$ enlargement, and free p0rn.

So... how are you? Have any funny stories? How about telling me a story?

Yes, I am reduced to solicitation. I never thought this would happen
to me. I thought the endless forwards with funny pictures would never
end. But, alas, nothing today.

So... Please reply with anything at all... doesn't even need to be
funny. My mailbox is lonely. Do me this favor and I promise to
reciprocate when you are in need.

PS - Please don't forward offers for viagra, peni$ enlargement or free
p0rn. However, if you would like me to forward some of my offers let
me know and I will oblige.

Cold, Clammy and Catatonic in NY,
Regina

this beat is automatic, supersonic hypnotic funky fresh.

he said: i walk a lonely road the only one that i have known. hanging round downtown by myself and i had so much time to sit and think about myself and there she was. on that sunny day, didn't know i'd meet such a beautiful girl walking down the street. breaking my back just to know your name. i believe in miracles, where you from you sexy thing. met a girl thought she was grand, fell in love, found out firsthand. i know a girl she puts the color inside of my world.

she said: my cheri amor lovely as a summer day. at last, my love has come along. i won't talk, i won't breathe, i won't move till you finally see that you belong with me. the closer i get to you the more you make me feel. wise men say, only fools rush in but i can't help falling in love with you.

he said: my love, my darling, i've hungered for your touch. now i'm gonna do this thing like it's ain't been done before. slow motion for me, slow motion for me, moving slow motion for me. i've been really trying baby, trying to hold back this feeling for so long. l is for the way you look at me. you think i'd leave your side baby, you know me better than that.

she said: i've been a bad bad girl, i've been careless with a delicate man. it was hard to find a brother that was down for me. i'm in love with a man nearly twice my age.

he said: i came to have a party open up the barcardi, feeling so hot tamale. i'm the kind of brother who's been doing it my way. snoooooooo-ooopp, when the pimps in the crib ma drop it like it's hot, drop it like its hot. she caught me red handed creeping with the girl next door. dont wanna be an american idiot. how the hell did we wind up like this? time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend. baby, everything is all right, uptight, outta sight. lift up your head, wash off your mascara.

she said: all i hear is raindrops falling on the rooftop.

he said: i didn't hear you leave, i wonder how am i still here.

she said: please don't say i love you. i don't understand you look just like the man in the picture by our bed. my shattered dreams and broken heart are mending on the shelf. imagine there's no heaven, it's easy if you try. kiss today goodbye. time on my hand since you've been away boy, i ain't got no plans no no no no. i took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind. like a long lonely stream i keep running towards a dream.

he said: the radio plays our favorite song. take my photo off the wall if it just just won't sing for you. hope dangles on a string like slow spinning redemption, winding in winding out. i got your letter from the postman just the other day so i decided to write you this song.

it was all a dream, i used to read word up magazine.

On the Second Day of Spring...

I decided to wear a skirt and a beautiful new pair of heels. So of
course this morning, I dusted off my razor which hasn't seen the light
of day since October and proceeded to shave. In my haste to make the
834am train, I skinned a 1 inch slice of skin off. Gross. I just
noticed it now sitting at my desk after walking around all morning.
Fortunately, NY weather is shitty and I won't have to worry about
shaving until after my boo-boo has healed.

Now, who's gonna want a klutz who's got a big scar right above her left ankle?

Hello, My Friend

I've had a crush on him for the last year... and I have no idea what his name is. I've been running into him since I started working in the city. And I've never even said hello. I assume he notices me because I've caught him glancing at me a few times. And I've never even said hello.

When I see him, I turn into another person. I become shy. Can't make eye contact. Start fidgeting. I turn into me. I'm not the obscenely peppy, outgoing, bubbly freak that I usually appear to be. I'm shy and I'm an introvert. And, in the company of my crush, I turn into me again.

Concentrating on riding the bumps and sways, I notice his reflection. Slightly turning my head, I catch a glimpse of his sexy 5 o'clock shadow and I quickly turn away. I stare at my magazine wondering if he'll finally initiate a conversation. But, alas, he is too far away.

And I never even said hello.

Learning to Play with a Stick

For many years it was an intimidating activity that I could never bring myself to try. Too shy to learn in front of others I would politely decline and say "No thanks, I'll just watch". But time and time again, I would find myself in that venue always sitting on the sidelines. Many friends would attempt to teach me, I would try to hold it in my hand the way they instructed me, but would give up.

It was too confusing, everyone had a different way of holding that long, firm stick in their hands. Until that fateful day... my first teacher told me to disregard the "looping your finger around" method. "It's for amateurs", he said, intimating that I should look like a pro when I do it.

That was two years ago. For the past 2 years I have tried to master my way with that stick and those confounding balls. For months all I wanted to do was practice. Sometimes I'd even do it 3 or 4 times a week. I became predictable. "So watcha wanna do?", friends would ask already knowing my answer. "Let's play pool" I would respond without missing a beat.

I regard good friend, JH, as my true teacher. There have been others in the past, but he's my "pool mentor". Always patient and would play pool with me for hours on end. He taught me how to control the pool stick with my right hand using my left as a firm, steady base for the stick to slide on.

And now it's safe to say that under the right conditions, I can kick ass in pool. The conditions being, the stick has to be straight (I prefer the heavier longer ones), a big pool table (not those small bar tables) and wearing contact lenses. Most importantly, I need good music. I find that when I'm concentrating on the music and not the balls I shoot better. Funny enough, I also work/study better when concentrating on music rather than the actual task at hand.

So, finally... after many beers, many painful lessons, I can play pool. My next goal, learn to play tennis.

(Note, I hope you didn't think I was talking about my prowess with men's genitalia. I'm filipino... it's all natural skill.)

SMB

My mom holding her "grand-daughter"... Not mine nor my brother's... our cousin's... This family is obsessed with babies.

In this family, babies are communal property. Birthday Boy RJ (now 15) and Birthday Girl Theresa (now 11) as infants, toddlers, young children used to be under my care. I was the appointed children caretaker in my home, only 7 years older than the eldest "baby" Louie (now age 19) and 1 year older than my "little" brother (who is now 6'2"). Many days it was just the 4 (then 5 with the addition of Thersa) of us... eating cereal... walking to the park... playing on the swings... I wiped their drool, dried their tears, made them laugh, taught them, changed their stinky diapers, cleaned their vomit, and scratched their back to put them sleep.

At our latest family event that I attended, birthday bonanza for RJ & Theresa (both born a few days apart in March), my mother told the Aunts about "SMB" - Scratch My Back. Both my brother and I could never go to sleep while growing up without Mom scratching our back. We would keep her up until we feel asleep... she would read, sing and, of course, scratch our back.

It's funny because that has still worked for me until recently... an ex-boyfriend would scratch my back when I had insomnia. And it put me right to sleep. A few times in my "adulthood", I have fallen asleep on my parent's sofa to awake with a happy, sleepy smile on my face... because I awoke to my mom scratching my back as I slept. No, I'm not a big baby... but I guess some long-learned comforts and displays of affection are hard to part with. Even at 15, cousin RJ always requests that I scratch his back...remember, he grew up with me scratching his back as a baby to put him to sleep... I think SMB is a display of affection used by Filipino parents who typically have difficulty expressing their love for their children. As I got older, my parents stopped hugging and kissing me. But they always scratched my back upon request.

Approximately every 4 years, we have a new baby in the family. The pressure is on. My parents are anxiously awaiting ME (the oldest by 23 months) to produce a next of kin for them to dote on, spoil extensively and babysit. They manage not to mention their disappointment that their only daughter seems to have issues with settling down with decent men (ie, marriage). So, instead, dear old Dad likes to mention how much he would like to care for his grandchildren before they get too old to enjoy them.

Dad, getting knocked up is easier said than done. So... go ask Little Brother... He's got a better chance than me. He's got a better paying job, his own place (ok, so it doesn't have any furniture), a car and doesn't have to launch a butterball turkey out of any of his orifices.

