A Garnet Story



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?)

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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)
  1. Unselfish concern for the welfare of others; selflessness.
  2. 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.



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

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.

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


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...



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.


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 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


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

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.



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:

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

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).



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

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

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,



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
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??


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

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

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


'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

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

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

- 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

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...



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


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....



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.



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.


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
- 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.