a horrible warning

Dig Duggars

2010-05-14T19:20:00.000-04:00

So here's what's been up with the Duggars. I kind of stopped watching after all of the episodes were about dentist appointments so I caught up this past weekend when they had a mother's day marathon. I haven't posted about them in like a year and in that year they have seriously had two kids that aren't twins. This is nuts because in the past year most people in the world have had zero kids and some people have had one kid. So two is really a lot for a year.

In December or November, J'Michelle had a premature baby named Josie. Some people are saying this is a little sign from God that they should stop having kids. I think that's BS though, because plenty of people get pre-eclampsia and have babies when they are young and only on their first and second kid. If anything, I say it's a sign from God that they should keep on having kids because it is obviously a miracle that 1 pound Josie didn't just slide on out when there was trouble brewing in the ol' uterus.

So Josie is in an incubator and whatnot in Little Rock, but the Duggars live in Bumblefuck, so they decided to move most of the family to a little house in Little Rock so they could be near the hospital where Josie is at. Two thoughts about that. 1. The house was a historical site. What historical site, interested in actually preserving history, would let a family with 19 kids into their house?! (minus 3 because Josh was tending to his own homefront and John David and Justin (?) were tending to the Duggar homestead). 2. The home was originally built by some lady who was a big supporter of birth control. The irony was not lost on JimBob, who pointed it out to the kids on moving day. The house only had 1 bathroom, as opposed to the 8 bathrooms or something that they have in their regular house. One of the girls pointed out that they had basically been living out of the bus for the past year, because they have gone on so many trips -- presumably to make the show interesting.

Most of the episodes involved sitting around in the hospital talking about what a miracle Josie is and crying, neither of which I particularly care for. The Duggar episodes I really like are when they show off their religious fanaticism, which just wasn't as evident in these episodes. For instance, two of my favorite Duggar episodes are when they go to the Creation museum (amazing!) and when they go to some place where you can dig for diamonds and the proprietor notes that the site where they are digging is a million years old or something and JimBob just chuckles and is pretty much like "haha. She's means 6,000 years old...we all know the earth isn't a million." Anyway there is none of that in the episodes I watched. The closest was how JimBob basically forces the oldest girls to donate blood based on some passage in the Bible about blood. Meh. The most remarkable part about that was that I was like "wait don't you have to be 16 or 18 or something to donate blood?" Which obviously the girls are, you just kind of forget because their development is a little stunted.

So this whole thing culminated in Josie being allowed to come home. She was still very little when they brought her home...like 4 pounds or something even though she was already 4 months old. So, to be honest, she was kind of creepy looking. Then they put her in this pink crocheted hat that had brown yarn on it that looked like it was supposed to look like curly brown hair. On this fetus-looking infant. That whole thing was kind of horrifying. Then they had to take her back because she couldn't poop. I guess she had to go back to the hospital again after that, too, but I just read about that and didn't watch the episode. Apparently she is still there.

Overall the whole thing with Josie just doesn't interest me. I don't care for a Baby Story or anything like that. I like the Duggars because their lifestyle fascinates me. But, really, all of the specials and things about how much laundry they have and how much food they buy and how they run the household has all been done. Josie being born prematurely was probably a good coincidence in terms of ratings and maintaining viewer interest, but it just doesn't hold mine.

Their family friends the Bates, who also have 17 kids have made a couple appearances this season. One when the Duggars went to help the Bates build an addition to their house (which according to my boyfriend was shoddy work. So I would like to see a special about the toxic mold that ends up in the Bates house) and one when the Bates came to visit Josie in the hospital. In both episodes the Duggars and Bates shared space that at a maximum would be comfortable for a family of 6. There has been much speculation that the Duggar-Bates unions are essentially forums for arranged marriages. And that is what I would really like to see more of. The older kids are in their early 20's and need to get out of the house. That's too old to still be at home. And if marriage is the only way out, then get those kids married off!

Who Needs Sleep? Well, you're never gonna get it.

2010-05-10T05:33:00.000-04:00

I have a long history of poor sleeping. My whole family does. For the past couple of years it had become part of my sleep pattern to wake up for at least an hour or two in the middle of the night. Moving to this apartment saw a gradual improvement in my sleeping pattern. Not having roommates making full-on meals at 3 am, and no longer living in a neighborhood where night-long shouting matches and large garbage trucks are part of the background noise helped. But the past few weeks have seen a resurgence of insomnia with a vengeance. Case-in-point, now it is 5:15 am. I slept from approximately 1:45 am to 2:30 am, when I was awoken by Linus puking on the bed. I have not been able to return to sleep. Tim's alarm goes off in an hour and a half. That means I will probably fall asleep in an hour, so that I have juuust entered some good sleep when I get to be awake for him to snooze for 30 goddamn minutes. Not that I'm bitter. Then I will sleep until approximately forever, thus continuing a terrible pattern that will destroy my circadian rhythm. And no, I don't want tips for falling asleep or beating insomnia, thanks.

The job-that-must-not-be-named continues. I am doing the actual door-to-door work now in an upscale apartment building. The first day was great, but a family complained because the nanny spoke with me, so they quit letting me up. Their solution was to have the doorman (oh excuse me, concierge...he corrected me the other day) call up to each of the 90 apartments on my list. This is in between his regular doorman duties and he's kind of a dick about it. The other day he did other things and left me standing around waiting for him to call up to apartments for 45 minutes. We have this phony cordial relationship that I hate having with people, when in reality we are loathing each other more by the day.

On Saturday I had a different doorman who actually let me wander the halls, which was awesome. Today, Greg the Concierge was back and he gave me a hard time. First, insisting that I have been more productive when I have called up to apartments (not true) and then saying, well I had more yesterday because it was a Saturday afternoon. But today was Mother's Day. A FAMILY Day! And people were not going to want to talk to me. Also not true. Also? Not his problem. Which is interesting considering he has made it clear that we are not a team, not working together, and that he is basically doing me a favor. Ultimately though he let me up, when I reminded him of how many apartments he was going to have to call.

All in all the work is ok. People have been pretty cooperative for the most part. Then, there was this interaction:
This kid who is like my age had made it clear that he has tons of money. i.e. "Oh I don't know if this is my primary residence. I have several residences and I'm always traveling. So you could even consider Paris, Milan, and London primary residences." (Totally serious by the way.)

So then I ask him about ethnicity. And he says that he doesn't understand. So I read off a list of possible Hispanic, Latino or Spanish origins for him. And he says "well I speak Spanish fluently." and I said...ok....well...is your family of any of these backgrounds? And he tells me he had an Argentinian nanny who "practically raised him." And then says he also speaks French and "you can see how this is so confusing!"

I was being observed by a supervisor. If I hadn't I would have said "you arrogant jerk. Speaking a language does not make you of that culture. You are a moron and you are clearly rich and white, so why don't we just go ahead and mark that down." In the end I wrote in "Latino" per his request.

He also said that his "power-of-attorney" sometimes stays at his place. Why he chose to identify her first as a power of attorney, rather than his sister (which he said later), is anyone's guess. I assume it's to make sure I know he's so rich that he requires someone to have power of attorney.

So....basically what we have is a rich white kid, who travels a lot for his rich, white job. In his travels he meets people who have a wide variety of ethnic backgrounds and cultures. He starts to feel lame for just being a boring white kid, so at every opportunity tries to pretend like he is anything more interesting than a trust fund baby. Blech. So glad it's not someone I know in real life.

Supervisors keep telling me how great I'm doing though, which is good. I am hoping that once this part is done I can do some part-time office work for them. My goal is to not get a real job until September.

Bill, the guy who lives in my building and wouldn't tell me on what floor, hates me almost as much as Greg the Concierge. I will see him at team meetings and he ignores me. I saw him today and he said goodbye, looking at everyone but me. Fortunately, my life moves on. And it turns out that so many people are refusing to speak to him that it's becoming a problem. That's what you get jack-ass.

Now to try sleep again. Perhaps my watching the Duggars as research for my next post.

Who Wants to Be a Millanaire!

2010-05-06T14:36:00.001-04:00

I am auditioning for Who Wants to Be a Millionaire on the 17th. I have to fill out an application beforehand.

These are the questions:

. Quirks, rituals, superstitions…What makes you unique?

2. How would winning $1 million change your life?

3. What is one thing you do that makes people laugh?

4. If you could nominate yourself as best-_____ or “most likely to_____,” what would be your vote?

5. What do you do for fun?

6. You’d never believe it but I once…

7. Why do you want to be on Millionaire?

Any input as to what I could put to make me stand out?

In Which I Make A Trimphant Return to Blogging

2010-04-30T19:09:00.000-04:00

Well, kids, you asked for it. I am back, hopefully consistently.

I took a break from blogging because my most popular posts were about my dating disasters, and now that I am no longer dating I felt like I didn't have a lot to write about.

But the universe has blessed me with a job which I believe will be endless blog fodder, so I am going to document it. We'll see how it goes.

So for those that don't know, I got a part-time temporary job working for the Man in the capacity of one who will be taking demographic information of those who reside in my community in an event that happens every ten years. To avoid people finding my blog by searching for the actual name of this operation, I will not be using it.

This week was the training week. So far training has gone about as expected. It has been pretty disorganized and I have spent a lot of time reading my book. The people in my training group are overwhelmingly middle-aged white men. You work in your neighborhood, and this demographic is pretty consistent with the overall demographic of my neighborhood so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. But I know I am not going to be good friends with anyone. I should note here for people who read my blog, but don't know me or haven't been updated since my last post - I have since moved out of the ghetto in Brooklyn to lower Manhattan in a more middle/upper-middle class neighborhood.

Today was the last day of sitting-in-a-room training, which is good because if I had to listen to this one obnoxious guy ask one more moronic question my head was going to asplode.

The story for the purpose of today's blog is about one of the middle-aged white guys in my training, named William. William's MO throughout the training has been to talk too loudly about how no one is going to a) answer their doors to us b) be nice to us when we come by or c) give us any information that might help us. William also had come up with several nonsense hypothetical scenarios that took up immense amounts of discussion time and would then complain that things were dragging on. I had decided that I think that William's feelings about how others will act is more of a reflection on how he himself would act were someone with our job to come to his home. And I was proved right in the following exchange in which I decided for some unknown reason to strike up a conversation with him.

William had mentioned that a local VIP lived on the same floor as him in his building. During a break I made a little comment about this local VIP and somehow ended up mentioning which apartment complex I live in. William started off friendly and said "Oh I live in that complex too!" And I said, oh really? What building? And he answered that he lives in building X. And I said "oh that's funny, I've never seen you, I live in Building X too!" (This is not out of the ordinary. The building has 35 floors and I probably have only seen a fraction of the people who live there.)

But this is where it turns weird. It was like I could see on William's face that he was really wishing that this conversation would be over, but I couldn't really understand why. I plodded on and asked what floor he lived on and told him what floor I live on. William got even more uncomfortable and said "that's secret." "Ok", I said, "but when I see you on the elevator, I will know." William just shrugged and it was clear that we both wanted this conversation to end. I kind of half-continued to conversation with a weak discussion about development in the area, even though I should just have left him to himself, but I felt like I couldn't leave it at his weird rebuffal.

For some reason, I am still thinking about this conversation because it just felt so strange to me. But, it proved my original assumption - William is expecting everyone else to be weird, cagey, and assholes because those are all true of himself.

There was a brief moment today when I thought I would end up paired up with him to practice going door-to-door, but mercifully that didn't take place because I was almost in tears at the prospect of two hours of that miserable conversation. I am sure William feels the same way.

Actual door-to-door is on Sunday...updates then.
In fun news, local VIP lives in my buidling...although I may never know on which floor.

all you wanna do is something good

2009-06-10T23:33:00.007-04:00

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

2009-05-14T15:43:00.007-04:00

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

2009-04-26T17:22:00.006-04:00

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

2009-04-19T21:44:00.005-04:00

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.

2009-04-07T14:51:00.005-04:00

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

2009-04-01T17:51:00.002-04:00

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

2009-03-28T13:25:00.006-04:00

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

2009-03-25T12:17:00.003-04:00

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

2009-03-24T14:13:00.004-04:00

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

2009-03-23T09:40:00.002-04:00

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

2009-03-18T19:34:00.004-04:00

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

2009-03-11T18:08:00.005-04:00

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...

2009-03-04T21:47:00.001-05:00

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

2009-03-01T21:51:00.006-05:00

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

2009-02-24T16:48:00.003-05:00

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

2009-02-23T18:54:00.004-05:00

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

2009-02-23T12:31:00.003-05:00

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?

2009-02-18T21:53:00.000-05:00

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)

2009-02-14T20:31:00.007-05:00

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

2009-02-11T14:01:00.003-05:00

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

2009-02-07T17:51:00.004-05:00

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...

2009-01-31T14:25:00.003-05:00

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)

2009-01-26T17:54:00.002-05:00

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...

2009-01-24T16:18:00.004-05:00

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

2009-01-21T17:38:00.004-05:00

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

2009-01-15T15:31:00.006-05:00

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

2009-01-13T19:24:00.007-05:00

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

2009-01-04T16:56:00.004-05:00

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

2009-01-02T16:57:00.004-05:00

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.

Measles Mumps Rubella

2008-12-29T13:30:00.007-05:00

Here is a picture of measles:

Wikipedia says this is a picture of a kid with mumps. I suspect it is just an Augustus Gloop kid. Regardless, notice the swollen cheeks.

This is a picture of Rubella.

After the oil cleansing method's massive failure I decided to get back on some kind of acne medication. This was an extensive 2 months-long ordeal involving the insurance company and 2 stupid doctors and a bunch of frustration, until I finally went and saw a dermatologist that I liked. He prescribed me Retin-A and some other stuff.

The derm said that about 25% of people get worse before they get better but to "stick with it!!" I believe he may have been disingenuous about that figure, or I fall into the 25%. But basically, Retin-A was like, "Oh, what? You were self-conscious and upset about your face? Hm? You bail all the time on plans because you don't like to go out in public. Oh, well fuck you. Here, let me make you look like you went to get the MMR vaccine but it went horribly, horribly wrong and mutilated your face." For like 4 days my face just got worse and worse. The bottom of my face was all swollen up like Mumps up there. I will spare you the details of some of the nasty bumps, but it was a bad, measeley, pussy scene. And then it got red all over and hot and rubellaed. And also really hurt a lot. And also peeled and was flaky on top of the symptoms of MMR. Pretty awesome. This was all while I was home over Christmas...so the plus side is that I at least didn't have to come to work with my deformity. The negative was that my family, who I only see twice a year, now has to live for the next 6 months with their last memory of me looking like every Proactiv before image layered on top of each other.
It is now pretty much back to what it looked like when I went to the dermatologist and itches. Woo progress.

Anyway, supposedly my skin is gonna look sogood once it gets better. Fingers crossed, otherwise I am probably going to have to get a face transplant. I have decided that this is either a lesson on how to love myself from the inside, or punishment for every bitchy thing I have ever said about another girl.

blog views

2008-12-28T20:33:00.003-05:00

man I need to start posting more...my average blog views just keep going down and down.

Anyway, I got home about 2 hours ago...from home....it's hard and weird being bicoastal...as soon as I get to Oregon I feel comfortable and happy...and then as soon as I get into New York I feel comfortable and happy...but in different ways and for different reasons in both places.

Anyway, Christmas was nice. It felt kind of thrown together to me, and that may just be because I procrastinated and was working so hard in the weeks up to Christmas I never really felt in the Christmas spirit. I got a Wii and a really awesome quilt that my mom made. Plus a check for "student loan" payments in a card that said something about starting off the new year with a little student loan help. Nothing says Merry Christmas like a reminder that you're drowning in debt.
I kid. I feel like I got really spoiled this year...I think my parents miss me.
I definitely gained about a thousand pounds...I don't know how it's possible for pants to get that much tighter in 4 days.
Something like half of all New Year's resolutions are weight related...and 75% fail.
I cannot fail though, because....
my sister got engaged!
Which is crazy!
She has been with her boyfriend (fiance!) for about a year and a half. I got to spend some time with him at Christmas and he is a good guy and I think will be a welcome addition to our family. He proposed to her today, and she texted me with a pic of the ring while I was in the cab on the way home from the airport as her way of letting me know. I cried, apparently I was the only one...Ashley said she didn't even cry and I guess my mom didn't either. I'm such a sap.
But, I guess afterwards they were talking about it, Ryan said, "oh you're sister's gonna be pissed that I didn't do it while she was here" Which is funny, because after I said "oh my god!" I said "I am pissed at Ryan! Why didn't he do it while I was there!"
Anyway he had some whole cute way he was gonna do it. Anyway, I am happy for them.

