all you wanna do is something good

I often wish I was more creative/talented/dedicated to working on the creative talents I do have. So periodically I will see something that really stirs that up in me.
Recently it has been Lucy Kinsley that link is to her LJ/comic journal which makes me 1. wish I blogged more often. 2. had more to blog about. 3. could blog using comics which are expressive in a different way and 4. make me wish i could draw at all.
She also writes about her cat and it makes me laugh. Here are two of my favorites.

Also, who hasn't felt like all they are capable of doing is this:

That is basically all I have felt capable of doing since we got back from Hawaii on Friday (awesome, as predicted. not a lot to say about it, it was great all around). I am not sure if it's jet lag or just general malaise at being back or the gloomy NYC weather or my stupid job. Who knows. But mostly I just want to lay on the floor and snuff the cats.

I'm not big on social graces

So the new thing that really annoys me is being polite. Specifically, polite conversation...things that you're supposed to say that no one really cares about wanting to say but does anyway. Today I noticed that this woman at my work had on two walking casts. Now, I don't really ever interact with her, she's perfectly pleasant, but honestly she knows I don't care how she hurt herself and she doesn't want to explain it to me. However, when I passed her I asked her how her feet were and she said that they were getting better (from what? how long have they been hurt? guess what!? i don't really care!). As I was rounding the corner I overheard another coworker ask her, verbatim, the same thing I just had and she gave, verbatim, the same answer. So I get that you have to ask it...how bad would I feel if I was limping around all over the place and no one said anything. But, I would really only want people I actually care about talking about it with to ask me. I hate the small-talk kind of polite inquiry.

Last night I took my laundry to my boyfriend's because he has laundry in his building. I spent the night so I brought my duffle bag full of laundry to work (yes I realize that when all is said and done it is actually less convenient than just going to the laundromat, but I am trying to break the addiction). Anyway I have a duffle bag in my office so people keep coming by and then asking me where I'm going. So then I have to explain how and why I have a bag full of my laundry in my office. Uuuugh. But people have to say it...otherwise it's rude to just ignore the fact that I might be going on vacation.
I also hate when I see myself asking small-talk questions and all I can think about is how I don't really care and the person doesn't want to tell me. The other day I rode my bike to work and I had my helmet in my hand while I was waiting for the elevator and another coworker noticed and asked if I had ridden my bike and then asked how far. I scoffed and said, "like two miles"...not like she would have any idea where I live. And then there was this weird silence where it was like I could fill it with some dumb talk about how I don't live too far and it's faster to bike than take the train blah blah blah. And she'll feign interest and then I'll talk more than is necessary, but it would have filled up the elevator time with something other than that pause that ends with an intake of breath like you're going to start talking but then don't. Is that what is called a heavy pause?
That said, when people don't make polite conversation they end up in this blog labeled with Asperger's....so no one can really win I guess.

In other awkward news, the situation with Mute Guy is really getting out of hand. I bought a new bike right after mine got stolen because I needed one right away for the five borough bike tour. So I saw Mute Guy shortly after that and he seemed to be pleased that I had gotten a new bike, and I kept it in the downstairs hall, but locked to itself this time. And then it was going to be rainy for like a week so I went ahead and moved it upstairs, and Mute Guy may or may not have asked me about it and I told him that it was upstairs. THEN I moved it back downstairs. So one day I was going to take it and he came up from his basement and started going on and on and I have no idea what he was talking about. I don't know why he thinks I can understand him and it's getting increasingly unpleasant. I kept saying "I don't understand" and "I'm confused" but I am beginning to think he may also be deaf. As far as I could tell, he may not really trust the people who live in the apartment on the 1st floor...they may have been smoking marijuana...possibly having sex, or looking through the peephole, or he saw them having sex through the peep hole. It may have been an orgy because he seemed to be indicating that he heard people coming and going while he was sleeping. Maybe they are drug dealers? Anyway, the gist seemed to be that I should keep my bike upstairs, even though I have been locking it to itself. So then I spent the next several days being really bitter about Mute Guy telling me to keep my bike upstairs because I live on the third floor and it's a pain in the ass. So finally yesterday I locked it to itself back on the first floor....and if I run into Mute Guy I am going to have some paper handy so he can write down whatever the hell his problem is. And if he was just making polite conversation, I am going to push him down the stairs into his basement.

Updates and Thoughts

1. In one month and three days I will be on my way to Hawaii with my boyfriend, his brother, and his brother's girlfriend. How excited am I?! Especially since all I have to pay for is my airfare...and, you know, everything else...but no hotel!

2. I am working on getting in bikini shape for the next month, which will be good. Apparently when I decided to postpone my duathlon, I also gave myself permission to binge eat and nap excessively and it's gotten out of control.

3. As part of bikini-shape plan, I have been riding my new bike. Which I am very excited about. It's a road bike, so a lot lighter and faster than my old bike, which is fun.

4. Bea Arthur: Ok, so it's too bad that she died and all, even though she was 86 and it's not really that surprising, but for some reason keep acting shocked...but I kind of think the outpouring of grief among people I know and in blogs I read is kind of ridiculous. Seriously, look at the imdb...except for a few guests spots she hasn't been in anything since Golden Girls ended. So, it's not like it's going to be a big loss and that her career has ended in its prime and the tv world is now going to be bereft of all of the new and amazing works that Bea Arthur would have produced. So, if for some reason you were some huge Bea Arthur fan, she will still be on Lifetime for an hour a day in a mediocre show from the late 80's about single middle-aged women that for some reason has become a cult phenomenon in the 21st century. Plus, Maude is actually way cooler. She had an abortion! Like, only a few years after they quit having couples on tv sleep in seperate beds!

5. When I was little we watched MASH as a family a lot, and I always liked the character Radar because he was gentle and nerdy and had a teddy bear. Big Bird's teddy bear was also named Radar, and because I watched both shows around the same era I always associated MASH Radar with Big Bird's Radar. Turns out, that wasn't a coincidence. From the Sesame Street Wiki: The stuffed bear was named by Big Bird's performer Caroll Spinney as a tribute to actor Gary Burghoff, who played Walter "Radar" O'Reilly on M*A*S*H.^[2] The two met at a taping of Hollywood Squares, and the bear's name is a dual tribute, reflecting Burghoff's Radar character, who brought a teddy bear to Korea, and the fact that in his private life, Burghoff is known as a painter of birds and an activist for bird preservation.
Fun!

