Saturday, November 27, 2010

I Am Disgusting

I know I'm about to totally embarrass myself.  But, I think this story can be appreciated by other hairy friends.  Plus, if I can get one person to laugh, then my work is done for the day.  So here goes...

I've been at war with an ingrown hair ON MY FACE (more specifically, on my upper lip) for nearly 2 goddamn months.  It's one of those where you can see it upon very close inspection, BUT is protected by 25 layers of skin.  I couldn't get it!!  Every time I tried to pick at it, it would just create a big, disgusting zit.  Then turn scabby and red, which made it look worse.  So, I decided to just leave it until it came closer to the surface of the skin, which I may add almost killed me. Asking me to not pick at a hair is like asking me not to eat-- and that shit doesn't happen very often.

Let me give you a little background about my hair problem.  I have to constantly wax, tweeze, and otherwise de-hair myself on a regular basis.  I especially have problems with chin hairs.  Like, I could grow a goddamn goatee if I let my shit go.  And these aren't regular hairs, they are like weapons of mass destruction.  You have mace to ward off a mugger?  Well, I have a chin hair that could poke your fucking eye out, slit your throat, AND puncture a vital organ.  Don't mess with me...

So, I always have tweezers.  I have a pair that I keep in my car for emergencies.  Because we all know that natural light is best for detecting hairs and other abnormalities that we don't want to see.  I have all the bases covered- wax, tweezers, Veet.  I really hate hair.

Let me proceed with the ingrown hair story.  So, this morning I noticed that the hair looked closer to the surface.  It was a great moment for me, as I could almost taste victory-- finally getting the goddamn hair that has pestered me for so long.  Patience pays off my friends.  Behold, the mother of all disgusting facial hairs:

Omg x 1000000000.

Words can't even describe how I feel about this situation.  If you continue to be my friend after seeing this, I love you.  And I'll have you know I SAVED THE HAIR IN A FOLDED UP PIECE OF PAPER SO I COULD SHOW LAURA WHEN SHE GOT HOME.  That's how ridiculous I am.  I saved it like it was something spectacular.  Because, I am an asshole...

This is how disgusting I am.

The End.


Tuesday, November 23, 2010

I Still Haven't Cleaned The Bathroom

Ok, I know I said I'd post some after pictures of my bathroom.  BUT, I haven't cleaned it yet.  I really tried, but in all fairness, I worked 6 days last week, so my attention to detail isn't so good right now.  My level of agitation is at an all-time high.  I started to clean it, however.  I picked up some clothes off the floor.  Then we threw clothes back on the floor.  Then Laura picked up the clothes on the floor.  Now there's clothes back on the floor.  There's no winning!!!  Umm maybe a hamper??  But first things first, we don't even have a toothbrush holder yet. 

Our toothbrushes sit on the side of the sink, which is kind of disgusting.  I went to check holders out at Target and they were very expensive.  They were at least $10.  Why is everything so goddamn pricey??  I swear I'll get one soon.  But, I did buy 2 pairs of lounging pants that were $10 each.  So why couldn't spring for a toothbrush holder?  I really thought the pants were a great value and a huge savings.  I can wear them all winter long- during these cold nights.  It is currently 47 degrees AND the low of the evening will be 35.  I needed these pants!!!!  I'll save even more when I don't have to turn on the heater. Right now, I'm very toasty. 

'm kinda in an ativan haze right now, which basically means I don't give A FUCK.  Indifferent.  Lovely.  I had a really bad day.  I made an egg and cheese sangwich for dinner.  I accidentally left the burner on, with a pan on it, AND a goddamn spatula in the pan.  I was wondering what smelled like burning.  I finally got up (after I ate my sangwich), the kitchen was all smokey and the goddamn spatula handle fell off and was melting in the pan.  FUCK.  I took a picture of it, but for some reason it won't upload.  So, now I'm down to 1 functioning spatula. 

The moral of the story:  Christy is not to operate heavy machinery OR use the stove unsupervised while under the influence of ativan...

