You know you're different when you arrive to work before Starbucks opens (and you've already been to two), ....or before the parking garage attendant has time to put on his parking garage sweater and then shakes his head at you and says, "What could you possibly need to do this early?",.... or before the normal "early guy receptionist/security desk clerk" in your office building has made his post. This morning it was a Filipino guy who asked what floor I worked on and then proceeded to verify it.
Truth is, I have to get in early enough to erase all the other non-work related things from my mind, and essentially pep talk myself into believing I am strong enough to get through another day and good enough to do it well.... and the more stressed I am, the earlier I get to work.
I am still in my earmuffs and my coat is still on because I have 7 minutes before Starbucks opens and well, my brain just won't function without it. Especially at 5:54 am. I have been staring at the screen for three minutes trying to think and all I can come up with is... "Lindsay, get the muffin AND the coffee... AND DONT FORGET THIS TIME!!!" I always forget the food part. Always. And then I get back to my desk and want to kick myself because I'm starving. It's bad not to eat breakfast. Everybody knows that. I grew up with a mother that eats fruit every single day, and some kind of yogurt and some kind of whole grain and it's just so... un natural don't you think? It actually makes me feel guilty sometimes knowing that I have a mother that leads by example because it means I'll never get to lead... (joking....kind of)
Running to Starbucks now. It should be open...sign said 6. Have a great day people and think of me around 2:30. That's when I'll be crashing and in desperate need of more Sbux.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
The Apartment
The apartment is mine. I came, I saw, I signed. You ever just know about something? Like right off the bat, you just know. That's how it was when I saw the apartment. Tons of closet space, natural sunlight, newly renovated kitchen, separate vanity, parquet floors, new gym facility, parking garage, and roof deck with perfect view of the fireworks...and most importantly.... just 5 blocks from my new job, and 1 block from Starbucks!
I used to have this vision of myself walking to work with a cigarette, a copy of the Financial Times, and Starbucks in my hand. I know... why would I, of all people, ever be holding a copy of the Financial Times? Well, because I have always thought there was something tragically hip about a pink newspaper. Leave it to the Europeans! I'm sure I probably just lost several points for actually publicizing this notion of my mine, but again... I am who I am. Now,... my vision is just me walking to work with Starbucks... and a really good soundtrack (think "Morning Glory").
Anyway, I'm going to the apartment today to take measurements... and of course... to show my parents that I can in fact choose a place... responsibly and that I will be okay. Truth is, I know the apt is five blocks from my job, I just don't know which five blocks... guess it's good I have an iPhone (Dad,... I'm kidding... sort of...)
Happy Sunday. Love, Me.
I used to have this vision of myself walking to work with a cigarette, a copy of the Financial Times, and Starbucks in my hand. I know... why would I, of all people, ever be holding a copy of the Financial Times? Well, because I have always thought there was something tragically hip about a pink newspaper. Leave it to the Europeans! I'm sure I probably just lost several points for actually publicizing this notion of my mine, but again... I am who I am. Now,... my vision is just me walking to work with Starbucks... and a really good soundtrack (think "Morning Glory").
Anyway, I'm going to the apartment today to take measurements... and of course... to show my parents that I can in fact choose a place... responsibly and that I will be okay. Truth is, I know the apt is five blocks from my job, I just don't know which five blocks... guess it's good I have an iPhone (Dad,... I'm kidding... sort of...)
Happy Sunday. Love, Me.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
One Day At a Time
Happy Saturday everyone. It's me, and I'm starting to feel back to my old/new self again :) Confused yet? You don't know the half of it. I've been going through so much stuff I can't even tell you. What I can tell you,...is that I'm starting to feel like things are going to be all right and I think that's a functioning symptom of actual happiness. Don't misunderstand me... It's extremely tough to reconcile feeling good when you know someone else isn't feeling good but it is so necessary sometimes to just,... not beat yourself up about it. As I can attest to,...that's how you get strep, and it's disgusting so just do yourself a favor and let go.
Today is an important day. I am looking at an apartment and if it's as good as I think it's going to be... well then watch out everyone. No... I'm serious. Watch out because I'm going to have freak...out. Hopefully it doesn't actually manifest itself physically because then I'll really have no friends. None. Oh I get it. You thought I made that shit up about dancing and singing when happy? Nope. Completely serious. I'm a certifiable dork and this is what I do. I squeal with joy. Trust me...as I'm typing...I am shaking my head too.
I can't explain what's happened since I quit smoking but something seriously happened to me. It's not that my sarcasm disappeared or anything (trust me,.. I definitely still have that--you can ask Morgan....the parking garage attendant) but there's just this little bit of extra spaz in me that will not go away.
Example: Yesterday I was in my chair at work at exactly 6:45 am. Truth! And when I left... it was 7. And when I got home,...it was midnight. And when I went to bed... it was 1 am. And when I woke up,... it was 8 am. My own parents will tell you I didn't have this much energy in elementary school. They couldn't wake me up for shit! My dad used to take the mattress and bounce it until I'd almost fall out of bed to get me up in the morning... not now. Now I get up, I do my thing, and I just... power through. It's incredible. And I can't help but think that this has absolutely everything to do with quitting smoking and taking up caffeine as a more socially acceptable addiction :)
Okay I leave you to enjoy your Saturday. Will let you know about the apt!
Today is an important day. I am looking at an apartment and if it's as good as I think it's going to be... well then watch out everyone. No... I'm serious. Watch out because I'm going to have freak...out. Hopefully it doesn't actually manifest itself physically because then I'll really have no friends. None. Oh I get it. You thought I made that shit up about dancing and singing when happy? Nope. Completely serious. I'm a certifiable dork and this is what I do. I squeal with joy. Trust me...as I'm typing...I am shaking my head too.
I can't explain what's happened since I quit smoking but something seriously happened to me. It's not that my sarcasm disappeared or anything (trust me,.. I definitely still have that--you can ask Morgan....the parking garage attendant) but there's just this little bit of extra spaz in me that will not go away.
Example: Yesterday I was in my chair at work at exactly 6:45 am. Truth! And when I left... it was 7. And when I got home,...it was midnight. And when I went to bed... it was 1 am. And when I woke up,... it was 8 am. My own parents will tell you I didn't have this much energy in elementary school. They couldn't wake me up for shit! My dad used to take the mattress and bounce it until I'd almost fall out of bed to get me up in the morning... not now. Now I get up, I do my thing, and I just... power through. It's incredible. And I can't help but think that this has absolutely everything to do with quitting smoking and taking up caffeine as a more socially acceptable addiction :)
Okay I leave you to enjoy your Saturday. Will let you know about the apt!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Elizabeth Taylor
Elizabeth Taylor once said, "It's not the having, it's the getting." I buy that (and yes, I buy a lot of things but I will add that to the list).
Well I feel like the King's fool over here, typing away,...when come to find out... you know who ..... no you know what... I'm not going to do what I just said I wouldn't do.....sit here and apologize for blogging because it makes me feel better even if an amazing, iconic, hollywood goddess passed away and the world is heartbroken over it. Yes. I'm very sad about it too, and I know I have more than a handful of friends who are probably ready to kill themselves, and me for my perceived insensitivity, but if there is anything she (being Elizabeth) or I (being me) or anyone else who is "ruled by their passions" knows, is that you can't take it with you. It's like she said about her diamonds, "I adore wearing gems, but not because they are mine. You can't possess radiance, you can only admire it." And so it's not like you can't still admire her. Truth is, there are a million teenage girls who know nothing about her. Hell, Madonna is like a relic to them, but now they will... legacy right? Grace? The Today Show? What people give us, and when it's their best, or from their heart or it's honest, then you can admire it,...even if you aren't standing there next to them. Even if they aren't yours.
So actually, truth is... it's made me think. If she could get through 8 marriages to 7 husbands, have four kids, fight AIDS, and her numerous health problems, and still be Elizabeth Taylor...well then I can get through this and somehow it will be all right because I'll have me.