6. I also learned from the Sesame Street Wiki that this is what the original Snuffy looked like:
Scary!

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike

A couple weeks ago the building inspectors came and left a notice saying that all this stuff that was in the halls of my building needed to be cleared out. So Mute Guy got right to work and cleared a bunch of stuff out. I live on the 3rd floor, so rather than haul my bike up the stairs all the time I just left it in the 1st floor hallway. Unlocked. Yes, you can see where this is going.

So around the time that Mute Guy cleared out all of this stuff I noticed that I couldn't see my bike in the hallway when I came in the front door, so I thought maybe he had moved it to the side. However, I didn't check because I also thought that maybe it wasn't him who had moved it, so I avoided checking.

Well, Saturday was a beautiful day so I got ready to go for a ride, went downstairs, and of course...no bike.

Mute Guy lives/squats in the basement, and as there was no other place for him to have put it I was hoping maybe he had taken it down there. So I mustered all the courage I have and went down into the basement.

My bike was not down there. However, there WERE two live rat traps (empty, thank god), a filthyMickey Mouse rug, a huge pile of work boot-type shoes that Mute Guy has apparently been hoarding, and a pretty unpleasant smell. So that was pretty awful.

My next step was to put a sign up, still hoping that maybe Mute Guy or someone else had moved my bike and might know where it is. About 10 minutes after I put my sign up, Mute Guy came knocking at the door.

Now, here is the problem with Mute Guy. He thinks people can understand him because he's not actually mute because he can still make Helen Keller moaning sounds. And I guess because he can hear the words that he is saying in his head, he assumes that it translates to his moaning. He is incorrect.

Anyway he comes up flailing his hands and groaning and getting very frustrated that I am not understanding him. So I got him a piece of paper on which he writes "do not open the door when you leave"

So I was like, oh are you not here about my bike? I'm just wondering where my bike is....

He writes "close door".

Now, what he is referring to is that the door to the building is shit and either doesn't lock properly OR locks so that you are unable to open it with your key. It's pretty awesome. And you have to really make sure it has been pulled shut when you leave.
But I still wasn't sure what this had to do with my bike, so I told Mute Guy that I do always shut the door but that I still don't understand what he means.

Also in between his writings he is continuing to moan about something and it's super awkward because I keep having to tell him I don't understand. Then he gets frustrated and motions for me to follow him downstairs, which I do and we go to the place where my bike used to live. He motions at the now empty space, and I confirm that yes that is where my bike used to be. Aaaand then he is flailing his arms around moaning and moaning and gesturing towards this other bike that's on the other side of the hall.

So I keep saying, yes we're talking about my bike. Yes this is where it used to be. Yes it's missing. Even though I was pretty sure he already knew all that, but I couldn't understand what else is was trying to ask or tell me.

Finally he writes something like "Miss gone bike"

Awesome. He might as well have moaned that for all it made sense. I told him I didn't understand and he wrote "what day bike stole", which is when I said that I was thinking he had moved it when he moved everything else. He made an exaggerated sad face and shook his head. "So you didn't move it?" I said. He shook his head. "So it's just stolen." He nodded. "Well, I guess I'll just take my stuff then" The bike thief had left behind my helmet, bike basket and unused lock, the latter of which Mute Guy took out of my hand, shook in my face, and moaned his clearest expression of the whole day, being that I should have kept it locked. Then through a complicated series of gestures and moans I gathered that he was telling me that it was possible to see my bike from the street if the front door was open, and that it would have been tempting for a bike thief. Which explains why sometimes he would move it to the other side of the hall that isn't visible from the door. And which made me feel like a jackass for never realizing.

He then took me to the front door to show me where it looks like someone may have dug into the door to push open the latch....maybe to steal my bike or maybe for something else. He then made a hand-phone gesture and moaned a little. My Mute Guy communication skills had improved by this point, so I let him know that I would call the landlord about the broken lock, to which he responded with a prayer-gesture and an almost-intelligible "please".

So, good-bye bike. You will be missed.

So I went on a reconnaissance mission last night to a bar that has an open-mic stand up night every other Monday where my friend thinks I should go for my next gig. It turns out that I should have gone before my own show because then I might have felt less tragic after mine. There were 4 comics plus a host. The host wasn't especially funny. One of the comics was really funny and the three others were ok funny. But it was clear that they all thought they were doing worse than they really were, even the really funny guy who had the audience laughing out loud pretty consistently made a couple of comments about how it wasn't going well. Clearly it's hard to tell when you're on stage what the actual reactions of the audience were. I also got some ideas for if/when I do it again in terms of setting up jokes, etc. The host wasn't particularly funny mostly because her thing was just a string of random jokes. The funniest guy had the most connected set of jokes with the best segues and they were also told more in story form. Things to note. I am thinking I will go back next time and in the meantime maybe check out a few actual comedy clubs and continue my spy mission.
Unfortunately I was at dinner with some people the other day and tried out one of my new jokes that I thought was funny and it hardly got anything. Oh well.

In other news I have been hanging out with this guy that so far seems like he will never end up in dating disasters. Sorry fans.

adventures in stand up

So I had my little stand-up debut on Monday. Some people came out, most were supportive. It didn't really go how I wanted it to and at first I was really disappointed, but people keep telling me I should try it again. I think next time I do it it would be at an actual comedy venue because I think my grand scheme of how great it would be to NOT do it at a comedy venue was actually not all that successful. Apparently the bartender told my friend that he liked it and it was bizarre. My friend told me that he thought it made people uncomfortable (this was a compliment) and I certainly in my general life make people uncomfortable so it follows that it would carry over to my "stand up".
My friend took a video of it, which I will review once I have some distance from the experience and see what I would like to do differently.
All in all I am glad I did it if only to push myself beyond my boundaries and do something kind of different.
And who knows, you may see me again at your local open mic night. If not, I just have another story.

