Small Bus To Hell

Be Afraid. . .

2006-08-24T16:05:00.000-05:00

Be very afraid. The small bus ladies are preparing for CheezFest 2006. Stay Tuned. . .

Happy Birthday My Friend!!!

2006-06-13T10:58:00.000-05:00

Today is E's birthday. Today my good friend officially becomes what she refers to as a 30 something. So welcome to being a 30 something my friend. I don't have much to offer you in terms of a present but what I have is a wish for you.

This past year has not been easy. You have had your heart broken repeatedly. Been forced to move but in the process found a fantastic apartment. You were forced out of a job you hated but the Devils own and found a job that is everything you hoped it would be and more.

I hope that you upcoming move brings you more opportunities and more happiness than you ever imagined. I wish that you continue to enjoy your job. You are good at what you do and as your friend it is nice to see you finally get the recognition you deserve.

This year my wish for you is that your every dream comes true. They may not come true today or tomorrow but i know that each turn you take will lead you closer to that dream. I hope that you know you are a wonderful person who is loved by many. Even if stupid boys don't realize how great you are the people that matter most do.

So Happy Birthday my friend, may this year be better than the last!
Love,
Mel

What a long, strange trip it's been...

2006-05-05T09:16:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I realized that today marks one year since I found out BWBMH was still in love with The Other Girl.

The only reason I know the exact date, btw, is because we were at a Cinqo di Mayo event when he told me. (Well, it was less of an event than "a bar with random Mexican shit thrown around promoting Corona in honor of Cinqo di Mayo," but it was definitely May 5th.)

I thought about how much pain I felt that night, how I cried non-stop for what seemed like years, and how I probably should have cut him loose right there and then, but didn't. We continued this weird, wild roller coaster ride of friendship (Or "friendship" if you prefer) for months. He even broke my heart a couple more times, believe it or not, because I let him.

This month, The Other Girl is moving here to be with him. They're going to try it out and see what happens. I've spent so much time villanizing her in all of this (though she is not without her faults, believe me), and expended so much energy hating on someone I don't even know. And for what? He's not with me, he's with her. Me hating her and wishing she'd break up with him isn't going to bring him to me, so why bother?

Especially since I don't want him anymore.

A lot has happened in the last year - I changed jobs, apartments/roommates, and my outlook on a lot of things. I'm in a much better place personally and professionally than I've been in ages. Every thing I've been through over the last year has helped me realize that I deserve so much better than what he could offer me.

In retrospect, I'd like to believe that he felt something for me. And I think that if he hadn't still been attached to The Other Girl maybe, just maybe, it would've happened for us. Part of me feels as though I have to believe that, though, just to prove to myself that I wasn't insane. But in the end, he can't give me what I need, and probably never will.

So where does that leave us? Good question. We don't talk much anymore. Ever, really. Last summer/fall, he and I saw each other a couple of times a month, either because we had tickets for an event or we just wanted to grab dinner/beers. But I stopped asking, and since he never asks, I haven't seen him since a mutual friend was in town. In January.

I'm not going to lie and say I don't miss him. I do. For all of his faults (and there are many), he is one of the funniest, smartest, sarcastic, entertaining people I know. And that's saying something. He's also, when he wants to be, one of the kindest, sweetest, and most loyal people out there. When you're in his good graces, he'd lie down in traffic for you.

I'd like to believe that if it came down to it, he'd still lie in traffic for me. But I just don't know anymore.

Part of me will always love him and want the best for him. And it would be great if we were somehow able to manuever our way back to being friends. But for now, I know in my heart that he's not the one for me.

And I'm ok with it. Really.

E-

Stick a fork in me, I am done!

2006-04-12T12:11:00.000-05:00

I am all done. Officially, truly ALL DONE! I have waited, I have begged, I have pleaded & I have made deals with the gods, the angels & the devils. I have changed the shape of my body, the color of my hair, some of my opinions, a good portion of my wardrobe and I am all done!!

I guess I don’t understand why this dating/relationship thing is so difficult or why it has to be such a fucking game. I don’t think that asking for someone who would be willing to stand up with me & for me is so fucking hard. Yet it seems like my quest for the perfect jeans; pointless & futile.