So that's about it. I have a whole comment on the Whopper Virgins commercial nonsense I think I will write about later. Oh also my new favorite thing is Ruby on the Style channel. It's about this obese woman trying to lose weight. She is very likeable and I always feel kind of inspired.

the good news

2008-12-13T20:05:00.005-05:00

Frank told me today that he is moving out because he got a job in D.C. He will be out by Feb 1 at the latest. For me, this means:
A complete elimination of snapping, clapping and laughing excessively at tv shows.
A 50% reduction in smoking inside.
A 50% reduction of poop stains in my toilet.
A 25% reduction in dirty dishes left in the sink for an excessive amount of time.
A complete elimination of football and ESPN watching.
A 25% increase in household cleanliness.
A complete elimination of my-milk-drinking.
A 25% reduction in awkward common area silences.
A complete elimination of loud nose blowing.
A 50% reduction in smoker's cough.

And, unfortunately, a 25% reduction in blog material.

I am going to head the steering committee on finding a roommate that I actually like. I am pretty sure that Asperger's and Stoner don't give a shit.

Hopefully this will work towards alleviating my crushing depression.

In other news, my episode of Judge Karen re-ran on Thursday. So my parents and my sister finally got to see it. Unfortunately, my friend Alex in Eugene who was the only person I knew for sure could figure out how to put it on the internets drunked out and forgot to DVR it. He did write me an email saying he was sorry...but that doesn't bring Judge Karen back, does it Alex?!?! Anyway, that's the sad news for those of you to whom I keep making empty promises of an internet showing. My mom thinks she may be able to do it...we'll see.
ALSO someone came to my blog after googling "judge karen bedbugs". How awesome is that? They saw my episode and were curious to learn more about this case. Fortunately for them my blog is a wealth of material on both bedbugs AND Judge Karen. I'm on my way to the big time, friends.

he's just not that into you(r birth control)

2008-12-12T15:52:00.005-05:00

From Jezebel via New Scientist: A study suggests that ovulating women are more susceptible to being hit on. Who knew the pill could also prevent you from giving a douchebag your number? That's contraception we can believe in. [New Scientist.

In my opinion, in addition to ensuring that you will be going home alone tonight, being on BC also prevents you from sustaining a relationship. I submit as evidence, three stories:

1. The day that I most recently got dumped I had also gone to the doctor to get a new acne medication. Antibiotics interfere with the effectiveness of birth control, and since this dude and I were having unprotected sex I thought maybe I should quit playing russian roulette with my uterus. So I asked for a non-antibiotic acne medication. Dumped later that day.

2. A friend of mine had started seeing someone and they had slept together a couple times, so she decided she should go back on birth control. She went and got herself hooked up with the pill, and I believe she got dumped that same day...definitely that same week.

3. Another friend of mine was casually sleeping with somone and also decided that she should maybe get on the BC. Once she got the prescription she never saw him again.

Sometimes they say that a girl had a baby just to keep her man. But clearly, she just quit taking birth control in order to keep her claws in him and the baby was just an unfortunate fertility side effect.

P.S. I am pretty sure that, given the amount of unprotected sex I have had while on birth control AND antibiotics, and the lack of pregnancy, I am infertile.

what is it i must do to pay for all my crimes

2008-12-12T02:43:00.004-05:00

My junior year in college I lived in a "suite" with 3 other girls that I had transferred in with in the second semester of my sophomore year. A suite was 4 individual rooms, kind of separate from the rest of the dorm hallway, with a shared bathroom and a shared little hallway. Well, it turned out that the only thing any of us had in common was that we had transferred at the same time, and by fall break things were starting to get kind of miserable.
So one night I was smoking pot in my room with a couple of friends, and the most uptight of my roommates burst through the door. Now, the marijuana has apparently impeded my memory formation so I don't remember if she had asked me before to not smoke or what. All I remember is her standing in my doorway yelling something about me sleeping my life away and threatening to go to the dean of students, and me pretty much just laughing in her face. I am pretty sure I did not quit smoking pot in my room after that though.

The other night Stoner and her friend Bo were standing in the kitchen, which is right outside my room, talking very loudly at about 3 am. The babies and I had been sleeping, and Lucy stretched and shook her head which made the tag on her collar tinkle a little. Then I hear stoner saying to her friend, "Oh, are you looking for a kitty?". So I'm in bed thinking, "Um, is he looking into my room..because that's not cool." Her friend replies that he "heard a little jingle jangle." And I guess he decided that a little jingle jangle is how fat cats say hi, because he took some keys and jangled them outside my door. And jangled some more. Then sighed and said "no kitties". But, just in case, he gave the keys a few more jangles.

It is again 3 am. I woke up because someone was buzzing on the intercom. Twice. Frank ended up getting up and going to the intercom and what do you know, it's Jingle Jangle, come to see Stoner. Frank knocks on Stoner's door, but she doesn't answer and I guess Frank went downstairs and told J.J. to go away or something. Stoner came out of her room about a minute after Frank had gone back into his roo,m, so obviously had woken up during this whole thing. I imagined her reclining in a fainting chaise, "oh just send him away! I can't be bothered."

So I am sitting here thinking about what I could have possibly done to deserve this. What kind of karmic retribution am I paying...

And then I remembered that incident my junior year. Karma comes back three fold, bitch.

i read with every broken heart we should become more adventerous

2008-12-01T22:21:00.002-05:00

Well, I was dumped today. Via e-mail, which rounds out the other ball-less ways people have broken up with me including phone, text message, and instant message. And yet, never in person. In case you didn't already know that I have a shitty track record, this should give you an idea of the type of person I date. I would like the next person who dumps me to do it via telegram.
I didn't want to have to do this. Stop
I like you, but just not enough. Stop
I hope we can keep in touch. Stop

And you may be saying to yourself, wait Caitlin was in a relationship? Wasn't she going on all these other dates? And you are partially right, friend. But I was not in a real relationship. I was only in the type of relationship that I continually am in, which is one that sucks up my life for months and months at a time with someone who likes me, but not quite enough to not be an asshole. Thus, the side-dating with other equally douchy dudes who I vainly hope will be able to commit.

Normally I would be back on the prowl and probably have an immediate one night stand. Maybe even tonight. It's not unheard of. Unfortunately, my skin situation is such that I barely want to leave the house leave lone go on a date where I try not to self-consciously keep my hands in front of my face the entire time. But I did go to the doctor today. Predictably, she admonished me for being a skin picker. I have never heard a convincing enough reason to think that that shit needs to stay inside my skin. Also, I have very few joys in life. One of them is discovery health shows about freaks. Another is picking at my face. Don't take that away from me.

there's a mouse about the house; or, you're a real dude's dude

2008-11-28T22:33:00.005-05:00

I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday to the squeaking of a terrified mouse that was cornered by Linus "Killer" and Lucy "The Sundance Kid" McFurry-VonMeowerton behind the tv in my room. I really hate that this always seems to happen in the middle of the night, because while I would generally be content to fall asleep and deal with a mouse corpse in the morning, I am afraid that I will in fact wake up to my cats' Thanksgiving feast on my pillow. Several restless hours later I did wake up to clean up the dead mouse in the living room. Fortunately the carnage is limited because once the mouse is dead it no longer holds their interest.

In the morning I mentioned to Frank that the cats had killed a mouse and we talked about it for awhile. Not long after that conversation, Lucy is nosing around in the corner of the living room and sure enough brings a little still alive mouse and drops it at Frank's feet.
Turns out Frank is terrified of mice. And this was a little guy, probably about the same size as the mousie pictured. Frank was crawling up the back of the couch away from this tiny mouserson. I got a dustpan and the little guy just marched up onto it and I set the dustpan on the coffee table.
"Don't leave it there!!" Frank squealed as he went to get the garbage can, into which I dumped the still live mouse. I actually felt really bad about this, but I can't be the one to kill it directly. I learned that what it takes for Frank to actually take out the garbage is a live rodent inside of it. Note to self.
So then today Frank asks me if I have some measuring tape. He explains that he is measuring newspaper. "Oh, are you framing a sports win?" I joked. He looked at me blankly. "Yes. The Giants won the Superbowl" Obviously.
"It's funny," I said, "that I don't really know you very well, but that I guessed that"
"Oh...yeah" Frank said dismissively, "Typical dude stuff."

Yeah, Frank, until you get a baby mouse in front of you, you're a real dude's dude.

this apartment is starving for an argument

2008-11-25T19:52:00.003-05:00

I am pretty much a misanthrope in general, but recently I just want to walk down the street swinging my arms and kicking my legs and god help anyone who gets in my way.

Stoner and Frank had broken windows in their rooms and it has been this whole process trying to get them fixed. And for whatever reason, window guys were scheduled to come on Saturday...at a time when both of them would be working. They asked me if I would be around, and I said I might be but I didn't want to commit to it in case I wouldn't be. So on Saturday as I was getting ready to go run some errands, the window guys came. So because I am a nice person I did not say "Oh, actually, this isn't my problem and I want to go to the fabric store" I stayed for two hours while they fixed the windows.

So when Frank and Hannah come home, obviously they see that their windows are fixed....obviously they weren't there for the window guys...must've been Caitlin. No "Thank you". Nothing. No acknowledgement whatsoever. I am so over it. Like, I know they are inconsiderate, but I guess I keep hoping that because I am the best person ever that maybe it will rub off, but no.

Frank's parents sent him a thanksgiving card. I am going to get their address from the envelope and write a letter asking why they did not teach him any manners. I haven't really seen stoner since her window was fixed, so I am not as rageful at her. But I have a feeling that my loathing might be palpable and I haven't spoken to Frank in days even though our paths cross often.

Then yesterday at the gym it was really crowded and I was waiting for a treadmill. And there is a 30 minute limit on machines when people are waiting. There were a ton of people waiting and a ton of people who were way over the time limit. So after getting no help from the staff at enforcing the rule I tapped one woman on the shoulder who had been on for 55 minutes. She didn't get off. So then another girl who had been on for about 40 minutes saw me do that. Meanwhile, her treadmill is directly in front of the sign saying there is a time limit. So I look pointedly at her and at the sign. Nothing. So then a dude next to her got off and I got on his machine.
So whatever, you wanna be an asshole and hog the machine. Fine. Next time you want a machine someone else will be hogging it because you're an asshole.

But, when this bitch saw that she wasn't going to have to give up her machine, she smirked at me!! That just put me over the edge. I said, "Bitch, you think rules don't apply to you?!!?" But she just kept smirking. Oh man.

Well, I didn't want her to know that I am tubby and can't really run very fast or for very long. So I put the speed way up and was putting all of my anger into this workout. And the whole time I am pushing through by weighing the pros and cons of pulling the emergency stop cord which is so tantalizingly hanging in easy reach. I was in full on cartoon devil and angel on the shoulder mode.
Devil:"Well, I could always join another gym when I get banned because of this"
Angel: "But what if things get out of hand"
Angel "New York Sports Club is $30 more a month, that'll add up"
Devil: "but maybe it's a nicer gym...and you get a discount from your job.....and it's right next door to work"
Angel: "But you would never go on a weekend. What if she punches you and you are a weakling?"
Devil: "What if you have all of these untapped beat-down powers?"

Ok, so my angel conscience mostly cares about paying more for the gym and looking stupid, but it won out in the end. And to be honest, I'm kind of bummed. There are a million gyms in the city, but when am I ever going to get another chance to topple some smug bitch?

squeaky clean like a rubber ducky

2008-11-19T18:52:00.004-05:00

I did an intake today with a girl who is in a program at her high school for people with "school phobia". Did you know that such programs exist? I did not. Anyway, I asked her to tell me about the other kids in her class. I asked under the pretense that I was interested in if she has any peers she is able to socialize with. But really it was just my own morbid curiosity about what kind of kid is in a school phobia class. Wolf shirt kids, right? But this girl isn't like that, she's cool in a self-destructive Rayanne Graff kind of way, but I imagined she is an anomaly. She said there is a boy who carries a lunch box, but that was the only really good piece. I hope it has a superhero on it. Then we talked about how they were kids who have general social problems and try too hard. But I think my error was in framing the question as having to do with socialization, when really I just wanted to know about freaks.

I am possibly the most self-serving social worker ever.

FYI I carried a sailor moon lunch box in high school. And before you ask, yes it did have an included thermos.

Roommate Live Blog

2008-11-12T19:06:00.003-05:00

So when I first moved in here my roommate liaison was Frank and he was the one I talked to the most. And then I learned that he is a huge huge slob (with the exception of coaster, natch). And I thought maybe he and I would be friendly. But then I felt like every time I talked he was completely tuned out and then he would talk about himself and zone out while I was talking. So I got kind of tired of it and quit really interacting with him, and at this point I think I am actually more social with Asperger's.
Well, Frank has what appears to be a date over. Seriously I am sitting across the kitchen table from her writing about her. I am such an asshole. But, really, he shows pretty much the same disinterest in her as he shows in conversations with me.
This is actually really hilarious. I want to live blog all of his dates. Obviously he is interested because he just asked her to a movie on Sunday.
But then she was like, oh well I might have to go to this open house on Sunday.
So then he's like...um...oh yeah, that's cool...I was just...you know...asking...
haha. I love observing awkwardness so much.

Anyway, now I feel bad that I wrote Frank off and I feel like there is all this tension every time we are in the same room because we don't interact at all. And also I am usually seething with bitterness that Lucy loves him more than she loves me. Obviously that's just how he is all the time. Maybe he really wanted to be friends at first and then I wrote him off because he has poor social skills and I thought he didn't want to talk.
He is really a boring person. He probably falls on the autism spectrum too. He speaks in a serious monotone. I should make him talk to me when I have insomnia.

Man I wish I had a webcam for this date. Haha...it's kind of painful.
They're sitting across the room from each other.
I can't tell how she feels about him since she pretty much denied his sunday movie invite.

I should really live blog, like minute by minute. There's just silence right now.

Still silence.

A slight chuckle from Frank because he has ESPN on because he is apparently a jerk. Who keeps ESPN on during their date?

Now the girl just nodded at nothing. She talks really fast but I don't know if it's because that's how she always is or she is just so nervous in Frank's awesome presence. Or maybe she feels like she's being observed, which she is.

Ok, enough of my creepiness for now.

Silence.

America and Caitlin love cultural diversity

2008-11-08T20:13:00.004-05:00

This post is basically just a series of my thoughts from the last 12 hours. I swear it's all connected.

I got the cats this litter that I don't like recently. It seriously sucks...doesn't clump, really emphasizes the ammonia odor quality of feline urine...no good. I like arm and hammer super scoop. So today I went to go get some arm and hammer super scoop. I went to the Pioneer, which is remodeling and obnoxious to go into. No super scoop. C-Town. No super scoop. The weird store next to C-Town that smells weird. No super scoop. The bodega on the corner. No super scoop. Family Dollar. No super scoop. So as I was wandering around to every store within two blocks of my apartment, I was thinking, goddammit this is what I hate about New York. I can't get my fucking cat litter. In other normal cities where they have huge grocery stores within 5 minutes of anywhere, I would be able to get all the different varieties of super scoop - multi-cat AND odor control. I ended up getting Cat's Pride...which is ok, but it's no super scoop.

Anyway, then I was leaving the gym this evening and I said goodnight to the security guard because I am polite and I was putting on my sweatshirt and he motioned me over. He was pointing at the tattoo on my ankle, which I got my senior year in college, of an Om. Pictured above. Mine is red. It's kind of awesome. I am actually always a little wary when an Indian or Hindu person notices my tattoo because I feel like I can't speak articulately about why I have it. It's really more representative of my made up snake and salamander religion, which I also can't speak very articulately about....but, like, I'm not Christian and I would never have a tattoo of a cross. Anyways, the security guard had an om tattooed on his arm. Fortunately, he didn't call me out on being a Hindu fraud and instead talked about how a lot of white people are into Hinduism and he thinks it's just great. Here are some other things I learned about him:
He is from Surinam by way of Holland
Holland is nice
Surinam is nice. There aren't a lot of people.
There aren't a lot of people from Surinam in New York.
He came here in 2002.
His daughter lives in Holland.
Holland takes care of its people better than America.
English is hard to learn.
His nephew may or may not speak good english.

Then I was thinking how much I love new york and the different kinds of people. Sometimes. Sometimes I miss homogeneity. So THEN I was all filled with naive pride for America and opportunities and black men as president. And then I was remembering election night and how it was kind of awesome to be in my neighborhood.
Living in a poor black neighborhood, across the street from the projects, basically guarantees an Obama landslide on my block. And when they called it, the streets were filled with people cheering, honking their horns, shouting, white people hugging black people and general elation. That shit didn't happen in eugene, I imagine....at least not where either my parents or my sister live.
The election also brought me and asperger's together because we watched the returns. I offered her some ice cream. She offered me some beer. And I was reminded of another time when I crossed cultural boundaries. When I worked at the nursing home in Harlem and everyone hated me because I was white, especially this girl I had to share the computer/janitor's closet with. But I noticed that she always read People. And then Anna Nicole Smith died. So I asked her if she had heard anything about why she died. And she offered me a twizzler.
Anna Nicole Smith and Barack Obama aren't so far apart as you might think. They both have united a country. Or, at least me with people who don't especially like me.
Yesterday Asperger's and I watched a documentary about these autistic savant twins. Which 1. was awesome. and 2. was very meta.