Yes, I love children. I love their smiles, the smell of their drool and talcum powder. The sound of diapers swooshing makes me giggle. Their hesitant steps, indecipherable first words, and head resting on my chest sound asleep are all things I long for... And can even see myself having them sometime... a future that is far, far away. At least not in the next 2-3 years. But in 5-10 years, I hope I will have a little one to share hug, kiss and share the power of "SMB" with...

Crater Face

I have been breaking out like crazy so I splurged and got a facial. And I cried during the extraction process. Extractions are a fancy way of saying they squeeze your pores until all the crap comes out.

Never had a facial? Here's what to expect.

First they bring you into a low-light candle-lit room with soothing music and instruct you to take off your shirt and lay on a table underneath a towel. Then they clean your face with various cleaners. Their fingers brushing over your face is relaxing and almost lulls you to sleep. Then they stick a steamer over your face and leave you for a few minutes. The music, the hot wet air and dark room often put me to sleep.

Then she sneaks back in, puts a bright light over your face and squeezes your skin until you cry. There's some other stuff afterwards likes masks that peel off your face like a dirty gray layer of skin. Then you get up and your face is glowing and it was worth all the tears and wincing.

I vow to never cry at another facial again. Of course, it will take me months to be able to afford another one.... No longer will I sleep with my makeup on, and I will wash my face with $30 facial cleanser that they conned me into buying and I promise never ever ever to pop my zits again.

Finally...

I don't know what happened but I haven't been updating... I'm sure
y'all are dying to know what I've been up to, so here it is in no
particular order.

• Vacation... rather my manager is on vacation so I'm crazy busy
  at work. But I'm always insanely busy so things haven't really
  changed.
• Weather.... the weather is crappy. Wait, let me say
  it again... The weather is crappy.
• Drinking, Dancing and
  Drama-less: Last Saturday was Cathy's birthday. A group of us met up
  at Putanesca on 56th and 9th for dinner. The food was fabulous, the
  wine was wonderful and the desserts were delectable. Met Cathy's
  boyfriend for the first time ever. He seemed real nice but definitely
  overwhelmed by the amount of estrogen surrounding him. Then we managed
  to pass by Passerby. The place was tiny
  but the floors were cool, all lit
  up like the John Travolta dance floor in Saturday Night Fever. The
  music was decent then turned blah. And then the straight to gay ratio
  did a radical dip so we were off to find greener (and less gay)
  pastures. Cathy's boyfriend is not exactly fond of the "alternative
  lifestyle" lol. A freezing walk around the meatpacking district, and
  new shoes yet to be broken in, lost us Cathy, her boyfriend, and her
  Tito Boy and eventually the remaining pack of girls found ourselves
  (unbelievably) in a Goth bar. Of course we ended up just using the
  restroom and funny but I ended up using the men's room... on
  purpose.... and saw my first urinal ever. We laughed at the funny way
  they danced then crossed the street to Lotus and had a great f'n time.
  I danced... and danced... and danced... AND I was SOBER. And I
  danced... All danced out I finally got into bed a little after 6am.
  The crowd at Lotus was cool and fun. But I couldn't help but laugh at
  the short Hispanic guy who kept on trying to dance with every single
  girl in the place. Some self-respect, please! $20 cover always sucks
  but we didn't have to wait on line in the cold.
• The Other Woman: I've become the other woman.
  Well, not really. I've been hanging/flirting with this guy (who really
  resembles a celebrity) and, of course, he has a girlfriend. Wait, let
  me clarify that... A Live-In Girlfriend. Let's call him... Norton.
  Norton and I have had lunch a couple of times, hung out last night,
  always have great conversation and flirt incessently. I love to flirt
  especially when I'm in the mood... but my guilt caught up to me today.
  And I told him I think enough is enough. He's cute but he's taken. But
  I still hope I didn't hurt his feelings... he is fun to just hang with
  even if it's solely platonic. Plus, he has this great Southern
  accent...

I think
there's more... but it's late. I hope that holds you guys for now...
promise to have more frequent updates. Any ideas on what to write
about? Writer's block was another frequent visitor this week. Come on,
who wants to read about cleaning my bathroom???

So,
please... leave comments with questions or topics you'd like to hear
my onerous opinion on.

Sunday Serenity

I love Sundays. No reason to wake up early, I'm able to lounge in bed reading, until mid-afternoon hunger pains summon me. I spend most Sunday afternoons enjoying a late lunch accompanied only by my own thoughts and/or a good book. Followed by a long drive with coffee, cigarettes and great music on the radio, I'm almost guaranteed to be in an even bubblier mood. Occasionally I even go to church. I usually get home somewhere around 7 or 8pm and goof around on the internet until the 9th hour strikes.

Then my real Sunday fun begins... I turn on the tv, the hair goes up in a messy ponytail and I begin cleaning the bathroom as ABC's Desperate Housewives blares in the background. More than the recommended 1/4 cup of Mr. Clean is dumped into the toilet to sit and do his work while I reorganize my toiletries and scrub the counter and basin. Then the toilet is scrubbed mercilously and everything is wiped down with anti-bacterial spray. Dependable Comet comes out and I scrub the shower floor and walls. When the bathroom candle is lit, I know the end has arrived. I slather on lotion to soothe the rawness caused by chemical cleansers and wait for next Sunday to repeat the fun all over again.

Sunday is clean the bathroom day for me. I am certainly not a neat freak. My unmade bed can attest to that. But there's something soothing about my Sunday ritual. Growing up I would also clean the bathroom on Sundays. Mind you, my room was always a mess. Even in college, as soon as my nasty suitemates would vacate the campus on Fridays (as is a Stony Brook tradition), I would be in the bathroom scrubbing and lysoling.

I'm happy when I clean the bathroom. Wait. It's not that cleaning the bathroom makes me especially happy. It's more that when I'm happy I clean the bathroom religiously every Sunday. Sometimes I get into these moods. When I'm in that state, I find it hard to do anything. Hard to sleep, hard to wake up in the morning, hard to socialize. At these times, my Sunday bathroom cleaning ritual fades away into an as needed chore. But, when my outlook turns cheery again, there I am... scrubbing my shower fearlessly without gloves. Now, if I could only find a man who enjoys doing laundry as much as I like cleaning the bathroom.

Charity Kisses

Frantically making my way through Penn this morning to catch the red line I heard someone calling "Reggie". The name registered but hardly anyone calls me that so I kept walking. Turns out it was Oscar a classmate from HS.

"Oscar" and I were in quite a few classes together in high school and even starred opposite each other in our senior year musical, "Sweet Charity". He played Oscar and I played Charity.

After intermission, clad in a tight short black dress and high heels, I climb up a precarious lift 12 feet above the stage as Oscar steadies it. He clambers up the lift and settles next to me. We're in a "ferris wheel" and he romances me by singing about how wonderful and sweet I am. We end the song with a kiss.

The kissing scene caused me a great deal of anxiety. My worst fear is he would ham it up and start making out with me on stage. Or, even worse, Oscar would follow through with his threat and eat a stinky onion right before the scene. But Oscar was a perfect gentleman which was a good because my then-boyfriend was watching protectively in the audience.

We still live in the same neighborhood and it's a wonder I haven't run into him earlier. Funny enough, I'm so bad at paying attention that I probably wouldn't even have recognized my second kiss.

A Cold that Broke My Heart

Moxie caught a cold from her boyfriend and he stuck around to take care of her, even running to the store for supplies. That got me to thinking about this guy I was hung up over for a while, "Von".

Von and I met my first day at work in Texas. I looked at him, heard his voice and was instantly attracted. There was so much sexual attraction between us... it was hard to remember I was engaged. Well, you know the story... I ended breaking it off with NY fiance and moved to Texas.

So, of course, Von was the first person I ended up dating. He eventually fell in love with me. I took care of him. I cared about his well-being. I knew no other way to be. It's how I was with Jason.

Then I got sick with the flu. I called Von for some sympathy. When I asked him to pick me up some tylenol cold he refused stating he was home and didn't feel like heading all the way over to my place. Note, I lived all of 2 minutes from his apartment. So I drove, hot with fever, almost to the point of delirium, to get my own supplies. My first taste of freedom. My first taste of heartache.

