Dig Duggars

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.

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!

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

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

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

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

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

I'm not big on social graces

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

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

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

Updates and Thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He writes "close door".

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

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

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

Finally he writes something like "Miss gone bike"

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

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

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

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

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

adventures in stand up

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

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

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

That's about it on the homefront.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There you go, mister.

I got Brooklyn blowing up

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

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

Notice to Chivalrous Men

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

Words I would like to be retired

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

That's all I can think of for now.

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

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

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

a girl's best friend is in the service industry

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

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

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

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

I used to be Team Jack...

But now I'm totes Team Sawyer.



They ain't my people, hoss.


Also, this is my 100th post on blogger.

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

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

Everyone has an Office Space day sometimes

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




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

2.25 hours of actual work today. Not too bad.

sports theater

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