Trust me I have fallen in love and fallen out of love. I have had my heartbroken by some of the best and worst men you could ever imagine. From Dave who loved me with all his heart and taught me that there was truth to the song “Sometimes Love Aint Enough” to Kyle who broke me in ways that even now I am still coming to terms with. Each Ex has taught me something about myself. They have shown me the type of person I am and the type of person I want to become.

I have tried not to be needy, clingy or a bitch. Good lord have I tried. I have toned down the sarcasm, turned on the charm and everything in between. I have given to the point where I had nothing left of myself and taken just as much from other people. I have forsaken my friends, embraced my enemies, fallen gotten up & gotten over it. Yet the story is always the same you are a great girl BUT, she, her, it.

I would love to know who the fuck is she? What is so fucking special about her? And why am I always first loser? Why am I the one you turn to when you need a shoulder to cry on or a confidant but She is the one who gets to hold your hand & kiss you goodnight?

Now trust me I am no angel either I have been that girl in a boys past that haunts him, the one he loved that didn’t love him back. I have been the bad breaker-upper that just stopped talking and frankly, just stopped caring. To all of those boys, I am truly sorry. To all of the girls whose hearts those boys broke because of me, I am truly & deeply sorry. Can you guys PLEASE take the pins out of the voodoo doll now?

Last Thursday I became a human pin cushion subjecting my shoulder to a cortisone shot that really fucking hurt & didn’t fucking work. On Friday I was told that there are some changes coming at my job that scare the shit out of me even if certain people (Mardonis) tell me I have nothing to worry about. As if that wasn’t enough for one person in a two day period this past Saturday I had to drive to NH and say good-bye to my Austin. My puppy boy who had been with me & my family for the last 12 ½ years.

I have great friends and I know that they have my back even when I am an absolute ASS and even when I am wrong. I should be happy with where I am in my life right now. I am employed, healthy and things in my life are going really well right now. For all of these things I am truly greatful, I am. No offense or disrespect to my friends but when all was said & done this past week I felt like I went through it all alone. At the end of the day when I hung up the phone & put my head on my pillow there was no one there with a promise of tomorrow.

A Small Bus Saturday Night

2006-03-28T11:17:00.000-05:00

****phone rings****
M- What are you doing tonight
E- Nothing
M- Wanna go someplace local & grab a few drinks?
E- Sure
M- I am driving back from seeing Uncle Larry (not to be confused with Cousin Larry) I will call you when I get home

****phone rings****
M- What's up?
E- I posted on my live journal about the cootchie spray and guess who commented that she uses it?
M- Dirty Cootch Ratzo herself?
E- laughing hysterically I laughed for like 10 minutes after I read that.
M- Figures she would use it
E- No joke. Wanna meet a Tin Alley tonight? it is karaoke night
M- Sure say around 9/9:30

Somehow I got lost on my way to Tin Alley & drove a total of 20 minutes out of the way but whatever I was going to see bad karaoke. SO I get to the Bar at the same time as E and we walk in together & then I hear it. I hear the sound of what I think is someone trying to sing what was at one point in time The Eagles.

As if things could get any better E & I were approximately 3 drinks in when a girl steps up to the mike. E has her money on Stevie Nicks. I on the other hand was going for Britney. Suddenly from out of nowhere this chick comes out with "Move bitch, get out the way." This caused both E & I to erupt in laughter.

What did we do when our laughter subsided? We rewrote what will happen during the battle of the century. That being the battle between DC Ratzo and E that is slated to take place in a few short weeks. It should go something like this:

E will spot DC Ratzo & the BWBMH on the street. E will go up to DC Ratzo smack her upside the and shout "MOVE BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY!" That will be my cue to grab my cell phone & dial our friend N to tell her "Goo goo it is mother fucking on." and then put her on speakerphone while cowering in fear under my kevlar vest.

At this point E will being to pummel DC Ratzo's frizzy fringe jacket, beer belt buckle wearing cootchie spray using ass into the ground. N & I will laugh hysterically. The police will come, the lawyer we at small bus have on retainer will and come bail out E. The lawyer will then represent E and get her off without so much as a fine cause honestly who could really have a problem with the shit being kicked out of DC Ratzo?