Well I feel like the King's fool over here, typing away,...when come to find out... you know who ..... no you know what... I'm not going to do what I just said I wouldn't do.....sit here and apologize for blogging because it makes me feel better even if an amazing, iconic, hollywood goddess passed away and the world is heartbroken over it. Yes. I'm very sad about it too, and I know I have more than a handful of friends who are probably ready to kill themselves, and me for my perceived insensitivity, but if there is anything she (being Elizabeth) or I (being me) or anyone else who is "ruled by their passions" knows, is that you can't take it with you. It's like she said about her diamonds, "I adore wearing gems, but not because they are mine. You can't possess radiance, you can only admire it." And so it's not like you can't still admire her. Truth is, there are a million teenage girls who know nothing about her. Hell, Madonna is like a relic to them, but now they will... legacy right? Grace? The Today Show? What people give us, and when it's their best, or from their heart or it's honest, then you can admire it,...even if you aren't standing there next to them. Even if they aren't yours.
So actually, truth is... it's made me think. If she could get through 8 marriages to 7 husbands, have four kids, fight AIDS, and her numerous health problems, and still be Elizabeth Taylor...well then I can get through this and somehow it will be all right because I'll have me.
Its Just Me
Sometimes I think we go through things in life that test us in ways that completely break us, destroy us, and in some ways kill us because if we don't, we lose ourselves.
I have always known what I wanted to do in life. I've been told that's rare because most people don't know, but whatever it is, I just always have. When I was old enough to talk, I wanted to be the lady that rode on the elephants at the circus. After that I wanted to be an Anchor Woman (just like Connie Chung), and then after that I wanted to be... an Art Director.... And that was the one that stuck. So I went to one of the best art schools in the country, graduated with a Communications Design degree, and started on the path towards that goal.
On Monday, that dream became a reality. It's the one thing that's happened in my life that I feel like I got on my own. Yes, people helped me get interviews, and connections, and have expanded my network, (and I'm so grateful to all of them) but I got the job and I can't tell you how happy I am for myself and at the same time it's been very hard to feel it and that would be because I broke it off with my boyfriend of almost 9 years. It's been the most painful thing I've ever done, and I did this after my first day of my new job. Words can't express how difficult it still is but also, how much I needed to do it. I've avoided writing this because, as my closest friends and family will tell you, I can't keep my mouth shut, but it's who I am and I just can't apologize anymore for that right now. It all hurts and writing actually helps so... bare with me.
When you've been with someone that long, you become an establishment. People start talking about what your kids are going to look like, and asking you questions like "When are you getting married?" And pretty soon people don't say your name without his, you become peanut butter and jelly. And at the end of the day, it's not about that. I'm not going to get into details about it but I will tell you that I've broken out into hives 3 times now... and I'm home sick with either strep or mono (mono test results come in this morning... please cross your fingers because I think I'll jump if it's mono). I've completely broken down mentally and physically but today,...even though my veins are filled with chicken broth and ginger ale, I'm starting to feel a little bit better (mentally). Physically I still feel like shit.
So lets recap:
• I got my dream job
• I ended an 8+ year relationship
• I have strep or mono (and have already had hives thrice)
• oh and I'm moving out of my parents basement. Finally. Getting my own place, attempting youthful independence... see how well I do.
• And last but certainly not least.... I've quit smoking (no I haven't had a cigarette and yes I get that it's very hard to believe considering the shit that's been going on but I honestly, haven't even had much time to think about smoking)
The truth is, I don't want to be one of those women who pity's herself or her life. I don't want to regret anything, and so far I haven't. I don't regret anything. I want to live without having lost myself, and what I want, and maybe people don't get it, or don't understand, but aside from smoking, and cursing,... apologizing is my third worst habit, and let's just say I just can't anymore. I can't apologize for what I want, or who I am, or my choices because they're mine.
If you're reading this, thank you. I hope you know how much it means to me and don't give up on me... because I'm not.
I have always known what I wanted to do in life. I've been told that's rare because most people don't know, but whatever it is, I just always have. When I was old enough to talk, I wanted to be the lady that rode on the elephants at the circus. After that I wanted to be an Anchor Woman (just like Connie Chung), and then after that I wanted to be... an Art Director.... And that was the one that stuck. So I went to one of the best art schools in the country, graduated with a Communications Design degree, and started on the path towards that goal.
On Monday, that dream became a reality. It's the one thing that's happened in my life that I feel like I got on my own. Yes, people helped me get interviews, and connections, and have expanded my network, (and I'm so grateful to all of them) but I got the job and I can't tell you how happy I am for myself and at the same time it's been very hard to feel it and that would be because I broke it off with my boyfriend of almost 9 years. It's been the most painful thing I've ever done, and I did this after my first day of my new job. Words can't express how difficult it still is but also, how much I needed to do it. I've avoided writing this because, as my closest friends and family will tell you, I can't keep my mouth shut, but it's who I am and I just can't apologize anymore for that right now. It all hurts and writing actually helps so... bare with me.
When you've been with someone that long, you become an establishment. People start talking about what your kids are going to look like, and asking you questions like "When are you getting married?" And pretty soon people don't say your name without his, you become peanut butter and jelly. And at the end of the day, it's not about that. I'm not going to get into details about it but I will tell you that I've broken out into hives 3 times now... and I'm home sick with either strep or mono (mono test results come in this morning... please cross your fingers because I think I'll jump if it's mono). I've completely broken down mentally and physically but today,...even though my veins are filled with chicken broth and ginger ale, I'm starting to feel a little bit better (mentally). Physically I still feel like shit.
So lets recap:
• I got my dream job
• I ended an 8+ year relationship
• I have strep or mono (and have already had hives thrice)
• oh and I'm moving out of my parents basement. Finally. Getting my own place, attempting youthful independence... see how well I do.
• And last but certainly not least.... I've quit smoking (no I haven't had a cigarette and yes I get that it's very hard to believe considering the shit that's been going on but I honestly, haven't even had much time to think about smoking)
The truth is, I don't want to be one of those women who pity's herself or her life. I don't want to regret anything, and so far I haven't. I don't regret anything. I want to live without having lost myself, and what I want, and maybe people don't get it, or don't understand, but aside from smoking, and cursing,... apologizing is my third worst habit, and let's just say I just can't anymore. I can't apologize for what I want, or who I am, or my choices because they're mine.
If you're reading this, thank you. I hope you know how much it means to me and don't give up on me... because I'm not.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
I'm Sorry
Okay I've done it. I've turned into one of those people that tells you they're 5 minutes away but really they're 20 minutes away. I've been going through the hardest time I've had in a long time so please bear with me. I'm putting the blog on hold for...a little bit but I promise you two things. One, I have not and will not smoke a cigarette, and Two,... I will be back. I promise. Anyway, I hope you're okay and just know I'm not giving up.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
I'm Sorry I'm a Snob.... But Not Really....
So it's Thursday and it feels like Sunday because it's cloudy and raining, and grey outside. It's strange to have a day off... I went to Starbucks this morning just out of habit,... ordered my iced coffee, drank half of it, and then drove home. And to get that wound up just to drive back home is kind of anti-climactic especially when you're used to working in PR.
Well, that will all change in a few days when I start my new job, but until then, I am trying to make the most of the rest of this week. So it's laundry day today, (I have enough laundry to keep a laundromat in business for 8 years...). It's never ending, and I can't even stress/complain about it because I get to watch my favorite chick flicks over and over again (I know... I literally have a repeat problem...BF would strangle me if he were here... he's now seen "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" more than any man ever should....) and all my friends are busy being adults and I'm (in between chick flicks and laundry), hoping to get enough chores done today.... so that tomorrow, when I get up at the butt crack of dawn again to go to New York, I'll actually be able to relax long enough to enjoy it.
My best friend, (for my birthday) got me a gift certificate to my favorite salon in the entire universe. Cutler Midtown on W. 57th in Manhattan. (Shameless plug I admit but so worth it) I used to go there every 4-6 months in college to get cut and color and even dragged my college roommates there once....
Aside from my repeat problem, and my previous smoking problem, I have a somewhat serious hair problem. Not in that my hair is bad,... my hair is f-ing amazing... (well it is dammit). The hair problem I have is that I'm obsessed with getting my hair done. In a salon. In a salon in New York City. In a salon in New York City that charges like it's a salon in New York City.