He loved me because I took care of him. Had I married him, our relationship would have been me acting like his mother. I would have resenting him for never taking care of me.

He's married now to a Mexican he snuck over the border. Yet the last time I talked to him, Von mentioned how his mother always tells him he should have married me instead. And I laugh because it's the best thing I never did.

It's Like That and That's the Way It Is

I have a million things floating around in my head but none of them seem to be blog worthy right now.

I was delighted by the snow that was piled outside today. About 3 inches of the dry and fluffy kind. Clad in my (kids size) snow boots I trudged my way along the railroad platform. Of course the trains were running slightly behind. Out of boredom I started stamping the snow under my feet. Little hills and valleys created by my soles. Then I began kicking snow off the platform onto the cars below. That was fun. It started by accident as I was shifting my foot. Then it turned into a fun game. See how much snow you can kick onto someone's bumper! I'm such a rebel. Nope, I'm such a kid.

When I finally got to the city I was disappointed to see that only slush remained from last night's snowfall. Then shocked when a piece of ice fell from a skyscraper almost hitting a guy on the head. Note to self, remember to wear hard hat after next snowfall. Which should be soon... word is a huge snowstorm will be hitting us next week providing about another foot of the white stuff.

Seems like everyone is sick. Right now I have a man voice. Low and raspy from a cold I've had since last week. Not very sexy. Oh well.

I used to be in Model UN (United Nations) when I was in high school. We would travel to different colleges and debate, caucus and write resolutions in a mock UN forum. The most prestigious event was held at Harvard. I was all set with my speech and upon arriving lost my voice. When I did manage to squeak out something it was really low. The guys thought it was great. Said I sounded like a phone 5ex operator. Soon after that I saw a Quentin Tarantino film... can't remember the name of it and certainly can't google that at work. But it was about a girl who did that as a living. At the time, I certainly didn't know anything about 5ex to be able to do that. But I have a feeling I would be pretty good at it now. Maybe I can turn that into my next career.

Until that career change happens I should probably get back to work.

I've lost my resolve and will be drinking tonight. Enjoy your weekend!

The Horror of the Foot

Last night I went to Hoboken. We had dinner at Arthur's - I had the "ladies cut sirloin" with their "famous potatoes" (very, very greasy) - then we were off to a house party for CC, a former coworker who's moving back to Ireland. The apartment was really nice and obviously a girl's apartment... Candles everywhere...

He had no idea we had planned (another) going away party. The even bigger surprise for CC was not the party but a stripper they hired. Let me premise by saying that I've never seen a stripper so I mentally prepared myself for seeing another woman naked. I figured she would dance around take off her clothes and give him a lap dance. I was sorely mistaken because that was only the first 5 minutes of the 1/2 hour "entertainment".

Guised as a friend of hostess', she introduced herself to CC (an Irish lad btw) then sat him down on the sofa and started unbuttoning his shirt. Of course this was not expected by CC so he sort of slapped her hands away. Next thing we know her clothes are off (her thong stays on), she's sitting on his lap, etc... boobs/ass in his face, grinding his lap... normal stripper behavior....

Things to Make You Say EWWWWWW:

1. She took off CC's clothes but left his boxers on. But later we got a view of his pasty white ass... Sorry, I had to work with this guy... Didn't want to see his pasty ass...
2. Her thong came off... I didn't know that they take EVERYTHING off...
3. She had him lay on the floor and stuck all of her goodies in his face... I was horrified when I heard her say "Open your mouth"
4. She had him stand up then took a prop out of her bag... a strap-on dildo... and proceeded make him fuck her it... two different ways... ugh.. Made even funnier/worse when he start pumping away behind her and she "It's not in yet"... bwahahahahaha
5. She put a condom on him... on his foot... She fucked his foot... I'm officially scarred for life...

Is that normal stripper behavior? Seriously not what I expected...

Then, the drunk/tipsy 20 of us ended up at one of Hoboken's many bars... I don't even remember the name of it... We had a great time drinking, dancing and dodging flying darts.

But I'm still scarred for life... I can't seem to shake those images... I don't know if I want the pics to be emailed to me...

Wall Snot

Jason, Ex #1, had me bent over with laughter once when he told me
about a former high school classmate, Ian. Ian's bed used to be
pushed up against the bedroom wall. Ian was a nose picker. Ian
plastered the bedroom wall next to his bed with boogers. That's
right, a wall o' boogers.

Fast forward to about 5 years later when Jason and I were living
together in our own apartment. I was often plagued with insomnia.
Not wanting to wake Jason as he snored soundly, I just lay in bed,
thinking (the worst thing to do when you have insomnia). All of a
sudden, Jason sat straight up in bed scaring the crap out of me. He
fished out a big nose nugget and flung it at the wall (thankfully, not at me) on
his side of the bed. Then Jason went back to sleep....

Needless to say I was horrified. It's one of my favorite stories and
one that always comes to mind on nights, like tonight, when I can't
sleep. The last resort when I can't sleep is to close my eyes and
bring back that memory in as much detail as possible.

I stayed as still as possible. Stared at the ceiling, undecided if I
should laugh or wake him and demand he retrieve the offensive booger.
Then I looked at him, snuggled up against me, an angelic smile on his
face. I gently swept his bangs back (he tended to break out on his
forehead) then fell sound asleep.

His nose was always stuffed. He's human. Booger boy was mine.

I felt so much love for him at that moment. And that's what I like to
remember... The feeling of being able to love a moonlight snot
pitcher. It gives me hope that one day I will be loved because of my
imperfections. And that brings me hope, peace and sleep.

Freak Train

I woke up late today and took one of the freak trains into work. I
call them "freak trains" because these are mostly people who have the
day off and are venturing into "the city" for a day 'o fun. They
hardly ever take the train in. I know this because they talk to each
other in loud voices, glance out the window in amazement, constantly
ask the conductor what the next stop is and can never seem to sit
still NOT EVEN FOR A MINUTE.

Needless to say, I hate these trains. They don't understand the
concept that the empty seat next to you is for someone else to sit in
(yes, even a perfect stranger) and not for their coat and LV purse.

Today I boarded the train holding my breath with apprehension. Lucky
for me and the rest of the passengers the freaks were not out in full
force. I guess a little cold weather will do that. I drifted to
sleep for about 5 minutes and awoke to an elderly man waddling over to
the door vestibule. He was outfitted in a red plaid long sleeve
flannel under a blue and white hawaiian shortsleeve shirt. He had a
blue knit hat sitting lopsided on his head and he carried a white
broom. Turns out he wanted to go to Central Islip except we were
heading west to Penn station. My side of the train found this out
when he asked a cute military boy who spoke Spanish and boarded at
Jamaica.

I think he was retarded or something. He wasn't just lost on a
train... he was plain lost. And it saddened me the way the ticket
collector just disregarded him. The last I saw of the old man was
when he passed by to walk between the cars. I'm assuming to find the
restroom. I hope he makes it back before tonight.

Anyone Seen My Gold Bra?

I firmly believe in trying everything once. So, this Sunday, for the
FIRST TIME EVER, I will be going to a concert.

(Note, I have been to concerts before but only classical music and
Roberta Flack at BB Kings... which isn't exactly the same)

And who will I be seeing in concert, you ask... RYAN CABRERA.

*sighs*

Okay, so he's young enough that I could have changed his diapers when
he was a baby. And, he must have a few cogs loose because he's dating
Ashley Simpson. But, he plays the guitar and can sing.

Lucky for me, (unlucky for) friend AS originally purchased the tix
with every intent of seeing him at Irving Plaza but, unfortunately,
duty (cramming) calls. So lucky me, I got the tix. Woot!

Now... here are my questions:

1. What do I wear to a concert?
I don't have a body to rival with a 17 year olds so hiphuggers and
cropped tshirts are out. Are sneakers inappropriate?

