a girl's best friend is in the service industry

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

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

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

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

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.

this apartment is starving for an argument

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?

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

This Blog.

Your own personal hell

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?