Once we had planned the attack on DC Ratzo Kip got up and instead of singing I love Technology he sang something that went like this "Cat. . .. Cradle. . .Moon. . . .Soon." and we decided to call it a night. I know you are all sad you missed it.

M

I gotta go, It's on

2006-03-24T12:26:00.000-05:00

Last night E & I had plans to attend a girls night out event in Boston. We thought our plans were fool proof. We had both gotten out of work early to ensure we would be able to get there on time & find a place to park. Makes sense, No?

Well it did until we arrived at our destination and saw the line. Good Lord the line! It was out the door & down the street. I had flashbacks to John Stewart but what did I care look how that turned out! Plus Goody Bags!! Goody Bags of any sort are like gold but give a girl a goody bag filled with beauty products & you will be worshiped like a God.

E & I were determined that we would not be denied our goodie bags! So we drove around & around & around some more. At one point we didn’t even really know where we were but we had a general idea. Somewhere in the maze of up streets, down streets, South End Resident Parking Only, bus stops & fire hydrants we gave up on ever getting our goody bags and headed for the bar.

If you are wondering why we went to a bar on a school night you must be a new reader. If you have been one of the few (3) that have read us since the beginning you understand. How could we go home? We didn’t have a blog entry yet!

After parking my red neck mobile (another story TRUST me) in the alleged $9.00 garage we got lost. We got lost attempting to walk out of the parking garage. It is one thing to get lost trying to find the car after you have been drinking but we were stone cold sober & we got lost. We couldn’t even pretend we were cars!!!

Finally we got to the bar & order food & E made sure to order me a HUGE ASS Rasberry Stoli & Sprite NFL*. After we ate our dinner we hung out at the bar & watch basketball while stalking people for actually seats. Initially we were leaving after we finished our current glasses of poison, then we got seats so we had to get one more. Since it was so early & it was only costing us $9 to park we could then stay for JUST ONE MORE.

At some point in the evening Erica and I began threatening to “Take our earrings out.” Then we decided the “It was fucking on.” Or better yet “Goo goo it’s on.” are among some of the best phrases in the world. All of this while discussing the many ways she would kick DC Ratzo’s ass the night we go to see Dane Cook. My job while she is whipping DC Ratszo around by her hair is to hide under my Kevlar vest & call N on speakerphone so she can hear all about it.

The very mention of N’s name while drinking then had us in hysterics. See when N drinks by the end of the night sentences come out a one big long slurred word. For example, “Ineedtogopee” or my personal favorite “Iwantaspinachbagelwithherbgarliccreamcheese!” Both E & I are fluent in drunken N speak the people at the bar had NO idea what in the hell was so damn funny.

After the LSU victory we made our way back to the red neck mobile. Laughing hysterically because if reversing our steps didn’t work we were totally going to pretend we were cars & walk up the ramp. We made it with much giggling but we made it. We drove to the exit & E hands me $5 because if you remember we were in the $9 garage. Only it wasn’t $9 for us it was $30. For a moment we considered contacting an attorney to sue for false advertising.

How did you spend your Thursday?

*NFL- No Fucking Lime

OUCH!

2006-03-21T12:23:00.000-05:00

Apparently when you finally come clean and tell people that you have been living in chronic pain for several years/months they think you are strange. Go figure!

Some background:

Some time ago back in the days of flannel shirts and Birkenstocks in a land
we will refer to as college I injured my shoulder. BADLY. So badly in
fact I was unable to move my arm for about a month and after the month was
up I could move my arm but not without pain. But since I was living in the
time of the flannel shirts and Birkenstocks participating in better living
through chemistry was not a problem for me.

Over the years I have had ups and downs as far as my shoulder is concerned.
There have been periods where all was right with the world and I had no
pain what-so-ever. Then I have had months upon months of pain. Not really a
blinding pain all the time. It is more of a feeling that you have a major muscle cramp in your
shoulder blade & you cant get it to stop. After a while it turns into a dull ache and then you just tune it out.

Today:
I finally decided to do the grown up thing & go to the Doctor. My Doctor took one look at me handed me a prescription for Vicodin & referred me to an orthopedist & made the appointment for an MRI. . . the next day! The appointment with the ortho doc went like this; your shoulder tissues are incredibly inflamed, take these drugs, do some PT and come back in a month so I can give you a referral to an orthoscopic surgeon. WTF?!????