2. Can anyone tell me about concert etiquette?
Typically, at shows and classical concerts, it's considered rude to
clap before the song is completely over, does the same apply to a
venue such as Irving Plaza? Do people really take out lighters and
hold them up during a song? I think that would make me giggle
hysterically to ever attempt something like that.

3. Has anyone seen my gold bra?

Happy Valentines Day!

i've been single for the last few valentines days. and, surprisingly, for the first time i have not plummeted into a fits of depression and self pity. this weekend put me into the mood to celebrate the holiday in my own way.... shopping... new outfit complete with new shoes, purse and earrings... fuck the fact that i'm single, i will look fabulous. :-)

truthfully, i never understood the holiday, even when i had a significant other to celebrate with. it's just another excuse to cram materialistic crap down our throats. sure, i enjoy sparkly jewelry things and flowers. but does receiving stuffed animals, chocolate, flowers and jewelry on that one day a year really mean we're loved? no, i think not.

it's easy for us to whip out our charge cards and buy gifts for others. but, what does it really mean? for me, i would prefer someone to buy me something on a whim. that's caring. that's love.

a friend told me a story about slippers. his girlfriend couldn't find these fuzzy slippers in her size so when he was upstate he went and found them, couldn't remember her exact size so bought 2 pairs. she was so surprised and touched that she fucked him for the first time.

see, now that's special.

happy valentines day!!

Delicious...

Left work early at 6pm to meet Ozzzy for dinner at Olive & Bread. Or is it Bread & Olive? Cheap mediterranean food. Delicious. And Cheap. :-D

We walked to Penn Station enjoying the delicious evening air. Passing Bryant Park setup for runway week. Crisp, cool and clear.

Met A&M at Chili's later that evening for margaritas, dessert and conversation. Delicious.

Arrived home around 1am and finally fell into a deep sleep at 3am.

The phone rings at 4:30am. I think it's already morning and I'm late for a shopping date with Hazel. It's a voicemail from Dimples. I return his call at which he claims it's not a booty call. Well, I wonder, why the hell are you calling me then? He claims it's a drunken phone call to annoy friends. He and a friend were driving back from a Wantagh bar and wanted to see who was still up. We talk for a few minutes as I enjoy an early morning smoke. His friend is ready for bed but Dimples is up for coffee so I agree to meet him at the Diner. I mention I'm going to Ireland and he tells me about his first month-long trip to Ireland where he met an amazing girl he wrote to for 3 years.

I drive him home and pull in front of his house. We sit for a few minutes trying to find a good radio station. We settle on a station and he reclines back in his seat. I shut the headlights off and turn down the volume to not wake up the neighbors. Mid-conversation he kisses me hard, biting my lip. We kiss aggressively for a few minutes. My hand roaming over his chest, shoulders and settling in his hair. Pulling it at the roots. And... I'll leave the rest up to your own imagination... Delicious.

:-)

I Luuurve to Cry at Weddings

*sobs... wipes snot on shirt sleeve*

Yes, I love to cry at weddings. The ones where you can actually feel and see the love that is shared between the two. And, it looks like I have an upcoming wedding...

My dearest friend, Hazel, is getting married... again... to her husband...

Hazel is one of my oldest and dearest (yes, I am redundant) friends... I've known her since high school. Have you ever seen or met someone and said "I really need to talk to that person"? That was how I felt about Hazel. Shy, skinny, dorky (dare I say "FOB-ish") Hazel with the smallest, neatest handwriting known to man, meet Regina who, at the time, is chubby, definitely geeky in her own right and outgoing (in comparison to Hazel).

Fast forward 6 years later... Hazel became my shoulder to cry on, even though it was over the phone. She listened as I recounted my sins in graphic detail. She didn't judge. She didn't really advise. Ok, well, she did . And I didn't listen. Which we agree today was the best decision I ever made.

And, in between my tears, she amused me with her stories of newly found single-dom. Hooked up with an Irish dude who rocked her world. Together, we shared our life-alerting sex stories... "Just a fling", she said...

And today... She is happily married to a wonderful man who treats her well and loves her. They are good together. And they have the most beautiful daughter, half Irish and half Filipino. "Just a fling", she said...

And I barely see or hear from her. But, I know that our friendship is something I can truly count on. It is real and permanent in a fake and fleeting world.

And, on Saturday, I will go shopping with Hazel and Baby. The last time we went dress shopping was for our senior prom... how things have changed! Accompanying my dearest friend to a bridal shop. To buy a dress that is 3 years coming. For a wedding that I have waited 3 long years for. A wedding to celebrate a love that is 3 years young on this Earth but a match made in heaven.

Fake crying I excel at. Only a handful of people have seen me wipe away real tears. True tears, of happiness, sadness, loneliness and anger, are confined to the privacy of my own home.

But, I'm afraid my tough exterior will succumb... to the first time I see Hazel try on the perfect dress... and to the spiritual joining of two souls under God's watch... Even I can't hold back tears in the face of such perfection, happiness and love.

Congratulations to Hazel, Husband and Baby. Thank you for letting me share in your joy. I only hope that one day we can all be as happy as you.

Does anyone have a Kleenex?

What's Your Drink?

Ozzzy joined me Friday night at a former co-worker's going away bash at Dewey Flatirons. The music was great, the drinks strong and the company tab wasn't abused until the end of the night. It was good to see my former coworkers and sad to see Colin go back to Ireland. But what better way to see him off than to get trashed?

Amaretto Sour was my drink of choice, peppered with sips of Ozzzy's Guinness. Three or four of those had me pretty messed up and thankfully Ozzzy was a gentleman who waited until I was safely in a cab before leaving for the Path. Needless to say I passed out once my ass hit the LIRR seat and good fortune reminded me to set the alarm on my cellie to wake me 1/2 hour into the ride lest I miss my stop.

--> Friday's drink of choice: Amaretto Sour (better with Disarona)

A large french vanilla Dunkin Donuts coffee (half and half, 3 sugars) accompanied on my Saturday morning errands. Dry cleaning drop off with the nice Korean lady who always has my suits ready when needed, manicure at the nail salon with Maria who let's me practice Spanish with her, and a calming scenic drive before lunch.

Slightly hungover I went to Vincent's for lunch... with Matt... a date... a very cute guy who picked me up and even got out of his car to open the door for me... He has the greenest eyes I've ever seen, great shoulders and very, very nice hands. Surprisingly I had a good time and was actually attracted to him. And I was SOBER the entire time. Call it what you want "beer goggles" but I feel "chemistry" with everyone of the opposite sex when under the influence. Matt's actually the first person that I've been attracted to since my last relationship.

Did I mention Matt is 3 years my junior? Technically, it's a little over 2 years 9 months my junior... but who's counting? Is Aaliyah right when she says "Age Ain't Nothing But a Number"? I guess it's too early to make a judgment on the age issue. But I was comfortable with him, if anything, and we had a good time. Well, I had a good time. Even when the waiter spilled diet coke all over the table and splashing a bit on me. Thank God old age didn't slow my reflexes, I was able to push myself away from the table before everything ended up in my lap. I've told guys "I'm wet" before but never because of a spilled diet coke.

After lunch we did the mandatory stop at Starbucks. Damn $4 Soy Vanilla Latte!

Hazel joined me at BB Kings Saturday evening for the Roberta Flack concert. Wow, what a voice. Clear, unadulterated and strong, also the way I like my vodka. But, respectful of the upcoming performance and still a little hungover from Friday night, I elected to have a glass of the Australian Sauvignon Blanc. Delicious. But it didn't go with the pulled-pork sandwich for dinner. Oh well. I never said I was a beverage connoisseur.

Good thing I'm not a bad drunk otherwise little Hazel and I might have found ourselves in a fight. Imagine sitting next to older ladies (tourists, of course) who sing along with Remarkable Roberta. Uh, hello? I came here to listen to Roberta, not you. Argh! Funniest part of the evening had to be when one of the old ladies started dancing in her seat. Mind you, we're not talking nodding your head in time with music. Dancing... with her arms... it was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. Like watching an overweight, varicose-veined contortionist try to tie her arms in a knot. It was disturbing. Old white women tourists, please don't do that! It's scary... But now I know why most white boys can't dance.