What a lame blog.  I need a nap, but I still have to wash my hair.  Shit.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Project: Date, Part 1

I have a dilemma.  I haven't had a date in almost a year.  My ex boyfriend and I broke up last year around this time.  I didn't even cry, so I suppose I really didn't give a shit.  Adios, mother fucker.  I mean really, there's more important things to cry about, like the passing of my dog, cat, and grandma.  Not to mention all the suffering and injustice in the world- abused children and animals, famine, war...  Or even saying goodbye to a friend, whom I miss dearly.  Those are things to cry about, not some asshole.  If some guy thinks I'm going to cry over him, that sure as shit not going to happen.  Nope.  I refuse to waste one minute of my time on that shit.  

I've had a few offers-- ummm by offers, I think one.  Some guy I met at a bar, while I was reaaallly drunk (thanks, Stephanie).  I accidentally gave him my phone number and he kept texting me for 2 months.  I must have made a fabulous impression.  I know it's a huge surprise, but I'm actually kinda friendly once I've guzzled a couple of drinks down.  I'm not bragging.  Seriously, I'm not.  In my drunken haze, I remember him showing me his TRACHEOSTOMY TUBE SCAR.  Jesus Christ.

I was talking to Stephanie tonight (she doesn't have a date either) and we were discussing how this date situation is getting ridiculous and out of control.  So, we've decided to work on finding dates.  QUALITY OVER QUANTITY.  And not awful ones, but with good jobs AND their own car.  Because really, there's no room in my car for passengers, so he has to drive.

So, I've come up with a short list of qualifications for my potential date.  Please feel free to make any additional suggestions.
  1. No smoking, drinking, or drugs
  2. Must be taller than me by 6 inches
  3. Must make more than me, which isn't hard
  4. Love dogs and cats
  5. Preferably dark hair
  6. Caring
  7. Funny- but not funnier than me
  8. Smart- I can't stand dummies
  9. Integrity
  10. Charming
  11. Nerdy- but not Dungeons and Dragons nerdy
  12. Handsome-  but really, beggars can't be choosers
  13. Thoughtful
  14. NOT arrogant or smug- seriously, I can't take it
  15. Open minded
  16. Democratic
  17. NOT anxious- I just can't be with someone as neurotic as me
  18. Nice teeth- no snags, please!!

Someone who will help an old lady with her groceries.
Someone who will run out into the street to save a lost dog.  
Someone who will donate a toy to a needy child.
Someone who will not stare at my sister's fake boobs.

**** He has to be best friends with my best friends, so we can do everything together ****

Ok, so now I just need a plan.  I suppose phase 1 would be getting out of the mother fucking house....

To Be Continued...

Ghost Radar

It's Saturday night.  What am I doing?  I'm sitting, watching tv, screwing around on the internet, and playing with my new iPhone app.  What is the app you ask?  Are you ready?  It's called Ghost Radar.  Basically it "attempts to detect paranormal activity by using various sensors on the device on which it is running".  THEN, it "translates" and forms words and displays them on the screen.  It also has a radar which shows exactly where the "ghostly" activity is. 

This is what it looks like:   Well, kinda- it is different on my phone.  It looks like a radar with a bunch of numbers and shit... But you get the idea...

So, I've been obsessing over it for 2 hours.  I haven't gotten much, but once it said "grandmother" which was KINDA creepy.  It has said other things, but nothing significant.  Can I reiterate, it's Saturday night, 10:08p, and I'm sitting by myself watching Swamp People and trying to contact the dead.  And I'm not even getting any goddamn activity.  As I write this, the screen is blank, no ghosts.  The goddamn ghosts are bored with my existence.  Ghost 1:  "ummm yeah, let's find someone else to haunt"  Ghost 2:  "this bitch sucks".  I'm sorry ghosts.  I don't know what to tell you.  I do indeed suck and I'm sorry.

So, since I'm throwing myself a little pity party, I have come up with a project.  PROJECT:  DATE...

To be continued...

Thursday, November 18, 2010

I'm Not a Hoarder, Just a Slob

Tonight I met up with my ex-roomie Kristy.  She truly is a great person and friend.  AND she is seriously the most organized human in the universe.  Everything always has it's place and is neat and tidy.  She even keeps boxes for all her electronic devices.  When she moved, she placed her DVR and DVD player in it's original box.  And I'm not talking about just the box, but the little styrofoam wedge pieces which keep the items nice and snug within the box.  All of her DVD's/CD's are in the correct cases.  I bet she's never worn 2 different socks--- EVER.  Seriously, I have no clue how she survived living with me.  And we're still friends. 