I have tried so many times to make it work here... at home... but I am not a lawyer. I do not work on the hill, and I do not make guest appearances on talking head shows or play anchor woman on the 7 o'clock news.... I am an Art Director who would like to feel like a supermodel every day she wakes up....So I have (on occasion) trekked back to my old college stomping grounds to yes,... do nothing but get my hair done. And it works.... every....single... time.
I know my parents are just shaking their heads. In high school I was very experimental... I had pink, yellow, blue and orange hair. It was awful I admit, and troubled my parents so much that once at dinner, while taking a bite of chicken cacciatori, my dad actually dropped his fork and said, "I can't take it anymore....you look ridiculous." (For the record... I dyed my hair black that very evening using box dye -- see how much i love my dad....box....dye....) Let the record state that not too long after that episode, they did actually ship me off to boarding school so I think that more than makes up for the momentary embarrassment I put them through during my formative years. (no comments from the peanut family gallery thing)
Anyway, I went to college in NYC and got accustomed to this one salon that made me feel like I was... a superstar. So much so that they would order me food if I asked for it, and would bring me Starbucks. Who doesn't love that!?@ And when they did,... I would stand in a special atrium in the back, smoking cigarettes with 45 pounds of foil on my head reading the latest issue of Vogue and texting my gay boyfriends all about how inspiring Marc Jacob's weight loss was and how maybe starving yourself isn't the worst possible thing you could do....
In the end, after 7 hours, and $600 dollars, I'd walk out feeling like the hottest thing since...Marc Jacobs... Now of course that was some time ago.... I was in college and in New York and well now I'm at home...living in my parents basement where I can promise you they aren't paying for me to get my hair done...
So I will treat myself to "the experience" one more time before I start this latest chapter in my life... only this time, I'll be reading BAZAAR and drinking iced coffee inside the salon while thinking about how ridiculous I must have looked smoking with all that foil on my head... and then laughing because I'm finally moving forward... and who doesn't want to move forward feeling like a supermodel?
Well, that will all change in a few days when I start my new job, but until then, I am trying to make the most of the rest of this week. So it's laundry day today, (I have enough laundry to keep a laundromat in business for 8 years...). It's never ending, and I can't even stress/complain about it because I get to watch my favorite chick flicks over and over again (I know... I literally have a repeat problem...BF would strangle me if he were here... he's now seen "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" more than any man ever should....) and all my friends are busy being adults and I'm (in between chick flicks and laundry), hoping to get enough chores done today.... so that tomorrow, when I get up at the butt crack of dawn again to go to New York, I'll actually be able to relax long enough to enjoy it.
My best friend, (for my birthday) got me a gift certificate to my favorite salon in the entire universe. Cutler Midtown on W. 57th in Manhattan. (Shameless plug I admit but so worth it) I used to go there every 4-6 months in college to get cut and color and even dragged my college roommates there once....
Aside from my repeat problem, and my previous smoking problem, I have a somewhat serious hair problem. Not in that my hair is bad,... my hair is f-ing amazing... (well it is dammit). The hair problem I have is that I'm obsessed with getting my hair done. In a salon. In a salon in New York City. In a salon in New York City that charges like it's a salon in New York City.
I have tried so many times to make it work here... at home... but I am not a lawyer. I do not work on the hill, and I do not make guest appearances on talking head shows or play anchor woman on the 7 o'clock news.... I am an Art Director who would like to feel like a supermodel every day she wakes up....So I have (on occasion) trekked back to my old college stomping grounds to yes,... do nothing but get my hair done. And it works.... every....single... time.
I know my parents are just shaking their heads. In high school I was very experimental... I had pink, yellow, blue and orange hair. It was awful I admit, and troubled my parents so much that once at dinner, while taking a bite of chicken cacciatori, my dad actually dropped his fork and said, "I can't take it anymore....you look ridiculous." (For the record... I dyed my hair black that very evening using box dye -- see how much i love my dad....box....dye....) Let the record state that not too long after that episode, they did actually ship me off to boarding school so I think that more than makes up for the momentary embarrassment I put them through during my formative years. (no comments from the peanut family gallery thing)
Anyway, I went to college in NYC and got accustomed to this one salon that made me feel like I was... a superstar. So much so that they would order me food if I asked for it, and would bring me Starbucks. Who doesn't love that!?@ And when they did,... I would stand in a special atrium in the back, smoking cigarettes with 45 pounds of foil on my head reading the latest issue of Vogue and texting my gay boyfriends all about how inspiring Marc Jacob's weight loss was and how maybe starving yourself isn't the worst possible thing you could do....
In the end, after 7 hours, and $600 dollars, I'd walk out feeling like the hottest thing since...Marc Jacobs... Now of course that was some time ago.... I was in college and in New York and well now I'm at home...living in my parents basement where I can promise you they aren't paying for me to get my hair done...
So I will treat myself to "the experience" one more time before I start this latest chapter in my life... only this time, I'll be reading BAZAAR and drinking iced coffee inside the salon while thinking about how ridiculous I must have looked smoking with all that foil on my head... and then laughing because I'm finally moving forward... and who doesn't want to move forward feeling like a supermodel?
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Troy Aikman is Spanish and Works at the Salad Place By My Job!
Can I just tell you... that when I go to Starbucks, my order isn't so long you feel like you're reading scriptures. I am not one of those people that has a million dietary restrictions, or feels the need to "substitute" at restaurants. I never send things back and I always tip really well even if the service sucks. I guess you could say when it comes to eating and drinking... I'm easy. You can take me just about anywhere and not worry that I'll embarrass you.
What does this have to do with a God Damn thing, you ask? Well, the hives are gone, and I just spent $11.47 on an f-ing cobb salad (which is more than the shrimp salad which makes me think... why the hell is the bacon more than the shrimp?) but I digress...(I know...I can't help it. My mind just works this way and the more I try to force it to be normal the worse it gets) because the real reason I'm even saying anything about this is because after waiting in a line for 6 minutes and ordering a standard cobb salad after the woman in front of me ordered something that sounded like a mean plan for Demi Moore's kids (e.g. chick peas, alfalfa, light, gluten free, fat free, soy vinagrette with wasabi peas and kale.. yadda yadda more bullshit) the ONLY thing I asked for was no bread. That's it. And so of course she puts the damn bread in the salad and I say, "I said..." and as soon as I start to speak, she takes the bread out, rolls her eyes and throws that sh*t across the room into the waste basket like she's Troy Aikman only she starts speaking Spanish really fast and the whole times she's just glaring at me... (She should apply for a job at the SSA Offfice...she'd fit right in) The whole thing, I thought, was rather dramatic... and you know it pisses me off because it's like the one thing she gets paid to do....the one f-ing thing....is to listen to what people want in their f-ing salad and I only asked for one thing. ONE THING. And somehow you get an attitude with me but not the chick that asked for like 10 special things? Okay getting worked up...don't want hives...calming down now...
Despite that little incident...the salad was good... really good.
PS: I know my parents think I should just bring leftovers or make my own lunch...and they would be right but seriously... I'm 29 years old, and the money I'm saving from quitting smoking... well... I think I should be allowed to buy an over priced salad if I want to...
PSS: Would have totally smoked 3 cigarettes after that happened if I were still smoking...but instead I walked past some construction workers...and that helped.
Help...
Broke out in hives this morning. Not good. Bad actually. It means I'm stressed out (or couldn't you tell...). The last time I was this stressed out was in 2nd grade when I found out I was going to have Mr. Keegan as my teacher... and my mother gave me a Benedryl and had to run me an oatmeal bath. (I know... the bath thing... what the hell is wrong with me!?") But seriously. It's 5:48 am. I've been up for an hour looking at myself thinking about how much I hate Benedryl and thinking... booze would probably work much better. (JOKING!!!!) Shit seriously, I'm too old for this. Hives? What am I,... 6? Anyway, I have to actually get ready for work. Sorry this post was kind of gross and uneventful but I've got two full days left of work at my current job and so I'm a little stressed and since I sure as hell am not going to wake up my mother for this, I had to do something... may as well blog (again... joking... sort of.... Turns out... not so funny at 5:53 am. I blame hives and lack of caffeine. Must make it to Doctor Starbucks...)