Followed up the concert with a drink across the street at Times Square Brewery. We, Pale Ale and Appletini, listened to live jazz music but were more interested in the bartender. Cute and a great singer. There is no better combination in a bartender. Plus he even humored us by making Hazel's Appletini WEAKER, at her request.

--> Saturday's drink of choice: DD's French Vanilla, Diet Coke, Sauvignon Blanc, TS Brewery's Pale Ale

My drink choices always change depending on the venue but I usually stick to:

• White Wine (Faves are Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Noir)
• Beer (Corona con limon, Coors Light, Sam Adams... anything but Bud)
• Vodka (Stoli, Grey Goose, Absolut... Screwdriver, Tonic, Cran...)
• Shots: Tequila (Cuervo or Patron when someone else is paying), Chocolate Cake, SoCo 'n Lime.

I've memorized a few people's drink preferences:

• BA: Appletini usually or Cuervo, neat Vodka, or BudLite (when I mock him for ordering Appletinis)
• J: Grey Goose Cran or Corona
• A: Malibu, Sex on the Beach, Smirnoff Malt Crap
• Ozzzy: Guinness
• Bahn: SoCo 'n Lime (drink, not shot)
• A.D.: Whatever's on tap
• DC: Usually whatever I'm ordering
• CV: Vodka Cran or Appletini
• CB: Corona or Cuervo
• Ex1: didn't drink alcohol, such a good boy. "I'll just have a coke" didn't drink coffee either "I'll just have a hot chocolate"
• Ex2: always Corona. He actually drank Corona when he was a baby. He still sleeps with a Corona bottle in his mouth. Dark, rich coffee... mocha java
• Ex3: Coors Lite, Soda and that green juice. Dammit, it's his fault I have an acquired taste for beer. It's my fault I have a beer belly. lmao. Didn't drink coffee, instead would drink Pepsi (not Coke, bah!) at 8 in the morning.

So... what's your drink? Please don't say Appletini's... I might have to bitch slap you.

Psych Survey, Another Response

Liza also responded to the questionnaire... She writes...

While in a relationship, I always make it a point to ask the guy I'm with what he considers to be my flaw(s). It's partly for curiosity, mostly for future reference. The results of my present data collection are as follows:

• My boobs aren't big enough.
• I am short.
• I have small boobs.
• I'm not tall enough.
• I am too affectionate.
• I have no boobs.
• I'm a pessimist.
• I'm psychotically possessive.

Sorry, Liza, I'm going to have to disagree. Small/No boobs are not a flaw. It's what nature gave you. You are not defined by your body. Repeat after me, "My boobs are beautiful". Because I can guarantee that a man will love you even if you're boobless. A good friend of mine had a mastectomy a few years ago. And despite a missing tit, they're still together, in love, and sexually active. Boobs and height are not to be considered flaws.

Being affectionate is not a flaw either. The trick is to find someone who desires the same level of PDA's. I was involved with someone a few months ago who would want to kiss me in the street, hold my hand, hug me... Eh. Not for me. At least, not with someone I've known only a month. Once I've reached a comfortable (and established, ie "we're dating seriously") stage with someone then, yes, even I (the self-dubbed "the ice queen") become disgustingly affectionate. I want to hold a handsome man's hand, kiss his cheek, get piggy back rides, hug his broad shoulders... push him onto a bed... pull down his pants........ *clears throat*... wait, what were we talking about? LMAO. Sorry, lost in another train of thought!

Pessimist or Realist? There is a difference. Plus you're a Gemini so I think it's more about which twin you choose to bring out. I don't think you're a pessimist. I think you're a Realist. You see things as they are (and you choose to ignore things you don't want to see). But, really... Being a pessimist all the time sucks. It's self-defeating. You're always thinking the outcome will be bad, sometimes you end up setting yourself up for fear of failure, disappointment, etc. Life is difficult. That's the truth. Bu those bad times are only to make the good times even sweeter. So, it can't be all bad. Realism is fine, but don't let the good times be overshadowed by pessimistic/fatalist thoughts.

Psychotically Possessive. Interesting... I used to be like that. For me, it used to be a result of my own insecurity. I needed to be the one in control. I needed to know where he was at every moment. I needed to befriend everyone of his friends, coworkers, family members, etc. Now, I realize the importance of having a life outside that of your significant other's. It's 2 lives, not one. Women who are possessive just drive their men away. We stop being the confident women they first met and become clingy and pathetic. Who wants clingy? Not me. I don't want to spend every single waking (and sleeping) moment with my significant other. It's just not practical. It's smothering. It's sad. And on the other hand, I couldn't stand someone who does that to me. Um, don't call me 20 times a day when I'm at work or send me emails ALL DAY LONG. A nice hello phone call is nice. A nice how is everything email is nice and appreciated. All I can say is... Stop Being Psychotically Posessive! I think what you need is someone to do that to you... and you'll see how irritating it becomes. It gets old fast. I've had it. It's fucking weird. Life is not your's to control. Love is not your's to control. Things just happen. And they all happen for a reason. Accept it. And enjoy life more.

Footnote:

I actually know Liza, she's just not another random blog that I read. She is actually my brother's ex-girlfriend. I don't have to guess too hard who called her psychotically obsessive. When they were dating, I did meet her a few times. Always thought she was very nice. Always heard from my brother that she took care of him. Who could not like that for their little brother. However, my brother is a Sagittarius. And I had a fucked up relationship with a Sagittarius. So, he moved to California and broke her heart. And I sympathized. First through AIM, then in person.

I just want her to realize that these relationships happen for a reason. My relationship with that Sag Man tore me down to levels of depression that I never knew existed. For months I would not eat or eat all the time, cry until there were no tears left, puke because there were no tears left. And I'm a stronger person for that. I'm a happier person because of that. I had to re-discover my self-worth. I had to re-discover the fact that I'm not an unlovable person.

I just wish the same for her.

I also wish that she would get laid. Getting laid always helps to pull that stick out ya ass. :-P

A Letter to My Ex

Dear Daniel,

My post a few days earlier wasn't meant to be a personal attack. That's simply not the case at all.

After re-reading it, I see that you might not come across in the best light. But the post wasn't meant to be about you. It is about me, what I've learned and what I hope to obtain one day.

That "nagging feeling" wasn't about you. It was me. The problem was me. I used to like coming across as an independent woman. But, at that time, you have to realize that I was still recovering from an almost deadly affliction.

Co-Dependence.

I shudder at the thought of that word. But, it needs to be said, "I was co-dependent". Admitting the affliction is the first step.

You knew... I was supposed to get married at age 23. We were together for 7 years starting at age 16. I left Jason, New York and everything I've ever known, to move to Texas. And, you know why I did that.

Because I had never done anything on my own. And, at that point, I couldn't do anything on my own. I was co-dependent. During the course of that first relationship my insecurity plagued me and grew immensely. "I" became "We". But the "I" without him meant nothing. I was nothing without him. "We" was the only identity that I knew. I lost myself.

And, when I met you, I was still in the process of finding myself.

So, in reply to your email, you are not a jerk. Frankly, neither am I. No matter how hard we might have tried, it just wasn't meant to be.

And now you are engaged, soon to be married, already with a beautiful daughter of your own. And I couldn't be happier for you. You deserve all the happiness in the world. I wish you the best.

I hope one day I will find the one I was meant to share the rest of my life with.

With Love Always,
Regina

Psych Survey

http://clarissaslife.blogspot.com/2005/01/psych-survey.html#comments

i did psych for my undergrad and, boy, do i love surveys... i know nothing about husbands and marriage but i'll leave my comments nevertheless! clarissa's questions are in italics... my nonsense answers are in regular text...


It said that women know what they want in a husband...I only agree with this to a certain point. I mean, I know what I'm think I want, but I'm not completely sure. What do you think? Do women know what they want, and if so, what do you think that some of those things are?
Next, I want to know what you think women should pay more or less attention to when looking for the perfect guy. (for example: Do you think that women should put less focus on looks and more onto personality?)