In unrelated news I need to quit drinking so much -- believe it or not my recent excess is actually a good sign because it means I emerging from my cocoon of hibernation. You like those mixed metaphors?

Aaand in final news I think I am going to hold off on the duathlon until September when I feel more ready.

That's about it on the homefront.

you're never gonna leave and i'm never gonna leave, but you're never going to love me like i need

By the end of 2005 I had been sleeping with my coworker, J., for almost a year. For maybe about 2 months of that year we were what could have been possibly in some circles considered almost a legitimate relationship. But otherwise it was basically par for the course for Caitlinships and since like October of that year he had been in love with another girl we worked with who he was also sleeping with.

And you might be like, wow, was this like Brad Pitt over here? Quite the opposite, friend. If I had to compare J. to a well-known figure I would say Phillip Seymour Hoffman plus about 50 lbs. My sister suggested Tweedle Dee. There are many mysteries in the universe. One of the most significant is how this kid always got these really cute girls despite having few redeeming qualities. Anyway, all this set-up to discuss what happened the day after Christmas in 2005.

Around 2 am I start getting calls and texts from J. He was always a really big drunk dialer (oh I should mention he was pretty much an alcoholic). He was at the coast with his parents for Christmas. But because they didn't have enough room in their condo they had put him up in a hotel and he suggested I come out and stay with him at this hotel. "C'mon Caitlin. It's great. We could start a really nice life together here." I am not kidding you, that's what he said. And I fucking fell for it. So at 4 am I pack up an overnight back and head out to the coast, still wearing my pajamas. Incidientally I just realized I am wearing those same pj's right now. Think about it.
It was a 2 hour drive to his hotel and around 5 am I got pulled over for speeding. When the cop asked me why I was speeding I said, "Listen. It's the day after Christmas. It's 5 am. I am driving in the middle of the night to see a boy. I am wearing my pajamas and it's stupid." He let me go because he said my "honesty was refreshing." I showed up to J.'s hotel at 6 am and he was smashed, of course. At arounded 10 am we headed over to his parents' condo.

When his parents asked how, exactly, a friend of his from town was at the coast he told them that he had gotten drunk and texted everyone he knew asking them to come out, and that I was the only one who responded.

I am going to let that sink in for a minute.

I should have at that time gotten up and said it was now time for me to go back home. But I didn't. I stayed the weekend with him at the hotel. I even called in sick because I was supposed to be back to work after the holiday. And we didn't do shit. We laid around in bed and watched Dog the Bounty Hunter. We went to the aquarium and had nothing to say to each other. I dropped a bunch of change and he stood there while I picked it up. But the whole time I was fighting so hard for us to have this life together he had promised. After all, I was the one who cared enough to respond...not the one pathetic enough and eventually he would realize that. Right? Right?!?! No. Of course not. Every once in a while I do something sad enough that I have an out-of-body experience when I can actually see myself how I would look to an outsider. The last afternoon, sitting on his parents' couch while I tried to flirt with him and he ignored me to watch My Super Sweet 16 I had that out-of-body experience. "I'm going to go," I said. He didn't say anything. I cried the whole way home.

We continued to get drunk and have sex for a couple months after that. See: My issues with self-respect.

But I am working on it, so last night when I got a text in the middle of the night from this guy, apparently not satisfied about his starring role in ball less breakups, asking why he'd never been in a dating disaster post and then suggesting that perhaps I would like to come over, I declined. I think we all know that not a lot has changed about my dating patterns in the last 4 years, but I don't respond anymore to booty calls from people who don't care about me.

There you go, mister.

I got Brooklyn blowing up

So my friend Ed does a show every Monday night in the back room at Union Pool in Williamsburg. After an evening of many drinks he invited me to share the stage with his band for a short stand-up bit. Since I was like 20 people have often told me I should do stand up...so if this goes well I may try an open mic night somewhere.
Anyway. Monday. March 30th. Union Pool. Sometime between 8 and 9...Ed says we should "feel out the crowd" to determine when the best time for me to go on is.

Update: My mom says I used to talk about doing standup when I was little, which I don't remember. I also wrote in an "about me" book in 3rd grade that I wanted to write about myself and my life when I grew up. It's nice to stick to one's goals.

Notice to Chivalrous Men

OK, you're not being helpful when you hold a door open for me like this:
Notice how this man is essentially blocking the entire entrance to the doorway? Not useful. Now, if you had let the door slam in my face what I can easily go ahead and do is just open it back up. When you are standing there with your body blocking 3/4 of the doorway I cannot just push you to the side. You force an awkward situation where I have to take the door from you or squeeze past you and it's dumb.
If I am going the opposite way from you in a doorway and you really feel compelled to hold the goddamn door open, the best thing you can do is completely exit out of the door, stand parallel to the door to hold it open from the end rather than the doorjamb side, thus allowing me easy access through the door passageway. As exhibited below. Also, please remove your hat in the presence of a lady. Thx.

Words I would like to be retired

Snark/Snarky
Hipster (esp. hipster as used derogatorily because it is infinitely more annoying than actual hipsters)
Recessionista
Really anything "ista"
Really anything coupled with recession, i.e. recession diet, recession chic
Huzzah -- this isn't one you hear all that often, but it makes me feel really awkward when people say it.
aks instead of ask (apparently Chaucer used this?)
Baby Bump -- I can never emphasize enough how much I dislike this phrase
Any celeb combo name
Any perversion of the word texting, i.e sexting, textual harrassment, etc.
Guesstimate - it's estimate, yo.
Expresso -- it's espresso, yo.
Schadenfreude -- love the concept, tired of the word
Tweet - as referring to posts to Twitter. I know this is, like, the actual word for it. I think it is dumb.

