Gumdrop Party

So as this amazing invite designed by S. indicates, we're having a goodbye party at the gumdrop over Memorial Day weekend. I'm pretty stoked for it, as it will be a good way to get (hopefully) all of my friends in one spot, and should make for an afternoon of excellent food (I've seen the menu-it's catered!) and fun. If you're reading this and we've spent more than an hour in the same room, chances are I want you to be there, and I'm hoping I'll get some Israel people (hi, Amanda!) and maybe even some Smithies to come down, if I'm lucky. I am completely wrecked over having to leave the house, but I think that having all of the people who I love and adore there for one last time will really make a difference. I'm trying not to get bogged down with all the insanity that's going to be going down over the next month (Two weddings, an ankle surgery and a possible cameo at my college reunion, in addition to the move) but I think this will be a good way to slow down for a day and just enjoy having a good time. If nothing else, it will make for some excellent meeting and blending of personalities and I can't wait to get everyone together for a good time. Secretly, eventhough the invite only says 4-8, I'm hoping people just linger all night, and it turns into one huge amazing pink couch party, because god knows the New Ro crew is attatched to those couches. I'm considering stealing one of the pink pillows that goes with them, it's just too comfy! So yeah, all in all, I'm excited for the party, now if my dad could just get his act together and send out an invite (admitedly not this amazing invite pictured above, he is an old fart and wants something lame and boring. Shocker.) then we can get this show on the road.

Round Two!

So, since I know all 3 of my readers are sitting on the edge of their seats about what's been going on in my life, I suppose I'll write an update. My second surgery is a week from today, May 16th. My life is so hectic otherwise that I have absolutely no opportunity to process how I feel about being cut open again. Here's why I feel okay about being cut open again: my left ankle has always been in better shape than my right, and since I've already expereinced the first surgery, I ostensibly know what's coming. I will have 6 scars total, and lots of physical therapy, and the ability to walk on my own two feet. However, on the down side, I am still a little nervous, and I'm really feeling inconvenineced by having to go through this again. Although I am excited to not have to work for another week. Unfortunately, I will be spending most of this week packing up the gumdrop and figuring what I do and don't want to keep from the last 23 years of my life. I'm not looking foward to this.

As a result of the fact that we are moving out of the gumdrop, people have started giving me their opinions on a variety of topics regarding the things which are in the house, and specifically the things which belonged to my mother. I understand that this is a touchy subject, and that everyone has opinions as to what is important, but I have had the last three years to decide what's important, and I am damned sure that the dining room table doesn't qualify. 15 feet of mahogany really means nothing to me, especially in terms of my mother and memories of her, other than being forced to pull the thing apart to add leaves solo and setting the table for 12. Good riddance, table! My dad and I have tried to solve this problem by having a party at the house; we're going to allow the members of our family to go through and tell us what they'd like to keep. However, this seems to be translating to people telling me what they'd like ME to keep. As if I don't have enough. On any given day, I am probably wearing upwards of two or three things that belonged to my mother that she either gave to me or I inherited. Taking much more will turn my tiny apartment into a shrine to her, and that's just morbid and creepy. I want nothing to do with that. I am happy to share her things with my family and her friends, but I can't take anything else. So I know that was a side rant, but I have had two of these extremely uncomfortable conversations in the last 3 days, and it's frustrating. I feel like I'm not being trusted to make my own decisions, and being told that the proper way to remember my mom is to take the ugly dining room table just isn't cutting it.

Rant over.

Yess!

Apple fixed my computer, free of charge. Freaking awesome. My faith has been restored. I can't wait to have it back!

Writing for the sake of writing...

Because I'm bored, and it's Friday, and I have nothing to do, as always. Nothing too exciting has gone on in my life recently. My ankle is coming along well. I've started physical therapy, which is good. Up through today it's mostly just light stuff, stretching and icing and massage and getting electrocuted, but starting Monday I'm going to be doing some more high-intensity stuff, to make sure I can actually survive without this bone they removed. I bought a pair of sneakers to get me through. And who doesn't love new sneakers? I mean, they're not my typical awesome Pumas, but they're cute NB's and I'm okay with that. Sean and I went out for dinner last night, had some mediocre Mexican and then got some ice cream wandered while we finished our cones. I was able to actually handle the wandering, even though my left foot randomly started spasming after I got home. The scars on my ankle are pretty much healed, and vary in color from day to day anywhere from bright red to a lovely lavender. I wonder if those scar creams would actually do anything in this case? It's funny though, when I touch the biggest scar, I can't feel it, but underneath that it's still pretty sore and tender and icky. This is obviously why PT is essential.