The taking of the drugs last all of 1 week. First of all they didn't help. Secondly they made me crazy. I already have a pass to ride the crazy train I don't need any extra help. Thanks! The PT is a joke. A waste of my time. Hours of my life that I am never gonna get back. Even my PT agrees. Again with the WTF!! So now I am sitting here in pain waiting for my follow up appointment so I can get a big needle jabbed into my shoulder and then book my surgery.

Why am I planning on surgery? Here is the thing; I, am sick to death of being in pain. I want to be able to swim & not regret it for DAYS on end. I want to be able to ride my mountain bike on kick ass trails without pre-gaming with the Advil first. Bottom line: I want my life back.

If that isn't enough, in 2 more years I may not have my cushy job with paid sick leave & kick ass insurance so my friends the time is upon us & I the girl who would rather live in pain then go to the Dr's am most likely going under the knife. God help us each & every one cause there is nothing worse than a stubborn sick person.

And apparently my shoulder thing is catchy & expands to arms as well since E has gone & pinched a nerve in her left arm. Apparently now we are both to be on pain meds!

Hanky Panky is no good!

2006-03-10T14:08:00.000-05:00

So we at Small Bus went on a road-trip to NYC the other day. We had tickets to a taping of The Daily Show on Tuesday, and - being the dedicated employees we are - we decided to take two days off and spend the night.

In typical Small Bus fashion, it was out of control.

We headed out on Tuesday morning. M drove because the visions of shopping til we dropped and trying to shove all of our purchases onto a train or bus were not pretty. On the way down to NY, we stopped for gas in Podunk, CT. M pulled up to the pump, which had a looooooovely handwritten sign on it announcing that credit/debit cards weren't working, and that you had to go inside to pay with cash. While M hit the ATM, E attempted to purchase a Coke. She promptly paid $1.50 to the toothless Pakistani man who was either hitting on her or practicing his English. It started out innocently enough with a "working hard, or hardly working?" but then progressed to "how's your honey? Is he happy?" and culminated with "if he's not happy get yourself another -a doctor or a lawyer. Hanky-panky is no good!" E thanked him for his (unsolicited, creepy) advice and ran back out to the car. Meanwhile, M attempted to purchase gas from E's new BFF, but was told that not only did the pumps not take credit cards, they were empty. We had stopped at the gas station with no gas - ironic, no? So M drove the half mile up the road to a less-ironic station.

The rest of the drive itself was uneventful, and we arrived in NYC unscathed. We promptly checked into the hotel, changed, and headed out to the Daily Show studios. E wanted to be sure we got there (insanely) early because they overbook the show, and it's first-come, first-served. M was a very good sport about standing in line for 2 hours in the cold, though, and our patience was rewarded because it was an awesome experience.

After the taping finished, we headed back to the hotel to change and decided to go to Little Italy for some yummy Italian food.

Right about here is where we should point out that we had two purposes in our trip: 1)seeing The Daily Show, and 2)getting some good deals on "designer" purses. M's mom told us that the trick is to head to Canal Street and be nice to them, so they'll take you out back for the good stuff. Let us just tell you: being nice? Is not necessary AT ALL because they find you. M was a magnet. Every runner in a 3 block radius found us, including the twee Asian man (TAM) who approached her when we went to Little Italy.

We followed TAM for 3 blocks or so, the whole time trying to decide if we were going to be the inspiration for a "ripped from the headlines" episode of Law & Order. When TAM lead us to an office building of some sort, unlocked the door and headed up the stairs, E turned to M and announced, "oh we are SO gonna be on the news!" But TAM had said the magic words ("Coach" and "Louis Vuitton") and by god, we were going to see this through to it's (possibly blood-filled) end. The good news is that there was a sign listing a "medical examiner" on one floor of the building, so at least they'd know how to handle the organs they harvested from us. And they'd know right away that our livers weren't worth anything.