That's all I can think of for now.

the sun is out, the sky is blue, and all i do is dream of you

Well, spring has sprung here in Brooklyn. Or, at least is in the process of springing. I just got back from a bike ride in prospect park, which is one of my very favorite things to do when it is nice. This bike ride was practice for my little duathlon, because it's gonna be in the park. The duathlon is on the 5th, and let me tell you that is just sneaking right up on me. And my bike ride made me nervous because I am going to have to ride about twice as far as I did today AFTER running two miles and THEN running another two miles. But I have registered myself, so if I don't do it I will have wasted $60. My friends have said they want to come support me. I'm not sure I can talk them out of it but I am worried I won't finish or something and I'll have all these people supporting me when I just want to curl up and cry. On the other hand, it would be kind of sad when I finish to just be like...welp...guess I'll...uh...go home...take a shower or something...maybe get a snack...ok... Anyway that's the duathlon update. My sports injury is doing better. My progress is slow but steady. Can't ask for more I suppose.

I have had a little bit of blogger's block...a dating hiatus will do that to a girl. I suppose I could pull some old ones out of the hat, but meh. I actually just today remembered a dating disaster I had totally forgotten about, but I am not sure if the person reads my blog so you will just never know. Sowwy.

a girl's best friend is in the service industry

For a brief, tragic period my Junior year of college my best friend was Fran the housekeeper. She was probably the only person I talked to every day. She was even going to knit me an afghan until she got fired. Which was too bad because I had already picked out the colors.

I think my current best friend may be Hassan the security guard/doorman at my work. Hassan worries when he doesn't see me. He cares about my personal life. He advised me how much to tip the guys that delivered my couch. He even wanted me to move into his building and was trying to sell me on an open studio. He told another coworker that the studio apartments in his building are really shitty. But apparently they would be great for me. His new compliment is, "You don't look tired." Hassan really knows how to make a girl blush.
A couple weeks ago, Hassan casually asked me if I eat meat. I answered that I do. And that was a mistake. Because now Hassan is threatening to cook me some lamb. And here's the thing, I don't want to eat a lamb. It makes me sad. Also, I am not a huge fan of middle eastern food. I am terrified of the day when Hassan brings me in my lamb lunch and I have to choke down this saffron dusted baby animal. "Lamb with rice!" Hassan says. "It's Halal!" Oh, well if it's Halal then pleeease bring me a big ol' slice of young animal.

I can only hope, that like my much longed-for afghan, this threat of lamb never comes to fruition. I don't want Hassan to have to get fired though....who else would tell me every day that I look good?? Or, you know...at least not like I got run over by a Mac truck.

UPDATE: When I was leaving work the day I wrote this blog, Hassan asked me if I want to go to Yemen with him next year. I would rather eat baby animals every day than go to Yemen. I am now working on setting boundaries with him.

I used to be Team Jack...

But now I'm totes Team Sawyer.



They ain't my people, hoss.


Also, this is my 100th post on blogger.

Dating Disaster #7: Some have travelled far and wide, some have given up and died, for the love of a sweet lovin' man

Ok, so several years ago I was doing a lot of craigslist dating and one dude who had written me never sent me his picture, which I figured was fine. I sat outside of a bar looking expectantly at every guy who came up, until my date finally rolled up. Yes, rolled up. On roller skates. Not even roller blades. And he had this scraggly beard (which he nervously picked hair out of for the entire date) and was obviously someone I would not have dated had I seen his picture ahead of time.
When he rolled up and looked at me he said, "You look disappointed."
He was correct.
But this post isn't about this date. This post is about the date that I just got home from. This was an okcupid date, so this guy had seen my picture....but, when he walked up his face looked like I imagine mine must have when I first saw roller skate guy. I feel like there was a moment when he was a) hoping that he had walked into the wrong bar or b) hoped that I hadn't recognized him and he could turn around.
So this dude is 35, which is older than guys I tend to date. Example: He talked about having been to Eugene for a Grateful Dead show...now, he didn't say when that was, but Jerry Garcia died when I was 12...sooo... And in general he is just in a different place in his life than me.
And maybe he realized that right away, maybe it was just a feeling he had. But he ordered sake, which is baaasically the smallest drink you can get at a bar aside from a shot, and he did not nurse that motherfucker.
After about a half hour he said, "So, um, this is kind of like a school night for me...so I had better get going."
Yeah, buddy, better make sure you get home at 9 o clock. Asshole.
Shortest date ever.
I at least stuck around for two drinks with roller skate guy.
So I don't know what happened, maybe he realized we were at different places...maybe I look grossly disfigured compared to my picture. I have no idea.
What I do know is that I can't do this anymore.
Taking a break from dating, indefinitely.

Everyone has an Office Space day sometimes

Peter: Well, I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late, uh, I use the side door - that way Lumbergh can't see me- and, uh, after that I just sorta space out for about an hour.
Yeah, I just stare at my desk; but it looks like I'm working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch, too. I'd say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work.




This was my schedule today:
9:00: Supposed to come in
9:30: Actually came in
9:30-12: Look at blogs, update facebook, twirl around in my chair, look at missed connections.
12-1: Actual work!
1-2: Lunch
2:15: Actually got back from lunch
2:15-2:30: Actual work!
2:30-3:15: Talk with coworkers
3:15-4:15: Actual work!
4:15-4:30: Think about what actual work I need to do tomorrow.
4:30-4:45: Talk to sister on IM
4:45-5: Write this blog.