In other fun news, my harddrive in my powerbook died. Shoutout to Sean & Dmo for teaming up to help me get the data off (who knew holding the thing at an 80 degree angle could make it work? Love it.) Anyway, the thing is at the Apple factory type place, where they're assessing the damage. I spoke to Apple on the phone this morning, and hte guy was SO much nicer than the shmuck with a chip on his shoulder in SoHo who told me that there was very little chance that hte thing would cost less than $900 to fix. So much for Apple Care. But the guy on the phone was much more encouraging. So it seems like there's actually a possiblity that the MacBook of my dreams may just stay that way for a little while longer. Which is fine, I don't really need to be owning a new $2000 dollar computer at this point. The plan is to keep this one for at least another year. And anyway, if it turns out that Apple can't fix it for free, I'm going to take it to TekServe and see what they can do. Because while Apple won't give me a bigger Harddrive, TekServe will. So I am not without hope. I have all my data, the computer isn't necessarily a goner, and I have pretty pink and gray sneakers to admire while I'm unable to use the internet at home. Life is good.

As promised, photographic ridiculousness

If you click on the link provided in the title of this post, you can see all the photos. Be warned, there are some of my ankle unwrapped just a few days after surgery. Not for the faint of stomach.

Recouperation since then has had its shares of ups and downs. There are some times when it feels fine and dandy, and there are others, like yesterday and today, where I can barely stand it it hurts so much, and it feels the same as it did before this even started. It's discouraging, but I know it probably needs more time. The effects of all this have really begun to wear me down. I've gained back a little of the weight that worked so hard to lose last year I because of not being able to move around like I used to, only being able to be out of my apartment on beautiful spring days for a few hours at a time before I have to hobble back inside and sleep and rest my throbbing legs, and basically general unfunness. And I have to go through this all again. So, as you can tell, this whole process really has me down. One part of my brain is telling me this is doing nothing, while a much smaller part is continually trying to convince me that that's not the case. I'm ready for this to be done already. My now-weekly orthopedist appointment is on Thursday. Hopefully we'll be able to scheldule the next operation, I'm done with this bullshit already.

How you know it's Spring in New York

My office smells like B.O.



(Link to pictures from surgery week insanity forthcoming)

1 down, 1 to go

Operation was yesterday. Having come downstairs while no one else is at the gumdrop and being too lazy to go back up, I am siezing this as one of my few opportunities within hte next week to be able to write without vicodin being majorly in my system.

Here, for your enjoyment, is a list of things that will probably answer any questions one could have about the fun and games that occurred yesterday morning.

What time I had to be at the hospital: 5:45.

Who's an angel for coming with me/meeting me there: Sean and the Bub.

What information the hospital already had on me: My address from when I lived in Chelsea 23 years ago.

Here's where I was born: The same place they yanked out my bone.

Here's what they took out of my ankle: a bone roughly the size of a marble, which they WOULD NOT LET ME KEEP! (Fucking state law cocksuckers)

Here's how long the incision was: 3 inches.

Here's what the anesthesiologist did: put me completely under, and put up with me holding onto his finger as I fell asleep.

Here's how many stitches I have: Good question!

Here's why I don't know how many stitches I have: The incision is covered in gauze which is covered by an ace bandage (They close with velcro now! Such advances! Those old school pins on the end hurt and were very loseable). The ace bandage (who is this Ace?) is covered by tubular gauze which acts like a sock. The piece d'resistance is that over this whole lovely ensemble, I am wearing one of those booties that upon first glance I said OH LOOK ITS ONE OF THOSE WIERD SHOES THAT HOMELESS PEOPLE WEAR SO YOU CAN SEE HOW GROSS THEIR TOES ARE!

Here's what I'm better at today than yesterday: Using crutches

Here's who's worried sick about me 24/7 eventhough she's trying to play it cool: Grandma.

My life, as you can tell, is: SO EXCITING.

When I get up the motivation, I will grab my dad's digital camera and throw a few pictures on here. Just because I find this whole thing funny.