Also, I was reading a thing about racist jokes that people had heard since the election, and one of them was that the white house was going to replace the rose garden with a watermelon patch. And my first thought was that they were going to do that for purely gardening purposes. Because I just listened to this episode of Fresh Air with the guy who wrote In Defense of Food, and he wrote an open letter to McCain and Obama encouraging whoever would be in the white house next to replace the lawn with like a vegetable garden. Anyway. I am kind of pleased that that was my first assumption.

my mom is a comic goldmine and also a pothead

2008-11-03T21:32:00.002-05:00

Caitlin:oh sarah palin is like you...smoked pot and didn't like it

Mom: did i say i didn't like it?

Caitlin: every time you've ever talked about it

Mom: lol

you forgot born in a hospital in idaho!

Caitlin: apparently you were not being truthful

oh yeah...you guys are pretty much soul mates

Mom: except for one or 2 things

Caitlin: haha

including, apparently, your enjoyment of marijuana

Mom: notice i am not asking you

Caitlin: don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to!

Mom: really

did you ask your dad?

Caitlin: yeah once, he said no

he was also lying

Mom: i didn't lie

Why I take birth control even though my insurance doesn't cover the kind I like, by Caitlin

2008-10-31T16:09:00.003-04:00

This Blog.

Like coming off the pill that you take to stay happy

2008-10-30T22:10:00.002-04:00

I am a full two weeks back on anti-depressants, and it pisses me off to tell you that they are working.
Goddamn mental stability!
It pisses me off mostly at myself for thinking that I could stop them, when it was a particularly bad time to try to do so. It pisses me off because I feel like I wasted my summer being depressed because I was too stubborn to take medication.
This summer was the longest I've been off anti-depressants since I started taking them over 10 years ago. And I'm not sure that my life will ever be stable enough for me to go off them again....not like I plan on being some vagabond for the rest of my life, but we always have stuff going on that can be hard and it turns out I can't deal.
I have certainly been depressed while on anti-depressants...usually then I just change the meds or change the dose or whatever. But being on anti-depressants doesn't make me happy. I think I have written before about how much I hate it when people call prozac a "happy pill". I am not an especially happy person. I will never be a happy person. Prozac lets me funtion. Depression is a little cocoon for me. It's actually comforting. On anti-depressants I can actually feel myself coming out of my little depression nest....it's like getting out of bed. There are days when being curled up in bed is pleasant and relaxing, and forcing yourself to throw those covers off and expose yourself to the air makes you feel vulnerable. I really feel like I don't have a blanket over me when I'm not depressed.

Anyway, it's making my life a lot better. Things are going better at my job and it feels more manageable. I get less frustrated with my supervisor, and I don't cry every time I am frustrated.

My roommates make me laugh more than anything. Stoner and her dyke friend were having a burping contest yesterday. That was awesome to listen to.

I threw away another empty bag of cheese that someone left in the fridge.

Tomorrow I am buying toilet paper to keep in my room because I have bought a substantial amount-at least 9 rolls-twice in a row. We are now down to the last roll and someone has brought in a single roll of Scott. Fuck that shit. Charmin's in my room, bitches.

Asperger's has these really short shorts she likes to wear around the house. Like you can see the bottom part of her ass when she wears them. But it's getting cold and we don't have heat. Some people, like myself, stop wearing their around-the-house shorts when it gets that cold. But not Asperger's. She apparently can't give up those fucking shorts. The other day she comes barrelling out of her room like she does and she is wearing the short shorts and what could best be described as thigh-high gym socks. The kind with a couple horizontal stripes around the top except the top part is at the top of her thigh instead of, say, the lower part of a calf. So she stomps through the living room with her asperger's gait and it's: short shorts, little bit of ass, and then thigh high gym sock on down.
I laughed as she was walking by. Fortunately her disorder prevents her from paying attention to her surroundings. She and I watched two episodes of the new duggar show today. I have a lot to say about the Duggars, but that is for next time.

Sad News for my blog

2008-10-28T14:28:00.002-04:00

Most of my readers now come from google searches looking for amish friendship bread or pictures of robin weigert. I'm not sure how to feel about that. I doubt they come back for a second read, although hopefully I have deterred people from starting an AFB ring of cinnamon sugar hell.

sunny days sweeipin' the clouds away

2008-10-27T11:03:00.005-04:00

It was a beautiful fall day yesterday and I was walking around Brooklyn with my friend and he remarked that the day reminded him of Sesame Street. Now, the day did not remind me of Sesame Street, although walking around in Brooklyn often does. But, what it really made me think about was how much most things remind me of tv shows that I watched growing up. Perennial favorites for references are Punky Brewster and The Cosby Show. As in: Oh, I see that person took the door off the fridge when they put it out for garbage. You're supposed to do that I learned from the episode of Punky Brewster where Cherie gets trapped in the fridge and Punky and Margo have to give her CPR and Allen is no help because he was fucking around when they learned how to do it in class. Or: Oh, I love to sew but I don't think I would ever make shirts...they would end up looking like the faux designer shirt Denise made for Theo with one sleeve to long and all kinds of messed up.
As a matter of fact, if I could compare everything in my life to a tv show from the 80's I probably would.
As I get older, my other TV favorite reference is Friends. As in a recent discussion with my friend about having to go out to lunch for a goodbye party for a co-worker and ordering the second cheapest thing on the menu only to learn the tab was divided equally among the entire group so now I got spaghetti marinara and I have to pay for your shrimp alfredo. Both of us were reminded of the episode of Friends where the 3 poorest friends: Rachel, Joey and Phoebe (at the time -this was while Rachel was still a waitress and Joey wasn't yet Dr. Drake Ramore) are lamenting that they have to go out to fancy dinners with the other three when they can't afford it.
Although the ubiquitous NYC reference show in recent years is Sex and the City, I find that I can in no way relate and it rarely enters my discussions.
But here is my secret confession. The show I think about almost every day, but don't have the guts to bring up in polite conversation: Ghostwriter.
Here are instances where I think about it:
1. Ghostwriter was set in Brooklyn, I live in Brooklyn.
2: Alex's family owns a bodega which I had only ever heard of from the show. Now I go to a bodega several times a week.
3: Community gardens. I pass at least one, and sometimes two, community gardens when I walk to the gym. And every time. Every goddamn time I walk past I think of the Ghostwriter story arc in which the neighborhood is getting sick from vegetables grown in the community garden because some company had buried toxic waste barrels in the garden.
4: There are countless other instances in which Ghostwriter is brought to mind and I am too ashamed to write about them here.

So what tv shows do you find yourself referring to frequently?

My fame is unending

2008-10-22T22:00:00.002-04:00

I am the comment of the day on Postcards From Yo Momma!

They're usually up for a couple days but in case it's gone, the postcard said was:
I understand how easy it is to get hooked on daytime TV talk shows. This past summer my best friends were the ladies on the view and I finally realized they were not really that interesting most of the time. I was only watching to see what they wore. I also watched the beginning of Ellen on occasion so I would have someone to dance with. Pitiful right? So I went “cold turkey” and found other interests.

And my comment said:
My mom's best friends are the Good Morning America team.

Your own personal hell

2008-10-18T07:15:00.002-04:00

Mom: i got tired of the pile on my desk and dumped it in a box--:(

so now i have to sort the box

me: hahaha

i'm sorry

2:30 PM Mom: when i die and go to hell i am sure it will be a place with papers to deal with

2:31 PM me: ha mine would be filled with supervisors and awkward people

oh, wait...

What is your personal hell?

Re-visiting old friends

2008-10-16T16:27:00.004-04:00

There is nothing of interest going on in my life. Frank drank my milk, left a tablespoon of milk and then bought me some new.
Here is a blog I wrote in July of 2007 which is kind of funny. I saw Nelson on the train tonight on my way home. If you don't remember Nelson, he was mentioned in this post as the first neighbor I ever met...the one who has HIV and leukemia (which is apparently in remission).
So I get on the train and I look next to me, and there is Nelson sitting there. I see him every once in a while in the neighborhood and we'll say hi or whatever. So he's sitting on the train and we look over and recognize each other and so I say hi and he gets all queeny and gives me a big hug and says, "Hi!! omg I haven't seen you in ohmygod! I can't even remember the last time I saw you so I'll just say I haven't seen you in ohmygod!"
We chatted like old friends the rest of the way on the train. By that, of course, that I mean he rambled on while I sat there and tried to decide if he was high or just crazy. Topics included: his leukemia, and how it is in remission. His HIV, and how he still has it. His husband's viral load, and how it's slightly higher than they would like it to be. The new diet they are on to try to get his viral load down. Their new business, and how if I ever want to I can get my computer fixed for free. And also, how, apparently he was (just last night) telling his husband how I should come over for dinner.
I do not think this last part was true. 1. he did not know my name. He had to ask me. He later explained it by saying that he couldn't remember my name just now, but that last night he remembered it and was talking to his husband about me and how I'm such a great neighbor. 2. He's just a big crackhead liar. He kept saying things and I was like, you're making this up just right now. He said that he and his husband have been together 20 years, but last night was the first time they'd ever kissed. His husband's birthday is coming up, Nelson doesn't know what to get him but, "girl, you and I should go down to 5th avenue and just do some shopping to get him something. I am going to borrow my mom's car. Do you have a driver's license? Is it valid? Mine is suspended. But I just knew that you would be able to drive. In fact, I had you in mind to drive when I asked my mom to borrow her car."
I am not making this up. And this is how I accidentally invited him to dinner. I just off-handedly mentioned that I was going to be barbecuing, which I guess meant that Nelson and his husband should join Abby and I. In fact! It can be a celebration barbecue, because Nelson has been clean for 11 years...actually! today is the anniversary!
And that is the type of thing that I was like, you're just saying that....I'm not entirely sure that he's clean at all, but even if he is, it just felt like he was making up that this was the anniversary.
As we were walking home he asked a woman if he could buy a cigarette off of her. He then asked me for 50 cents, because he didn't think he had it. I said I had a quarter, and he was like, "oh maybe I have another quarter." So he reaches into his pocket and he totally had like 75 cents in there. Crack head scam artist.
So he decided he should come over at 8:30 for dinner. Crack heads tend to be flaky, so my only hope was that he would forget. It may have been the only hope I had that my roommate wouldn't kick me out. When she came home and I told her that I had accidentally invited Nelson over, she was real, real irritated.
But, fortunately for my livelihood, he did not show up. And that will just teach me to be a little bit quicker on my feet next time I run into one of my crack head neighbors on the train.
Nelson also gave me a juicy juice juice box. I guess it was a fair trade for the quarter he scammed.

Abby was my roommate for a year and a half. And we had a good, but kind of weird relationship. She came home that night and I told her that I accidentally invited Nelson over for dinner. All she said was "Goddammit Caitlin!" and went to her room. Months later she told me that he did stop by at like midnight but I was already in bed. I think she just said that to make me feel bad.

Small Items

2008-10-14T20:32:00.005-04:00

I caved and quit OCM. My forehead looks like a rash broke out on it, it's pretty intense. And some people wrote things on message boards about how they should have quit when that happened because it just got worse.

I went to the doctor today because I am going to go back on anti-depressants. Apparently I will be mentally ill for the rest of my life. I'm bummed because I really wanted to quit them...but I also need to be able to get out of bed in the morning and that's not really happening so much recently. So back on we go.

It doesn't help that my living situation continues to blow. Add to the list of items in my fridge that shouldn't be there: empty carton of milk AND a mailing envelope.

Or that my job continues to suck.

I am looking for jobs in Oregon. I probably will move in January if I can.

My internet is super inconsistent here.

I really hate living here. A lot. It's fine when no one is around but stoner roommate was smoking weed and watching tv very loudly with her friends in the middle of the night and my sink is full of dishes.

I waited for the doctor for over an hour. He met with me for literally 5 minutes. I just told him what prescriptions I used to be on and wanted to be back on. And then he wrote them for me. If I had known that it was going to be like that I would have thought of something fun I wanted to be on.

My internet disconnected while I was writing that last paragraph. Hate it here.

On the plus side, since I can't watch the shows I wanted to since two roommates are watching baseball (let the snapping begin!) I think I am going to go to the gym and I wasn't going to.

Dating Disaster # 5: Don't take No for an answer

2008-10-11T22:25:00.008-04:00

I met this Dating Disaster at a bar the same night as my date with Awkward Sexual Innuendo Guy. I abandoned ASI guy to meet my friends at the bar. However, they were all kind of talking to people so I was just sitting around. In my experience this is actually the best way to meet dudes at bars, if you're so inclined to want to do that. You're casually social with your friends, enjoying yourself, you don't look grumpy and depressed slumped at the bar by yourself and you're open game.

So this dude and I, David, started talking about the new taco truck they had put in at the bar and just kept chatting. Things were going well and he didn't come off as a douche and I was feeling pretty positive about the whole thing. However, after my disastrous date and a few other recent mishaps I had just decided earlier that day that I was going to go on a hiatus from dating. And if not from dating as a whole, certainly from one night stands and other doomed from the start dating endeavors. Which is why when David invited me back to his place I politely declined. And, because I am more open than anyone needs to be, I actually let him know that unfortunately, just that very day, I had decided not to sleep with people that I don't know.

"Oh nonono!" David said. "I didn't mean it like that...I just want to spend more time with you outside of the bar. I don't want to have sex. Of course not! I'll just sleep on the couch and you can sleep in the bed...I just wanted to get to know you better!"

Ok, ok, so I know this was a line, and I knew it was a line then...but I have the self control of a toddler so of course I ended up going home with him.

This is not actually where the disaster is. The sexy time, the next morning, all of that was really good as far as dudes from bars goes. In fact, I was actually feeling really positively about the whole experience and I had enjoyed spending time with this guy.

About a week later he called me. Another good sign. Even though I am stuck in The Rules 1995 and feel that 3 days should be the timeframe, my standards are low enough at this point that I'll accept a week. So he was at a local bar with some friends and wanted me to come out. This was more points in his favor as I think it's a bad sign when a dude won't introduce you to his friends.

So, still...no disasters here. All in all things were going well at the bar. I was having a nice time with his friends. He was being really sweet. I was feeling really good about everything.
But then we get to the time where he is thinking that maybe we should go back to his place. But I just really didn't want to.

A lot of my DDandCC's happen because I have sex with people way before I should. As sex positive as I am, I do believe that it leads dudes to have less respect for me and it doesn't really bode well for a strong relationship. So I told David that I really liked him and for that reason I did not want to go home with him.

"Oh! Nononono!" David said. "I didn't mean it like that! Of course we don't have to have sex. I just wanted to get something to eat! Why don't we just go back to my place and I'll make some pasta! No sex at all! Just a midnight snack!" (Edit: I was just re-reading this and realized I wrote "sex" instead of "snack". Oh, Freud)

Of course, I know that this is a line. But I'm really, really working on my self control and I explain to him my reasoning and insist that I just really don't want to go back to his place.

Meanwhile we had met this random girl and her mom (the girl was about our age) who were really funny and we had been talking with them. So we talk with them for a while and periodically David would bring up wanting to go back to his place and I would decline.

Eventually I am talking with the women alone and they asked me if David and I were a couple because we were so cute together. I was pretty excited about this because, even if he was being kind of obnoxious about getting me to go back to his place, I felt that it was another good sign.
So I joked, just as David re-entered the conversation, that we were not a couple and had just met recently and that he was trying to get me to go home with him but I wasn't going to because I was a respectable woman.

I thought David would get the joke since obviously he knew that we had already had sex. Boy was I wrong. We left the bar and he flipped the fuck out.

As we're standing out on the sidewalk David starts yelling at me, saying I made him look like an asshole and what did I think I was doing.
I was completely blindsided and I still don't understand why he was mad.
"You were trying to get me to go home with you," I explained. "Plus, you don't know those women and you'll never see them again. What do you care?"
He blustered something about it not being like that and that he just wanted to get something to eat and blah blah stuff I don't remember because I was kind of drunk.
Finally he calmed down, "Let's go get some pizza."

So we went to the pizza place and we're ordering when David realizes he doesn't have any cash.
"Let's just go back to my place and I'll get some cash", he suggested.
"Aaaah! I don't want to go home with you!"
He blustered some more about that he needed to get cash or whatever. Which was total bullshit, obviously, because there are ATMs on every corner in that neighborhood.
We mumbled some apologies as I left.
"Listen." I said. "I date a lot of assholes, and I don't need it from you."
"That's just it! I'm not an asshole!"
"Ok. Well. We're both drunk. Let's talk when we're not."