Monday, March 7, 2011
Good Morning and Good Manners
So I've been thinking about yesterday, at the Pancake House, pre-coffee freak out, and about how there was this table in front of me, with this couple who had two middle school/teenage kids... and I couldn't help but think this is just like a scene from Magnolia. The wife looked very... depressed. She looked like Frances Conroy in Six Feet Under... no one was saying a word, and the husband...He looked happy he was getting chocolate chip pancakes on a Sunday morning.
At some point, the husband reached for the syrup (again) and a dollar fell from his pocket onto the floor. I saw it, then looked at 3 other people sitting closer to him than I was...who saw it, and I waited for someone to do the right thing. They did nothing. They all glanced at the dollar on the floor, and went back to eating their pancakes... So I got up, walked over, picked it up and tried to hand it to the husband who was so out of it (I blame the chocolate chip pancakes) that he didn't even look up at me. He just grabbed the bill and put it under his glass of OJ. Meanwhile, his wife (let's call her Ruth...), stared at me like I was some kind of alien and without taking her eyes off of me said, "Bill...Bill...that girl... she's trying to tell you something!" The daughter, who was wearing more eyeliner than I was (and I wear a lot of eyeliner) was looking rather amused by the entire situation, and kind of had this shit eating grin on her face that made me realize how uncomfortable I probably made people in high school when I used to wear that same exact shit eating grin on my face... and the son (who clearly takes after his father) glanced up at me once and then asked his dad to pass him the syrup. So I stood there awkwardly for point two seconds, and said, "okay, well enjoy breakfast." But the entire time I'm thinking, "well..hell I should have just kept the damn dollar..."
It made me think about manners... and this funny conversation I had when I was a sophomore in high school...
I should tell you first that I've gone to three high schools in my life...and this story happened while attending high school #2...an art school for talented assholes like me that were too arrogant to appreciate the fact that despite the shitty general education we were getting, the art classes were actually pretty good.
Anyway, I met this girl there...she was so cool in all the ways I wasn't. She wore black pea coats, her mother (who was divorced I believe) had been a prima ballerina for the NYC ballet and had graced the cover of Vogue in her hey. They lived in a row house that was filled with art books, and old vintage posters, and on weekends hung out with Robert Duvall at his ranch... and the girl, (we will call her Maggie), had a bedroom that made me feel like an infant.
For one thing, while all my friends and I had been collecting stickers and reading Seventeen, this chick was collecting vintage dresses... and reading ee cummings. She had a collection of dresses the Met would envy and she was particularly fond of dresses from the 20's and 30's.
Maggie used to smoke Marlboro Lights. Her brother had introduced her to cigarettes while he was fucking around in Paris for a year... and she had grown fond of the idea that smoking was a culture in and of itself. We went to the boardwalk once, by the torpedo factory, and got cheap Chinese food and sat out by the water, and she handed me a cigarette... I told her I really don't smoke... and she told me smoking was sexy and that the French do it all the time,...and well why wouldn't we want to imitate the French? After all they are tres chic and we are tres stupid for being culture less Americans.
I mean... this was the girl that gave me my first espresso which I turned into an Americano by accident because I couldn't figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with a shot of coffee...and couldn't fathom just drinking it as it was... so I added like 2 cups of milk and a shit load of sugar and pretended I thought the experience was so great... she thought it was hilarious..."First espresso?" She said...and I in turn felt like a royal asshole. But like any teenager, desperately trying to fit in and feel cool, I took the damn cigarette and smoked it. And when I was halfway finished, Maggie said:
Maggie: Just remember... smoking has it's own culture. There is such a thing as smoking etiquette.
Me: Like what do you mean?
Maggie: Like...when someone comes up to you and says, "Can I bum a cigarette?" You should always say yes. Even if it's your last one because... it's like a code. You do it once, and fortune will smile upon you one day, when you're in need of one... Plus Karma is a bitch.
Me: Uh... okay. (blowing smoke <---her not me)
At the time I remember thinking... "maybe when I'm 40, I'll get what the f**k she's talking about..." but I think what she was talking about...was manners... and it had little to do with smoking, and more to do with the fact that people are dicks. She just said it much more eloquently than I ever would. She also masked it with some "smoking culture" bullshit... and while I agree...you should share, I'm really actually quite bad at sharing. I hate sharing actually but for the record, was always generous with my cigarettes when I smoked... In fact, you'll be happy to know, that pack of cigarettes in the center console of my car... don't have them anymore because I gave them away... poor guy...old cigarettes are disgusting, but I did warn him they were probably skanky. He took them anyway...
Whatever. The bottom line is... I do believe in good manners, and giving people their money if they do in-fact drop it on the floor of a pancake house and are too busy wolfing down chocolate chip pancakes to be none the wiser... and even if I say I should have kept the dollar,... I wouldn't. My parents may have raised an ex-smoking a-hole but they didn't raise a fool...
At some point, the husband reached for the syrup (again) and a dollar fell from his pocket onto the floor. I saw it, then looked at 3 other people sitting closer to him than I was...who saw it, and I waited for someone to do the right thing. They did nothing. They all glanced at the dollar on the floor, and went back to eating their pancakes... So I got up, walked over, picked it up and tried to hand it to the husband who was so out of it (I blame the chocolate chip pancakes) that he didn't even look up at me. He just grabbed the bill and put it under his glass of OJ. Meanwhile, his wife (let's call her Ruth...), stared at me like I was some kind of alien and without taking her eyes off of me said, "Bill...Bill...that girl... she's trying to tell you something!" The daughter, who was wearing more eyeliner than I was (and I wear a lot of eyeliner) was looking rather amused by the entire situation, and kind of had this shit eating grin on her face that made me realize how uncomfortable I probably made people in high school when I used to wear that same exact shit eating grin on my face... and the son (who clearly takes after his father) glanced up at me once and then asked his dad to pass him the syrup. So I stood there awkwardly for point two seconds, and said, "okay, well enjoy breakfast." But the entire time I'm thinking, "well..hell I should have just kept the damn dollar..."
It made me think about manners... and this funny conversation I had when I was a sophomore in high school...
I should tell you first that I've gone to three high schools in my life...and this story happened while attending high school #2...an art school for talented assholes like me that were too arrogant to appreciate the fact that despite the shitty general education we were getting, the art classes were actually pretty good.
Anyway, I met this girl there...she was so cool in all the ways I wasn't. She wore black pea coats, her mother (who was divorced I believe) had been a prima ballerina for the NYC ballet and had graced the cover of Vogue in her hey. They lived in a row house that was filled with art books, and old vintage posters, and on weekends hung out with Robert Duvall at his ranch... and the girl, (we will call her Maggie), had a bedroom that made me feel like an infant.
For one thing, while all my friends and I had been collecting stickers and reading Seventeen, this chick was collecting vintage dresses... and reading ee cummings. She had a collection of dresses the Met would envy and she was particularly fond of dresses from the 20's and 30's.
Maggie used to smoke Marlboro Lights. Her brother had introduced her to cigarettes while he was fucking around in Paris for a year... and she had grown fond of the idea that smoking was a culture in and of itself. We went to the boardwalk once, by the torpedo factory, and got cheap Chinese food and sat out by the water, and she handed me a cigarette... I told her I really don't smoke... and she told me smoking was sexy and that the French do it all the time,...and well why wouldn't we want to imitate the French? After all they are tres chic and we are tres stupid for being culture less Americans.
I mean... this was the girl that gave me my first espresso which I turned into an Americano by accident because I couldn't figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with a shot of coffee...and couldn't fathom just drinking it as it was... so I added like 2 cups of milk and a shit load of sugar and pretended I thought the experience was so great... she thought it was hilarious..."First espresso?" She said...and I in turn felt like a royal asshole. But like any teenager, desperately trying to fit in and feel cool, I took the damn cigarette and smoked it. And when I was halfway finished, Maggie said:
Maggie: Just remember... smoking has it's own culture. There is such a thing as smoking etiquette.
Me: Like what do you mean?
Maggie: Like...when someone comes up to you and says, "Can I bum a cigarette?" You should always say yes. Even if it's your last one because... it's like a code. You do it once, and fortune will smile upon you one day, when you're in need of one... Plus Karma is a bitch.