I think most women know what they are looking for in a husband.

What women want:
He should be good-looking, confident/sexy, have a good job (aka, money or potential for money) and a great personality. I would say that general statement covers most women. However, from experience, I realized there is a difference from what we want and what we actually need.

Good-looking is necessary for the beginning of the relationship but it soon loses it's novelty. As we get to know people better and love them for who they are (and not who they presented in the beginning), looks begin to matter less and less. In fact, I've noticed that people I've become very close to (including platonic relationships) have gotten even better looking because of their personality. I was in a very long relationship (which almost led me to the altar) in which we both gained weight. Looking back, I realized that even when he was chubby, he still looked the same, if not better, in my eyes. The saying is true, love is blind. Rather, true love, based on friendship, similarities and a commitment to communicate, is blind.

Confident/sexy is a must for chemistry. Regardless of how "modern" we are, women want to be swept off their feet by a gentleman who will bring them flowers, pick them up and take them to bed. Nothing is more exciting than being with a man who is confident. Nothing is 5exier than a confident man.

Personality... what else is there to say? Who wants to be with someone that doesn't have a personality? I love to laugh. I want to be with someone who can make me laugh. I want to be able to share jokes that another person might not ordinarily get.

J.O.B.... money... We may be career women but we don't want to have to support anyone. We strive for equality. Including a man who can pay their 1/2 of the bills. A future of having to struggle to pay bills doesn't seem romantic or happy. In our materialistic society, we want men who can pamper us. Of course, there are women who just want men with big bank accounts so they can have a life of leisure but I don't have much to say about that. That's certainly not my feeling.

That's what I see other women as wanting in a husband... my own "criteria" are listed below.


OK, it also said that men are only basing their future wives on looks. This is quite upsetting, and I don't agree with it at all unless you're keeping it in the high school scene! So, do you think this is true? What are some things that you think men are really looking for?

Attraction is always important And it's true than men are visual creatures. Men who are extremely good-looking will end up with beautiful women, etc... I think men are also looking for someone they are compatible with. And maybe someone to eventually raise their children. And to cook and clean. And I'm sure a good blow job couldn't hurt either.

Maybe my best answer would be to say that I have no idea what they're looking for.

This is like 2: What do you think men should pay more or less attention to when looking for the perfect girl?

I think they should look for someone just like me... I am the perfect imperfect girl. lmao

What do you, as an individual, look for in a mate? What are you looking for right now? Or, what have you already found? Either way works.

I want it all...

The end of my last relationship changed me. It was a 1 1/2 years ago and I haven't fallen in love since. I don't think I was in love with him. But I certainly loved being with him. I loved hanging on the edge of the sofa kissing his bald head. I loved the feeling of his arms around me. The sex was the best I'd ever had.

But, to be perfectly honest, I knew he could never be the one for me.

I thought I was falling in love with him. But, it seemed that things just didn't add up right. I don't know any other way to describe it. The feeling... the nagging... Lack of communication, maybe that's the best I can come up with...

We were living in Texas and I went to NY for a visit. And suddenly everthing became clear... I had to be home - Home being NY. I got on return flight to Texas absolutely sick... sick with the disbelief I was leaving NY after such a short visit... and sick because I was still fucked up from partying and drinking heavily the night before... drinking heavily because a big part of me didn't want to make the flight...

I worked 2 days and gave my notice. I'm going home. Somewhere, between the return flight home and giving notice, we broke up. I didn't even tell him I was moving back. Yeah, not very nice, I know. But, I was going home and that's the only thing that occupied my mind. I pushed my hurt feelings aside and began planning my escape.

Of course, he heard through the grapevine. And we found ourselves at Sam's Club shopping for his golf shirts. Tears in his eyes, he asked if I would change my mind. He said that we could move in together... My eyes were focused on a glass perfume case... specifically on a container of J Lo's Glow perfume... And I broke down in tears... and began sobbing... in Sam's Club... surrounded by golf shirts sold at wholesale prices... and I thought it was because that meant he loved me and I was throwing away something beautiful and great... all because of my desire to move back to NY.

But, now I know the truth.... He didn't love me and I didn't love him. We were two lonely people brought together. Had I stayed, I would have moved in with him... further deepening the divide between my parents and I... Had he asked on the deck of South Padre Brewery if I wanted to marry him, I would have said yes... And we would have had beautiful children.... A beautiful home with a mortgage of only 1k a month...

And we would have been miserable... Because we would have settled...

I would have settled for someone that didn't love me. Someone who used me to fend off his loneliness in a new town. Someone who used me for my pornstar quality blow jobs... (Yes, Daniel, I still remember Eight Mile... makes a great punchline for my lewd jokes and training classes) Someone who used me to validate their own self-worth.

But it wasn't his fault, it was mine. I knew better. I was still hurt from a previous relationship. I knew I couldn't rely on someone for my happiness. Yet I put my heart in his hands. And I was crushed.

My heartache re-ignited my passion for writing. I wrote of my pain. My loneliness. The confusion of starting life all over again in a place where I had spent almost my entire life. I wrote about the life we could have had together. I wrote about our baby. I didn't get my period for 2 months after leaving Texas. I was going to be a statistic. A single parent. I was going to name the baby Emma or Daniel. I was almost certain it was going to be a girl. And I was going to do it on my own. Just like I planned to leave Texas without telling him, I was going to raise a child all on my own.

I was stressed about my rash decision, my broken heart, my inability to find a job, my difficulty in adjusting to living with the 'Rents again. It was stress, and not a baby, that disturbed my monthly cycle.

Ah, but I digress... I want it all...

He can make me laugh and get my often dry sarcasm. Outgoing to help put me at ease (Yes, believe it or not I really am an introvert). Intelligent.... he can hold an articulate conversation with me about politics, books, religion, the lack of morality in business... with a good, stable job which he enjoys and excels in... he's close to his friends and family.... good-looking... can teach me to play golf or tennis... he longs to run his fingers through my hair (what? it feels great!)... and can surprise me, a person who prides herself on foiling surprises... a passionate romantic... and takes me to bed to make long languous love to me... not fucking but making love... plays and instrument and can sing... patient and understanding... he enjoys making me smile... he makes me tea when I'm sick... and cries when he finds out we're expecting our first... he coaches our son's softball team... and plays tea party with our daughter... we go to church together... spirituality and faith are important to us...

his embraces are like coming home, soothing and comforting... we share a special bond... we are the greatest friends... we make others believe that true love does exist even in this cynical and jaded world... i am your biggest fan... we love each other... respect each other... admire each other... and live for each other...

yes... i want it all...

and... as i sit here typing away on my computer... sleepless in seattle plays in the background... tom hanks and son are in the airport... and the son explains reincarnation... tom hanks and meg ryan are soulmates... who were meant to be together in a past life... but for whatever reason they didn't meet... so, in this life, when they do meet it's like completing a puzzle... everything just fits...

can you tell i've been watching too many chick flicks lately?

A World of White

i woke sunday afternoon to find that i was a prisoner in my own home. the door blocked by 2 feet of now. i tried pushing it open but to no avail. i began worrying and considered calling the police or a neighbor to dig me out.

do i have enough food to last me until the spring thaw? omg, does this mean i'm going to miss the roberta flack concert on saturday? should i try to jump out the window? how can i retrieve the ny times from my doorstep?!?!

doorstep... outside... FRONT door... i'll just use the front door until spring! :-) haha

crisis averted, i continued working on my weekend long project... relaxing. with the exception of stocking up on bread and hot chocolate friday evening i didn't leave home once. weekend plans cancelled due to the blizzard, i made sure to have everything on hand to ensure a great solo weekend... remote control, laptop, music, books, hot chocolate and the all important pack of cigarettes (plus a spare just in case)...

i woke extra early this morning to ensure a smooth commute. early enough to just catch the 7:09am train to penn... but not early enough to fully dry my hair. hair icicles stabbed my numb fingers as i pulled my hat off in the train.

the view from the train seemed refreshed and renewed. a world covered in white. the sky blue and clear, so different from the dreary days of early january. the last rays of sunrise tinting the snowy surroundings pink and purple.

i step out of the subway and cross the mounds of dirty gray slush. it's like a kick in the ass. the snow which looked so beautiful from the window of the train, now becomes an obstacle to my nice warm cubicle hell. i manage not to fall and think back to just 5 minutes before where i was actually loving our beautiful winter.

f' this - where's the spring?