Drive-by blessings

You know how there are some days where there are definite themes? Where things happen over and over and they're totally unrelated incidents but they all happen at once so it's weird and makes you look over your shoulder all the time? Like the weird looking semi-effeminate bald dude who I see in the subway all the time. And not on the same trains or at the same time of day, either.

Today's seemingly unrelated incidents are blessings. Not sneeze-induced blessings, but random ones, out of nowhere, for no reason. Today's examples:

1) When attempting to cross Columbus Circle this morning my eye catches this dude standing amidst construction. I didn't really think anything of it, I just figured he was standing there waiting for the light to change, too. But then he offers me a Mountain Dew. (I can think of nothing more revolting than Mountain Dew at 8:30 am on a Wednesday, but that's neither here nor there). I say, "oh, no thanks." And he goes, "No, problem, God bless you!!" I obviously hurry away, feeling freaked out by this unasked for invocation and rather wishing it hadn't happened. My mind immediately thought back to the time this summer when this crazy voodoo witch lady hexed me when I wouldn't give her a nickel. She proceeded to barrage me with some crazy prayer, much to my amusement. It didn't bother me. But...a prayer makes me go EW and scurry and a hex makes me laugh my ass off. Someone I don't know is forcing their deity and their beliefs onto me against my consent and as far as I'm concerned, it's offensive. Anyway, onto example number...

2) While going up the escalator in the mall in this belly of the way-uhl, I witnessed an interaction between a woman so poorly coiffed she could only be lost and a rather normal looking man about whether the bags he was carrying from Gracious Home were from inside this ridiculous establishment. He informed her that no, they weren't, indeed, the closest Gracious Home was on 67th Street. They lamented the distance (7 blocks, a shandah) and he got off the escalator. Upon his departure she yelled "GOD BLESS YOU!" Over some fucking directions.

So what is this with the blessings? Why do people feel the need to bless people who they don't know, over things which mean nothing at all? Do I have the right to be offended? To be unhappy about being blessed because I don't believe in god? That I'm being blessed without my consent? Indeed, if I were in a church, or synagogue and the clergy threw a blessing in my direction, I would understand; I was there willingly and therefore subjected myself to any potential protection that they would offer. But on the street? I just don't like it. I don't feel protected, I feel violated. Call me cynical, mean, hedonistic, but for Christ's sake, people, keep your blessings to yourselves!

My novel idea

Here's the thought:

Every time your high school has a snow day, you, too, should have a snow day. Yes.


In other news, I got the air casts, and since having put them on my legs have transformed themselves into clubs which I would really like to tear off and beat myself with. My legs are hot, and swollen, and ever since I went to the doctor on Monday they've been hurting and/or throbbing nonstop. I'm taking advil, but I don't like taking it 24/7 because I feel like that can't really be good for you. Not that advil would help the perpetual claustrophobia that I am feeling because of my legs.

As predicted, none of my shoes fit now that I have these things, with the exception of my hiking boots, which aren't really work-appropriate. So, I think I might cave, and buy a pair of uggs, because I saw a pair that are not that ugly, and since something tells me I'm gonna be logging a lot of time in air casts, so...

We'll see.

I wonder what the chances are of me getting the test results back tomorrow afternoon and going into surgery on Monday are. Because I can't handle too much more of this. I'm itching to get out of my skin.

And now, why this blog is named what it is.

Because, frankly, my ankles (and particularly my right one) SUCK.

Having had my first run in with miserableness at the cost of my ankles in the first grade, it goes without saying that waiting until I was 23 to do something about it was not the smartest move. That being said, I went to my 4th orthopedist for the same problem since 1998 today, and it seems that I'm finally on the way to doing something about the chronic pain which IS my life. The prognosis is NOT that I have tendonitis, as was stated by the previous 3 orthopedists that I have seen, but instead that I am MISSING AN ENTIRE JOINT IN MY ANKLE. Which explains SO much. It seems that when we are babies our bones resemble cartiledge much more than they resemble bone. As we age, the bones fuse and/or seperate to become, you know, our skeleton. So, basically, a bunch of bones in my right ankle didn't do that and I am therefore missing a joint and my legs have had to compensate because of it. My right leg compensated by chipping in various parts of my ankle and becoming generally ridiculous and my left compensated by actually developing tendonitis and becoming tight and rigid to support myself since my right leg can't. This prognosis required TWO doctors poking and prodding me at 8 am this morning, including one delightful moment that involved me seeing STARS and screaming it hurt so bad, several x-rays which had me wondering what was worse, being exposed to xrays or covering myself in a lead shield, and having an awkward conversation with my dad about his imminent purchase of a new home with his ho.