Don't get me wrong.  My house doesn't look like an episode of Hoarders.  I don't have dead cats smashed between piles of rubbish.  There isn't moss growing in the bathroom, or any type of organic matter just chillin in a big heap of trash.  A goat isn't eating through the side of my house.  I don't shit in a Safeway bag because my bathroom isn't accessible.  I don't have weird attachments to coat hangers, or an old, ratty teddy bear that I bought at a garage sale.  I'm just a little messy, that's all.  If I make dinner, it might take me a few days to do the dishes.  No big, right?  Or, if I take off my socks, I just throw them on the floor.  Because, really, I'm not concerned with small messes.  I'll pick it up eventually.  I will admit though, that I start to get anxious and uncomfortable if things get too messy.

Here's an example:
Exhibit A

Exhibit B

The bathroom is at my breaking point.  I actually started to clean it, so now it looks better than the pictures.  I put some stuff away, then needed a rest.  I'll clean the rest tomorrow.  I'm just too tired!  AND if I got a little help from someone, I bet we could make the bathroom look lovely in no time at all.

Hmmmm.  Tomorrow I will show the after pictures.  So you know I can actually clean and I'm not a TOTAL slob.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Thank You For Not Thinking I'm Lame

I'm not feeling very inspired tonight.  I don't have anything funny, ummm a little funny, not funny AT ALL to write about-- well wait, I probably do, but I have writer's block.  And I use the term "writer" very, very loosely.

So, I wanted to take the time to thank my 2 readers.  That's right 2.  But I'd rather have 2 loyal readers than 50 fickle ass ones.  I'm perfectly content and ok with this.

Jess:  Thank you so much for all your comments.  You always comment my lame blogs and actually read them.  For that, I am grateful.  I love you.

Stephanie:  WTF.  You don't know how to leave comments, but this is equally good:

Quick reference?!?!!

Thank you both for your support.  I'm flattered that you both read my blog faithfully. :)

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I Swear I'm Not a Stalker, But I Love Stevie Nicks

I have loved Stevie Nicks forever  I admire everything about her- well, her except her addiction to klonopin and cocaine in the 80s- not good.  She's so pretty, an amazing songwriter, has a hauntingly beautiful voice, AND she can harmonize with anyone on this planet.  Her songs consist of poetry paired with awesome melodies and music.  Her music is empowering and often speaks of love and friendship and life/death- and anything that has meaning.  Did you know she wrote a song about Jane Goodall?    

All of the songs she sang with Fleetwood Mac, she wrote.  Yep.  Landslide, Gypsy, Beautiful Child (which is one of my favorite songs EVER- if I could stand to listen to it because it's so incredibly sad), Silver Spring, Sara, Rhiannon...  she wrote all of them.  Don't get me wrong, Fleetwood Mac is awesome.  Lindsey Buckingham is an amazing guitarist (but his hair kinda looks like Kramer from Seinfeld), Mick Fleetwood is amazing on drums, but Stevie literally steals the show.  I've seen Fleetwood Mac a few times in concert, but I much prefer to see Stevie solo.  Yep.  I sure do.

I've seen her in concert several times, and honestly, it has been some of the best times I've ever had.  It's so much fun.  I never go away disappointed and I always want more.  I've cried at her shows and I've smiled so much that my cheeks hurt.  Yes, it's that good.  When she does her famous spin, the crowd goes wild.  Why is that so cool?
I am such a stalker.
 The song Nightbird is one of my favorites.  It's actually about her best friend who passed away.  I absolutely love the lyrics, "And when I call Will you walk gently Thru my shadow".  It's so touching-- follow me in the shadows, where no one can see you, but I know you are there forever.  Ahhhhh.  Lovely.

And when I call
Will you walk gently
Thru my shadow
The ones who sing at night
The ones who sing at night
The ones you dream of
The ones who walk away
Capes pulled around them tight
Cryin' for the night
Cry for the nightbird...tonite

And another favorite Outside the Rain.  I've listened to this song a million times.  Basically,  yeah, I'm hurt right now, but I'm sick of the shit.  Love shouldn't be so difficult.  Oh, and by the way, good luck trying to find someone like me.  So go eff yourself.