Me: Uh... okay. (blowing smoke <---her not me)
At the time I remember thinking... "maybe when I'm 40, I'll get what the f**k she's talking about..." but I think what she was talking about...was manners... and it had little to do with smoking, and more to do with the fact that people are dicks. She just said it much more eloquently than I ever would. She also masked it with some "smoking culture" bullshit... and while I agree...you should share, I'm really actually quite bad at sharing. I hate sharing actually but for the record, was always generous with my cigarettes when I smoked... In fact, you'll be happy to know, that pack of cigarettes in the center console of my car... don't have them anymore because I gave them away... poor guy...old cigarettes are disgusting, but I did warn him they were probably skanky. He took them anyway...
Whatever. The bottom line is... I do believe in good manners, and giving people their money if they do in-fact drop it on the floor of a pancake house and are too busy wolfing down chocolate chip pancakes to be none the wiser... and even if I say I should have kept the dollar,... I wouldn't. My parents may have raised an ex-smoking a-hole but they didn't raise a fool...
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Arbiter of Good Waste
I am officially an arbiter of good waste. The EPA would really hate me if they knew how much water I wasted this weekend...
Since I quit smoking, I've gotten in the habit of taking long baths when stressed and today I took two. I have to say though, in my defense... the second one definitely helped.
(Note to Mom: Don't be mad... I know you hate waste and you drive a hybrid but either I die of cancer and stress or I take a couple baths and some kids that haven't even been born yet have to worry about where they're gonna get water to make their Kool-Aid...but it's okay really because some science nerds at NASA found new solar systems and NASA ought to have their shit together by then so those kids will be fine...)
Now, because I'm so thoughtful these days I'm going to share with you a couple of deep thoughts from my bath time (a la My name is Simon and I like to do drawings):
1. Target is not good for couples. It puts unnecessary strain on any good and stable relationship and I don't know if it's the vast array of toiletry options or the 500 scented candles in isle 4 but whatever it is...it's an issue and is an even bigger issue when you leave pissed off and 5 people are standing outside smoking. Now please... I may be completely emotionally unstable but I promise you I didn't smoke and the 5 people that were standing outside smoking... did not make smoking look good... or sexy or even remotely appealing. They all looked pissed and I imagine most of the time when I was smoking I looked like them...only... slightly more attractive as I have no kids, don't wear Apple Bottom Jeans and I do not own anything with a Texas flag embroidered on it...I'm telling you though... I know the feeling they were having. Their spouses are in the Target buying a bunch of practical shit and being all...... practical and they're pissed they couldn't get the "Moonlight Walk" Glade Scented Candle on sale for $3.99... I get it okay? SO been there... but I think the lesson here is this: Listen to spouse, or BF,....don't buy fucking candle... buy lip gloss instead. A dollar cheaper and instant relief... (plus you know you have an unopened "Fresh Linen" scented candle at home...and no one can have enough lip balm...)
2. When the coffee shop runs out of iced coffee before 10 am, just stay home. I know...it's ridiculous but true. This morning after I went to "The Original Pancake House" (not to be mistaken for IHOP) I went to Caribou where I normally get coffee because the coffee at the Pancake House is shit, and low and behold...they're out. I know... I almost pissed myself. So instead I got a tiny jelly bean sized dark chocolate teddy bear with a caramel center. It was delicious but did not make up for the fact that they ran out of coffee....at a coffee shop... at 10 in the morning. I mean what...did everyone in Bethesda quit smoking? I should have taken it as a sign to just go home, but well... I went to Target instead...
Sidenote: The Original Pancake House does one thing I hate... they put crayons in the plastic container that holds the Splenda and it's disgusting. This morning I asked the lady for Splenda that wasn't touching crayons and she handed me a packet of Splenda that had a picture of a dog with epilepsy drawn on it...I would never actually eat at a place that had crayons on the table but the egg white omlette there is like sex... I suppose it doesn't help that once I saw a kid eat a green crayon there...and instead of this boy's father taking the crayon out of his mouth, he handed him a yellow one...
Since I quit smoking, I've gotten in the habit of taking long baths when stressed and today I took two. I have to say though, in my defense... the second one definitely helped.
(Note to Mom: Don't be mad... I know you hate waste and you drive a hybrid but either I die of cancer and stress or I take a couple baths and some kids that haven't even been born yet have to worry about where they're gonna get water to make their Kool-Aid...but it's okay really because some science nerds at NASA found new solar systems and NASA ought to have their shit together by then so those kids will be fine...)
Now, because I'm so thoughtful these days I'm going to share with you a couple of deep thoughts from my bath time (a la My name is Simon and I like to do drawings):
1. Target is not good for couples. It puts unnecessary strain on any good and stable relationship and I don't know if it's the vast array of toiletry options or the 500 scented candles in isle 4 but whatever it is...it's an issue and is an even bigger issue when you leave pissed off and 5 people are standing outside smoking. Now please... I may be completely emotionally unstable but I promise you I didn't smoke and the 5 people that were standing outside smoking... did not make smoking look good... or sexy or even remotely appealing. They all looked pissed and I imagine most of the time when I was smoking I looked like them...only... slightly more attractive as I have no kids, don't wear Apple Bottom Jeans and I do not own anything with a Texas flag embroidered on it...I'm telling you though... I know the feeling they were having. Their spouses are in the Target buying a bunch of practical shit and being all...... practical and they're pissed they couldn't get the "Moonlight Walk" Glade Scented Candle on sale for $3.99... I get it okay? SO been there... but I think the lesson here is this: Listen to spouse, or BF,....don't buy fucking candle... buy lip gloss instead. A dollar cheaper and instant relief... (plus you know you have an unopened "Fresh Linen" scented candle at home...and no one can have enough lip balm...)
2. When the coffee shop runs out of iced coffee before 10 am, just stay home. I know...it's ridiculous but true. This morning after I went to "The Original Pancake House" (not to be mistaken for IHOP) I went to Caribou where I normally get coffee because the coffee at the Pancake House is shit, and low and behold...they're out. I know... I almost pissed myself. So instead I got a tiny jelly bean sized dark chocolate teddy bear with a caramel center. It was delicious but did not make up for the fact that they ran out of coffee....at a coffee shop... at 10 in the morning. I mean what...did everyone in Bethesda quit smoking? I should have taken it as a sign to just go home, but well... I went to Target instead...
Sidenote: The Original Pancake House does one thing I hate... they put crayons in the plastic container that holds the Splenda and it's disgusting. This morning I asked the lady for Splenda that wasn't touching crayons and she handed me a packet of Splenda that had a picture of a dog with epilepsy drawn on it...I would never actually eat at a place that had crayons on the table but the egg white omlette there is like sex... I suppose it doesn't help that once I saw a kid eat a green crayon there...and instead of this boy's father taking the crayon out of his mouth, he handed him a yellow one...
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
And I Thought the DMV Was Bad...
I have been to hell this morning, and it is so much worse than I thought.
AND... I got there in a cab where the entire time the cab driver is lecturing me about how if I spill coffee in his cab he's charging me an extra 75 cents. I shit you not.
I have learned two things this morning:
1. The star of Social Security Television (no seriously) is Patty Duke...
2. The SSA Office is SO MUCH WORSE THAN THE DMV!
Word of advice: NEVER and I do mean NEVER lose your Social Security Card. It's just not worth it.
I know... you're picturing some DMV like place and it's just not. I arrived to the SSA Office 5 minutes before they opened but that was about 15 minutes too late because I'm waiting in a line OUTSIDE! (can you imagine?) and I'm standing there freezing and all of a sudden I smell cigarettes...and there is a man standing behind me smoking and blowing that sh*t in my hair and mumbling something about... oh who cares... He smelled like a rough night and for whatever reason he felt the need to stand a half an inch away from me...which as you can imagine I just loved.
When we got in the office we were given a nice little speech by a guy in a Cosby sweater about how all SSA employees are only there to help us (subtext: I hate my life and you would too if you had to work in this shit hole so don't expect me to be pleasant or helpful because I hate you as well) ... all I kept thinking was... couldn't they have picked another color other than green for the decor? It's depressing enough as it is... I felt like a sardine in an Altoids box...only not as fresh. And then I take my seat and of course this lady sits right next to me even though there are a billion empty chairs and she starts tapping me on the shoulder and so I take off my grey fur covered ear muffs and place them in my purse and then look at her and smile and say:
Me: Yes?