Anyway, I'm getting a CT scan on Wednesday morning, and by Monday they should know what's definitely going on in terms of surgery. But, as it stands, they will do orthoscopic surgery on my right ankle and then my left to remove the bone spurs, bone chips, and general detrius from the damage I have inflicted upon myself since I started dancing in 1990. After surgery I will have to take a few days off of work (what a shame) to recover, and then will have to hobble around on crutches and wear some sort of cast. As soon as rightie heals, then it's lefty's turn. So crutches are going to be my new fashion statement this spring. Maybe they'll make my arms buff. I'm not exactly thrilled about this whole thing, especially since it's not a permanant fix; since the problem is congenital, inevitably the problem will return after a while. I've known that for quite some time, and that's what's kept me from going any with this further before. But the problem has gotten to the point where I'm in pain all the time and swimming has become virtually impossible (it turns out it was never so great for me to begin with). So, there's no time like the present, it seems. Amusingly, the doctor told me that after I heal, bike riding would be great and not painful. Too bad I can't ride one, dipshit.

Upon leaving the doctor's office, my dad gave me a whole tirade about insurance companies and how I'm really going to have to stay on top of my claims, because otherwise I'm going to end up losing a whole mess of money. I had my first taste of it already; the doctor wrote me a perscriptions for air casts to be worn for the next week or so, which theoretically will help to diminish the pain that I'm in. Apparently nowhere near my office takes my insurance, and Bigelow, which is near my apartment, takes no insurance whatsoever. So that's helpful. But I've got the situation under control-I called Almarc and the air casts are being delivered to the Gumdrop so I will get them from my dad tomorrow. But dealing with my insurance company on the phone made me wonder, do you think customer services representatives ever get pissed at other customer services representatives who they have to call for whatever reason? And wouldn't you think that would make them want to be better CSR's so that they don't single-handedly make ALL of America hate them by virtue of their incompetance? I really think it's one industry where people should really be striving for excellence. Or, do they inherently think they are better than whichever CSR they're dealing with? These are the things I ponder while at work and bored. I need a new job.

(incidentally, does anyone read this other than Kate with whom I am going to Katz's tonight?)

Just curious.

Jealousy rears its ugly head

No, not over someone's apartment, or job, but instead, over the stomach flu. That's right, puke your brains out stomach flu.

I woke up this morning and my dad had sent me an email telling me he wasn't coming in to work today because he had the stomach flu. My first reaction? Not, oh I hope he feels better, but oh that lucky bitch, he gets to stay home from work today. I don't even care that if I had a stomach flu I would feel like hell, it would STILL be preferrable to being here.

I feel very trapped here. Prospects for a new job are not forthcoming, and although it seems like the trip to Europe is more and more likely, waking up every day and coming into work is getting harder and harder. And I didn't think that was possible.

I really don't know if it's possible to be happy at a job. Honestly, I've never had a job where I felt like I could spend long amounts of time doing what I was doing. I'm always bored, or unhappy, or something.

I randomly spoke to someone in HR on Friday, and she offered to pass my resume around, but this stresses me out because if she somehow manages to get me a job elsewhere within the company, what happens to Europe? Because that's what I really want to do. I need to get out of here. But when I come back I have all of these expenses to take care of. And paying my exorbitant rent becomes a problem when I don't have a job. So oh well. I guess we'll just have to wait and see, I guess.

But yeah, my brain is a bit of a jumbeled mess at the moment, because all these options are continually bouncing around, and I would really love for everything to miraculously resolve itself, but I don't think it's happening.

I guess this might count as the beginnings of a quarter life crisis, but I don't know, and I don't care, qualifying what it is doesn't interest me, resolving it does.

So I guess I'll try to get on that.

Bout time.

I had one of the best weekends I've had in a while this weekend. It was all the right parts relaxing and fun and interesting, and different.