And it's been like dying -
No love's that hard to find -
And I'm tired of -
I'm tired of trying
Outside the rain
And the heart skips a beat
So you're lonely

Look in my eyes
Touch my face
Baby, there's no one
That can take my place

Stevie has helped me in so many different scenarios with her music.  Her thoughtfulness and depth.  Her knowledge of loss and love and her willingness to share with us.  What can I say?  I love Stevie Nicks.

The End. 

Monday, November 15, 2010

Go Ahead and Laugh You Assholes

Why can't I ever find anything?  Seriously.  Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment and I can't find my insurance card.  Do you think that shit is in my wallet like a normal human?  Of course it isn't.  I don't think it'll be a big deal, but I'm kinda stressing out about it.  Mainly because *if* I get a prescription, I want to change pharmacies.  Walgreens can seriously eat shit and die.  They are soooo expensive.  So I suppose I'll have to call some bullshit hotline and get all the information, which is what I'm trying to avoid in the first place.

This is what I did find, however:  2 copies of my dental insurance card (of course), a Jamba Juice gift card, an Applebees gift card, my 2010-2011 car registration (which I promptly put in my car), Best Buy credit card, DSW card, my checkbook...


Words can't describe how I feel about this...

And this...
Why do I have a mullet?
Are you done laughing yet, you assholes?  Really fucking funny, isn't it?? 

1.  I'm so depressed that my high school photo was 20 years ago.  Seriously.  I'm ready to fling myself off of a building- I swear I'd do it if I weren't so lazy.

2.  My college photo.  Seriously, someone should've put me out of my misery.  Fuck.

3.  Why can I find the above ID's from a million years ago, but can't find my insurance card from a year ago.

4.  Why can't I keep shit in my wallet?? Really?  WHY?

Ok, I'm done embarrassing myself now.

The End.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Pier 39 Wax Museum = Lame

Yesterday, my cousin and I went into the city.  It was a beautiful day and it was actually quite warm.  Warm for San Francisco and warm for this time in November.  So overall, it was a lovely day.

We walked around Union Square for a bit, had lunch, then hopped back on BART and went to the Embarcadero, where we we proceeded to the piers.  Pier 39 is so touristy, but it was a nice, clear day.  Besides, the people watching is good and one of my favorite places is there-- umm well, not one of my absolute favorite places.  The Pier 39 Wax Museum.

I'm telling you, if you are in the mood for a good laugh and don't mind spending $14, it's a good place to go.  Let me elaborate on the $14.  $14.  I'm very sorry, but that museum is worth no more than $7.  It's what you would call a poor man's Madame Tussaud's.  That place is amazing.   You can get up close to the life-like wax figures that are so realistic, you think you were actually standing next to your favorite celeb.  The Pier 39 Wax Museum, not so much. 

Here are some examples of what we saw:


Creepy (and blurry).

My cousin and Prince Charles.

Ok.  So there you have it.  The worst wax figures ever.  I hope you enjoyed them.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Phoenix Peed on My Brush

This blog is dedicated to my friend, Stephanie.  I've known her FOREVER, and we've had lots of laughs throughout the years.  She is another friend who is a disaster.  She loses everything, sleeps on random stuff, and is messy.  JUST LIKE ME!!  I swear to god, I gravitate towards people like me.  It's like a weird radar.  I seriously don't think a normal person could be friends with me, they couldn't handle my antics.  But it's all in good fun and I make it a point to never take myself seriously. 

Up until last night, she didn't even know I had a blog and is excited about giving me 'inspiration' about potential topics.  She specifically requested this topic--- so... without further ado, I present Phoenix Peed on My Brush.

I have several brushes.  At any given time, however, I can't even find one.  You'd think there would be one in the bathroom and that I would keep it there like a normal person.  As you know, I am not a normal person.  As a matter of fact, I just cleaned my car and I found 2 brushes in there.  Don't ask me why, because I don't know, but I suppose the only logical reason is that I am a disaster.

One morning I went into the family room.  Great!! There's my brush!!!  ON THE FLOOR.  YESSSS!  I was so excited.  Oh.  But wait.  After closer inspection, it appeared that the brush was sitting in a puddle of something.  Pee.  Shit.  Phoenix peed on my brush.