So we climbed up the stairs after TAM, who led us to a plywood office of sorts on the third floor. He opened one of the doors, and it was filled with just about every purse you could imagine. TAM also had Tiffany's necklaces and bracelets. We looked through all of his stuff, (and I do mean all of it), picked out a couple of things, and attempted to leave.

It was then that we were accosted by a Tourette's patient. Just as the first door closed, a second one opened and we heard, "miss! one more!" We turned and there was yet another room full of purses. M was looking at a cute Gucci bag, and before she could even decide if she wanted it, TP was shouting "you take it home! you take it home! you take it home!" over and over again. She had it in the bag and ready to go before M knew what was happening. Finally, M agreed to buy it just to shut her up. There was one more secret door, but as we were out of money, we were able to get out of there without buying anything else. We headed to dinner.

After dinner (and a couple of glasses of wine), E called a friend of hers and left an incoherent message rambling about a small Asian man, purses, and organ harvesting. She got a message back saying, "you did what with a small Asian man? call me back!"

Wednesday morning, we woke up and headed back out into the city. We grabbed breakfast at a diner, and then went shopping. At one point, we were fairly certain that we HAD been gutted the night before, because there were so many shoe stores, we didn't know where to turn. We wondered if maybe we'd died and gone to Shoe District heaven.

After doing some legitimate shopping where M bought out Sephora, we decided to head back to Canal Street to finish getting the purses on M's list. (In addition to giving us the heads up about Canal Street, M's mom had a list of things she wanted.) So we walked around a bit, but didn't see anything we wanted, until the shopgirl at one stand asked what we were looking for and whipped out a laminated menu of purses. It was as simple as choosing which value meal you wanted, and we were done.

Until? Another runner found M. And because we are incapable of saying no, we had to stop at the ATM because we were once again out of cash. And we once again found ourselves in a weird office building. This time, the doors were locked from the inside, and only a secret knock would get us in. We bought a couple more bags and headed out. As we were leaving, we once again heard, "miss! Miss! one more!" We followed her in through the legitimate store front and watched as she rapped on the wall behind the magic scarves. She pushed open a hidden door that lead to a room the size of a bedroom closet, and we once again opened up our wallets and bought more crap.

When all was said and done, we ended up with three garbage bags full of purses, wallets, and belts. Because she is a giver, M bought stuff for other people. E, however, is a selfish bitch and is keeping it all for herself.

We jumped in a cab with our booty and headed back to Times Square. We got to about three blocks away when M started shouting, "Dr. Ruth, Dr. Ruth!" E turned and saw this cute little old lady and said, "wow, she does look like Dr. Ruth!" And then the cute little old lady opened her mouth and E realized that it WAS Dr. Ruth! She was trying to get into a cab, and was looking to see if ours was empty. We exchanged a look and said, "oh, we SO have to give Dr. Ruth our cab!" and we got out. She was very cute and very grateful, and we figure that we now have good sex karma for at least a while. Because if giving up your cab to Dr. Ruth doesn't mean you get good sex karma, then what the hell does?

We dragged our tired asses and our packages up a couple of blocks and stopped for lunch. By the time we finished our food, we'd given up hope of doing anything more than walking up to Times Square to get a cab back to the hotel. (And yes, we were total princesses who take cabs everywhere - what of it?) Which is precisely what we did. We loaded up M's car when the valets brought it back and headed home, tired and pretty effing broke. But having had a great time.

And once the fall purses are out? You can bet your ass we'll do it again.

Happy VD Day

2006-02-14T12:01:00.000-05:00

In honor of VD day (which is the preferred nickname around here for today's greeting card holiday), I give you an oldie-but-goodie ode to the hunt for every girl's ideal boyfriend, Jake Ryan.

*Le Sigh*

Enjoy!

E-

Worn Down

2006-01-30T15:03:00.000-05:00

Well, since M posted her life-altering song of the moment, I'm going to follow suit. (No one ever accused me of being original.)

The short version of the on-going saga w/BWBMH is this: his ex is moving here in a couple of months to be closer to him. She pushed for us to get together two months ago, then decided she really wanted him for himself about two weeks ago. (And yes, that really is the Cliffs Notes version of things boiled down into two sentences. M and Mete will back me up on this, because they've heard it all for the last couple of months. In painful detail.) He emailed me to tell me about her decision, I told him she's full of shit and wished him luck. (Well, it was more complicated/involved/weird than that, but we'll stick to the watered down version of things for now, k?)