Friday night I went to Jen Brown's apartment in Brooklyn and had a great time at our Olympics-themed shabbat dinner. Although there was much more Olympia than Shabbat, thankfully. It was great to see everyone, and it was fun to be those loud obnoxious kids on the subway on the way home.

Unfortunately on Saturday I had to go back to New Ro for the afternoon to start the task of cleaning out the Gumdrop. My dad's planning on moving out some time in June or July. No one's happy about it, him included, but it's time, so we're doing it. A lot of my stuff from when I was a kid is going to get donated to hospitals and stuff, so I feel good about that, but I don't really want to leave the house. It's been good to me, and it will feel wierd not to have a real home base. But fear not, Captain Fantastic already has a new home at Sean's house, so Elton and I won't have to be seperated. Anyway, come this Spring there will be a fantastic opportunity for everyone to buy my old stuff at a tag sale. In the meantime, feel free to drive by on the weekends and see what we've thrown out. This past week we enjoyed carving up my bat-mitzvah sign-in board and tossing it out the attic window and onto the driveway below. Anyway, the process of moving out is going to suck, and I haven't really dealt with it, but c'est la vie.

Onto happier parts of the weekend, Saturday night I went uptown to Eli's housewarming party. It was quite an adventure to go up to Harlem alone at 11 at night in a blizzard, since I'd only been to his apartment once before, and it was not in white-out conditions. But the party was a lot of fun. Olivia was there, who I hadn't really seen in years. We have a lot more in common than just a less-than-thrilling ex-boyfriend and it was great to hang out and catch up. And play a thrilling game of ridiculous scrabble. When she and Eli walked me back to the subway at 3 am and we spent 15 minutes on the corner of 116th and Frederick Douglass Boulevard talking to just about everybody who walked by. We were told the merits of pot over cigarettes (it costs you less in the long-run, according to the old philosopher) and got an impromptu concert from someone who I swore was a dude until the end of the concert when she introducted herself as Josephine. Rock on, Josephine. All in all, I give Harlem two hearty thumbs up and look foward to returning there soon.

Of course by the time I left Eli's, it had been snowing for hours, and there was a good 3 or 4 inches on the ground. I crawled into bed with S and when we woke up at ten there was at least a good foot on the ground. This of course called for an adventure. After a lovely filling breakfast at Manatus, we went on a trek to SoHo. Normally a ten minute walk, yesterday it took us easily 45 minutes. We tried to go to the Puma store to buy awesome jeans, but the store, while fully staffed, was locked. So we consoled ourselves at Vosges and drowned our tears in vials of exceedingly expensive and delicious hot chocolate. I also got him a valentine's day present. because eventhough I think Valentine's day is a load of hooey (ha! hooey!) I always enjoy an opportunity to get him something that he enjoys, and maybe even is tasty. So that was fun. We went back to the apartment and watched Coffee and Cigarettes but discovered that it was a much better movie to nap to than to actually watch. But I love naps, and I rarely get to have a co-napper since S isn't much of a napper, but I think in this case mono worked in my favor. So we napped for a couple of hours, hung out and basked in the glory of the TiVo, commiserated about the misery of canker sores, ate burritos and went to sleep. All in all, a great weekend.

Israel wrap up, for those of you who wanted to know

So I will have been back from Israel two weeks tomorrow. I suppose this is as good a time as any to wrap up the trip, since I just uploaded all my photos onto Flickr

So all in all, I have to say that in retrospect, I had a good time. While I was there, I was homesick like mad, probably more home sick than I've ever been before, but I came out of the trip with some great new friends, and saw things that I've never seen before, which is always enjoyable. I think the best thing that I got out of the trip were my friends. I have seen people from the trip both weekends I have been home, and will see them again this coming weekend. It feels great to really have a crew again, I haven't had that since Smith, and that really has been the only thing I've missed about college. I really feel like I have the opportunity to keep getting to know these people, and it's exciting. I digress. I'm supposed to be talking about the trip.