Predictably, we never spoke again. At first I was hurt, because I actually probably would have hung out with him again. But that just goes back to all of my self respect issues. Because, bottom line, he was an asshole. A not-asshole would take me at face value when I say I don't want to have sex, without an explanation. A moderate asshole would take it after an explanation. But he just wouldn't let it go. Even after we get into a huge fight about it he comes up with some nonsense to get me back to his place.
Ridiculous. It's too bad though because he worked for MAC and totes could have hooked me up. Oh well.

In OCM news: I think I am in the end phases of the purging stage. Not so sure how I feel about it, because I have a ton of red marks. Hoping they go away soon. I've been using the apple cider vinegar toner, which is recommended for the red marks.

In roommate news: I have had maybe 3 conversations with Asperger's. Two of them involved her wanting to be in on cookies I had made and the third is a combination of passing remarks I have made. Today she noted that I do not like local news. Which is true. And I must have mentioned that in conversation number 3. They DO care about me!

You can live the life you like

2008-10-04T20:16:00.005-04:00

I think because my life is so the opposite of what I would like it to be right now, I have turned to blogs that have nothing to do with anything relevant to my current life.
Here is a secret about me...I live in Brooklyn, but I am not really cut out for urban living. What I want, really, is the American cliche. I want a garden. I want to bake my own bread. I want to eat food made from scratch and not delivered by an Asian dude on a bike. I want to sew clothes for my children and experiment with gluten free diets. I want to live alone...with space and cute decor. I want to become a luddite.
In reality, I live in the largest metropolitan area in the US. I am all but tied to my laptop and my DVR. I shop at Target weekly. I have shootings on my doorstep and dead cockroaches in my hallway. I live in a frat house with three other people who don't talk to me. Sure, I try to insert little bits of my fantasy life into my real life. The recent introduction of the OCM is an example. I try to bake bread, but only succeed in making hard tack. I bake my little heart out...and then in my depression binge eat my product. I shop at the farmer's market. I made my own pesto! Using farmer's market basil! I nearly chopped off my finger when I turned on the chopper while I was using my finger to clean it out. Because I am a moron. But it's not enough, so I take refuge in blogs.
My current favorite is Hillbilly Housewife. But there are others. Basically these blogs have a few things in common. Usually they are written by very Christian women. They always have several children. They homeschool. They live frugally. They sew.
The frugal living is what usually draws me in in the first place because I come across these blogs when I am looking for tips for leaving on the cheap. But I don't know what it is that appeals to me that I keep coming back. I think part of it is that these women seem to have it together in a way that really appeals to me. They are organized enough to home school, keep a clean and organized home (all I want!), bake healthy homemade meals AND blog. I can't even manage to blog on regular basis. They clip coupons and know how to shop for deals. They would never impulse buy a $7 half gallon of Edy's American Idol birthday cake ice cream. They would make their own for 50 cents! They buy things in bulk. They use powdered milk.
And obviously I don't want my life to be like that either. One of the blogs I read, the woman covers her hair and "dresses modestly" because of her religious beliefs. And I'm not sure I could ever get on board with powdered milk. I think I would die if I had to homeschool children....not to mention they would all end up with the personality of Asperger's roommate. But I think extreme opposite of what my life is like now somehow becomes desireable...at least to read about, if not live.

Speaking of creating awkward children, I decided to google Asperger's roommate. My original motivation was because I had heard her talking, like almost normally, with stoner roommate. So I became concerned that she actually she hates me specifically, and that it was because she had found my facebook or my blog. Part of the reason I have felt comfortable writing about them on facebook (i.e. status messages that say "I hate my roommates") and in my blog is because they have all shown so little interest in me that I assumed they would never decide to look me up. But what if?
So first I found Asperger's Xanga (people still keep Xangas?). Where she has some angsty entries and song lyrics that are soooo meaningful. She also has a picture of herself- check it out She's all bright and cheery homecoming queen with beautiful hair. She does NOT look like that now. And she does not look like the face of Asperger's in that picture. She walks with a stompy Asperger's gait, ignores people, has short brown hair, bad skin and in general just slouches around.
And here is my favorite part. When she was in college, she auditioned to be in Playboy. Here is the link to the article. Apparently Playboy came to Arizona State where she went to college.

Claire [redacted], a 20-year-old UA student, said her history with modeling and theater prompted her interest in auditioning for Playboy. "It's a good experience," she said. "It's something you can look back on and say, 'I did that.' It's something to be proud of."

Previous modeling experience? If I didn't know that this is where she had gone to school, I would assume it was just another girl with the same name. Because that is not the girl I live with who shuts herself up in her room for hours a day. What happened to her?

In OCM news - so far I'm a big fan. Obviously in 3 days my face isn't completely clear, but I have noticed some differences. 1: My forehead felt like I had buckshot embedded under the skin, and that has dramtically improved already. Sebum plugs to the surface FTW! I can totally feel them coming up when I do it. 2: For the past several weeks I have probably had at least one new pimple every day, and I haven't had any in the 3 days I've been doing it. 3. My skin had been very oily. I would wash my face around 8 am and by 11 am I was already breaking out the oil blotting papers and I would use two and still feel like my skin was greasy. Since I've been doing OCM my skin has been significantly less oily. I used one blotting paper one day and it wasn't nearly as bad.
I've been doing the OCM at night. Some people in the morning just splash their face with water. The one day I did that was the day that I used the blotting paper. So I have been using a neutrogena cleanser in the morning and a little tea tree oil on the spots that are still there and that keeps my face in good shape all day. Today I made a toner from Apple Cider Vinegar and tea. It's supposed to help reduce red marks. I'll report back.
The downside is that it's definitely a commitment. The whole process takes about 15 minutes because I steam my face to make sure the oil really gets out. But otherwise I am a fan.

So that's it for now. I'm going to go back to my embroidery.

My regime? The regime from which the radicals are trying to get free?

2008-10-01T22:55:00.007-04:00

Throughout my adolescence I had pretty decent skin with not a lot of problems...maybe a breakout around the lady time, but not too much else.
Then, on the day of graduation when we had the all-night party that they always have I started to feel a huge cystic pimple on my chin. That single cystic pimple marked the beginning of the end of my manageable skin and that summer I developed the first of many bouts with acne and went on acne medication for the first time.
The skin issues come and go depending on hormones, weather, stress, diet, etc. Currently, I am in the middle of a bad spell with the skin. Not the worst it's ever been, but enough to make me feel pretty gross.
To make it worse I was sick last week - that, combined with the stress of the new job and lame living situation, has caused me to break out in herp of the mouth.
Once, when I was 8 and my sister was 6 we went to Papa's Pizza (the place to see and be seen on a Friday night for elementary schoolers in Eugene, Oregon in 1990). We ran into a kid from my sister's class, Andy. He is actually like some physics genius now, but unfortunately I don't remember his last name. This is because, on that Friday night in 1990 when we ran into him in the play room at Papa's, he had apparently finished his pizza dinner and neglected to thoroughly wipe his mouth. He had pizza sauce smeared at the corner of his mouth. My sister and I ran around and called him Andy Pizza Face....and not just for that night. Oh no. Recently my sister sent me a link to something about some crazy science thing he had done at Harvard. "Oh look!" We exclaimed. "Andy Pizza Face is up for a nobel prize!"
My herp of the mouth makes me look like Andy Pizza Face. But without the credentials.
So in my neverending quest to find a solution for my skin, I am now trying the Oil Cleansing Method.
Check out the link if you wanna, but this is basically it: Wash your face with oil.
People swear by it. People who say they have never had any luck with anything else claim this solved everything.
Here's the downside, apparently your skin goes through a "purging process" as it gets rid of all this shit that has built up, so it gets worse before it gets better. I'm not really looking forward to this. And there is no way of knowing really if it's purging and will get better, or if you have just fated yourself to Edward James Olmos territory.
So, today was day 1. I made my little mixture. Steamed my face. Washed it off. Followed up with some Tea tree oil on the existing problems.
My favorite part is that you are supposed to think relaxing and positive thoughts about your skin getting clear. The Secret + OCM!.
I also really like that it's natural because every once in awhile I get all hippie and decide I need to put less toxins in my body.
My second favorite part is that you are supposed to massage it in until you feel little granules, which are sebum plugs coming to the surface. It's so nasty, I love it.
Anyway, I am willing to give it a month and we'll see. One thing I read said several months, but fuck that, I would rather go to the dermatologist and have them look at me disapprovingly while admonishing me for being a skin picker.
In the meantime, I will take solace in the fact that at least for the next month, every day, I will get to be conscious of sebum plugs. Assuming I don't get bored of the whole thing, which is kind of a process and likely to become tiresome.

La-la-la-Linoleum (and other L words)

2008-09-24T23:23:00.007-04:00

So, stoner roommate has her big dyke friend over. Recently, however, she has had an awkward dude staying here. Leading to more confusion about her sexuality, which, ultimately has zero impact on my life.

They made a frozen pizza which they decided they did not want. So I ate it. In my L word t-shirt that I got for free after I went to a season finale party. While blogging about a one night stand with a dude on my computer which has a human rights campaign sticker on it.

Leading them, I'm sure, to wonder about my sexuality. Which is fluid. The frozen pizza makes it more gay, obv.

Dating Disaster #4: You Won't Last Too Long On Broadway

2008-09-24T22:00:00.006-04:00

So this dating disaster was yet another CL find. I had responded to what I thought was kind of a witty ad about words or something equally nerdy. I talked to Jeff on the IM a few times, and he seemed ok. However, he did offer to take me on a trip, which is always weird. I don't know what the deal is with dudes I don't know inviting me on trips. Anyway we had plans to go on a date, but he had to cancel because he had to be on call that day for Law and Order.
Oh yes, this craigslist gem was an actor. He has been on L&O 3 times, which he was sure to remind me about several times. He was quite wounded when I pointed out that everyone in NY has been on L&O -- seriously, one of the social workers at my agency has been on it 3 times.
Anyway, then he had to bail another time, I don't remember why. And then we canceled another time, I think that time it was me. Anyway, I was over it. And then I decided to go on a break from dating, probably because of some other dating disaster.
So then flash forward a month and I am out with a friend gettin' my drank on and I've had a few and we're at WhiteCastle, you know, I get an IM from him on my phone. So I'm all rum and dieted/onion ringed up and I decide that he and I should meet at a bar across the street from my apartment.
And he's a little bit over-anxious. Like I had already seen his pic (headshot. for ser), and he texted me to let me know what he would be wearing. But then he texted me later to let me know that he had changed his mind as was wearing a green shirt. That kind of anxious.
But he shows up at the bar and pays for my drinks, which is a small gesture I always appreciate. And we're talking and having a good enough time as I recall. No idea what we talked about, but he must have been doing all right because I invited him back to my place.
We get back to my place and I go into the bathroom and I come out to find that he has discovered the grand piano in my roommate's room.
"Can I play you something? I was in four broadway musicals, you know."
ugh.
But apparently even that wasn't enough to deter me, because we end up in my room. And we're about to be having sex and he says,
"You're not too drunk are you?"
"No. Why? Are you worried about my ability to give consent"
"No. I just want you to remember how good this is going to be"
At this point, with his dick actually inside me, I laughed in his face.
"What?"
"Um, I can't belive you just said that."
"What? Why?"
"Never mind. Let's just do this"

Note: Sometimes I think people miss part of what is the most hilarious about this anecdote. Because not only was it a ridiculous thing to say. But I was genuinely, earnestly thinking he was worried about gray rape. But no.

So was the sex worth being sober for? Of course not. And it was one of those times where you're just waiting for the dude to finish up cuz the alcohol's wearing off and you're starting to get a headache and you kind of just want to get some water and some advil and hope he doesn't try to cuddle.

However, there were a few memorable parts. As I was running my hands through his hair...I noticed what appeared to be...sewn in hair. Like, I'm not familiar with hair solutions for men....were they hair plugs? A wig? I don't know, but it was like trying to run your hands through the hair of a cheaply made doll.

I noticed also....moles. But I wrote it off and passed out.

First thing I notice in the morning though was those fucking moles. So friends who I have told this to who have a few moles have seemed a little concerned, like perhaps I think they are disgusting. And no. These were not those kind of moles. These were like, yo you wanna get yourself to a dermatologist because I am pretty sure I see these motherfuckers changing size and shape in front of me. Full on pre-cancerous melanomas. All. Over. Everwhere. Face, neck, chest. Sick. I was seriously nauseous.

And of course, he wants to have the morning sex. See And She Was for a description of why morning sex is distasteful. But basically I don't understand why the morning sex after what is doomed to become a one-night stand. I know there is this whole sterotype of women who prefer that men stay over and cuddle (see: When Harry Met Sally), but this is one area where I am firmly dude. Unless I like you, I don't want to cuddle with you. But, obviously this guy didn't get that. Seriously, in mid-thrust at one point in the night (which is where his best conversation took place) he was like, um, so we need to go out again, because I don't usually do this. Ummm.
Anyway, this dude was all trying to kiss on me, and it was a toss-up between giving in and pushing him out of the bed because either way I would have to touch his sick moles. But giving in could possibly mean also having to touch his sewn-in hair, so I got out of bed.
I had to force him out after he tried to invite me on a weekend trip with his friends. Seriously. It happens all the time.

Of course he texted me a couple of times after that. And of course I did not reply. Then, predictably he did the check-in call, which we all know I hate. "Heeeyy Caitlin...iiitt's Jeff....I texted you a couple tiiimes. Maybe you didn't get theeemm?....umm...but, I thought we had a good time? Aaaanyway...call me back". Pathetic. And that was the end of The Actor.

TV endorses all of your vices

2008-09-23T16:43:00.003-04:00

So even if you have just perused my blog because you stumbled upon it when you googled "vermin extermination guilt" or "can mouse poop fumes make you sick" you know that there are pretty much two things at my core:
1. A love of delicious desserts.
2. A love of television.

But last night as I was watching TV and eating a bowl of ice cream, I saw the following two commercials run back to back:

A commercial letting you know that High Fructose Corn Syrup is ok! And then! A commercial encouraging you to stay at home and watch TV during ABC's week of premieres.

Even I think that's ridiculous.

I wish that these commercials followed:
One of those "get out and play" ads
Wilford Brimley talks about the 'beetus
a commercial endorsing the rape of babies
and then finally a "the more you know" ad about protecting children

in between the place you want to be and where you are

2008-09-20T17:14:00.004-04:00

Ok, So I really didn't want my blog to turn into just a bunch of venting about my stupid roommates. But, there are a lot of things I don't want. For instance, I don't want to...live in this apartment any more. I don't want...the binge eating problem I appear to be developing. I don't want....Sarah Palin as vice president. Unfortunately I seem to have no control over any of these issues. So here it goes.
Last time I bought milk, I thought that it seemed that it had gone empty before I thought it should. And i wasn't sure if I had used it up and forgot, or if someone else had used it. So, next time I bought milk I wrote a little "CJ" on the cap, to avoid any milk mixups. Today I went to look at my milks, like you do, and discovered that there was maybe 2 tablespoons left in each the soy milk and regular milk. I do not leave small amounts like that in my milks because it annoys me. You know who does that? Slobs. You know who I live with? Slobs.
But still, I was like, well, maaaybe I used the milk. But then I realized. There are 4 boxes of cereal on top of the fridge (none of them are mine. I can't buy cereal because of aforementioned binge eating problem). There is NO other milk inside fridge. And, come to think of it, I'm not even sure I've ever seen any other milk in the fridge.
And, as in other areas of my life, I see that other people are not buying their own cows, but using my milk for free.

I learn a lot in my new apartment. Like problem solving. there are always several solutions to every problem. For instance, flies are a problem. And, unsurprisingly, a problem in my apartment.
One solution is to sit on the couch and watch football for 6 and a half hours straight with a can of raid at your side. When you see a fly, you get up and spray it.
Another solution is to do your goddamn dishes and eliminate the source of the problem.
Guess which is the preferred solution in my apartment.

Finally I am going to be starting a segment called, "Things in my fridge that shouldn't be there"
So far:
Empty bag of cheese.
Melon in produce drawer that has been there since i moved in and is developing a spotted pattern
Grocery store receipt.

Amish Friendship Bread

2008-09-17T23:11:00.006-04:00

Does anyone remember amish friendship bread? Circa 1993?
I've been thinking about it recently and how maybe I'd like to make it. Even though making the starter involves using yeast, and last time I tried to make something using yeast I just made hardtack. If only I were on a merchant ship! Or a slave ship. Anything trans-atantic really. Pair that with some salted pork....you've got some fab scurvy dining.
Well, here is an article from the "Albany News Miner", about why I should not make amish friendship bread. now or ever.
My favorite parts:
The loaf of Amish friendship bread your co-worker brought to work tasted most excellent, so you complimented the chef.

Big mistake.