Her: Do you have a pen?
Me: Umm....
Her: I really need a pen.
Me: I think so... let me check.
Her: I need to fill out these papers and I just need a pen. Can you look for me?
Me: (riffling through purse) Okay can you just give me one sec... actually I'm sorry I don't have one.
Her: You don't? Oh... well....Do you think someone that works here would have a pen? I really need one.
Seriously? I get why the people that work there hate the people that come in... So I'm sitting there looking in my purse for my phone and I happen to look up and there is a person standing at the window but not just any person...This person had on baggy khaki pants and jean bermuda shorts OVER the khaki pants. I can't even tell you... my throat got dry... not even the over priced caramel latte I was holding in my hand made me feel better... It was like an accident on the beltway...you want to keep moving but you can't.... you can't look away because you can't believe you just saw what you just saw...
I thought, well this is just like going to the freak show it can't possibly get any weirder... oh but then...I saw a poster that said, "When cousins are two of a kind, they file online." with a photo of Patty Duke and a woman that looked just like Patty Duke holding each other smiling. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Need to get out of here...I thought, so I check the flat screen to see how close I am to having my number called...one to go....Suddenly the numbers change to a movie...or so I thought... actually...it was "Social Security Television Staring Patty Duke!" (I'm serious. I could not make this shit up if you paid for my next coffee... and there will be a next coffee....) And in between the thrilling scenes of Patty and her Cousin and her cousin's husband, is a penguin that pops up and reminds you that the SSA has a website... and you don't have to come in here and subject yourself to this ridiculousness if you just log on... except that I've been to the f-ing website and it told me i had to come over here... so fucking penguin...not so smart.
So there you have it. I went to the SSA office so now you don't have to. You can thank me later...
AND... I got there in a cab where the entire time the cab driver is lecturing me about how if I spill coffee in his cab he's charging me an extra 75 cents. I shit you not.
I have learned two things this morning:
1. The star of Social Security Television (no seriously) is Patty Duke...
2. The SSA Office is SO MUCH WORSE THAN THE DMV!
Word of advice: NEVER and I do mean NEVER lose your Social Security Card. It's just not worth it.
I know... you're picturing some DMV like place and it's just not. I arrived to the SSA Office 5 minutes before they opened but that was about 15 minutes too late because I'm waiting in a line OUTSIDE! (can you imagine?) and I'm standing there freezing and all of a sudden I smell cigarettes...and there is a man standing behind me smoking and blowing that sh*t in my hair and mumbling something about... oh who cares... He smelled like a rough night and for whatever reason he felt the need to stand a half an inch away from me...which as you can imagine I just loved.
When we got in the office we were given a nice little speech by a guy in a Cosby sweater about how all SSA employees are only there to help us (subtext: I hate my life and you would too if you had to work in this shit hole so don't expect me to be pleasant or helpful because I hate you as well) ... all I kept thinking was... couldn't they have picked another color other than green for the decor? It's depressing enough as it is... I felt like a sardine in an Altoids box...only not as fresh. And then I take my seat and of course this lady sits right next to me even though there are a billion empty chairs and she starts tapping me on the shoulder and so I take off my grey fur covered ear muffs and place them in my purse and then look at her and smile and say:
Me: Yes?
Her: Do you have a pen?
Me: Umm....
Her: I really need a pen.
Me: I think so... let me check.
Her: I need to fill out these papers and I just need a pen. Can you look for me?
Me: (riffling through purse) Okay can you just give me one sec... actually I'm sorry I don't have one.
Her: You don't? Oh... well....Do you think someone that works here would have a pen? I really need one.
Seriously? I get why the people that work there hate the people that come in... So I'm sitting there looking in my purse for my phone and I happen to look up and there is a person standing at the window but not just any person...This person had on baggy khaki pants and jean bermuda shorts OVER the khaki pants. I can't even tell you... my throat got dry... not even the over priced caramel latte I was holding in my hand made me feel better... It was like an accident on the beltway...you want to keep moving but you can't.... you can't look away because you can't believe you just saw what you just saw...
I thought, well this is just like going to the freak show it can't possibly get any weirder... oh but then...I saw a poster that said, "When cousins are two of a kind, they file online." with a photo of Patty Duke and a woman that looked just like Patty Duke holding each other smiling. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Need to get out of here...I thought, so I check the flat screen to see how close I am to having my number called...one to go....Suddenly the numbers change to a movie...or so I thought... actually...it was "Social Security Television Staring Patty Duke!" (I'm serious. I could not make this shit up if you paid for my next coffee... and there will be a next coffee....) And in between the thrilling scenes of Patty and her Cousin and her cousin's husband, is a penguin that pops up and reminds you that the SSA has a website... and you don't have to come in here and subject yourself to this ridiculousness if you just log on... except that I've been to the f-ing website and it told me i had to come over here... so fucking penguin...not so smart.
So there you have it. I went to the SSA office so now you don't have to. You can thank me later...
Skittles and the DMV
Have you ever signed up for a promotion or given your email address to a website in exchange for a deal? No? Bullshit. You know you have. I typically refrain from doing that*, because to me,...if you wouldn't pay full price for it, then you probably don't want it that bad anyway and therefore don't need to buy it. Plus, then if you do sign up, you get a million junk emails...
But I digress because this post isn't about shopping...it's about how two years ago, I went on a website to look for a running outfit and instead ended up posting a life goal on one of their sub-sites... (shut up...I don't know what I was thinking.)
I swear to you I would typically never do this because the idea of setting a goal on a website (other than my very own blog) sounds like something I'd make fun of one of my friends for doing... But I did it. I think I got a coupon for a free something... the point is, that this morning, while I was parking my car at work, I got an email from the site...reminding me that I needed to change my goal...as the date for my goal has now officially passed. I had forgotten I had even done this. Anyway...
I know...you're thinking... let me guess... you quit smoking...hurray! No asshole...actually ...my goal was "to get promoted to Art Director" and the deadline I gave myself was April 28. And looking back I remember I was GOING to put "quit smoking" but then I laughed and put that instead.
Funny that I get that email now as my current job comes to a near close, ... but even stranger that I got promoted to Art Director last year...and the year on my goal was 2010.... AND I quit smoking.
Not to get all Jack Handy on you but... sometimes I think life is a cruel joke and there's some dude in the sky eating skittles and laughing his ass off at us.... but then other times...I think the guy likes to be nice and share his skittles... and in this moment... I think he shared his skittles with me.*
Just so you know, I am well aware I sound insane but for your info, I actually woke up in a really good mood this morning... let's hope it lasts cause I have to go to a Government building today... and you know how fun that can be...
* (Of course if it's on sale and you've been coveting it...then it turns into a sign from God that yes...you were meant to have it). ...
** Please cut me some slack. It's Friday and I have to go to the DMV...I mean the Social Security office... (same shit really...pick a number...wait forever,...deal with person who hates their life....you know...) and I'm coming off one of the longest weeks I've ever had... oh and did I mention I quit smoking and it is month 2, day 4?
But I digress because this post isn't about shopping...it's about how two years ago, I went on a website to look for a running outfit and instead ended up posting a life goal on one of their sub-sites... (shut up...I don't know what I was thinking.)
I swear to you I would typically never do this because the idea of setting a goal on a website (other than my very own blog) sounds like something I'd make fun of one of my friends for doing... But I did it. I think I got a coupon for a free something... the point is, that this morning, while I was parking my car at work, I got an email from the site...reminding me that I needed to change my goal...as the date for my goal has now officially passed. I had forgotten I had even done this. Anyway...
I know...you're thinking... let me guess... you quit smoking...hurray! No asshole...actually ...my goal was "to get promoted to Art Director" and the deadline I gave myself was April 28. And looking back I remember I was GOING to put "quit smoking" but then I laughed and put that instead.
Funny that I get that email now as my current job comes to a near close, ... but even stranger that I got promoted to Art Director last year...and the year on my goal was 2010.... AND I quit smoking.