So, I think that it got off to a rough start because we started the trip in the middle of fucking nowhere. We spent two days in the middle of the desert at Mitzpeh Ramon, a town centered around a military base and an inferior crater (inferior because it was not caused by an asteriod, not because it was lacking in size.) So, I felt sort of lost there. The first night I woke up in the middle of the night, I had no idea what time it was, no idea where I was, and I bugged out. I called Sean in a panic and learned that it was 4:30 am in Israel and that I was, indeed, in a former military base whose owners could not spell the name of their hotel coorectly (I was informed that I was not staying in the "Clab Ramon" as the sign next to the door claimed, but instead the "Club Ramon," an only slightly more logical name. There was nothing club-like about the place. But after this conversation my nerves were significantly calmer and I started to loosen up a bit. But I think the fact that the next morning began 12 hours of high intensity Jewish goodness, I got a little bitter again. Schwarma eventually calmed my nerves on this front.

Anyway, after the initial bout of homesickness things got better. It remained somewhat, but by and large I dealt with it. And as I said, I made friends, and it made the trip so much better. I don't feel like going into details about every day. I came on the trip with a cynical outlook on the thing. I know that the trip is designed to make you love Israel, and I certainly don't hate it, but I won't be returning any time soon, either. Like I said, the best thing I got out of it was definitely the friendships.

After the trip ended I spent a few days with Rena. It was great to see her, and to play with Asher, and meet everyone who's important in her life there. It was nice to see the way that life really is in Israel, as opposed to the way Birthright shows it during those crazy ten days. Karen and I had a good time together and I'm looking foward to her being in NY next year so we can get into some trouble.

So yeah, I think that's just about it. Hope everyone found that enlightening.

The Holy Land?

So I'm off for two and a half weeks of fun and trouble making in Israel tomorrow. I am nervous, but only because I have psyched myself out and have decided that everyone on my trip is going to be horribly JAPpy, judgemental and mean. I know this is unfair. But, in my own defense, the last time I spent any amount of unadulterated time with a large group of Jewish people of my own age was at Ken-Wood, and let's be real, it doesn't get more JAPpy, judgemental and mean than Ken-Wood. And Ken-Mont. Which isn't to say that I wasn't completely happy there, because I was, but I am apprehensive of it being a similar mileiu, which I think is not completely unfounded. So the first ten days are supposed to be this life changing expereince. I don't have any interest in having my life changed (at least not religiously). I am apprehensive about this aspect as well. I know that the point of the trip is to make you love Israel, and I can understand that, but I hate guitar sing-in NFTY-type of events with a burning passion and I have a feeling that that might be the major way that they go about trying to convince you that we all should move to Israel for good. Further, I anticipate being a godless heathen in this group will put me in the minority. But who knows. Perhaps I'll be pleasantly suprised and EVERYONE on the trip will be godless heathens. One can only hope.

But, of course, the real reason I'm going is to see Rena, who also happens to be the reason that I even have this blog in the first place. So the last 7 days pf my stay will be filled with unadulterated insanity and goodness. and Puppy! So maybe I'll check in once I'm at Rena's, since she's going to have classes in the mornings, but maybe not. Let's be real, my readership is tiny and I like it that way, so it's not like it matters.

So, here I go....

It was actually a nice day.

So, for the first time in 7 years, my birthday was uniformly great. I heard from all sorts of people who I love and adore, and some who I hadn't heard from in a loooooooooong time, and Someone Who's Real Cute baked me a yellow cake with chocolate frosting. No one has baked me a cake since I was like 5 and it was so sweet and also tasty. He also got me this and we played with it, shot a roll of film and dropped it off to be developed. However, I had no idea how expensive printing it is! The film is medium format and there are 12 or 16 shots on a roll, depending, and it's $20 just for a contact sheet, and even worse, $3 for each print. EACH! So I told the guy in the camera shop to just develop the negatives. The camera is finnicky, has a ton of light leaks, perhaps most importantly the entire back fell off of it at one point. So it's possible that nothing will come out. Which would be sad. But I have lots of film and I am really excited to learn how to use this camera and make real photos with it. I'm thinking about taking it to Israel, I think it would be a good thing. I am also thinking that turning my bathroom into a darkroom would be a reallllly good idea, considering the price of developing, etc. At least I could process the film on my own and then decide what to print. Finally, having no window in my bathroom has a benefit.

I normally hate my birthday for understandable reasons, but I really took efforts to turn that around, and I think that it actually paid off. Mind over matter, I suppose. To further that point, I'm actually having a party this year. I am a small bit nervous that no one will come, a point being furthered by a possibly imminent transit strike, but even if there is a strike I am hoping that no matter who comes it will be a good time. Even if it's a small party, a party is a party and it will be fun. I am trying to keep a good outlook on these things. I think I just am thinking too hard about it because I am bored. Someone recently told me that they think it is harder to be bored at work than to be busy and engaged. I would certainly agree with that. But next Tuesday will mark one year since I started this job, and hopefully things will begin to work for me as I'd like them to here.