The following morning you arrived at work to discover a large Ziploc bag of bile-colored goo slouching on your desk. Along with it, a sheet of paper filled, top to bottom, with detailed instructions on how to care for and cultivate the goo, destined to sit and sour on your counter for 10 days as you take turns mushing it, ignoring it, squeezing out built-up-fumes and adding various ingredients — milk, sugar, flour — before the final baking.

I had forgotten about "burping the bag" which is sick. I really can't handle disgusting bodily functions being attributed to inanimate objects. Sick.
Also they don't put that you add in pudding! That's the best part.

“This is the chain letter of food,” said Linda Picarazzi, a baker who lives in South Bethlehem, N.Y. “This stuff requires daily care. So don’t even think about going away for the weekend.”

Since instructions warn bakers to keep a bag of starter for themselves (since it allegedly can’t be made from scratch), and that freezing’s a no-no, law-abiding friendship bread bakers are therefore condemned to an seemingly endless cycle.

I love that you are forced to eat AFB in this Sisyphean baking hell of delicious pudding cinnamon sugar fermented ziploc bag bread. You can't ever stop! It's kind of how I feel about my podcast and blog subscriptions, but with food.

Bottom line, I will not be attempting to start an AFB ring, but I secretly want someone to offer me the baggie. That is also how I feel about cocaine.

OK, so I don't want my blog to just become about my roommates, which is why there haven't been many posts. But there are many mysteries to be solved in this apartment such as: why would someone be willing to live with a cabinet full of mouse poop and dishes in the sink for days BUT use a coaster EVERY TIME he puts down a glass?!
Will awkward roommate ever be not-awkward? Given that she appears to fall on the autism spectrum, I'm guessing no.
Will stoner roommate ever offer up some of her weed? Isn't that the stoner code? Is she a lesbian? If not, why do I see the biggest, butchest dyke (who does not live here) every morning on her way to the shower?
If I paint the living room, will anyone notice? Or care? What about if I take in foster kittens? Haitian refugees?

P.S. Thanks to everyone who supported my goal of making my episode of Judge Karen the highest rated. Now someone get it on the internets so i can email it to my mom (who screwed up the dvr-ing of it).

Judge Karen

2008-09-08T10:45:00.003-04:00

My Episode Airs 9/16! Here it's on the CW at 1:30. I hope I can get my DVR by then!

Productivity

2008-09-07T17:02:00.002-04:00

I really want to go to the gym. I really do. But there is a Kids By The Dozen marathon on TLC. I was going to go after this last episode, BUT the episode that's on right now is about a family that named their kids Fiddler on the Roof names and they converted to Amish...they call it Plain. Loves it!

Roommate Fail

2008-09-05T21:43:00.002-04:00

I don't know if I've ever lived anywhere before where the roommates absolutely failed at taking care of biznass related to, you know, being on top of shit.

This is the roommate breakdown:
Roommate 1: Unemployed, getting PhD in forensic psych (finishing dissertation), looking for job as waiter. Roommate with whom I have had the most contact. Has lived here 1 year.
Roommate 2.: Grad student, socially awkward, have only seen for 5 mins since moving here. Also has lived here 1 year.
Roommate 3. Moved in a month ago. Stoner. Chill. Only person so far to acknowledge unfortunate bathroom sitch (see below).

I don't know if I mentioned it in my last post, but it bears repeating. The apartment smells kind of bad -possibly due to a mouse infestation, which I cleaned up a ton of mouse poop the other day from under the sink and filled up a black garbage bag with other plastic bags so as not to continue to leave a nice little habitat for mousersons. The other odor problem is a broken toilet. There are two bathrooms, which means less inclination to get said broken toilet fixed. But, as roommate 3 said, the toilet is STANK. It is so nasty. I don't know what it was like before...but I think my mover may have peed in the broken toilet. Thus, there has been piss just sitting in the toilet for a week.

So whatev, I have some issues with the roommates in general because they just don't really care about stuff. They had to have known about the mouse, but they just don't deal with it.

So then I was looking at the mail that is around and saw a bill from the electric company and noticed that they had missed a month. Roommate #2 is responsible for bills. So I was like, well I would prefer that bills were paid on time, but everyone forgets a month now and then and it's not in my name so I don't care.

Then I was looking at mail on the kitchen table today and saw a notice from the gas company. Apparently they owe $500 and they are going to shut off the gas.

Fabulous. These are all adults here, but absolutely nothing gets taken care of. It's ridiculous. And I was actually looking for bills to find the cable bill because I think I will take it upon myself to order us DVR. Given that Roommate #1 said he had been thinking about getting DVR since they moved in - 1 year- I'm just gonna go ahead and assume that this place is a DIY kind of deal.

On a positive note I cannot recommend highly enough DiscountContactLenses.com. I was reluctant to order online b/c I wanted contacts right away. But I went to a place by my work to pick some up and they were charging $35 a box. DCL.com was $13 a box. I put in my order and they emailed me 2 hours later (record time!) to say it had shipped. I ordered the expedited shipping (making the total per box about $16...still way cheaper), and they came today! And I ordered Weds!
Total fan.
Also, the new TJ's is opening up like 4 blocks from my work.

the pleasures of the first world

2008-08-30T23:14:00.004-04:00

I moved today. And, as I wrote about before, I am still nervous about this apartment. I think a few decor changes and a good scrub down will fix it right up. But the room I think is the smallest I have ever lived in, maybe not including dorm rooms. And the apartment has a funny smell, which, again, I think could be remedied by some cleaning and some candles.

Meanwhile, Hurricane Gustav looks like it's about to demolish New Orleans (again). And I can't read about this stuff. Because then how can I legitimately feel sorry for myself..."oohh waaah....my apartment that is not about to be destroyed is too smaaallll" "booohooo...my back hurts from moving all of my possessions, and not even just the ones that mean the most to me." Other people and their catastrophes really rain on my self-indulgent pity parade.

The movers were two hours late coming and they did not call. I was pissed because I was aready at the storage unit and just had to sit on the sidewalk with all my stuff like an abandoned kid. For two hours. It wasn't like I was at home and could dick around finishing stuff or plug the tv back in or something. After they were done moving and I paid them, the mover had the gall to ask me for a tip. Are you kidding me? You're gonna ask me that after you were two hours late. What a jackass. Irreminded him that they were two hours late. So then he whines, "you're on the third floor. I got all sweaty"
That's right asshole, cuz you're a MOVER....you MOVE things....and when one moves, one gets sweaty. Deal. I did not give him a tip. My tolerance for being ripped off is pretty much nil at this point.

Oooh my life is so saaaddd...I had to argue with a guy to not tip him the equivalent of the average monthly income in Ethioooopia.

Boo to social consciousness.

D-d-d-d-downgrade

2008-08-29T21:17:00.003-04:00

I am moving tomorrow. I am really nervous about this apartment because there are 3 other roommates. I don't actually like other people, so this is kind of a lot for me. Plus, I think they may have been a little disingenuous about how clean they are.
But there it is.
And, basically, I can never move again, because in the 4 years that I have been an actual grown up, my quality of living has just disintegrated.
The first place I ever lived on my own was 2 bedrooms, 1.5 baths, with a garage, dishwasher, garbage disposal (there's another small pleasure. How great is it to not have to fish crap out of the sink. Ugh it makes me nauseous just thinking about it.), washer and dryer!, etc. for which I paid $450 a month.
This place will be 3 other people, a room that is smaller than I thought it was when I first saw it, and of course none of the modern conveniences that I would like to be a part of my life. Someday soon we will be reunited, washer and dryer....dishwasher, you can come too.
However, I will have cable again, which means I can quit watching Everybody Loves Raymond. AND i will have cable in my room, which I have not had since that first place 4 years ago....and if there's anything I love, it's living the life of a recluse. Just me on my bed with my cats watching tv.
Blah blah blah I know that was in Oregon and now I'm in New York and it's different...but it has just been a steady decline since then.
Anyway, I should be packing, which is why so many updates.

Small Pleasures.

2008-08-29T10:22:00.006-04:00

So I am in a training today, which basically everyone has said is pointless, but is an agency mandate. <3 pointless beauraucratic tasks.
I had this training all day yesterday too, but my internet was blocked. Today, it's available. It's small things like that that keep me going. So here is a list of other small things that I enjoy.

Filling up my weekly pill container:
Until my school insurance ran out and I had to quit taking my antidepressants, I took a lot of medication daily...this has been for the past decade. I still take a fair amount because I love vitamins. So every week I fill up my weekly pill thing and it gives me an immense amount of joy. I like the organization of it. I like the consistency of the routine. I like taking pills out of big jars and putting them into small containers. I can't wait until I am old and I have one of those huge ones that has compartments for morning, noon and evening.

Vitamins:
I am a complete sucker for herbal remedies. I am the reason that those companies make so much money. I love to research ailments on the internet, find the appropriate herbal/vitamin cure, spending $10 on 30 pills and waiting for miracles to occur. Many of these don't last for whatever reason - the pills are too big, I forget about them, I decide that my ailment is cured (as in the case of my elevated liver functions, for which I took Milk Thistle for 2 weeks and then returned to normal liver functioning). I particularly love when the come in gummy or delicious varieties, which leads me to:

Vitamin B12 sublinguals:
I cannot emphasize how much I love these. I am taking gummy ones right now and they are an unsatisfactory replacement. When I have the sublinguals, I look forward to my twice daily B12 dose. So delicious. Buy them. Also, it's almost fall, while you're in the vitamin section, buy the Vitamin C gummies that are shaped like orange slices.

When The Subway Comes Right As I Get On The Platform:
Self explanatory. I don't have to run. I don't have to wait. It makes me feel like it will be a good day.

Making New Star Charts
I use star charts to track goals. Sometimes I achieve the goals, sometimes I don't. But a new star chart is just filled with possibility.

That's all I can think of for now.

Fall Line-Up

2008-08-28T20:46:00.003-04:00

OK, this is to address Amy's question about the new 90210.
My thoughts are:
Do I think it will be good? Not at all.
Will I watch it? Most definitely.
And, assuming it's not unbearable, I will likely watch the whole season.

I love TV so much. Unashamedly.
I was watching commercials for new shows and shows I love that are returning and I get really excited. I don't care that it makes me the equivalent of a shut-in to have 3 hours of shows per night that I watch. It doesn't bother me that I care more about what's going on with Blaire and Serena than John and Barack.

I am proud that I am working on becoming a morning person so I can go to the gym in the morning and be available for my shows in the evening.

Because I think it's a sentiment that bears repeating, here is a post from my myspace blog from last year:
i don't like it when people write anything the lines of "kill your television", "television rots your brain", "i don't have time to watch tv" or "there are so many more things to do than watch tv".
bullshit. every time you come home you wanna go white water rafting or reorganize your kitchen cabinets? of course not. sometimes you want to come home and watch my super sweet 16 and just sit....if you don't, once you're done reading vegan cookbooks and re-enter the real world you won't be able to have a conversation with normal people, because normal people don't want to hear about all of the different ways to process the soy bean.
but more than that i hate people who write "i don't have/make time for tv, but when i do...." and then they go on to list about 25 shows that are all American Idol, Dancing With The Stars and SpongeBob....Eff that...you can't have both...you can't appeal to the people listening to classical music and studying walking sticks, and the mindless masses who love American Idol...it's one or the other....either you don't watch tv because you're too busy loving dragons and all mythical creatures or you're normal...own it.

Hm

2008-08-27T10:17:00.001-04:00

People only like my blog when I talk about dating failures or my court show appearances. I don't feel like writing about bad dates and I haven't been on tv recently. Anyone interested in guest blogging. You could be read by tens of people!

Here are some webcomics...

2008-08-25T16:09:00.007-04:00

...that reflect current events
(in my life. i don't care about russia or DNC's. When's that next Duggar special, btw?)

You don't know if you wanna hit me or kiss me

2008-08-22T14:51:00.001-04:00

This is an im conversation I had with my friend earlier today:

me:i really am a cautionary tale

to everyone, apparently

Bernard: yeah

I would think you'd want to change that

me: not really, actually

then what would i talk about

Bernard: what's funny is guys LOVE girls like you

me: girls like me how?

Bernard: messes

me: guys who have savior complexes

Bernard: guys think they're the thing that's gonna mix them

me: yep

Bernard: when that's so wrong

me: 1. there's no saving me from myself. 2. i don't want to be saved

Bernard: it's a problem in our wiringright

no and once you get that

(by you I mean guys)

then and only then can one have a truly interesting and beneficial relationship

me: i also think i need to learn how to not appear as though i need saving, when i don't

but that's a whole other issue

Bernard: yeah

otherwise it's a mixed message sort of thing

Jezebel recently had a post about the "manic pixie dream girl", best personified by Natalie Portman in Garden State. They had nothing but loathing for her, although I actually really loved her in that movie. Probably because I wanted to BE her. Whatever the polar opposite of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl is, that's probably me....the Depressive Analytical Fever Nap girl. I don't really watch a lot of movies, so I can't think of an example.
My blog title is from Dick Tracy (love that movie), in which Madonna plays the amazing Breathless Mahoney (side note, this girl I was friends with in 5th grade had a Breathless Mahoney t-shirt, which I would pay good money to have now). I am not nearly as sexy as Breathless, but I think she, Natalie Portman in Garden State and I all have one thing in common - a redemption complex. This is not to say that I am the one who wants to be saved, but that people tend to want to save me. Usually dudes. And I can't emphasize enough - I don't want to be saved. And honestly, I don't think I need saving.

For all my theatrics, misanthropy and self-deprecation, I actually think I have my life relatively together...I don't live in a trailer cum meth lab with 6 dirty babies at my feet...I pay my bills, I have more than one functional social relationship, I have an education, hobbies and goals....and even if those goals do include living my life by moving from one reality show appearance to the next, by many accounts I'm doing all right. So what is it that I project that makes people think they need to save me, or alternately write me off as "oh, caitlin" and laugh at my antics publicly while shaking their heads privately?
I don't think I know anyone who seems to attract the rescuer as much as I do, and if they did, I don't know if they would reject it as strongly as I do. As much as I often feel that my quality of life is tenuous and will be unraveled with one of my many infamous terrible decisions...I also don't want anyone to step in and think they need to fix it for me.
So, I guess my question is...for those of you who know Depressive Analytical Fever Nap girls, what is it about us that proclaims we need rescuing. And, do any of you feel like you fall into this category?

Another lawsuit?!

2008-08-16T17:35:00.006-04:00

So, after I left the apartment on DeKalb (with the landlord and the bedbugs and all), there was a cracked mirror door in my bedroom. Sam did a walkthrough of the apartment, didn't notice it and wrote Abby and I our security deposit checks. Several days later he called Abby saying he was going to stop payment on my check because of the mirror. She told him to call me, he did, I couldn't talk and then I didn't hear from him. The check had shown up in my bank account and I assumed it cleared. I didn't hear any more from him. I also don't really look very closely at my bank statement because it makes me feel bad, so it was a month before I realized that he had stopped payment on the check. The bank had also charged me $25 for the stopped check. This was 2 weeks ago.
I called Sam immediately and asked for the check. He was reasonable and said he just needed a forwarding address for me and that he would send it the next day. I waited a week and never saw the check. I called him this past Tuesday and said I still didn't have the check. He gave me some bullshit about some letter they were waiting for from the bank and a whole bunch of nonsense. I told him that I needed the money by Friday or I would take him back to court. Big surprise, Friday rolls around...no check. Seriously? He's really gonna do this to me?
So then I was doing a little research. In New York, as in many other states, if the landlord does not give you the security deposit back within 30 days you are entitled to twice the amount. This is good news for me, because I am going to tell him that either he can give me back the full deposit (750) plus the $25 for the stop payment now and I'll drop the lawsuit (I am going to tell him I filed it already), or he can wait until we go to court where he can pay me $1,500 minus the $75 (or $135 as he claims) for the broken mirror. I am really hoping he chooses the option where I don't have to sue him again, just because I want to be over with. But I suspect he may choose the latter because he is arrogant enough to think that laws don't apply to him.
And this is what I don't understand. By now you would think he would realize that I am not one to be fucked with. I'm smarter than him, tenacious, and honestly, more desperate for money and pretty much will go the distance to get what I'm owed. I think he may think that my desperation means that I'll settle for less....but he underestimates my "strong sense of justice" (which is something one of my therapists once said about me). And more important than money to me is my feeling that people like him shouldn't fuck around with people just because they can.
My other strategy is to call Judge Karen and suggest a follow up lawsuit.

In other news I got my hair cut today. I was just watching friends and I realized I got "The Rachel". Yeah 1995!

In other other news, my phone is still broken. I ordered a new one and the tracking website says it came but it is not here!! :( It's a good thing no one calls me.

Thwarted by technology

2008-08-10T20:13:00.003-04:00

Thursday morning I got a text from a dude that I have been trying to cut out of my life. Later that morning, I accidentally spilled water all over my phone, frying it and impeding my ability to text. I would have texted back, because I have no self control, so it was clearly the universe intervening before I created further heartache for myself.