2.25 hours of actual work today. Not too bad.

sports theater

So, I am planning on doing a duathalon in April, assuming I don't psych myself out. But I keep running into mucho problemas, some of them legitimate and some of them that are more or less self-created.
Problem number one is I have an overuse injury. How awesome is that!? My calves were getting really sore when I was running, to the point that I had to stop because it was too painful. So I started doing all the stuff that running websites tell you to do -- I got an ice pack, I did stretches, I got tiger balm, I got heel inserts for my shoes, I got new shoes -- but it wasn't really helping. So the other thing you can do is get a brace for your shin/calf. So after trying everything else I, being me, went the dramatic route and got the brace. So now I wear it at the gym and I feel kind of bad ass because I look like a legitimate athlete.
Problem number two is it's fucking cold which presents two problems. 2a is that I am worried that I won't have enough outside training time, so I use that to psych myself out thinking that maybe I should wait because I won't be ready in time. 2b is that it I'm not always all that motivated to walk 15 minutes each way to the gym in 20 degree wind chill weather.
Problem three is that my gym is way too crowded after work. Normally if I go right after work if I get off at 5, it's not too bad. I went today and it was insanity. I waited around for a machine and finally gave up, telling myself that I will come back, which there is probably a 25% chance of me actually doing.
I considered joining the gym next door to my work, but then I was reading reviews of it and one person said they had been to better gyms in Beirut. So I am not going to pay twice as much for a third world gym, which is probably just as crowded.
So until April 5th I plan on limping around with my brace on, moaning about interferences to my "training schedule" and generally being extra dramatic. And hopefully I won't talk myself out of the duathlon.

That's how we do in Clinton Hill

So I was doing my grocery shopping on Saturday at my local Pioneer supermarket. And I'm in the produce section, rifling through leafy greens to find ones that haven't turned mushy brown, cuz that's what you have to do at the Pioneer. And then I see this dude over at the deli, who looks a lot like Food Network celeb Ted Allen...but surely, Ted Allen -- who on many episodes of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy lamented that the proletariat does not enjoy duck pate -- does not shop at the Pioneer. Even though they renovated it a month or so ago, so they no longer store produce on the filthy floor. And they added some organic/natural foods. And they added some fancy cheeses (by my standards, keeping in mind here that I am pretty pissed that the $1.99 cheese I like to buy increased to $2.49). But still, this is no gourmet market. This is where I and the 2,000 denizens of the Lafayette Gardens projects shop. Not Ted Allen.
Turns out, he does. Because I am the master of finding things out about people on the internet, I learned that Ted Allen actually lives a few blocks from me.
And you may be saying to yourself, wait Caitlin, don't you live in the ghetto? Wasn't someone shot on your doorstep like a year ago? And you are partially right, friend. But, as many visitors have observed, one only has to travel a few blocks to get to very nice brownstones and less gang activity. Like, a few blocks in Ted Allen's direction...
So I find an article in New York Magazine from October 2008 in which he discussess his move to Clinton Hill. I found another article with his address, but I am withholding it out of respect for his privacy. What if one of my readers from Kansas decides to stalk him?!
My favorite part of the interview is as follows: When's the last time you drove a car?
Today. I love Clinton Hill, but the grocery stores suck.

Well said, Ted. But, I suppose we all have to make concessions once in a while.

why doesn't anyone i know watch Lost?

Cuz man is it good this season. I think the best since the 1st season. Maybe I should start perusing the message boards or something.

Dating Disaster #6: Self R-E-S-P-E-C-T (just a little bit)

I don't really like or dislike Valentine's Day. When it's your first or second Valentine's Day in a new relationship it can be really great. I imagine that after 25 Valentine's Day you're probably pretty much over Bee Mine plush bumblebees, but maybe it's a nice time to remember that you love each other. I wouldn't know. When you're single, sometimes it's kind of a bummer, sometimes you don't care. Whatevs.
But, I was thinking that a romantic day which I am spending alone, having just polished off about 4 gallons of chocolate marshmallow frozen yogurt and am otherwise doomed to watch romcoms all night because THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE ON!, is a good time to pull out a dating disaster.

This dating disaster will take what should be a familiar pattern to those of you who have read Dating Disasters 1-5. I am not sure if this is just my unfortunate taste, a side effect of casual sex, or typical for most dudes. Anyway, I met this guy at a party and yadda yadda yadda ended up going home with him. I was pretty drunk, so after we're done I passed out in his bed. I woke up about an hour later to this dude all touching on my lady parts. I mumbled something about how I was sleeping and shifted my position to be less accessible. But this guy is not one to be easily disswayed and contorted his arm into what had to have been an uncomfortable position just to continue to molest me. I sat up, "umm, I'm going to go home." As I tried to crawl over him to get out of bed, he pulled me down on top of him, "Hey wanna go again?" Uuuugh. No. I don't. So I left. Later I am telling my friends about this, and almost unanimously they say I should give him another try because "we were both drunk" and "he's a friend of a friend so he can't be that bad" and "it was probably just an isolated incident."

So this is where my poor self esteem and bad decision making comes into play, because when he texted me later I was all like, oh yeah let's get together. So eventually we got drinks. He asked me to go home with him and I declined. He didn't push it, unlike Dating Disaster #5. So I thought, well, maybe it was just a one time violation. And I agree to see him again.

At get-together #3, I intended to just get together at a bar near my house but the bar was crowded and loud and we ended up going back to my apartment. I should know better by now, but still invited him up and started downing screwdrivers. A lot of screwdrivers. Pretty soon I was drunker than I have been in a long time and I don't remember much until the morning when I woke up. But apparently we had sex and I woke up at 5 am with one of the worst hangovers I have ever had. My head was pounding, I couldn't get back to sleep and this dude in my bed keeps thinking that maybe he should try to touch my boobs. I got up to get some advil and was like, "um, hey, would you be offended if I asked you to leave?" So I am not sure what my response would be in a situation like that. I would probably feel stupid and embarrassed and just leave. I am pretty sure that I would not say, "Just give me a couple more hours honey". A couple hours?? In a couple hours I have to be at work! But what am I supposed to say...I mean, I don't want to be rude. So I just laid back down and said, "don't touch me." "Well...this is awkward," he grumbled into his pillow. Yeah, for me and you both, buddy.

We started talking about random stuff, because what else are you supposed to do when you are massively hungover and there is a rather large naked man who won't leave your apartment. Then the guy decides that he should give me a backrub, which was actually kind of nice and did make me feel a little better. But no one ever does anything nice without expecting something in return, so, predictably the back massage turns into a game of "let me see how much I can touch your boobs until you move my hand." Ugh.

So in the course of this conversation he kind of laughs awkwardly and says something about me asking him to leave my apartment twice. And I was like, wait what? Twice? I just asked you once. "Uhh, no..." he says "You also asked me to leave like right after we had sex."
Are you kidding me right now? Seriously? I ask you two times to leave and you still don't do it? Who does that?