Later that evening, I went to my sister's school to get my hair done.  I proceeded to tell her about the brush.  We started laughing hysterically-- I have no idea why.  I'm mean the dog peed on my brush.  How funny is that?  Well, I think it's so funny BECAUSE it was on the floor in the first place.  Who does that?  Why was it on the floor?  Why didn't I pick it up?  The worst part was she told one of her instructors about it.  First of all, I don't think she quite understood our humor, and secondly, I think she thought we were a couple of assholes.  Embarrassing.

Laura held up a brush a few days later, "is this the brush Phoenix peed on?".  I replied "it sure is, but I cleaned it and it doesn't smell...".

The End. 

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Tampon Dilemma

About a month ago, I went with my dad to Costco.  I mention that I went with my dad because he has a Costco card.  I'm way too cheap to spend, what, like $50ish on an annual membership, even though I know I will save more in the long run.  The only things I buy from there are Diet Coke (big surprise), the occasional odds and ends, snacks, AND tampons.  I believe that during this particular trip, I bough both Diet Coke and tampons.  That was indeed a pricey day for me.

While I was walking through the store, I remembered my sister telling me once that she hates the cardboard tampons.  She said that they scrapes the inside of her vagina and/or labia(s)?  Honestly, they aren't the most comfortable to insert, but I want to buy the absolute cheapest ones, which are usually cardboard.  Costco doesn't have a huge selection of tampons, but I was extra careful not to buy the cardboard ones.  Why?  Because I'm an asshole and I have to try and please everyone.  I suppose it's one of my shortcomings- wait, I'm trying to please someone with tampons????  Anyways, so I got a box that had the plastic applicators. 

Feeling pleased that I had at least a few month supply of tampons, I got home and put them in the bathroom next to the toilet.  Then I noticed.  They were SUPER.  Fuck.  Don't get me wrong, supers are, at times, very necessary, but the whole entire box?? Woopsie.  Usually, the variety boxes are the most useful.  But I'll make due, because I'm not returning them and I'm not buying more.  I just spent around $10 on that box and I refuse to buy more.

So of course my sister and I start our periods at the same time.  I'm sitting watching tv and she says, "do we have any tampons besides supers?" and I say "no, it was an accident - I didn't mean to buy those".  She says, "well I don't want toxic shock syndrome".  I reply, "Jesus, then change it more often then".  She says "but I don't want to pull a dry one out because it hurts".

There are so many things wrong with this.  I mean really, who says that?  Ok, well, it's true, a dry one does hurt.  Well, unless you are a porn star or the Duggar mom- in that case, your vagina is probably large enough to easily insert anything quite easily- with room to spare.  How about BUY YOUR OWN TAMPONS!! I swear to god.  Do you really think she went to the store and bought some regulars?  Hell no she didn't.  To this very day, she continues to use my supers.  I guess the threat of TSS isn't alarming enough for her to go to the store and shell out a few bucks for some regulars. 

I swear to god.  This is what I live with every day..

Monday, November 8, 2010

Our Bachelorette Pad Looks Like a Frat House

Since my roomie moved out, the living room is now vacant.  My sister and I have decided this will be the "no dogs allowed" room.  A room that will always be clean-- a place where guests can sit and be comfortable.  They can sit and NOT have dog hair all over their clothes-- well, once we get a couch in here.  We can also light fires and have quiet, intelligent conversation over a nice bottle of wine.  Yes, that's how we picture it... lovely.

Here's the reality of the situation:

Shit.  We don't even like wine.  Please note in the picture that Phoenix is under our "ottoman".  He and Caesar are the exception to the "no dogs" rule-- oh and Mitzi too.

Please also notice the giant tangle of cords and mess.  In my defense, I just put my tv in here yesterday... so the Directv box is still laying on the floor.  I don't exactly have a stand to put the tv on just yet, so the bay window will do for now.  All the other residual mess is left from the worker guys who recently painted.

Here's another angle for your viewing pleasure... 