The universe wasn't thinking ahead though, and I emailed the dude while I was at work. Then I spent all Thursday and Friday and also Saturday being irritated, that although we had emailed back and forth a couple times, it wasn't to the degree I would have liked. So I was all mopey.

Friday night the dude called me and left a message (EVEN THOUGH I had said my phone was broken. Fucking moron). I can see phone calls and texts, but I can't reply or call back. A few of the keys on my phone still work though, including the one that gets me to voicemail, but not the numbers in my password (side note, I really hate having to have a voicemail password. I don't give a shit who listens to my voicemail. Oh you want to listen to my mom calling to tell me to remind her to tell me a funny story about what happened at the market? Be my guest.). So I go to the website to change my password to numbers that work on my phone. The message that I got was "Invalid Mtn." Which, a websearch tells me does not mean I have an invalid mountain, but in fact an invalid mobile telephone number. Which is bullshit, the website enters it for you and it is actually my phone number. No dice there, can't listen to the voicemail. I would probably have emailed the dude, but...

Saturday night my roommate got drunk and spilled crap all over our cable modem. No more internet. I am in Starbucks paying 6 dollars for an hour...although a hobo just told me there's a free place down the street.
Awesome.
Why was a hobo in Starbucks?

A lot of posts tagged "fail" recently. Things are a little rough for Caitlin right now.

We have to get back to the Island

2008-08-08T16:15:00.003-04:00

When I moved out of my old place, ALL I wanted was to be gone. I wanted to be done with the neighborhood, with the apartment, with the landlord, all of it. My sublet is up at the end of the month and I am back to looking at places. With everything that I was so over with that neighborhood, and with this dude who got shot in the face on my old corner, why do I keep gravitating towards places in the same area?

Dating Disaster #3 or,The date that wasn't

2008-08-03T00:34:00.006-04:00

So. I've been posting these dating disasters. And guess who should resurface but Griffin, of the blog stalking fame.
This motherfucker found my blog a while back. Wrote me a comment. Wrote me several emails, trying to get me to go out with him. I didn't, because the psycho checked my blog EVERY HOUR for a while.
So then i write these blogs, and Smith (reported first name) at smithstreetbrooklyn@hotmail.com (obvious fake email. i know that. but in case you want to send hate mail) writes me and says "oh, if you'd like a date you can blog happily about, you should let me know.
Turns out that he has written me on a day when I am bored and lonely, so we agree to meet at this bar in Carroll Gardens at 7:45.
I was a little late. 7:55. I walk into the bar and see friends of my bff Steph -- Bernard and Rebecca.
"Oh, hey...friends of friends" I say, awkwardly. "I am here to meet a date. Some creep who reads my blog and won't leave me alone."
I look around. Everyone at the bar looks the same. and they all look like my potential date. But none seem to be my date. Seriously...they all had the same haircut, same generic t-shirt style....it was bizarre.
"Hey sit and have a drink," my friends say. I comply, all the while looking for my date. For like the first half hour I was watching the door, looking around. I even got out my cell phone to check my email and get his picture from the email, which I showed to Bernard and Rebecca and even the bartender who all confirmed he was not in the bar and had not been in the bar.
He never fucking shows.
There is a dude who looks a lot like Smith. My friends agree that he looks like Smith and "dare" me to go ask if it's him. I do.
No, he says, I am not Smith.
I walk back to my barstool, mortified.
Later, not-Smith comes up to me. "There are about 5 guys over there claiming to be Smith," he says. I laugh, but none of the other not-Smiths come over. I was flattered, and probably would have talked to any of them, but no luck there.
5 drinks later, I decide to leave the bar. I'm drunk, pissed and amused all at the same time.
All this time, my friends insisted that the bartender had a thing for me. I agreed, especially since he kept giving us all these drinks. Normally, he would not be someone I was interested in....but I do like free drinks, and it had been a weird night.
As we get ready to leave the bar, it turns out that he was charging us for the drinks.
Still, my friends decide I should leave a note on a coaster for the bartender who clearly had a thing for me. I do. He shoves it under the bar.
Apparently he looked at it after I left and said, "oh, that's sweet."
Basically? Fuck you.

And here's what I don't get....this dude is kind of obsessed with my blog...kind of obsessed with how amazing I am, and I finally consent to a date, so why the no-show? Was it because I was 10 mins late and he left? I told him I would blog about it..did he get cold feet? Did he not like the picture? 5 not-Smiths, the bartender and Bernard would all say the latter could not possibly be the case. So what gives.
Regardless, I have zero tolerance at this point for date stupidity. So, in case anyone was wondering, there will be no second chances. And I'm taking a break from dating for awhile. I think at least the rest of the month. In the meantime, I'm going to be working out my self-respect and self-esteem issues.

I'm also going to be taking a little break from blogging. Return date TBD.

I got scammed!

2008-08-01T17:41:00.002-04:00

So, my mom sent my sewing machine to me and I was very excited. So it came in this big box with all these packing peanuts. And I took the sewing machine out of the box and took it upstairs and threw the box out. The box sat out on the sidewalk for several days and every day I was like, I should just check in that box and make sure i didn't miss anything. But I didn't do it.
So then, last weekend I was all excited to work on some crafts and I go to get out my sewing machine only to see that the foot pedal and power cord were not with it. I had apparently thrown them out. :(
So I had a mini nervous breakdown about my failure to manage basic life skills. Then I did a search online to find the replacement parts. It turns out that they are kind of hard to track down. I did call one company and he was like, "nope, I don't know if we have that." And I was like, "um...ok...would you be interested in checking?" And he gave me a whole bunch of nonsense. So I ended up deciding to order from the only place online that I could find. So I put in the order, got a little receipt and my card was charged. So that was on the 28th.
Yesterday, I emailed to see if I could get a tracking number, and didn't hear back.
Today, I kind of got concerned that it might be a scam, so I called the company. The phone was disconnected. Not a good sign.
I emailed a different email address and it was returned.
I googled "Sewing Style Scam" and came back with several hits, including complaints to the Better Business Bureau. I was totally hosed!
I called the bank to dispute the charges, and then in the meantime decided to call local Janome dealers to get the part.
One place said I needed to send in $20 and that he isn't going to order parts for another 2 weeks anyway.
Another place told me to trace the holes in my machine and bring in the tracing so that he could match up the plugs. I said, "Um, I have given you the make and model for this machine...so you should just be able to look and see if you have it in stock, and if you don't, you order it."
I seriously got the same shit from all the places I called. They wanted me to bring in my 20lb machine (not going to happen) and gave me a bunch of bullshit when I questioned why they seem to have so much trouble telling me if they have the part, or ordering it if they don't.
So then, I decided to call this place in Eugene b/c my mom was going to stop in there anyway.
When I called the woman was so nice and said she would check to see if they had it. When she checked and found they didn't have it, she said she would order it.
No bs about me needing to bring in the machine. No crap about tracing holes. And she was so nice. When she looked up how much it cost she was like, "oh i'm sorry, but it's $90". So nice! No bullshit!
And that is why I am moving back to Oregon next June.
My mom said, "Is that the reason New Yorkers are so angry all the time?"
Yes! Exactly! Because there is absolutely no reason for a sewing machine store to not tell me if they have a part. Argh!

Daily functioning Fail.

2008-08-01T16:11:00.004-04:00

When I was in 6th grade (see left) I had a locker in school for the first time. I could not get the lock to open on my locker and it was a major source of stress. I had a lot of anxiety in the 6th grade. My mom even came into school after school to help me on more than one occasion, and still I couldn't manage on my own.
We may have even made up a rhyme to help me remember. We made up a rhyme to help me remember my bus, after I got on the wrong bus once in 1st grade. SE-23, in case you are wondering. it wasn't a rhyme so much as just the name of my bus set to a little tune.
Anyway the point of this, besides the opportunity to post this awesome picture of me that I love, is to tell this little story. I went to the 99cent store today to get stickers. They did not have any besides these jumbo Dora stickers that I did not want. But they had some other stuff I wanted, including a padlock. I have misplaced my other locks, I think when I moved, and have been using a little luggage lock when I go to the gym. It's not convenient, so I got this little lock for a dollar.
Well, you get what you pay for and I can't get the son of a bitch open. It's 6th grade all over again! Where's my clip-on tie and my Mary Englebret lunch bag (I didn't start carrying the Sailor Moon lunch box until 8th grade I think).
My mom said I looked like Annie Hall in that outfit, btw, which I think had a coordinating skirt. And my Grandma Sugar loved my glasses so much she was inspired to get blue ones for herself.
Also, I never did learn to open my locker. I began to share a locker with Marissa (who reads and comments!) and Ember (who is probably too busy being a grown up to read my blog)...thus setting the stage for my middle school career. What a happy ending.

Dating Disaster #2 or getting back on the horse

2008-07-30T19:27:00.003-04:00

So this dating disaster comes from when I was living in Eugene and pretty much on a constant rebound from a non-existent relationship. So I was on the CL a lot. As you read these dating disasters you will probably say to yourself, Hey, why didn't she give up on this shit? I am not entirely sure. But I think it was the Secret allowing me to have material for these blogs, years later.
So I met Will from the CL and we went out and it was a pretty normal, standard date. He was kind of cute, nice, etc. so I decided we should go out again. He took me out to dinner, we had a nice time, and he paid, which is always a bonus since I seem to not really date monied types. However, he was kind of cagey about what exactly he did for a living. I knew he lived out on a farm with the dude who owned the property, but that was about it.
Then on our next date he came over, and in lieu of a bouquet he brought me some marijuana.
"So, you grow pot, right?" I finally asked. I had been developing the suspicion for some time, based on the facts available.
He got paranoid in a way that only someone involved in the drug trade can be. He looked around with shifty eyes, checking for the DEA or a wire,"How did you know that?"
"Well..." I responded "You don't have a job, but somehow you make money...on a farm...and then you just brought me some of the freshest weed I've ever seen....all signs point to slingin' dope."
It was also on this date that I learned that his roommate was a heroin user. And I don't remember if it was also this date in which the roommate called Will to see if he wanted to smoke some heroin when he got home. But it was either that time we hung out or the following one.
I'm pretty loosey goosey when it comes to drug use. I've certainly done my experimentation (some would call it "abuse" or "addiction". Semantics), never with heroin, but far be it for me to judge.
So Will leaves my apartment and heads home to smoke china white out of a lightbulb on his pot farm. I called him later in the week, but didn't hear from him for probably about 10 days. When he finally resurfaced I asked what he had been up to.
"coming down," he answered.
That was our last date. Not by my choice though. It's probably redundant, but my standards are kind of low, and I have the self-respect issues. So Will just kind of vanished. I can only assume that his body is now decaying amid rusted gear and the flora of a cannabis farm, a needle stuck in his eyeball due to the lack of any remaining viable veins.

Low-rent tastes

2008-07-28T18:57:00.005-04:00

I was in Greenpoint today running some errands on my way to the gym. This means I was wearing gym clothes. As I was walking down the street a cute little bald man in his early 70's said "Hi Mami." He was so cute so I said hi back, which I normally do not.
"You are beautiful", he said.
I said thank you and then pointed to himself and said "Luis".
"Nice to meet you, Luis", I said, and headed into the store.
"I love you", he smiled and blew me a kiss.
I was torn between being disturbed and charmed and flattered. I decided to go with charmed because he was 5'2 and looked like a little muffin.
I get hit on or cat called a lot when I am wearing gym clothes. (Or, in a recent bizarre incident what I can only describe as "bird-called" in which some dude made some sort of a crow cawing sound as I walked by).
Anyway, this is mysterious to me and sometimes makes me feel like I'm being made fun of. Also, recently when I have been out and feeling like I looked kind of good I get nothing. This gets me all kind of messed up because I judge how good I look based on the quality of sexual harrassment I experience. My whole schema gets turned around.
Also, the thing is, I'm not what you would call particularly"fit" or "in-shape" right now. Since I sleep about 12 hours a day and the rest of the time I comfort/boredom eat. So it's not like someone is like "aw girl, you the hottie with a body in ya workout clothes". It's more like, "So....you're kinda hoping you'll pass a Mr. Softee on your way home from the gym, right? Yeah, that's what I thought."
So I'm not sure what it is about my demographic that likes me in my gym clothes...assuming they are just not making fun of me.
My demographic is usually:
Over-40
Working class/blue collar
Bald
Maybe a little on the paunchier side
Spanish or black.
The racial component I can only assume is because these happen to be the races that appreciate a girl who's more on the bootylicious side. I think they also tend to be the races that are more inclined to make a comment to a girl, though, so who knows if it's just cuz I have a big butt.
Anyways, obviously I am not the only girl to ever get cat called and it begs the question...does this actually work for dudes? Has some girl ever said, "oh, hold up...did you just bird call me? Make that sound again. Oh, hell yeah, guess who's gettin' my number?!" There has got to be some pay off for people to keep on doing this, right? Anyone know of any love connections based on some dude objectifying some chick and her positive response to said objectification?
Go misogyny!

I am deciding which bad date to write about next, so stay tuned!

Dating Disaster #1 or, the importance of red flags

2008-07-25T01:05:00.006-04:00

So I was having dinner with my friend Mike today and telling him about the bad date I went on the other day. He suggested I write about it in my blog. We then had a whole discussion about the need for self-disclosure, private made public, internet voyeurism etc. which is a whole other blog I have been thinking about writing.
But, I had been thinking about writing a separate, more anonymous blog about my dating history anyway so that I could write about some of my more intense dating debauchery...but, I have insomnia now and I need to blog more (does anyone actually need to blog at all?). So here it is.
So R., as are most of my dates, was a splendid craigslist find from an ad I posted on the 4th of July. As I was leaving another date that had been a pretty solid failure I checked my email from my phone. I had gotten an email from this guy, he seemed nice and his pic was cute, kind of dorky, I thought maybe he could have some potential. And after my dating disgrace I was ready for another date. Turns out he was up near Harlem, and at the time I was in the East Village so I suggested we meet in Union Square. I figured I would walk there, wait for a bit and then he would show up. Well, after nearly an hour and a half of waiting he didn't show and I left. He texted as I was getting home and apologized for taking so long to get down there and said he would still like a chance to meet me. We emailed a little bit and I wasn't really feeling it, especially after he did what I hate which is the "check-in" email: "Hey, didn't hear back from you..just wondering...you know...if you got my last email." It gets to be a little much for me.

However, after all of these red flags of qualities that i know I don't like, I still decided to go through with a date. So Monday we were supposed to meet at a restaurant near my house at 6. I got a voicemail from him at 5:30 telling me to call him back (no other relevant info, which I also hate), I called back, got no answer and headed to the restaurant a little after 6. As I'm walking there he calls me telling me he had JUST gotten out of work (in Harlem) and was just leaving. Why he did not share this information in his first message I do not know. I was pretty much over it by this time, but he was already on his way and I could deal with some free dinner (that's right, not going dutch on this one).
So he calls me when he gets off of the subway and tells me he doesn't remember the name of the restaurant or where it is, I tell him to just go up one block to Leonard. He gets kind of whiny, saying he has no sense of direction.
Ok, I also have no sense of direction, but as with any disability you learn to adapt. In this particular situation I would go one block, if that wasn't the street, I would turn around and go the other way one block. One of those would be the street, see? But, our man R obviously is an idiot with no problem solving skills. So I go rescue him from the corner and we go to the restaurant.
I was already pretty unimpressed, so I don't know if there is a lot he could have done to redeem himself. But he didn't help himself at all. He didn't really look like his picture. He was recognizable, but was a lot nerdier in person.
First of all, his conversational skills were severely limited and he changed topics really bizarrely in a way that was really hard to follow. You also have to imagine a really monotone/shy voice with limited affect. An example of a conversational tidbit:
Him: What tv shows do you like.
Me: Um, I've been watching this show that ran on SciFi like a year ago called The Dresden Files.
(note: this is an example of why I am excellent at dating [not choosing dates obviously. but the actual act itself, I rule]. I chose this show in particular because I figured he would probably be into scifi)
Him: Like the city in Germany?
Me: Um, yeah, but it's the guy's last name.
Him: I just read a book about Dresden.
Me: ...

So, just a lot of that, where it's not completely off topic, but it's not how normal people would progress a conversation.

Anyway, I can deal with awkward, I'll just suck it up and get through my date and whatever. But then it gets worse.
We are talking about scary movies and I mention that someone I knew was so scared by The Ring that she had to sleep in her mom's bed for a week (at age 20+)
His response? "Oh, you could sleep in my bed if you needed to"
ugh.
I'm not a big fan of sexual innuendo in casual conversation with people I don't really know in the first place. Add in all of this dude's qualities and I spent the whole meal cringing.