Sunday I was headed back home after a road trip, thinking about how insane things have gotten, when I heard this song, and I almost drove off the road.

The part that got me the most?

She’s so pretty.
She’s so damn right.
But I’m so tired of thinking about her, again, tonight.

For the last several months, everything I've done/thought/felt has been tainted by this psycho relationship triangle I've landed myself in. And it's so freaking unhealthy. I'm getting better about letting it go, believe me, but it's still really difficult. Aside from the Love-with-a-capital-L that I felt for him, he is, ultimately, my friend, and it's painful to watch someone you care about beat their head against a brick wall. Which is what this all adds up to, really, because she's truly a master when it comes to fucking with his emotions. Things aren't going so well for her? She's all over him. But the minute things are going pretty well for her, she's all "BWBMH who?"

But I really have to embrace the fact that it is not. my. problem. I've made my feelings known about their relationship, but I also know that he needs to see this through til its bitter (and most-likely very ugly) end. Despite the fact that he seems to still want me around and he trusts my opinion (to the point where he essentially ASKED me to dump all over this), I don't know if I can sit back and watch him go through it. If I'm honest with myself, though, the answer is no. I just have to be strong and not let sentimental feelings rule my actions.

SO much easier said than done, though.

Gone - she’s gone.
How do you feel about it?
That’s what I thought.
You’re real torn up about it.
And I wish you the best
But I could do without it
And I will because you’ve worn me down
Oh, I will because you’ve worn me down

So much word to that.

E-

It Ends Tonight

2006-01-30T10:51:00.000-05:00

This weekend was an interesting one in my life. It boils down to this Stapler Boy (AKA George Costanza) and I are all sorts of done. It boils down to this he called me Friday night to get me to meet up with him later at his place and I said no. I had a pretty big event I helped organize on Saturday evening and I still had a ton of work that needed to be taken care of on Saturday morning. He was not pleased by this turn of events but I gave him the option if you want to see me you can drive out here.

I then went out to a local watering hole with my roommate who was actually home enjoying a rare weekend off. How ironic was it that at the bar across the street one of Stapler Boy’s companies was sponsoring an event! I sent him a text & told him just that. We went back & forth via text for a while. Clearly he was bored to death at his wine event. Then he calls to tell me he is on the Mass Pike and headed my way. I was in a word elated.

45 minutes later he called as was the plan and one of our cell phones dropped the call. Since I was afraid he would end up lost in the lovely city of Worcester I called him back & he being the adult he is did not answer his phone. Instead I got a text message “Got mixed up & turned around and went home. No need for the phone calls.” Needless to say I was a little angry. Per usual I pushed my own anger aside to try to fix the situation & offered to drive out to Boston.

My roommate & I were ready to head home so I dropped her off, grabbed a bag and made it a third of the way into Boston when this song came on:

Your subtleties
They strangle me
I can’t explain myself at all.
And all that wants
And all that needs
All I don’t want to need at all.

The walls start breathing
My minds unweaving
Maybe it’s best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.

When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight
It ends tonight.

A falling star
Least I fall alone.
I can’t explain what you can’t explain.
You're finding things that you didn’t know
I look at you with such disdain

The walls start breathing
My minds unweaving
Maybe it’s best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.

[Chorus]
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight wont make this right
It’s too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.

Now I’m on my own side
It’s better than being on your side
It’s my fault when you're blind
It’s better that I see it through your eyes

All these thoughts locked inside
Now you’re the first to know

And when the song ended I turned around and went home. Friday night any hope I was holding on to for a future with Stapler Boy ended.

M.

FYI- The song is "It Ends Tonight" bt The All American Rejects

Insight into the male mind

2006-01-25T16:00:00.000-05:00

Last night, I went out to dinner with my friend N, her former roommates D & K, and BWBMH. (The ramifications of spending time with BWBMH are detailed here, and if you want to yell at me about it all, well, just get in line.)

So D told N and I about the girl he's been seeing for the last 8 months. N asked him if he was going to break her heart. His answer? "Probably."