To me it sort of enters this kind of rapey, aggressive, disrespectful territory that I'm not all that comfortable with. After he left I was really angry at myself for not making him leave in the morning when I asked him. I assume I was too wasted to be very convincing when I asked him the first time. But I was annoyed that in the morning I said to myself, "well I don't want to be rude" instead of "you know what, I have a right to ask you to leave and have you comply."
I was expecting him to be a three-texter before he got that I didn't want to see him again. But I was wrong, it was only 2.
Although, speaking of people who don't get it, Mole Guy requested my facebook friendship the other day. At first I didn't even know who it was...then I recognized the headshot. I at least had the self respect to click ignore.

A Horrible Warning is the premiere destination for all your vices

So, as you know, every once in a while I like to see what people are searching when they come to my blog. In the past I have been THE place for pictures of Robin Weigert as Calamity Jane, as my blog is the first link in google pictures. Also, when people are concerned about warnings around amish friendship bread, google likes to refer them over here.
But recently, google searches leading to my blog have gotten notably more lurid.
The other day, a poor speller from Staten Island was interested in "laundry atiction". What is THEIR laundry addiction, I wonder? And was my blog helpful?
In Japan, someone was referred here due to their curiosity regarding, "why teenager take picture of lady underwear at escalator". We love to write about that here at A Horrible Warning.
Anf finally someone googled, "Went home from bar, had sex" and was led directly to my post about going home from the bar with someone and having sex, which is why google is so amazing.

In updated news, it turns out that I LOVE octuplet mom, what a personality disordered nutcase! I can't handle how much crazier and crazier she is turning out to be!

The good old days weren't always good, or, I am sure one day I will look back on these years with nostalgia

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KmUwVA3BqI

Anyone else who has posted the above 30 rock clip in their blog has done so to talk about what a hottie Jon Hamm is. Well not me. I am posting about Oswald. Because I HAVE Oswald in my building. I didn't know that was like, a thing, in New York. But it must be. If you don't watch the clip and didn't see the episode, basically Liz Lemon goes to give her neighbor his mail and a crazy guy answers the door. And then they explain that it's Oswald who lives in the basement and helps out sometimes.

Well, picture Oswald...but make him black, mute, and an alcoholic and make Liz Lemon's fancy tv writer's building into a dumper social worker's building and then you have my apartment and the guy from this post who lives in my basement and sometimes washes the window in the door.

I don't know his name, so in my head I usually call him Chris because sometimes he wears a Dickies-type work short with Chris sewn on, even though I am pretty sure it came from the garbage. Maybe I will switch it to Oswald.

One time I saw him stabbing a caged rat with what appeared to be a sharpened stick. True story.

because I know everyone was wondering...

So, I do love the Duggars and their insane number of kids...I do not love crazy Octuplet mom. This is for a variety of reasons. One being that the Duggars can support their children and Octuplet mom can't. The second being that, while I do not agree with their beliefs, the Duggars believe they are doing this because it is what God wants them to do and I can respect that...crazy Octuplet mom just wanted "one more girl" and is selfish. Also, the Duggars have at least a little breathing room between their infants. Sure 8 kids under 10 is unreasonable...8 kids in infancy is fucked up. Finally, I think J'Michelle Duggar is a saint, and Octuplet mom sounds a little white trashy to me.

i'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie)

I have a confession about a secret habit. It's becoming kind of an expensive habit and I don't know how to stop it. I need to go to laundryhab....because I have lost all ability to do my own laundry. I HAVE to drop it off. Every week I say I am going to start doing my laundry again, and then I don't do it...and then it piles up and I say I'll really do it this time. I even check the little bag where I keep my quarters to see if I have enough. I plan out a Saturday where I can do it. I get all ready....and then...I go drop it off.
They eased me into it like any good dealer does. Because I was resistant..."it's too expensive", I said..."I don't want them to look at my underwear!", I said....but then I had a lot of sheets to do....lots of sheets can take a long time, and that's not personal....so I dropped them off.
Hey! I thought...that's kind of nice! They are all folded and ready to be put away...and it wasn't too expensive...not much more than I would have paid anyway. And the time saving!
So next time...I threw in some shirts...maybe some pants. And then the next time? Underwear. And it has spiraled out of control. Without having to do my underwear by myself, I have lost all motivation to do any laundry at all. And I was in denial for a long time, because it is way more expensive than doing my laundry on my own. But it's sooo nice!
I just paid $20 to pick up my laundry....and I mean, it was a lot of laundry. But see? There I go rationalizing. The fact is, I just need to face the fact that I am a laundry drop off junkie.
If this were Intervention I would need my loved ones to make a list of how my laundry addiction has affected them.
Caitlin, your laundry addiction has affected me in the following ways:
You can never hang out because you spent all your money on laundry.
You wait until the last minute to do your laundry because you think you will do it on your own and so then you run out of underwear and I have to listen to you complain all day about wearing a thong because it's your last clean underwear.
You lie about how often you drop off your laundry.
You say you can't hang out on a Saturday because you are going to do laundry but then you just nap until 4 and then drop off the laundry so you can go to the gym.
It's getting out of hand!!

for those following my plight...

Frank is now completely gone from the apartment!
And, if you live in the greater tri-state area and want to go with me to Ikea next week to get a couch let me know. Last time it was so bad that my friend left all the shit he had picked out in the middle of the store, out of being overwhelmed. So I need the support.
I'm getting Extorp; I already have it picked out.
My apartment is going to be so less shitty! Maybe I will feel comfortable enough to have people over besides one night stands.

On that note, there is apparently a blog called I Bang The Worst Dudes....um hasn't that been my blog for like a year??
The Jezebel people think that perhaps it is a joke....but given that I think every scenario excluding the ones with STDs has happened to me, I'm inclined to think it is not.
Anyway, what an auspicious week: Worst President Ever=gone! Worst Roommate Ever=gone!