So after dinner we decide to go get gelato at this window service place. We are standing in line and R asks if there is anywhere to sit and I tell him that there are chairs around the corner.
Him: Oh, haha, I was going to say something kind of suggestive. But maybe I won't...
Me: Ok.
Him: Do you want to hear it?
Me: Do you want to get shot down? (Yes I did say this)
Him: I was going to say something about...you know....going back to your place...and you know...eating gelato.
Me: We can just eat here.

Then as we're getting ready to order he announces that he's going to get a pint. I was like, jesus, but ok. Then he asks what size I am getting, I tell him a small. He says he will get a small too, but still orders the pint.
He gets his huge pint of gelato, which, as luck would have it was scooped in such a way that it had two ice cream scoop round mounds on the top.
Him: "Oh haha, look...this looks like something"
Me: ...
As we are eating he asks me if his size is a small. No, I say, it is a pint. You ordered a pint.
Him: Oh. I thought it was a small. Crazy Americans.
(fyi. kid was born and raised in new york)

And then, like a mirage in a desert of shitty dates, crossing the street are my friends. I jump up! Oh look! It's my friends! Um...my friend is in town...and, I haven't seen her in years...and they're going to get drinks....
Him: So, you're gonna get rid of me, huh?
Me: Haha yeah.
Him: Will we ever see each other again.
Me: ohhh....you never know. I'll walk you back to the subway.

By the time we got to the subway I had quit trying.
Him: Well, I had a great time. I just couldn't believe this beautiful girl was giving me so many chances.
Me: Oh. yeah. Well, I'm glad you had a nice time.
(pause)
Him: Well, I hope you had a good time too.
Me: oooh...fnignaognrnew (that's me mumbling something about thanks for dinner).

And, as if all that wasn't enough, he would ask me these challenging questions. I think it was his poorly socialized way of trying to get more information, but it came across as almost antagonistic. He challenged me on why I have been unemployed for so long. I will take a lot of shit from a lot of dudes. To a point that it's almost a self-respect problem. But that shit? No. There are few things I hold sacred, unemployment is one of them. You just don't question it, you admire it.

And have I heard from him since? Of course. And I suspect it won't be the last time. I anticipate a check-in email within the week.

ok, ok, i'll update

2008-07-18T13:21:00.001-04:00

I came back last night from a to0-short trip back to Oregon to see the fam. It was too short of a trip and I am kind of feeling like I really want to go back next June maybe.
So I got the job that I had interviewed for....I would be more excited about it if they didn't keep pushing the date back of when I could start. It makes me feel like the agency is disorganized or inconsiderate and makes me worry about what it will be like when I start. Regardless, I start August 4th.
And thus will end 25 months of unemployment.
Honestly, I am getting kind of tired of unemployment, which I feel sacreligious saying, but there it is. And to respond to Melanie, yes I did used to play online bingo for cash and prizes. And yes, I still do. And yes, there are at least two people in every room I go to with "nana" or "grandma" in their screenname.
My internet is inconsistent in this new place, which is part of the reason that I haven't updated. Also it's hot as balls and it stifles my creativity.
But I will try to think of funny things to blog about. Possibly dating. I just went on one of the more awkward dates I've ever been on. Nothing like painfully shy computer nerds trying to throw out sexual innuendo.
Ugh.

second floor living without a yard

2008-07-02T21:10:00.006-04:00

Well, I am finally moved amid a number of frustrations and nervous breakdowns....the most major of which was my lack of internet access for the last 4 days.
I have no cable in this place, which is fine since it's temporary and I can get all my shows online anyway. But, with no online from which to download my shows, no cable, no job and nothing to do I have spent most of my recent time here in tears. And comfort eating...which actually isn't that different from before I moved.
But! I am a genius and I have fixed my internet and it only took me approximately 10 hours. So I feel better and less out of it.
I also had a job interview today that was my 3rd (and final) with this agency. The first was a screening interview with an HR person who then referred me to diff programs throughout the agency. The program that got in touch with me was in the Bronx, and after commuting to Harlem for my first 8 months here, I knew I couldn't get down with a commute like that. So THEN they told me they had availability at a program in Brooklyn and I interviewed there last week (I think? All my days are the same), so then they contacted me for a follow up interview which I did today. The guy today said that if I chose to take the job that it would be "a pleasure to have [me]". So, I'm hoping to hear back from them by Monday and then to start ASAP....there is only so long that my Judge Karen monies will last me.
I had started a long post about my memories of moving into the apartment on DeKalb, as a memorial for the move...but I don't feel like finishing it.
I love anniversaries though, and July 5th will be my 2 year anniversary of not having a job and I am planning a grand retrospective of the last two years of daytime tv, naps, poverty, government assistance, crafts and general loafing.
Longtime blog fans can feel free to contribute their favorite memories of my unemployment times, as it appears they will be coming to an end shortly.

Things I will miss about living in bed-stuy:
The soundtrack: "No Woman, No Cry" - on Saturdays; Rap/Hip-hop - Summer evenings; Fuck you nigga -all hours, all days
Not being able to hear parts of conversations/tv shows/movies because trucks/motorcycles/buses/loud teenagers are outside.
The grocery stores
The only marginally acceptable produce being sold out of a truck on the corner.
Being within pleasant biking distance of prospect park and the big library.
Nelson, Joe from the stoop, Andre Nash the hobo hero and my upstairs neighbor who may or may not have murdered a prostitute.
Living in a dangerous but developing neighborhood.
Street cred.
Living within walking distance from The Worst Target In The World.

Things I am looking forward to in the sublet:
The new soundtrack: Mexican restaurant downstairs
A real grocery store!
Bars not owned by my landlord.
Fabric store next door.
Living on the L.
Lots of episodes of everybody loves raymond and the kirk cameron religious show because I have no cable
A new discount store to replace Family Dollar

Fair warning

2008-06-28T18:27:00.003-04:00

This is the kind of post no one ever likes to read, because it's about how I'm bummed/stressed/depressed/annoyed I am.
But whatever, my blog views have reduced significantly now that the novelty of my tv appearance has worn off. Clearly all of you are just interested in riding the coattails of my fame.
My blog readers:Me::Aidnan Ghalib:Britney Spears.

Anyway, I am moving tomorrow. I found a sublet in Williamsburg that is really cute. I couldn't find a permanent place, but that's ok because this will give me a lot of time to find somewhere really great. Plus, the girl is excited about having cats, which is important to me.
Moving is stressful in the best of circumstances and I'm in a little bout of depression right now, so everything seems super overwhelming. I have to put some of my stuff in storage, and the storage place was supposed to provide movers but no one was available. And it turns out finding movers is hard when you wait until the last minute at the end of the month, and they are kind of expensive.
I had rented a "large capacity" car and a couple people are supposed to be helping me out (bless their souls) so we'll see how it all pans out. Right now it's torrential downpour and I think it's supposed to be similar tomorrow afternoon. I am gonna owe a couple people my first born child.

While I'm stressed about moving, I'm also ready to be done with this neighborhood and done with my roommate. I was telling her about my moving concerns and as per usual she just has to shit all over everything I say or do....she's super critical, but I don't think she thinks she is...which just makes it worse. So then when I told her that her negativity wasn't helpful she called me ridiculous and walked out.
So over it.

I'm also over the job search. I went to a job interview last week and the director never introduced herself to me (even though she was interviewing me) AND she checked her blackberry during the interview. Awesome. Needless to say, I won't be taking a position if offered one.
The job I have basically been offered sounds great, unfortunately the supervisor is on vacation until July 10....and I would really like to get things moving sooner than that. Super frustrating.

Meh. I'm just done with everything. I am planning on sequestering myself in my new place and playing online solitaire until September.

Basically, everything that has been going on has really made me question whether staying here was really the right choice for me.
Things will be better once I am done moving, have cut off contact with assholes in my life and get a job.
The secret is being hard to implement right now.

I'm just a courtroom gangsta

2008-06-22T14:41:00.004-04:00

Part two of Judge Karen day:

So after meeting with the producers I went to the set to do the actual taping. I had been concerned I was going to get the giggles because the whole experience was so bizarre and hilarious.
Ok, so you know how on court shows they say "The plaintiff is now entering the courtroom" and they play music that's like "duhduh dun dun duuuh". Well, they actually play that as you're walking into the courtroom. Which I did not know and I feel like someone should have said. Because as soon as I opened the door I was seriously like, "are you kidding me?" So I may have what looks like a smirk while I walk in because I was simultaneously stunned and amused.
So then you stand at your mark (see how I use tv lingo there? That's how I do now) for a while and look into a camera. Don't know why. Then I go backstage while Sam enters and then I come back in and then we were sworn in.

I knew from what the producers told me ahead of time that it was clear that I was the good guy and the victim in the case. And when the judge came in it was obvious she had already made up her mind. She began immediately questioning Sam about why he hadn't been more helpful, etc. and accused him of lying.
So you all will see that at my viewing party or my youtube video. There are some good parts though. At one point the judge cracked herself up so much she cried. And then the whole audience gasps when I put the picture of the bedbug up on the screen. So there are some good moments, I hope make it into commercials. Imagine if they air the commercials for my episode during Oprah?!?!

They did not do an after-trial interview by Harvey Levin which kind of bummed me out.

In the car ride home I was talking to the driver, who apparently drives for all of the court shows and for Maury and Montel. I guess it's a lucrative position because he owns a second home in Vermont.
Anyway, this guy has nothing but disdain for pretty much anyone who appears on these shows. I was hoping he could tell me some stories about crazy shit that I am sure that has happened after tapings, but he wasn't very specific. However, he did confirm my suspicions about the teeth. They fix your busted teeth for you! They have some dentist on file and they send you there with your nasty teeth and fix them right up!

The next day I saw Sam while I was on my way to do laundry.
"Hey Joyce!"
I said hey and we joked about the trial. Then he told me I looked tired. I told him that being on the show had really worn me out.
"Oh, please" he said, "You loved it"

How can someone who does not know my name totally have my number?

You would love the limelight too

2008-06-19T18:22:00.005-04:00

Well, fans, I know everyone is just dying to hear about my tv debut.

First up: I won! The judge awarded me the cost of the extermination plus partial costs for some of the extra money I had to spend.

All in all the experience was pretty surreal. I had a job interview in Chelsea and they sent a car to pick me up from the interview and take me to the studio (Which in an interesting twist was only a few blocks from my terrible first placement with Mrs. Ruiz...somehow it makes me feel like my life has come full circle).

When I got there a PA whisked me off to "my" green room. Where they had a vanity mirror, a desk, a couch, a little tv and a sink. Another PA got me a sammich and a soda and it seems like I could have asked for pretty much anything.
Not long after I had been in the green room they took me to hair and makeup. Everyone was really nice and I felt pretty comfortable. I could get used to fame. I had to sign a bunch of releases. I checked specifically to see if I could blog about it, and it seemed to be ok. Everything else was pretty standard. I can't be on another court show for 2 more months though, about anything, which I thought was interesting.
After I got my hair and makeup did I went back into the green room. It was the afternoon and there were a lot of court shows on, but I couldn't bring myself to watch them so I settled for law and order, which I only half watched because I was starting to get kind of antsy.
They don't let you sit around for very long and soon I had to go down to the set for a "walk-through", where they tell you how to walk through the door, walk down the aisle and how to use the telestrator, which puts your evidence up on a big screen.
When I went back to the green room I got "Miced" Mic'd? I dunno. Anyway, and I also met with the production team"
Erin, the producer is everything that you would expect in a tv judge show producer. She was intense, talked fast and encouraged me to be as graphic as possible about the bedbugs. She also gave me a picture of an actual bedbug to use as "evidence" although I'm not entirely sure how it's evidence if the production team pulled it off of the internet. I liked her though she kept saying things like "bottom line, he owes you this fuckin' money. He doesn't have a case. So you'll just get out there and fuckin' win"

Anyway, that's it for part one because I need to do some more apartment research. Basically I am having a nervous breakdown right now about finding a job and a place. Where is the secret when you need it???

eeep

2008-06-17T12:11:00.002-04:00

Judge Karen day is tomorrow!

I think it's the Secret's doing. I have a job interview in the am (more secret!) and the car is going to pick me up from my interview instead of from here, thus I avoid having to awkwardly explain to Sam why I would prefer my own car.

I am on my way to Kinko's now to fax over some stuff. They're giving me $150 for my trubs....LOVE fame! I wonder what kind of schwag they give you in the green room?

Also, my site meter tells me how people came to my blog. Apparently someone googled "vermin extermination guilt". My blog comes up as the 3rd result.

Better pack your lunch, pilgrim, cuz it's gonna be a long drive

2008-06-16T21:08:00.003-04:00

As I was leaving my apartment earlier this evening, I spied Sam the landlord out of the corner of my eye. He has been extremely friendly in his excitement over our impending fame, and I was trying to avoid him. As I was turning away I hear "Joyce!" (Goddammit)
"I haven't heard back from the woman" he said, referring to the producer.
I told him I hadn't talked to her either, but I was planning on calling her to get details about when we need to go etc. I think they send a car to pick you up.
"Hey", Sam said, "You know...we could just go from here. They can just pick us up together."
...
I can think of few things I would rather do less than ride to my tv court show appearance in Manhattan with the landlord I am suing who still does not know my name.

I used to think there could be no drive more uncomfortable than the weekly drive from Harlem to NYU with my nutcase supervisor from the nursing home. But, at least Camille played what I liked to call White Celebrities, in which she would pick one white celebrity every week and begin the drive by saying something like "What do you think about Madonna?" or "I hate Lindsay Lohan. Do you?" And then we would spend the drive talking about the white celebrity of the day. Somehow I doubt Sam would come up with a topic that he feels we could both relate to equally.
Although it would be a good chance for me to learn why he was in jail for the first 6 months that I lived here.

fuck judge wapner, it's jigga ya hear? y'all niggas in violation of the play hatin code section 1001 - JayZ

2008-06-12T13:17:00.004-04:00

Ok, So The People's Court never called us back.
But when the Secret closes a door, a window is opened and today I was contacted by the Judge Karen show.
This is a new show starting this fall.
I will be going to court on the 24th with bff Steph in tow and friends in the audience.
And I guess my episode will air in the fall!

Oh also, here is what the producer asked me:
Correct spelling of my name
Birthday
Race
Correct address
And
If I had any cracked, missing or gold teeth.

school's (not) out forever

2008-06-06T17:32:00.005-04:00

I subscribe to a lot of blogs and podcasts. To the point where it is actually becoming overwhelming. I subscribe to science blogs, social work blogs, psych blogs, New York Times most emailed articles, friends' blogs and Jezebel. I also recently added a job search thing to my google reader which adds about 30 new posts a day. This adds up to hundreds of new blog posts a day and I don't even know what to do about it anymore. I used to subscribe to Google news but found that I was skipping through a lot of them just because of the enormity of information. Unfortunately, my deletion of culturally relevant blogs may be a contributing factor to my ignorance about anything current or significant. And it kills me to delete my blogs or podcasts. I used to listen to Slate's weekly podcast about the weekly political issues. I liked it because it was a good way for me to get updated on current events and also listen to some commentary. It was short, succinct and perfect for a commute. But there was also a lot of banter among the three hosts and it got really tiresome. They would get off track, make fun of each other and generally irritate me. I went through a weeks long process of debating whether or not I would unsubscribe from the podcast. Literally weeks where I would sit, waiting for the subway, listening to inanity about whether one of the hosts was too negative or whatever and I would have a long debate with myself about the value of wasting 45 minutes a week on the podcast. I ended up deleting it and I felt a pang of guilt as I did. It's really hard for me.

Jezebel is by far my favorite blog, but often times it reminds me too much of high school. It brings out all of my insecurities. I desperately want to be a part of this group that I think is so {funny, smart, cool, above-it-all, etc.} but I don't think that I am {insert adjective} enough to fit in. So I sit on the sidelines, laugh along at the jokes and tell myself that it's just because I have a life that I am not available to immediately comment on every post. That wasn't true in high school and it isn't true now.
Jezebel had a post today about that german sex book that has everyone all riled up and one of the editors posted a translation of part of it. It was about this girl who has hemorrhoids and how she doesn't get them removed because the only reason someone would get them removed is for aesthetics. The protagonist also writes about having anal sex while having hemorrhoids, which she describes as cauliflower. This prompted a google search for hemorrhoids, since I don't know anything about them AND because I love things that are disgusting. I love to do a youtube search on cysts, morgellons, the tree man and tumors. I can't help it. It's so gross and I love it.
It also got me thinking about the poor cauliflower, which I think is particularly delicious with a little sauce made of mustard and mayonnaise and with cheese broiled on top. But the cauliflower gets compared to everything disgusting that a human can get. Warts? Cauliflowered. 'Roids? Cauliflowered. You've got your cauliflower ear and a yeast infection looks like cauliflower.
So I thought, maybe I will write a comment about the poor cauliflower and disease comparisons and also my mystification regarding why anyone would have anal sex when they have hemorrhoids because it seems quite painful aside from the visual disturbance for the batter.
Turns out, Jezebel has all these rules for posting comments and you have to get approved ahead of time. The way to get approved is by writing a comment that they deem worthy of Jezebel and then they post it and you can post forever.
Which brings us back to my insecurities. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself up for the scrutiny of the clique. It's just like that time in English class when I wrote a story about mean kids, because I happened to sit in this corner where all of the asshole guys sat and they would just talk shit about people all through class. (I'm sure they're all really successful now, btw). My teacher asked me to read it and I wouldn't do it and he gave me this fixed look and said "Caitlin, I think it's really important that you read this". So then everyone is looking at me and the last thing I want is for these guys who were sitting in my corner to know what I had written. And I might have cried a little.
So maybe my observation that it would probably hurt to have up-the-bum sex when you have a mass of veins protruding from your ass probably wouldn't subject me to later criticism from little boys driving big trucks bought with their daddy's timber money, but it doesn't matter. I am actually back in high school, writing journal entries about my inability to fit in, laughing too hard at the wrong jokes and having crushes on all of the boys who are now gay.
Ugh.
I am going to go to my room, eat a bag of chocolate, hide it under my bed and self-injure.