Not to get all Jack Handy on you but... sometimes I think life is a cruel joke and there's some dude in the sky eating skittles and laughing his ass off at us.... but then other times...I think the guy likes to be nice and share his skittles... and in this moment... I think he shared his skittles with me.*
Just so you know, I am well aware I sound insane but for your info, I actually woke up in a really good mood this morning... let's hope it lasts cause I have to go to a Government building today... and you know how fun that can be...
* (Of course if it's on sale and you've been coveting it...then it turns into a sign from God that yes...you were meant to have it). ...
** Please cut me some slack. It's Friday and I have to go to the DMV...I mean the Social Security office... (same shit really...pick a number...wait forever,...deal with person who hates their life....you know...) and I'm coming off one of the longest weeks I've ever had... oh and did I mention I quit smoking and it is month 2, day 4?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Day Three of Month Two and Yes I'm Counting...
The last thing I remember seeing last night was the time on my phone before I went to sleep. It said 2:00 am. I can understand if you're Secretary of State that being up for 18 hours, and then powering through the next day on 4 seems like paddy cakes, but I'm a graphic designer with a 9 to 5 and I feel like I just got the crap kicked out of me by life.
Everyone told me that month two of quitting was going to be bad... and I knew they were right, but I thought I'd at least get past the third of the month before that happened. Nope. This post is going to be short because I feel like I'm capable of writing a whole ton of shit that I'm almost certain I will regret later... and no sense in prolonging the agony. Plus, I already look like a train wreck so writing something dumb would just be the icing. Hope your day is prettier than I am at this very moment... a lot prettier.
Everyone told me that month two of quitting was going to be bad... and I knew they were right, but I thought I'd at least get past the third of the month before that happened. Nope. This post is going to be short because I feel like I'm capable of writing a whole ton of shit that I'm almost certain I will regret later... and no sense in prolonging the agony. Plus, I already look like a train wreck so writing something dumb would just be the icing. Hope your day is prettier than I am at this very moment... a lot prettier.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Sh*t WE WON!!!!
First I have to start this post by thanking my wonderful and gorgeous friend for giving away his Caps tickets so that I and BF could see the Caps kill the Islanders last night in some PHENOMENAL seats. It was a game that made it hard for me to sleep ... and I also almost lost my voice which is just... I know... damn near impossible.
I want to tell you also, that I am completely aware of how obnoxious I am at sporting events. I once cheered so hard at a Bullets home game for Orlando, that Penny winked at me (swear to God). I then proceeded to get popcorn thrown at me... and other forms of garbage but I didn't stop until a woman literally pulled my hair and even then....
Then there was the time I made a twelve year old boy cry. And I have to tell you... that kid had it coming... I warned him that he shouldn't start shit talking with a professional shit talker (and.... don't look so shocked okay? He started it....) but he didn't listen...he went for it...and then I just had to put the kibosh on the whole thing. I mean.. don't tell me Karl Malone is the mailman when at the time..he wasn't delivering shit... (don't get all pissy... I apologized,...) And that wasn't even a recent event. I was probably 19 at the time...
But this all hearkens back to when DC didn't have a baseball team, and I was an O's fan and my dad used to take me to Camden Yards to watch Cal. I loved Cal Ripken. He was the Iron Man and my biggest grade school hero. He could do no wrong...and it was watching him play where I learned the art of shit talking. I was in second grade I think.....We were up in the nosebleeds, but not all the way at the top, and it was raining and sleeting and shitty out, and I was so excited because I loved the O's and barely even noticed the weather (Dad on the other hand was not happy about it... but I wouldn't let him leave because I wasn't going to miss the game...). They were playing the Blue Jays... and right in front of us were a bunch of Toronto fans, and right behind us...were a bunch of drunk, loud and dedicated shit talking O's fans.
Now at some point, if you take your kid to a game,...you're gonna expose that kid to a whole lotta shit talking. And it's gonna leave an impression. And the impression I got, was that I would never be one of those Blue Jay fans... for one thing... they lost that game,...and the entire time, these guys behind us are just laying into the Toronto fans who are just sitting there taking it... and I thought... so that's what a real fan sounds like... and the fact that we won that game solidified my complete and utter admiration for that type of dedication. I mean, do you know what it takes to scream that loud for 9 innings straight? Do you know what it takes to do that in the sleet and rain? And make Canadians rethink their citizenship? (Okay yes... 10 beers and a couple of hotdogs but it also takes 100% loyalty and 100% heart). I have both to a fault.
BF will tell you I am like the trophy asshole at the game. He really hates going to games with me because I embarrass him. Parents... leave your innocents at home. If you see me, I will be loud. I will be brutal. I will be unforgiving. And if you're on my team's side... you may just get a kick of out it. Last night was a prime example, although I will tell you that it's not a good idea for me to start the game hungry or thirsty and I was both. At one point I almost reached over and grabbed this woman's bbq burger... plus she was just annoying...she kept rolling her eyes every time I opened my mouth. Now the ladies to the left of me... they liked me.... and for that, I liked them.
At one point in the first period, an Islander took a terrible shot (and missed) on a wide open goal...so I yelled "OH MY GOD YOU SUCK!" And these two women look over at me and so I turned to look at them and they burst out laughing and said, "well hell...you were just saying what the hell I was thinkin'... so good for you." The guy to my right, however... was so obnoxious, he made me look like a cheerleader and he wouldn't shut up about his roller hockey glory days which just about sent me over the edge (and that you really do not want to see....trust me). So I'm sitting there, and I'm looking around, and trying not to steal this woman's burger and punch this dude in the face ... and then BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ end of first period I shot up like a rocket and went on a quest to find food. Of course this turned out to be a nightmare. I walked half way around the arena trying to find a burger that wasn't some kosher vegan bullsh*t and ended up coming back with a 9 dollar, half filled basket of what they were calling "chicken fingers and fries" but looked more like chicken knuckles and potato scraps...
In the end, however, we won, and isn't that what it's all about? I mean...isn't winning the MOST important thing? When we were leaving, my voice was shot to shit but then I smelled someone smoking my cigarettes and I felt... really glad that I wasn't... because I was in the bathroom and that's just wrong...and even more glad that my team just won. So happy that I screamed "SUCKS TO BE A LOSER!" And well hell...it's true... and as BF rolled his eyes (again), I thought, "Some habits... not worth quitting..and you can't get cancer from shit talking (at least last time I checked) "
I want to tell you also, that I am completely aware of how obnoxious I am at sporting events. I once cheered so hard at a Bullets home game for Orlando, that Penny winked at me (swear to God). I then proceeded to get popcorn thrown at me... and other forms of garbage but I didn't stop until a woman literally pulled my hair and even then....
Then there was the time I made a twelve year old boy cry. And I have to tell you... that kid had it coming... I warned him that he shouldn't start shit talking with a professional shit talker (and.... don't look so shocked okay? He started it....) but he didn't listen...he went for it...and then I just had to put the kibosh on the whole thing. I mean.. don't tell me Karl Malone is the mailman when at the time..he wasn't delivering shit... (don't get all pissy... I apologized,...) And that wasn't even a recent event. I was probably 19 at the time...
But this all hearkens back to when DC didn't have a baseball team, and I was an O's fan and my dad used to take me to Camden Yards to watch Cal. I loved Cal Ripken. He was the Iron Man and my biggest grade school hero. He could do no wrong...and it was watching him play where I learned the art of shit talking. I was in second grade I think.....We were up in the nosebleeds, but not all the way at the top, and it was raining and sleeting and shitty out, and I was so excited because I loved the O's and barely even noticed the weather (Dad on the other hand was not happy about it... but I wouldn't let him leave because I wasn't going to miss the game...). They were playing the Blue Jays... and right in front of us were a bunch of Toronto fans, and right behind us...were a bunch of drunk, loud and dedicated shit talking O's fans.