Ok, so the ugly green chairs were my grandma's.  They are from the 50's and they are actually pretty cool and super comfy.  I need, however, to get the cushions re-upholstered into a non-hideous color.  I was thinking brown, with a couple of fun accent colored pillows-- maybe like pink or purple.  And there's the treadmill.  Oh treadmill, I always say I'm going to use you, but I never do.  Now there's no excuse since you are actually in a room with Directv AND a DVD player.  No excuse at all.  But you will probably stay folded up until the end of time.

So, this is our reality.  But I swear, once I get my shit together, I will take another picture and show you how organized and lovely our living room is until then, we will continue to live in a bachelor pad/frat house.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Coupons and Late Night Blogging

I try really hard to use coupons.  You can TOTALLY save a ton of money.  Like that lady on tv who can feed a family of 8 for $6 a week.  Well, I'm exaggerating, but she does save loads of money.  But seriously, how long does she spend looking for that shit?  She is probably SUPER organized and has a coupon organizer with color-coded dividers.  It's probably a full-time job searching for those must-have deals-- buy 5 Hamburger Helpers, get 1 free-- double/triple coupons.  What the fuck are those anyways??  Obviously, I'm an ignoramus when it comes to coupon lingo. 

Coupons don't USUALLY work for me for the following reasons:
  1. I forget I have it and it'll stay on the refrigerator forever
  2. I lost it
  3. I won't use it before it expires
  4. I feel like an asshole when presenting them (I never know when to give them to the checker-- at the beginning, or the end, or when they scan that particular item you have the coupon for.  It's just way too stressful for me).  I'm an asshole. 
  5. I hardly ever find coupons that I would actually use 
  6. If I do remember, I'll forget it on the counter when I go to the store
There are exceptions to every rule, however.  While I was at Target today, I saw coupon glued onto the box of a Smart Ones-- buy 10, get $3 off.  Hell yes.  AND the super nice checker lady had another 0.50 off coupon she gave to me while I was paying.  That's a pretty big savings- so I can't say I NEVER find coupons.  It's just a rarity, that's all.

On grocery store websites, they now have a system where you can electronically put virtual coupons on your Club Card.  This alleviates stress dealing with actual coupons-- all you have to do is punch in your phone number (I lost my Club Card) and they will automatically deduct the savings from your total.  Awesome, right?  Ummm... no.  It's ALWAYS lame stuff that I'll never use.  Please refer to my examples below, which were taken from the store's website:



See what I'm talking about??  The website has 7 pages of lame shit.  Lame shit that I don't use nor want.  Thanks for all the savings you assholes.  AND they give you a roll of useless coupons with your receipt after you pay.  I swear to God, I always get the lamest ones-- Nicorette Gum.  Nicorette? Gum?  Really?  And baby food.  Great.  Thanks.  That's exactly what I needed.

I wonder what I can buy with all this money I'm saving?  I was being sarcastic, you asshole.  I'm not saving anything-  well except for $3.50 on Smart Ones.

The End.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

I Reaallly Need To Clean My Car

I need to write something semi funny before going to bed.  My last post was depressing.  I KNEW I was going to start my period, and sure as shit, I did.  Also, we went and saw For Colored Girls, it was so intense and awesome.  I wouldn't have chosen that movie, but I glad I went.  I felt a little awkward entering the theater.  Three blondes and a Latina- so we weren't what you'd call the target audience.  But who cares?  We're all in this together AND it was just a girls movie in general.  Awesome.

Anyways, my car.  It's such a giant mess.  I will only allow certain people to ride in it when it's in it's current condition.  You will have to move shit off the passenger side seat if you want to actually sit down- which is kind of imperative if RIDING in a car.  And please don't think you can ride garbage free in the backseat, because that shit is a mess too.  I have a creepy light-up crucifix back there (I found it at my grandma's), boots, a bag, and a few other odds and ends.

On with the story.  Since I go across the Dumbarton Bridge every day, I recognize the toll takers (I don't have Fastrak- it's a lame, boring story).  One guy in particular is super nice and always asks how I am and says hi to the kids when I bring them to work.  I've seen this guy for probably  2 years.  He even knew Milo.  He asked where he was after he died :(

Anyways, whenever I don't have the kids with me he always asks "Where are your friends?"  And I reply with something stupid like "They took a vacation" or "They wanted to sleep in" or "They took the day off".  I know, clever, right?  This morning I happened to get in his lane-- since my car sits pretty low and the toll booth is higher, you can see right into the car.  So, I give him my money and he asks "Where are your friends?" AS HE'S PEERING INSIDE MY CAR.  I was so embarrassed.  He totally saw the mess.  I saw his eyes gaze to the backseat-- looking for my kids, whose mom is a giant slob.  He expected to see a chihuahua and saw an old Panda Express bag instead.