Hope lives on in Clinton Hill.

if love is a drug i guess we're all sober

The evening security guard at my work is very friendly. Every day when I leave we chat and he gives me a stick of gum. He knows more about me than is really probably necessary for a security guard to know. A while back he asked me if I had a boyfriend and I said I did not and he said "why?!". Well, Hassan, it's obviously because no one will ever love me. Tomorrow we'll begin a series of 3 minute discussions on my choices in partners.

Today I asked Hassan about his day off, and he in return asked me about mine. I told him I had gone to see a movie. "Alone?", he asked. I said that no I had gone with a friend. He looked so heartbreakingly hopeful for a minute and said "A friend.....? A...boy? friend?" And I said that it was a female friend. Crushed. He was so crushed. "You don't have a boyfriend, right?" And I confirmed that I do not. He gave me this pitying smile and I was like, "what?". He paused for a minute..."I don't like that...you look good! You are young! You should have a boyfriend!"

Thanks, Hassan. No, really.

I have recently had yet another dating disaster, which I don't have enough distance from to blog about (making it sound much more tragic than it was)....and I was thinking that maybe I really just want to spend some time on me. Isn't there a sex and the city or something where they date themselves? I don't know. I don't watch that show.

But then I was like, my friends are already always thinking about setting me up with people ...but you know it's bad when the security guard at your work is tired of you being single....so I guess I will plod on in my ongoing quest to not date an asshole and at least Hassan will be happy.

brother can you spare a dime

Pretty much every news story and commercial you see these days includes a phrase along the lines of "in times like these", "in hard times" or"in today's economy". I have seen the recession used to sell tickets to Mary Poppins (in times like these, you need to see this uplifting musical), car insurance (can't afford to take chances), phone plans (in times like these, we need rollover minutes). The recession is the explanation for the increase in lottery ticket purchases...and food stamp applications. People even talk about "these hard times" and the increase in obesity (people eat cheaper, less nutritious food when they broke...true dat yo...that's why there are so many fried chicken places in my neighborhood and so few vegetable options).
Anyway...this is the thing...you know how when there is a tsunami in thailand or wherever and you feel kind of bad about it, but really it has nothing to do with you, and while you realize how terrible it is you have a hard time mustering any actual empathy? Maybe that's just me? Well, that's how I feel about the recession.
It really affects me in absolutely no way...except for that now my bank is owned by Chase and I think they increased the APR on my credit card. But besides that? Teenagers will always be out of control, people will always be crazy...so my job isn't at risk. I am making more money than I have ever made...and since the previous 2 years involved me having absolutely no income, I feel like the sultan of Dubai over here AND living on pretty much nothing gave me some decent budgeting skills so I'm used to living on the cheap. I am pretty sure that the $100 I have in savings isn't going anywhere, and I'm not worried about my declining 401K because I cashed it out two years ago for grad school.

Basically, what I'm saying is....unemployment and a master's degree were my recession...and now I'm all New Deal and chicken in every pot and stuff.

I think there should be a new area of marketing...and it should be like, "Hey, you...hey, things are ok! Go shopping!"

Target, I love you, but you're bringing me down

This is a conversation I had with my friend today:
E: I think I am going to get a bike this spring
Me: You totally should, I was really glad I got mine last year
E: Where do you keep yours?
Me: Um, ok...well....so there is this mute homeless man who I guess squats in the basement of my building? And he hoards stuff? Like, I threw out this chopper that didn't work and then he had it. And sometimes he has food back there and I am not sure if he gets it from a food pantry or the garbage. And then sometimes he has other stuff that he hoards but you wouldn't know why because it's not useful and you can't sell it. Anyway, I keep my bike back there. I keep it in the little back area where the homeless man who sleeps on a cot in my building's basement keeps stuff he finds in our trash.
E: Oh ok. Yeah, who knows why people hoard what they do.

I love Brooklyn.

I forgot to blog about my two year living in New York anniversary! It was the 8th. In thinking about it I was trying to think about my favorite moving to New York memory. And at first I was thinking about re-living the day I went from the hotel I was in to my friend's apartment and the cabbie threw all of my crap onto the street because he didn't want to go to Brooklyn. But then, this blog showed up and reminded me that of course I had to write about the worst day in my whole life, which is the first time I went to the Atlantic terminal target.

Unfortunately, I deleted my myspace so I no longer have the gem of a blog that I wrote back when the wounds of that day were still fresh and my tears barely dried. But I will try to sum it up as best I can, keeping in mind that the lens of experience and jadedness mars the ability to portray exactly how devastating this episode was.

To set the scene: It is January, 2007. I have lived in New York City (said as in Pace salsa commercial) for less than one week. This is the day that I move into the apartment that I will live in for my first 18 months here and although I don't yet know it, will be the scene of many stories to come.
I am extremely anxious and on edge about everything. I only have what I could bring with me on the plane, so I head to Target to pick up some essentials. My new roommate -- who I actually don't even live with yet -- has a shopping cart similar to the one pictured, that I decide to take with me.

When I get to Target I get a regular shopping cart and put the old lady shopping cart inside of it and go about my business. There is an escalator in this Target with a separate entrance for carts. As I head to the second floor and put my shopping cart on the escalator, I note a wall next to the cart escalator and think to myself "Hm, I wonder if my old lady cart will be too tall sticking out of the cart and get stuck on the wall?" And then I proceed to put the whole contraption on the escalator.
Now, you may have heard me tell this story before. Or you may just have sensed the foreshadowing and are not surprised, that yes the cart does get stuck to the wall. I watch in slow motion as the old lady cart begins to bend until it is completely jammed up against the wall. At that point, the Target cart tips over, spilling out all of my carefully selected school supplies. I reach out and let out a movie slow motion "Noooo"...but there is no hope. Other shoppers look on in disgust as their own carts are victims of the pileup. Several employees band together and free the cart, handing me back the old lady cart that is now at a 45 degree angle to its original formation. And I. start. crying. And I can't stop. And I'm just crying and crying and crying. But I have shit to buy, so I am shopping and walking through the store and just crying the whole time. Obviously this is going to become my normal state. Like the girl who had hiccups for however long...I will just be the girl that cries...I will have to live out the rest of my life going through every day activities sobbing.
So, with a full cart I go to pay...only to learn that all of my credit cards are declined because my banks helpfully put holds on them due to suspect spending. Nothing changes for me though...I just keep crying and crying and I leave the store. In the melee, I have lost one of my gloves, so I walk out with one hand in my pocket and my gloved hand towing the wrecked property of a stranger (where's THAT lyrics Alanis?). It is bitter cold, but my tears flow hot and do not freeze.

