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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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?

Small Items

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

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!

TV endorses all of your vices

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

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.

Roommate Fail

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

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.

Another lawsuit?!

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.