At that moment I realized that I need to clean my car ASAP.  That's on my to-do list for tomorrow... 

It's That Time of Month

So I don't have much time to dilly dally.  I actually have plans to go to the movies with a big group of people I don't know.  Well, that actually isn't true, I'll know approximately 3 people out of the group.  So luckily, going to the movies doesn't require much conversation.  We all know I'm an asshole around people I don't know.   

Have you ever felt that sometimes your best isn't good enough?  I feel that way at work right now.  I've worked so hard to make it better, but I have not succeeded.  It often leaves me feeling inadequate, frustrated, and depressed.  I suppose there are lots of reasons why I feel this way-- some undoubtedly stem from myself, my own insecurities, and issues.  My inability, at times, to talk to people and be forthcoming.  But, I will not take all the blame because I feel there are deeper issues within the organization- some things that I don't have control over.  Things that I try to fix, but fail miserably.   

I need a change.  I outgrew my job a long time ago.  But what else can I do?  I'm so comfortable with my work, no matter how stressful and shitty it is-- it's familiar.  I know what I'm doing and it feels good when people come to me for help because they know I can give them an answer.  I'm comfortable-- too cozy for my own good.   I know what I want, but am uncertain as to how to obtain it.  Is it my laziness? Or my inability to push myself?  Or maybe I'm scared?   The answer is yes- -all of these things hinder my ability to move forward with my life.  I'm afraid of failure- so much in fact, that I don't even try.  Which, in my opinion is cowardly, and worse than failing.

I want to help people.  In what capacity?  I have no idea.  There are so many things I know I can do-- and don't get me wrong, there are people who have told me that I've helped them- clients at work and personally.  But what if I could do that every day?  What if I could make someone's day better?  That is my ultimate dream.  To make a difference in someone's life- to help them when they feel like no one else cares. 

You know when you feel like you have so much to give but don't know where to begin?  That's how I feel right now.  It's overwhelming and scary.





Friday, November 5, 2010

I Was a Pilgrim For Halloween

I know everyone is sick of me talking about my trip to Massachusetts.  But honestly, I don't care.  I had the absolute best time ever in the history of good times.  The people whom I visited (Jess, Robert, Ivan, and Dashy) have absolutely no idea as to how much I needed that trip and how much it meant me.  Words, especially mine, can never fully and adequately express my gratitude and love for them.   And I'm not saying it to be dramatic or to appease anyone- it's true.

Yankee Candle.  Holy shit.  It was the BIGGEST selection of candles you will ever see in one place.  Every scent imaginable under one big roof.  AMAZING.  Megan even shared coupons, which is awesome, because those bitch candles are expensive.  It was all so lovely.  What a great day.

Haunted Woods.  OMG.  The scariest thing ever.  We laughed and laughed and screamed like assholes.  A stroll through the dark with scary shit jumping out- chainsaw wielding maniacs.  I'm not just talking about 1-- there were (ummm I'm not exactly sure because I was hiding my head against PP) maybe 3.  I think the scariest thing was the creepy drunk Santa and Elf.  THE SANTA SMELLED LIKE BOOZE.  Lovely.  He was absolutely disgusting.  And why did Jess give him her name???!!  Slurring Santa: "Whhatttt isthss your naaammmme?" PP: "Jess"  Slurring Santa: "Whhuuts your lasht name? PP: "Cota".  Jesus Christ.  He pulled out a roll of toilet paper to "check" his list and decided that Jess was indeed naughty, ripped off a piece of the paper and threw it.  The moral of the story?  Do not give drunk Santa your full name.  AND if Santa gives you toilet paper and you ran out at home, you'd better take that shit.  Awesome.

