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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He writes "close door".

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

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

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

Finally he writes something like "Miss gone bike"

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

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

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

adventures in stand up

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

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

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

That's about it on the homefront.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There you go, mister.

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

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

Measles Mumps Rubella

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.

i read with every broken heart we should become more adventerous

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.

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

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.

ok, ok, i'll update

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.

Fair warning

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.

god pity the damage of calamity jane

If you're reading this, you know that the url is caitastrophejane. I think I'm really funny, you see, because it's like Calamity Jane. And Jane is my middle name. And then Caitastrophe is like Caitlin and Catastrophe. I think I'm soooo clever. I did not really know much about Calamity Jane, I just thought it was kind of badass. But, I just finished reading Deadwood by Pete Dexter, which is the book the series Deadwood was based on.
Calamity Jane in that book is a sad tomato. She's obsessed with Wild Bill and he just ignores her. She claims to have been married to him but no one can find any proof. She cries a lot. In real life, she was apparently immune to smallpox and went around nursing people who were sick. In the book there is an implication that she is actually a carrier of the disease, because about 2 weeks after she shows up anywhere there is an outbreak. She's not happy unless she is taking care of other people, and somewhat paradoxically, she is described as mannish. Granted, she's not going to win any beauty contests.
But I'm pretty crushed by this whole revelation. I thought she was all a wearing man clothes, fightin the red man, gun slingin', whiskey swillin, hitching post at the saloon, don't-fuck-with-me, wild west broad. Turns out she was just as much of a sniffling sad sack as the rest of us.

I'm told that her character in Deadwood the series is slightly less pathetic, but obviously, none more attractive. She looks like a bag lady and she's sloppy drunk the whole time. According to something that I came across in my ongoing efforts to find some CJ redeeming qualities I also learned that in Season 3 they make her gay. Of course. Because someone who looks like that could never be straight. I mean, really, what man would want her? Not Wild Bill. And that dude even had gonorrhea.

What a disappointment.

If she lived now, what would be her modern equivalent?