Comments

2008-06-06T15:34:00.002-04:00

I am going to be disabling anonymous comments. Sooo if you're gonna comment, just go ahead and leave your name. Too many weird anonymous comments.
If it is your comment that I just deleted, you are probably a friend of mine and I want to know who you are cuz otherwise I'm a little creeped out.

OMG update

2008-06-02T20:35:00.002-04:00

The landlord has agreed to do People's Court! He's all about it, actually. I am calling the producer tomorrow, so updates will follow.
Also, I am moving out at the end of the month, so now I am looking for places/roommates. Anyone who knows of anyone who's looking and wants to live with meowers should let me know.
AND I'm now freaking out about not finding a job.
BUT I am just turning it all over to The Secret.
Meanwhile, I'm getting my ass to the gym, I'm not gonna be one of those pudgy girls you see on People's Court. I'm gonna do trashy in style!

Real World: Bed-Stuy - The make-up

2008-06-01T20:38:00.003-04:00

My roommate emailed me earlier today to say she wanted to talk about all this drama plus "a couple other things". So I spent all day fretting about what else I could possibly have done.
By the time she came home, she and I had already had about 20 imaginary fights. So it was pretty anticlimactic when we had a mature, calm discussion about her concerns, my sympathetic response to her concerns and then a friendly discussion about the last week's happenings.
I guess it shouldn't really come as a surprise that we fought and made up.
Here is a transcript of a conversation she and I had a while ago:
A: *something something* and then you get mad and slam your door
C: What? When have I ever slammed my door?
A: We got in a fight once and you slammed the door.
C: No I didn't. What fight?
A: Well I don't want to bring it up again.
C: Was it the time we got in a fight about the dairy industry?
A: No.
C: That time you were so mean about me going on a detox diet?
A: No.
C: That time I said the Bushes might be a nice family and you got so mad?
A: No.
C: That time I accidentally invited Nelson over for dinner? (Nelson is a neighborhood crazy. He didn't come for dinner.)
A: No.
C: That time I thought a moth was a cockroach and you called me a fucking idiot?
A: No.
C: That time I said Paris Hilton shouldn't have been in solitary confinement?
A: No.
C: That time we got in a fight about the shroud of turin?
A: No.
C: That time you were going to move out without giving any notice and then Sam turned off our power?
A: No. But you might have that time, too.
C: No I didn't. I give up, when did I slam my door?
A: It was right before our party when you said that you were throwing me a party.
C: OMG!! That time you got so irrationally pissed off because I misspoke. God, you're such an asshole.

Well, so ends another weekend here in Bed-Stuy. All is calm, the cats are looking out the window and I am going to get myself some ice cream.

Real World: Bed-Stuy

2008-06-01T12:07:00.005-04:00

The roommate situation hasn't gotten any better as she is now giving me the silent treatment and sending me emails worthy of passive aggressive notes.com. On Thursday night she sent me an email from the next room letting me know that she had transferred money into my bank account for the rent. I emailed her back to let her know that I wasn't going to do the passive aggressive email bullshit. I realized after the fact that sending that as an email was actually just doing that. But in my defense, I rarely see her any more AND she is giving me the silent treatment, so what else am I to do. She wrote me back a hilarious and ridiculous email, which I am going to go ahead and passive aggressively cut and paste here.
"it's the same situation as if one of us were cockroach breeders and one day they all got out, and we expected the landlord to cover it."
this was my favorite part of the email because it doesn't even make sense. Was I breeding bedbugs? Did I do something specifically to warrant having bedbugs? I know she blames me, but I don't know why. Plus it's just a bad argument, if I was breeding bedbugs I certainly wouldn't want them exterminated. She's just not thinking like a breeder and that's where her argument loses power.
"i don't believe that this is about the money for you. it's just another story for you to tell, and it's at the expense of our friendship."
This was actually kind of hurtful, because it makes it seem like I actually have to go out of my way to contrive situations that are worthy of a story. I think we can all agree that I naturally make enough terrible decisions that I shouldn't have to go the lengths of suing someone just to get a good story. That's why the blog is named A Horrible Warning! The story is just a positive benefit of the lawsuit. And her irrational rage at me just makes the story better.
In a later email she tells me that she is angry because she needs the security deposit to move. I think this was her first ever real apartment, so I suppose she can be forgiven for not realizing that you never get the security deposit before you move. But I don't know why someone has not told her that, assuming she has been ranting to others that I am ruining her ability to move b/c we will not be getting back the deposit.
It's also interesting that she is so angry at me about that. I have a right to sue my landlord, and if he wants to do something illegal like vindictively withhold our security then that is a decision that he is making and I can't be responsible for. In general I just don't get her rage.
In sad news, she took our barbecue off the fire escape. I guess that means she's anticipating that we won't get beyond this during barbecue season. Too bad because it's my favorite part of summer.

Romance Update

2008-05-28T22:06:00.002-04:00

Since in the last 12 hours I have received about 3 times as many hits as I usually get in a week, I thought I might let y'all know what's going on with my mystery admirer.
I spent time speculating with my mom and with various friends about who this character might be. We decided that he is under 35. A dude. Literate. Either has a job or is unemployed. Either is crazy or not. Either attractive or unattractive. The email address given suggests Brooklyn, not Staten Island as his actual locale. There was also some concern that this is someone I know, or worse, one of my many failed dating endeavors trying to come back in a different way. Also, some of my friends suggested that it may be completely fake as there was some deception in the Griffin and Sabine books, which I have not read since I was 13 so cannot remember.
Anyway, I emailed him. A brief email leaving the door open for him to share what information about himself he wishes and providing not much more in the way of info about myself as we are clearly on an uneven playing field.

OMG

2008-05-28T14:24:00.003-04:00

A producer from The People's Court just called me re: my case. More as this story develops.

Update: The producer is going to contact my landlord and then let me know. Since he wouldn't have to pay anything, I'm sure he'll eat it up. Stay tuned!

Update #2: Turns out this isn't quite as fun as I had hoped. My roommate is really really angry with me for suing the landlord. Like, really angry. She does not think we'll get our security deposit back, thinks we won't be able to use him as a reference and is just generally irate. She has apparently listened to the landlord too much and also does not think it's his responsibility. She has blamed me from the start, like I went to the crackhouse and bought bedbugs though, so I'm not really surprised. However, it has started to make me doubt my convictions. Anyone with some legal knowledge or general free time can feel free to do some research. Am I doing the right thing?

The Secret

2008-05-28T11:01:00.005-04:00

Some of the people who read this blog know that I have a tendency towards what could best be described as gullibility. I watch a good Discovery channel special and I am easily swayed towards whatever the strongest point made was. The Shroud of Turin is my usual example of this, because I watched a special on PBS one time and was immediately convinced that the Shroud of Turin is, in fact, the burial cloth of Jesus. People make fun of me. People don't believe me. My roommate and I got in a fight about it. Then we watched another special about the shroud of turin. I no longer believe that it is Jesus' burial shroud, now I believe that it was a fake created by Da Vinci. That's all it takes, a good special.
This gullibility is why I won't get my thetan levels tested when I see the Scientologists in the subway, I just know I'll walk away praising Xenu. It is why, to the annoyance of friends, that after I spend some time on the PETA website I spout off facts about pigs' intelligence and the health risks associated with dairy. (Which incidentally, my roommate and I got in a fight about, too.).
The point in this background is that when The Secret came along last year, I deliberately avoided it, knowing what would happen. I even mentioned in a blog that I was amused by people who were so into The Secret. Well, now I have all this time on my hands and a library card, so you can imagine what has happened.
Take away the bs about The Universe and all you have is your basic positive thinking. It's nothing revolutionary, which the illustrious Rhonda Byrne even points out: People have been using the power of the secret for centuries! But what I like about it is the concept that you attract to yourself what you put out there. When things happen to me, often times people will say, You're the only person I know who this would happen to. (Ex: Target Incident, That time I got arrested, pretty much every date I've ever been on). But if it works that way, it can work in my favor right?
So I have taken some of the things that stress me out about being unemployed: Lack of Money and Concern over finding a job, and turned them over to The Secret. And it's working! Money has literally showed up out of thin air. Not a lot, but enough to keep me going and not behind on my rent. Yesterday I was going to call some jobs that I had applied for to follow up, but I decided to wait. I took a nap, woke up and had two job interview requests! I don't even have to DO anything and the secret provides.
Which brings us to the latest gift (?) from the secret. Dating. Although I have been in an on-again off-again very casual relationship for the last 10 months, I have also been looking for something more serious. I have had some Serious. Major. oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-he-said-that Failures. And then an anonymous commenter shows up on my blog. My Site Meter sleuthing tells me he is from Staten Island. He references people I enjoy and asks me out for a drink. Has the secret brought someone into my life via blog? Or has the secret actually just brought me yet another creep who will invite me on vacation way before it's appropriate and in general just not get it. More importantly, should I accept?

I can say one thing definitively though: This would only happen to me.

Why my cats are like the democratic primaries

2008-05-27T20:19:00.002-04:00

As the primaries for my state draw near, I find myself in the predicament facing many Americans: I am an undecided voter. I have two equally promising candidates, who have vastly different personalities. What I love about Hillary Clinton is quite a bit different from what I love about Barack Obama. But, who will ultimately win out in the caucus of my affections? Like many voters, I turn to my cats, Lucy and Linus, as I struggle through this year’s oh-so-important political decision.

Lucy, oh Lucy, my feline Hillary Clinton. Smart, doughy Lucy who I have had since I graduated college. Lucy whom I have loved since the beginning. But, sometimes, I am not so sure that Lucy loves me back. Sometimes, she seems to prefer my roommate, even though it is not my roommate who feeds her. Why is that Lucy? Your fleshy, spotted belly points to cat chow as one of your hot-button issues. Yet, night after night I see you curled up on Abby’s lap. Cat chow is to Lucy what health care is to Hillary Clinton. Hillary, your priorities would seem to be in one area, but your actions don’t always agree. Will I always see you curled up, fat and happy, in the lap of others who have not treated you as well as me? I woke up in the middle of the night, as I often do, to find Lucy curled up next to me in bed. At the end of the night, Lucy is always there. Ms. Clinton, when I wake up in 4 years, will you be curled up, shedding all over my pillow?

And then there is Linus, my furry Obama. Linus is slender, sleek and black, striking in a way it’s hard to put your finger on. But Linus is annoying. Why? Why are you always there with the kisses, getting in my way, throwing yourself prostrate on the floor, paws waving? But, Linus, when you stand on my dresser, hind legs poised to leap to a seemingly-unattainable balcony, I cannot help but think to myself: “oh, yes, The Audacity of Hope.” Barack, your dreams are big and inspiring, but are they attainable? Linus makes it to the balcony every time, will you?

Linus is the younger of the two, the one who probably has more life left in him. But there is something to be said for the indifference that can only come with age that Lucy has acquired. In reality, how much can and should be done with the problems in other countries. Isn't there something to be said for sitting on the arm of the couch, watching sunbeams drift across the living room, rousing only to demand more food? But, Linus' persistence is admirable. As the Obama posters and slogans assault me as I walk through my neighborhood, so is Linus' little nose literally in my face every morning, approximately 2 hours before I would like to wake up. He gets the job done though and I get up to give him food every time.

I sit here, looking at my cats and I am torn. I could not possibly say which of them I love more. But, if the future of my country depended on it would Lucy’s aloofness trump Linus’ figure eights that I trip over every morning. I can’t possibly say. And maybe the real decision lies in what my cats would think of the candidates. And ultimately it will probably come down to: Who will clean the litter box.

$15 and a dream: proud to be an American

2008-05-23T19:29:00.003-04:00

I went down to the courthouse yesterday to pick up some forms to fill out so I could file a complaint against my landlord for not reimbursing me for bedbug costs.
I ended up suing him.
Who knew it was so easy? Not me. I didn't even take any of my receipts or paperwork because I figured I would have a bunch of papers to fill out and I would rather do it at home. But when I went to get info about they said I had to file a small claims suit. So I went to get the paperwork for that. Anyway, it's just one form where you just say what you're suing for, you pay your $15 and then that's it. My court date is June 25th.
I ended up adding other bedbug-related costs to the lawsuit. I just wanted him to reimburse me for the cost of the extermination which was a little over $400. But if I'm gonna file a lawsuit I figure I'd go all out. I had to buy a new bed, new pillows, the expensive mattress cover etc. So I put all that in too.
So that was yesterday AND I joined the Y. It was a pretty busy day which is why I justified sleeping...baaassically until 2 o'clock today.
Actually the sleeping too much is a little out of control, as it usually is, but it's making me too lethargic so I'm trying to snap out of it. Unfortunately, I have the self-control of an infant....but I'll try anyway.
I need a craft project for unemployment times. I've been reading a lot though. Currently I am reading a book about traumatic brain injury, which is interesting but I don't recommend because I am concerned that I and everyone I love will get brain injured and pretty much be screwed forever. I'm going to start encouraging people to wear a helmet while driving. And also while walking. And also while at home. Most accidents happen in the home. Stay safe. Keep your brain happy.

I am psychic

2008-05-09T18:38:00.004-04:00

For the following reasons:
One, I was JUST writing about the Duggars and now they are having their 18th kid!! Love it!
Why so many kids? Why?
In the above picture they only have 14 kids.
All of their names start with J. Most of them aren't too bad except for poor Jinger. For some reason that spelling makes me think of a vaginal infection.

Two: I had a dream that I would get this job. Which would be great if it wasn't like an hour commute. Day after I had the dream, they called for an interview. Today I had the interview and basically have the job if I want it. More on that later, but I need to get some house cleaning done b/c my seester is coming tomorrow.

mini-update.

2008-05-04T22:08:00.003-04:00

I am obsessed with this blog One D at a time.
She posted today about the Schappell twins, and I highly recommend you read the post. Everything she writes about these twins is stuff I would say, and thus I believe provides immense insight into the core of my being. Seriously. I don't even know how to articulate that I think that my interest in freaks is possibly one of my most defining characteristics. Also, I just enjoy the blog in general so you should read it.
I have too many thoughts to blog about...but yes, the rumors are true, I am done with graduate school. Mostly I am just drained and confused and looking for a job, and there is too much to say about all of it blog about.
So I will write about my embarrassing political ignorance. Obama won the caucus in Guam. Guam has a caucus? Does that mean they have an election? Do they have electorates? They are not a state...does that mean Puerto Rico votes too? I do not understand. I am so woefully ignorant about all of this that it's shameful. This is the same thing that happened when I realized I could name all of the Duggar children and no one on the supreme court. I know all of this information about these conjoined twins and apparently nothing about our democratic process.
Ugh.
Also, I have a commentary about message board speak. Recently I have become personally offended by words I dislike (baby bump, snark, etc.). It turns out that that includes message board speak. I enjoy a LOLcat as much as the next girl. I can even slightly deal with things like "Pwned" etc. What I do not like are terms that they use on the weight watchers message boards as well as other message boards I have seen. DH=dear husband. DD=Dear daughter and so on. wtf? who would say that in real life. I think it makes the people who write that seem condescending and obnoxious. I'm getting angry just thinking about the type of person I imagine who would ever refer to their spouse as "my dear husband". I just got a little nauseous thinking that some people probably even say "dear hubby". Sick. I can't handle it. Why is it so distressing to me? No idea.
In happy news....blog readers will be pleased to note that because I am done with school and placement that I have re-entered unemployment. Can we look forward to another 6 months where Caitlin does nothing but watch cartoons, make crafts and write blogs about her thoughts?! We can only hope. But I think we would all agree that my blogs are best when I don't have a job, so get geared up.