Back to Basics..

i love gadgets. i like to click the different menus... press all the buttons to see what they'll do... and i refuse to take off the sticky plastic sheet that protects the displays/monitors/screens...

but i do not own a pda... correction, i don't use my pda...

instead, i use paper to organize myself... yes, paper... papel... papier... i carry a manhattan diary which i love for its indispensable subway map inside the back cover... this organizer keeps my social calendar free of conflicting events... and sometimes reminds me of early meetings...

my manhattan diary captures my actions... but my moleskine captures my thoughts in their most raw form...

what is a moleskine? a black notebook with an elastic band to keep the pages and its contents private... they come in various sizes with ruled, unruled or graph paper...

i've been carrying the smallest available moleskine (ruled paper) for the past 2 years... each one with a lifespan of about 6 months... i journal in it... i write to do lists in it... it knows more about me than most people...

i cannot leave home without my moleskine... i write on the train... yes, i am one of those annoying people who write their deepest (and shallowest) thoughts on the train.... but, in my defense, only when i find something worth writing about... i write while sipping coffee... i even write while waiting for friends... i take note of quotes... funny conversations... things to research... even a few phone numbers here and there ;-)

but i never gave much thought to it... people would notice it and say "that's really cool"... i shrug and say "yeah, i love it"...

but maybe... just maybe... it's "cool" because it's just paper... that's it... no microchips... no batteries to charge... i can throw it around and it won't complain... of course, like digital equipment and mau-gwa (those furry animals in "gremlins"), it shouldn't get wet...

i love the sound and feel of a pen/pencil scratching the paper as i jot down thoughts... it's immediate... instant gratification... sometimes, looking at past entries, i can get a feel for my mood since my handwriting changes...

and actually, the only reason i even thought to write about my moleskine habit is because of an article in the wsj... the title is linked to the author's blog and his additional moleskine/digital versus analog comments...

if you happen to see an asian girl with long brown hair wearing high heels studying the back of her manhattan diary or jotting notes in her moleskin... it's probably me... say hello!

My License Expired

it expired over the weekend and i almost couldn't get into a bar... i had to explain my new one is "in the mail"... having been ordered through the ny dmv website just 2 weeks earlier... and point out the birthdate... it was my birthday... my 5th 21st to be exact...

everyone who does not have work monday can thank me... the federal government recognizes the momentous occasion called my birthday and celebrates by granting us hard-working laborers a 3 day weekend... it's really for MLK... but didn't he teach us to dream? and to get really drunk on sundays when you don't have to worry about waking at an ungodly hour? oh wait, i added that last stipulation...

i don't really remember friday evening too well... but i recall waking on saturday in an awful mood... which worsened when i remembered my birthday...

i am conflicted when it comes to birthdays... for everyone else, i believe in going all out... meaning alcohol, dancing, acts of debauchery and gross, lewd behavior... i would prefer my own to pass by as any other day...

the thing is... everyday we get a day older... and, with the knowledge that the overrated event was quickly nearing, i began referring to myself as 26 back in 4Q'04...

the bad mood upon waking can easily be attributed to crankiness which is a trait common to old people... the crankiness along with the pops and cracks that emit from my elbows and knees... as well as the white hairs that have seemingly multipled like rabbits on my head... and the paranoid morning/evening minute i spend in the mirror daring wrinkles to show themselves... means that i am officially old...

the actual birthday was spent sipping sauvignon blanc at a mediterranean restaurant... surrounded by old friends... catching up... i wondered where the years went... because it feels like just yesterday when we were sitting together our prom...

a is a med student... h is a project manager... and r (that's me) is trying to find meaning in her corporate job...

a has a boyfriend who likes chapstick... h is married with a house and a the most beautiful baby in the world (and another on the way... hint, hint...) ... and r is writing a nonsensical blog about her lackluster sex life... correction, lack of good sex in her life...

but.... i suppose... like a good bottle of wine... some things are worth waiting for...

like dim sum... i haven't enjoyed dim sum in years... and i went to chinatown with jeremi and walt... i awoke 1/2 an hour before our appointed meeting time... quickly left them both messages i was going to be late... threw on clothes... and managed to only be 1/2 hour late thanks to my excellent public transit navigation skills...

jim fong in chinatown was excellent... except for the missing custard buns... i've never had them... every dim sum place i've ever been to seems to always be out of them... i think it's because we're not chinese :-(

walked around soho to burn off calories... and managed not to lighten the load in my wallet... and slurped hot chai latte at le petite cafe... excellent croissants...

all in all a great birthday...

plus my friend mentioned some cute guy was smiling at me as we crossed paths in the street... but, of course, i didn't notice... i was too busy singing...

why is that guys only smile at me when i'm not paying attention... i'm not wearing makeup... or i'm doing something utterly ridiculous like singing suddenly seymour loud enough for an entire city block to hear...

maybe i'll know the answer by my next birthday... or the next time my license expires... wouldn't that be the big 3-0? uhoh...

Love was Staring Me Right in the Face

love and romance were always equal in my view. love/romance were flowers... walks on the beach... holding hands while in the car... evening star gazing. my view of love and romance was largely influenced by the media - tv shows, books and movies.

i never saw my parents as in love when i was growing up. they never showed affection to each other. no hand holding. no kissing. no hugging. they never even buy gifts for each other. early on in life i came up to the conclusion they were together BECAUSE they were married, catholic and couldn't divorce because of their religious beliefs. love/romance was never a factor in their life.

a late bloomer, i first started dating at 16 with the first guy that showed an interest in me. he was cute, had a car and had cash. most importantly, he treated me well and was nice to me. at that point, having a boyfriend was equivalent to increasing your status in the high school social hierarchy. my first love bought my things... brought me places... agreed with many of my views... inflated my ego...

college age love/romance (same hs sweetheart) became about walking around a college campus on the arm of a cute guy... sharing a small twin bed every evening... always having someone to share meals with... cutting class to dine off-campus, hang at a local beach or just watch tv in his dorm... his ultimate demonstration of love was complying with my lack of sexual desire...

fear strikes at age 21. i don't want to live at home after college and i certainly couldn't live with my boyfriend. the only solution was marriage. love/romance became dreams of an impending wedding... the way my engagement ring sparkled in even the dimmest environment... visiting catering halls together... making a guest list... imaginging how we would progress in our careers and purchase every luxury we pined after...

looking back, i realize that self-love was missing in that so-called "perfect" relationship. somewhere along the way of "loving someone with all my heart", i lost the love for myself. i lost friends. i lost my own family, refusing all contact with them for almost 2 years. i threw away everything for this perfect relationship. then i tossed the relationship aside for something that was always missing... sex.

love/romance at 23 turned into sexual longing with a new boyfriend. it was also about bad boy rehabilitation. a bad hobby that many girls occupy themselves with. it was cherishing the few good times and fucking to get over the many bad times. sex and believing i could change him kept me going. trying to prove everyone else they were wrong about him became a detrimental obsession.

then i lost sight of love/romance at 25. i gave up. it doesn't exist. sociological/biological/psychological theorems took the place of my idea of romantic love. people "fall in love" because of pheramones... or economic/social/status compatibility... i was cynical... jaded... an unbeliever at 25. i relied on sex to keep me going. it took over my personality. using sexuality in all situations whether appropriate or not. i began to believe that good sex would eventually lead into a relationship.

and here i am now. the sun about to set on age 25... fearing the dawn of 26 will find me never finding love. i began to pray for love to find me.

and i found it. right in front of my face.

we discuss pop culture over a commercial break that interrupted "extra" ... my mom and dad energetically providing their view points on brad and jen's breakup... mom determined it's because jennifer aniston didn't want a baby... dad believing infidelity played a part...

the parents are cuddled on the sofa covered by my old winnie the pooh fleece blanket... mom sit up and without a word my dad scratches her back... she instructs him to massage her bad back instead and he complies...

tears well in my eyes. i have been searching for true and lasting love my whole life and there it was staring me in the face the entire time. my prayers answered.... i found love.

my parents love each other. their love is not defined by material goods... fancy dinners... or even sex... (i'm not going to get into how i know that) it is just there... it is obvious... cousin chris mentioned it before and i didn't believe him. please, they're still together because a divorce isn't possible for them...

dad doesn't buy mom flowers... but he cooks dinner and does the laundry... mom does the dishes and cleans the house... dad water the plants outside while mom cares for the ones inside... he decorates for christmas outside and she inside the house... mom ignores dad's noxious farts as does dad with hers... outside of work they go everywhere together... dad maintains an apartment building because mom wants to own one... mom became religious and learned to cook because of dad... he scratches her back and never asks for the favor to be returned...