Now at some point, if you take your kid to a game,...you're gonna expose that kid to a whole lotta shit talking. And it's gonna leave an impression. And the impression I got, was that I would never be one of those Blue Jay fans... for one thing... they lost that game,...and the entire time, these guys behind us are just laying into the Toronto fans who are just sitting there taking it... and I thought... so that's what a real fan sounds like... and the fact that we won that game solidified my complete and utter admiration for that type of dedication. I mean, do you know what it takes to scream that loud for 9 innings straight? Do you know what it takes to do that in the sleet and rain? And make Canadians rethink their citizenship? (Okay yes... 10 beers and a couple of hotdogs but it also takes 100% loyalty and 100% heart). I have both to a fault.
BF will tell you I am like the trophy asshole at the game. He really hates going to games with me because I embarrass him. Parents... leave your innocents at home. If you see me, I will be loud. I will be brutal. I will be unforgiving. And if you're on my team's side... you may just get a kick of out it. Last night was a prime example, although I will tell you that it's not a good idea for me to start the game hungry or thirsty and I was both. At one point I almost reached over and grabbed this woman's bbq burger... plus she was just annoying...she kept rolling her eyes every time I opened my mouth. Now the ladies to the left of me... they liked me.... and for that, I liked them.
At one point in the first period, an Islander took a terrible shot (and missed) on a wide open goal...so I yelled "OH MY GOD YOU SUCK!" And these two women look over at me and so I turned to look at them and they burst out laughing and said, "well hell...you were just saying what the hell I was thinkin'... so good for you." The guy to my right, however... was so obnoxious, he made me look like a cheerleader and he wouldn't shut up about his roller hockey glory days which just about sent me over the edge (and that you really do not want to see....trust me). So I'm sitting there, and I'm looking around, and trying not to steal this woman's burger and punch this dude in the face ... and then BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ end of first period I shot up like a rocket and went on a quest to find food. Of course this turned out to be a nightmare. I walked half way around the arena trying to find a burger that wasn't some kosher vegan bullsh*t and ended up coming back with a 9 dollar, half filled basket of what they were calling "chicken fingers and fries" but looked more like chicken knuckles and potato scraps...
In the end, however, we won, and isn't that what it's all about? I mean...isn't winning the MOST important thing? When we were leaving, my voice was shot to shit but then I smelled someone smoking my cigarettes and I felt... really glad that I wasn't... because I was in the bathroom and that's just wrong...and even more glad that my team just won. So happy that I screamed "SUCKS TO BE A LOSER!" And well hell...it's true... and as BF rolled his eyes (again), I thought, "Some habits... not worth quitting..and you can't get cancer from shit talking (at least last time I checked) "
Warning
Okay I'm warning you that I haven't had coffee yet, almost ran out of gas on the way to work, and I'm late. Yes... all of the ingredients for a bad day, however... I should also tell you that I am kind of not in the worst mood ever because I'm still getting over.... wait for it... wait for it..... last night's Caps vs. Islanders game!!!! Which, I got to go to care of my wonderful and gorgeously amazing and safely recovering aforementioned friend. I can't write you the entire saga now, but I will later so stay tuned...
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Thank You.
One month ago, without giving it much thought, I decided it was time for me to quit smoking after thirteen years. Most people don't even stay married that long and the relationship I had with cigarettes was strong. I loved them and well...they loved me.
When I decided to quit smoking, it was something I had thought about on and off for two months. I wasn't sure I'd actually do it, or want to do it, but I had decided that if I did, I wouldn't think too hard about it. I'd pick a day, and then that would be it. Every time I had attempted to quit in the past, I would agonize over the details and mark calendars that would eventually sit in desk drawers drawing dust (how'd you like that alliteration? Not bad for 7:33 in the morning, huh?) Then someone would piss me off and I'd go out and buy a pack.
I got so good at smoking that I think on some level I grew out of it. I started to feel this nagging sense that maybe I was pushing fate a little too hard, and I should probably stop... So I read an article about what happens to your body when you quit... and at the end of the article, it said to get support because without it failure was inevitable.
So I forced myself to join a quit smoking forum online and to give it a chance... because every fiber of my being was telling me, "if you join a support group... I will never look at you the same way again." I would have this inner dialogue that went something like this:
Me: A support group? Are you joking? Is your last name Lohan?
Me: Shut up. The article says...
Me: The article says...you sound like Elizabeth Hasselbeck... The article says... who are you!?@ The article was probably written by someone who has never smoked a cigarette in their life. They're probably vegetarian for Chrissakes!
Me: Seriously... I think I should do this... give it a chance... stop being such a judgemental dick about this! There are good people trying to do good things...
Me: Yeah? I want to kick you in the face right now because you sound like an asshole. Good people....good things...
Me: I'm doing this.
Me: I will make fun of you for the rest of your life
Me: Yeah but at least I'll have a life....dick.
So I joined a group online... and I stuck with it for a week before I decided it was time to break off from the pack and start my own blog. It wasn't that there weren't some nice people on that thing... there were.. and quitting is hard as hell so if that's what you need to do...do it...but for me... I need a little humor with my quit. I couldn't stomach the "inhale slowly" emails I was getting every 15 minutes from some chick in Arizona who no doubt has 30 cats and was typing to me on a hammock to the tune of wind chimes (not that there's anything wrong with that.) And I felt if I didn't break off, I was going to be the bitch in the forum no one would talk to... so I politely (yeah I know...hard to believe but true) broke away and started this thing...and here I am.
I guess I am writing this to tell you that after one month of not smoking... I have you to thank. You are my biggest support system, you keep me sane, and at the end of the day I feel a deep sense of gratitude that I have you to turn to in moments of weakness. And there have been and I know will continue to be some moments.
My goal is to write to you every day for one year. 365 days...last post being January 30th, 2012. I hope you will continue to be there, as I have grown very fond of this self indulgent blog, and I hope you have too...
Love L.
When I decided to quit smoking, it was something I had thought about on and off for two months. I wasn't sure I'd actually do it, or want to do it, but I had decided that if I did, I wouldn't think too hard about it. I'd pick a day, and then that would be it. Every time I had attempted to quit in the past, I would agonize over the details and mark calendars that would eventually sit in desk drawers drawing dust (how'd you like that alliteration? Not bad for 7:33 in the morning, huh?) Then someone would piss me off and I'd go out and buy a pack.
I got so good at smoking that I think on some level I grew out of it. I started to feel this nagging sense that maybe I was pushing fate a little too hard, and I should probably stop... So I read an article about what happens to your body when you quit... and at the end of the article, it said to get support because without it failure was inevitable.
So I forced myself to join a quit smoking forum online and to give it a chance... because every fiber of my being was telling me, "if you join a support group... I will never look at you the same way again." I would have this inner dialogue that went something like this:
Me: A support group? Are you joking? Is your last name Lohan?
Me: Shut up. The article says...
Me: The article says...you sound like Elizabeth Hasselbeck... The article says... who are you!?@ The article was probably written by someone who has never smoked a cigarette in their life. They're probably vegetarian for Chrissakes!
Me: Seriously... I think I should do this... give it a chance... stop being such a judgemental dick about this! There are good people trying to do good things...
Me: Yeah? I want to kick you in the face right now because you sound like an asshole. Good people....good things...
Me: I'm doing this.
Me: I will make fun of you for the rest of your life
Me: Yeah but at least I'll have a life....dick.
So I joined a group online... and I stuck with it for a week before I decided it was time to break off from the pack and start my own blog. It wasn't that there weren't some nice people on that thing... there were.. and quitting is hard as hell so if that's what you need to do...do it...but for me... I need a little humor with my quit. I couldn't stomach the "inhale slowly" emails I was getting every 15 minutes from some chick in Arizona who no doubt has 30 cats and was typing to me on a hammock to the tune of wind chimes (not that there's anything wrong with that.) And I felt if I didn't break off, I was going to be the bitch in the forum no one would talk to... so I politely (yeah I know...hard to believe but true) broke away and started this thing...and here I am.
I guess I am writing this to tell you that after one month of not smoking... I have you to thank. You are my biggest support system, you keep me sane, and at the end of the day I feel a deep sense of gratitude that I have you to turn to in moments of weakness. And there have been and I know will continue to be some moments.
My goal is to write to you every day for one year. 365 days...last post being January 30th, 2012. I hope you will continue to be there, as I have grown very fond of this self indulgent blog, and I hope you have too...
Love L.
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