Here's to another year, I know this one will be even better than the last.

Ugh

And I just got cat call number four. I didn't kick the dude, as promised, since he was SIGNIFICANTLY larger than I was, but I did scream the shit out of him.

What is with today, today, people?! GOD DAMN.

Ew, take two.

I've been cat called 3 times already today, each one more icky than the last. If I hear one more comment about my "hot ass" I'm gonna kick said offender in the balls. To that end, see the above link.

Ew

Being lazy, I did not eat breakfast in my apartment this morning, I ate it at work. A little yogurt a little granola, a little honey, life is good, right? Wrong. The yogurt definitely spent the weekend next to veggie cream cheese, and took on its flavor. Gross. I never want to eat again.

-Post cut short, big boss just arrived from Atlanta.

At least it was something to do

I got an email yesterday telling me that I had until today to fill out my employee self-review, which came as news to me, since I thought I had done it months ago. I just spent an hour on it, being really thoughtful and trying to make myself sound super duper, only to be told by a co-worker that we were erroniously copied on a CNN email. Super. As annoying as doing that was, it was nice to have something to do. In a similar vein, I applied to a job off Craig's List yesterday, for a position at a new network devoted to food and I wrote this cover letter that tried to convey how super I am, we'll see if it worked. I mean, it was witty, snarky in all the right spots, and well written. Hopefully, something will come of it. (bonus: even if I don't get a job, somewhere else to get my cooking show fix while that dumb bitch Rachael Ray is on foodtv.) But both of these things just remind me that I really do enjoy writing and it would be great if I could get a job that would allow me to think creatively and do something productive with my time. I think that's all I need to be satisfied just something that lets me feel stimulated from time to time. I mean, that and a $20,000 pay raise would be super, too.

But, at least it's Friday. I don't have any definite plans for this weekend, I got an email from the Brooklyn crew about a concert over there tonight, which might be fun. All these thoughts about a birthday and who I would invite has really made me realize that while I haven't made any super close friends in the city, and certainly no friends at work, I do have a whole lot of random friends all over the city who I would love to see at any given time. I need to be more proactive about making plans with people. I don't ever really feel lonely, which admitedly is largely thanks to S (and believe me I don't know what I would do without him), but I don't think it would be a bad thing if I tried to make what is now mostly casual friendships into a few that are a bit more concrete. It's funny, while I was at Smith, I often found myself thinking or saying that I really didn't need any more friends, I felt that I had enough, and was more than satisfied with who I had. And those friendships still are among my closest and my best. Sadly, they're all in Boston, or in some cases even further. I don't feel that cliche that people often do about being in the center of the universe and feeling all alone, thankfully, but I think that getting myself a bit more together on the friends front is certainly within the realm of possibility for me. Not a bad thing, no? So, onto another weekend, and another chance at some fun in the city. And with new glasses, to boot. Life's good.

Let's make it interactive!

Okay, now that my cover has been blown, and Kate has linked my ass on her blog, it's time to make this bitch interactive. I figure that my readership will go from Sean and Rena (Rena is even questionable) to whoever is attentive to kate's links. So here's the issue: I have approximately 15 days until I turn 23. Gag. I'm too young to be 23. But, that brings up the eternal question-What do I want for my birthday???

Here are my thoughts thus far:

A long down coat to keep my ass warm so I dont' get any more colds
A new ipod (which can be traded in for cash to be used toward loose women and liquor with Dmo)
Money for Israel (totally unoriginal and unnecessary)

Ok. Those are all of my ideas. I don't really like any of them, with the exception of the first, but I hate asking for clothes for my birthday. I enjoy getting something frivolous and useless which i would never ever ask for otherwise. Although a floor length down coat does fit within those parameters.

So here's part two of this question (and where my birthday being in December comes in handy):
What are YOU asking for for Christmas? Inspire me!

And Part 3: anyone know any good bars for throwing a birthday fete at? Keep in mind, this is going to be my first real birthday party since I was 16 and I want it to be chill.

Okay, interactive. let's go!