2 white gold bands are the only material evidence... but their love is obvious... silent... and true... noticeable for those who open their own hearts to accept it...

i found love after eating a plate of chicken and rice. who knew it was that easy?

New Job for Everyone!

below are some notes i put together about finding a new job... leave me a comment if you have questions or need more clarification... enjoy!


it's unfortunate, but i know all about finding a new job...

1. figure out what you're looking for... sure, i'd love a job where i make a great salary and just hang out... but this is the time to be realistic... figure out what type of job you're looking for (at least narrow it down to a field and potential industries)... do research on salary ranges (try salary.com)... location, location, location... and other factors such as things you want to gain from your next position (specific experience), the type of company you would like to work for (small-large), and the type of environment (relaxed... fast-paced... etc)
2. get your resume together... it's actually easier than it looks... i usually start by looking at similar jobs posted on the websites below... i take these descriptions to figure out what applied to me at past jobs and i start copying and pasting... help with formating can be found on monster... but i advise against using the microsoft resume templates because they suck... don't use frames, either... for the most part it's not necessary... don't be too wordy... and be sure to use words or industry terms found in the job descriptions... many recruiters will search through the thousands of resumes based on key words... don't bother with pdf files... the files are too large and might not always react well to the recruiting software that many companies use... just have a resume in .doc and .txt...
3. start your search... it's unfortunate, but gone are the days when you can just drop your resume off at a potential employer, at least at most firms... so, do research on websites that specialize in your field and use the other resume respositories, namely: CareerBuilder.com, Monster.com, Dice.com, HotJobs.com, BrassRing.com, CraigsList.com
4. start applying... and keep track of what jobs you apply for... there's nothing worse than a recruiter calling someone and they have no idea what job they applied for... when an email address is provided i usually copy and paste the job description into the bottom of the email and make the font white... that way, i know what job they are calling me about... keep a list of how many jobs you applied for including the title, the company, the method (email, through jobs website or company website), any logins/passwords for each site, the date applied, the date posted, and any contact information listed (email addresses, phone numbers, etc), and salary ranges if listed... also note if it's through a recruitment firm or the company directly...
5. speaking of recruitment firms... i get so many questions about using recruitment firms... gone are the days where the applicant has to pay the fee... nowadays, the company pays the fee and the applicant (in most cases) pays nothing... well, with the exception of sweat, blood and tears... use them but don't apply to a million of them... make sure they are reputable... ask around... see who others use... but here's a note of caution... many "firms" will just get you in the door, get all your contact info and your resume... many times the people who request this information will not service you well... you're looking for a firm that will help ensure you are placed in the right company with the right environment and right salary... use your instinct when you first call and speak with a recruiter...
6. coverletters... so many people spend hours and hours doing their coverletter... sure, a coverletter is nice but it doesn't have to be an entire novel of what you have done... resumes and coverletters have to be accurate and succint... enough to get you an interview... i barely use them and rely on my resume to do the work... but when i do include them i usually refer back to the job posting... basically tell them how my experience stands up to what they are looking for... i typically spend about 5 minutes per coverletter... if writing a coverletter starts giving you a headache, then maybe you need to review your resume because everything you need should be right there...
7. negotiation hints... if you use an agency, you likely won't have to... correction, if you use a reputable agency, you likely won't have to... every agency is going to try and get you the highest salary possible... because they make a % off your base salary... unless it's a retained search but that's usually used for high-level executives... make sure you have a range in mind... i'm lazy so i like to go with agencies... i'd rather spend time figuring out how i'm going to spend those extra dollars...

other stuff to note...

• don't lie... you'll eventually get caught... every company has an application that makes you attest to the fact the details provided on the application, during the interview and on your resume are in fact true... background checks can catch these details... getting caught in a lie and cost you your job
• stay clean... chances are you will be drug tested...
• get references together... and, if you're on good terms with them, let them know you are looking...
• in fact, let everyone (within reason and good judgment) know you are looking... networking can really help you in finding a job... many companies have resume referral programs where the employee can make a few bucks if you get hired... just another way to entice them to help you out... (btw, did you know that most jobs are NOT posted?)
• get your suit dry cleaned and your shoes polished... you never know when you might be required to interview... keep your suit a dark color... shoes black...
• make sure you have a leather (or pleather) padfolio to bring with you on interviews

there's more... but i have to call back this recruiter... more to be posted later... GOOD LUCK!

I Want You

i want to pull you out... feel you in my hands... as i just stare... at something that i have been wanting.... craving... obsessing over...

i will caress you with my fingers... close my eyes and just inhale your scent... then with my eyes closed, put just the tip in my mouth... enjoying the feel of you on my lips...

taking a deep breath... i proceed to light the other end...

omg, i want a cigarette so bad!

i know this quitting thing is all psychological right now... i have enough nicotine seeping in through my skin to equal a whole pack of smokes... but what i wouldn't give for one cigarette right now...

ah!!!!!!

26 NYE's Later

it's been some year... this was a better year than 2003... much better than 2002... both personally and professionally for me...

i have so many hopes for 2005... but no expectations... i'm welcoming the new year... with an open heart and mind...

the most important lesson i've learned over the past few years... are that challenges and obstacles are there for a reason... to teach you... you make it through these difficult, seemingly impossible, situations... as renewed... and they make the good times all that much sweeter...

past new years eves...

2004: i spent it in bed, sleeping... just arrived back from work at a retail establishment at storee manager... hated my job... and having to fake 0rgasms with a two finger dick...

2003: san antonio with the angels... with a broken heart... trying to get over a guy who trampled all over my heart... and my self-esteem... thankfully i had 2 angels to pull me out of the water i was drowning in... (water meaning self-pity)

2002: mexico... with the ex (surprise visit), soon to be ex and good friend... never get into a car accident in mexico... the ex came to visit... and i was so confused... about who i was... what i should be doing... where my life was heading... i left him at the alter 2 weeks later...

2001: sipping on a wine cooler at a new year's house party... in the apartment shared with my good friend, jimmy... funny but i thought that would become a yearly tradition... gathering old and new friends to ring in the new year... little did i know that things would be so different a short 4 years later... the last time i had a tree until this year... not speaking to my parents for the next 1 1/2 years...

2000: i believe i was home with the family and the ex... new year's party in the basement... had those popper thingies, the annoying noisemakers and hats... the last new year's that i spent at home... i remember being happy i had someone to kiss on new year's...

1999: times square, i think... i think this was the year that the ex, brother and i went into times square... saw the ball drop in the freezing cold... all the way up by central park... fireworks shook the skyscrapers...

1979 - 1998: home...


and this year, 2005...

staten island... with good friend, b.a.... hanging out... relaxing... enjoying companionship... a bottle of good chardonnay... cakes from the little pie company (another place visited with ba in 2004)... thankful to be back in new york... hopeful for the new year...

happy new year! 2004 was great but 2005 will be even better! kick ass!!