Boston.  What can I say?  An amazing place full of history and cool old shit.  We went to an awesome aquarium, where I almost went into a god damn rage because I couldn't find the aquarium setting on my stupid camera.  Line management/configuration is serious business.  The old cemeteries?  Simply awesome.  The leaves?  I never knew trees could be so beautiful.  The lamp post street lights?  So old fashioned and lovely-  almost like you stepped back into time.  Chewbacca on a Segway?  What the hell.  A big giant food court?  I LOVED every minute of it.  I even loved it when PP got mad that we were walking over the scary dinosaur bridge to Bunker Hill.  Nice.  And if she thinks I can't pick up on when she's mad, or there's something wrong, she's mistaken.

Provincetown.  Didn't make it there, but I'm sure it's lovely.  We did get lost on the way AND did see some assholes running a marathon.  We turned around because it got too late.

Plymouth.  Greasy ass, delicious chicken strips and fries.  A piece of shit rock that may or may NOT have been the actual rock in which the pilgrims landed.  A big giant crack in it from when some asshole dropped it- THEN cemented it back together way back in the 1800s.  A big "1620" stamped onto it.  Lame.  VERY UNDERWHELMING.  But it's good for a laugh or two.  We went to the best cemetery.  Sooooo cool.  We saw a Dyke and walked aimlessly without a care in the world, THROUGH A GRAVEYARD.  And how could I forget about Bob's bff Massasoit?  I could die just thinking about how funny that is.  I wish I was part Wampanoag, just so I could say Wampanoag and Massasoit every day.  And the small pox?  Jesus Christ.    Ummm perhaps the best part of Plymouth-- the god damn gift shop.  Placemats, and funny shit in general.  I even found my Halloween costume there.  A pilgrim hat and a Plymouth sweatshirt.  Yes.  I am officially an asshole.

Halloween Night.  Brains for dinner.  Really?  Awesome.  Friends who accept you even if you are an awkward dumb ass?  Priceless.  That's when you know you have good friends-- they accept you for all your shortcomings and asshole-ish behavior.  AND they love you anyways, then tell you to go to the doctor and get some god damn ativan.  Now that's love.  Am I right?  What about all the jack-o-lanterns?  That guy was a carving fool.  I had never seen so many pumpkins in one place.  Hello Kitty Costume + Hello Kitty Pumpkin = The Cutest Thing Ever.  An awesome night, after I had some gross wine. :(  

Salem.  Awesome.  Every asshole has heard of the Salem Witch Trials.  A super interesting, yet dark part of early American history.  Now those were some serious assholes.  We stood on the same ground where the "witches" were unjustly and unfairly hanged.  The House of Seven Gables.  Super cool.  I admit, the tour guide was indeed interesting- he was very enthusiastic and you could tell he truly loved his job.  That is such an important part of being a guide-- because honestly, if you don't give a shit, how can you expect anyone else to be interested?  Just please stop repeating yourself.  Repeating yourself.  Because I'm getting really fucking anxious.  Anxious.  And the sangwich place we went to?  YUM.  And the cheapest food you will get without going to Taco Hell.  And I'll punch out your already rotten teeth slut, don't question what PP wants to omit from her sangwich!!!!!!!!  I get it, it's an abomination that she doesn't want fucking cranberries and gravy on her sangwich, but keep your opinions to yourself. 

Marblehead.  "Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt your walk..."  why is that the cutest, most polite thing ever?  Sure, we got lost for a minute, but not too bad!  Castle Rock was how I envisioned Plymouth Rock to look like.  Super impressive and beautiful.  It was eerily peaceful and surreal, and just plain awesome.  The smell of the Atlantic Ocean, the beauty, and peacefulness was enough to bring the biggest cynic to tears.  And make you believe that everything will be ok. 

I'm sure I forgot lots of things, but I'm tired.  How could I forget chin hair lancets?  Or Jesus communion wafers?  My winter coat?  PP's fall coat?  Losing everything?  Unmatching socks?  Laughing? Dashy farting in my face?  Ivan giving me filthy looks?  Dashy and Ivan tap dancing in my suitcase?  Santa's Slay?  Thankskilling?

If everyone was half as good and kind and sweet and smart and funny as Jess, the world would be what it should be-- amazing.  I'm happy we can be assholes together and that someone just "gets it".  I'm lucky and privileged to call her my friend.