Bedding was included in the many items I picked out that day that never left the store. I didn't have a bed and my new roommate had been kind enough to let me take the futon from the living room into my room to sleep on, and she had even got out some sheets for me. After destroying her personal things, I didn't have the heart to ask for a blanket. I spent the next 3 nights sleeping on the futon with just a sheet...wearing every item of clothing I had brought with me, including gloves and a hat...shivering and crying until I finally bought a blanket.

For a long time I blamed the Target experiene on my own general ineptitude. But then Fucked in Park Slope comes along with their secret cameras to help me prove to the world that the Atlantic Center Target is the worst Target in the world.

Observe:
This is Part 1.

FIPS Undercover - Worst TARGET Evah (Brooklyn, NY) from Effed in Park Slope on Vimeo.

This is Part II


FIPS Undercover II: Target Sucks (Brooklyn, NY) from Effed in Park Slope on Vimeo.


I am pretty excited for III and IV

I like to think I have come a long ways since that day two years ago. But....basically...I live in a shittier apartment in the same neighborhood with worse roommates and I still shop at that Target and hate it every time. BUT I generally move through my days without excessive tearfulness. So that's something.
And now I have a bike that a mute bum watches over.

mental/fitness

I need to go to the gym, so I am taking my time getting there. it closes at 8...sometimes I sniggle enough and successfully manage to not make it before it closes.
I guess I do kind of have a new year's resolution...I have been talking about doing a duathalon (running and biking) for like a year and a half. It had become a joke because it is this thing that i talk about and say i am TOTALLY committed to..and then it doesn't happen. Last fall I was going to do one, and then last spring, and then this past fall...But, this time I'm committed for real. There are two in April, one in Prospect Park and one in Central Park, so I want to be ready to do one of those. It's about 3 miles running, 10 miles biking and then another 3 miles running. Right now I could probably do half of that, slowly. While crying the entire time. But I'm working up to it.
Also, my mom and I are doing a bike new york thing in May where you ride through the 4 boroughs and it's 42 miles. It's not a race really and apparently you can take the whole day to do it if you want to, so it's not the tour de france over here...but it's a lot more than biking 10 miles at the gym while watching Jeopardy.

I watched Jeopardy twice this week while on the bike. On the first day the champion's interesting anecdote was that one time a female friend of his was in the hospital and he had to go buy a dress for her and announced to the whole store that it was for a friend. On day two his anecdote was that he had a dog who liked halloween....and by halloween he apparently meant that the dog liked it when kids came to the door and he would get all up in their shit. When he first said it I was kind of hopeful, like maybe the dog went and picked out his own costumes or could hand out candy to kids. But no. He liked to be obnoxious at the door and slobber all over children.
I hope that if I am ever on Jeopardy I have something more interesting to talk about than that once I bought an outfit for the opposite gender as an act of kindness and that I had an animal that acted like an animal. In reality I probably will just tell Lucy and Linus stories the whole time. Or talk about the Duggars or something.
Alex Trebec will be like "Caitlin, a social worker from Brooklyn New York...I hear you have a hidden talent? Tell us about that"
And then I would kind of giggle awkwardly and say "Well Alex I can name all 18 of the Duggar children in order of their birth."
And then I would start off all "Josh, Jana, John-David, Jill" and then he would have to cut me off and it would be embarrassing. And then I would lose because the whole time I would be replaying my interesting anecdote in my head and wouldn't be able to focus on European history.
What a disaster.
BUT if I do my duathalon I can say that I am a duathlete or a multi-sport athlete or that I have biked through all 5 boroughs in one day. It will show that I am well rounded. Anyway I better get to the gym or I will end up, well, rounded. HA!

so this is the new year, and i have no resolution

this new year feels particularly anticlimactic to me. New year's never feels like a particular starting over time for me, I think my birthday usually is, but total caitlin makeover is an ongoing process anyway. And I don't do resolutions. I think sometimes I do a little reflection of the past year in my blog, but I don't feel like it -- lots of ups and downs and changes like every other year :)


Instead I am going to write about Ruby.

Here is a video from YouTube with her talking about her Rubyisms:


I have a really low attention span for youtube videos---this one is 7 minutes and I only watched half of it. BUT if you like watching youtube videos it's a longer look.


She is just so cute and you want to be her friend and you feel angry at everyone who ever stares at her or laughs at her. And it's just kind of an interesting reaction, because if I saw someone her size on the street I would probably say how gross it was and stare. And then I would spend the next 3 days talking with everyone I know about obesity and how one gets that large, and probably my own body image issues because I like to bring it back around to me. But I like Ruby and really want to support her. And every time she slips up on her diet, I don't think to myself that it's her weakness and that's why she's so big. I see it as a normal slip-up that we all have and I want her to keep going. So. Watch it.

My other tv related comment is about the whopper virgin commercials. If you haven't seen them, Burger King is supposedly going to these extremely remote areas and giving people who have never tasted either a Big Mac or a Whopper a taste test and then I guess the whopper virgins (a term that makes me extremely uncomfortable) vote. Anyway, people are all kinds of outraged because there is all this hunger in these areas and these people are going in with basically the epitome of American excess and giving it to only a few people without addressing hunger. I suppose that's all true, but I am more concerned about their tummies. I would assume that most of these diets are vegetarian. And if they consume meat it certainly isn't all cooked in grease and shit. Isn't going to make them really sick? Is there a follow up? Does Pepto-Bismol go in with a taste test between them and Immodium? Ridic.