Now, being a female member of the species, I was fascinated by his logic. It seems the two times he's been in love, he felt it instantly, only for it to burn out almost as quickly. So despite the fact that he is not the least bit in love with her yet, and the fact that if given the choice between saving his dog or her in a fire, he'd choose the dog (which, ok, I can't necessarily fault him for that - his dog is awesome), he's going to "keep trying." He's giving it another 4 months, which means that just when she's expecting a ring, she'll be getting her walking papers.

N and I tried to explain that concept to him, and he admitted that he felt badly about it. They don't fight, they don't say they love each other, they just ... are.

But then came the icing on the passive-aggresive cake: rather than all of a sudden being a dick to her and picking fights, or being a grown-up and telling her the truth, he thought maybe he could PAY SOMEONE and try to get her to cheat on him, and thus break up with her guilt-free. Sadly, I think he was only half kidding.

And see, shit like this is precisely why men and women will never understand each other. Men are stupid, women are crazy, and rarely shall the two meet.

I am seriously considering buying a cat.

E-

Late Night Cooking with Mel & other Misadventures

2006-01-23T13:30:00.000-05:00

Friday night was in a word an experience. You see E made the trek out to the middle of no where and joined me in saying welcome home to The Working Girl & the House Boy. This involved a few of us meeting up at one of my local watering holes. Now this particular bar is attached to a pizza shop. I realize that in and of itself is not a big deal but I should probably tell you that the pizza shop is in the middle of a strip mall. E was going along with this thinking well OK this is going out in the country and being a good sport.

Then we pulled up in front of the aforementioned strip mall to see a white limo waiting outside. Apparently that wasn’t a large enough sign that we should turn around and run so we went inside. To run smack dab into the woman with the hair. When I tell you that E & I stared at this 11th wonder for well over 45 minutes that would not be an exaggeration. As if that wasn’t enough for us to work with; right next the woman with the hair was the cheesiest bacehelorette party ever. Complete with plastic penis necklaces for all of the participants. The limo was apparently for them.

So there we sat chatting to The House Boy, The working Girl & Doug E Fresh when Ricardo walks in and announce the table “Welcome to the Slut Universe!” Then he wanted to know if the smell in the establishment was “. . .more hairspray or halibut?” Honest to God I almost pissed my pants. The night progressed from there and it just kept getting ugly.

First of all it is not my fault if Stapler Boy is short, fat & bald. What can I say I accept assholes from all walks of life & in all shapes & sizes. I can not believe that they did not have Kanye; we wanted nay we needed some gold digger!!!! Damn House Boy probably missed it cause he was all drunk. Oh and can someone PLEASE explain to me why in the world the woman with the boobs that could double as knee pads was not wearing a bra? Honest to God she should have been wearing 2. Cause that shit aint right.

We stayed at this little local watering hole mocking the locals & making fun of my bad taste in men until about 130 then we headed to our respective houses. On the way home I decided I wanted pizza damn it!! So I stopped at the 24 hour gas station with a store attached & bought myself a frozen pizza. When I got home I turned the oven on & waited for it to beep so I knew it was significantly pre-heated. Then I put my pizza in the oven. While I was waiting for my late night delicacy I went back to the couch to watch Law & Order re-runs. Then I fell asleep.

Fast Forward to 5:30 AM when I wake up and my first thought is “Dude WHAT is that funk?” Then I thought “OH FUCK THE PIZZA!!!” Now NONE of the smoke alarms in the house were going off cause there was no smoke only this stench. So I did what any good drunk would do. Turned on the vent, turned off the oven, opened the sliding glass doors & went back to bed.

When I got up at 7:00AM the funk was unbelievable. I lit every candle I could find and thankfully since it was 60 degrees out I left all the windows open, all day. At that point the molten rock had cooled & could be removed from the oven. On Sunday I got up & repeated the entire process all over again. By 5:00 PM the funk had almost dissipated.

Apparently I am why we can not have nice things!

M-

I'm movin' on up . . .

2006-01-16T16:27:00.000-05:00

Right now I am betting at least 1 person read that in their little mind went to the Eastside and you now have the theme song to The Jeffersons stuck in their heads. If that happened to you stop reading now, my work here is done.

I work in a pretty casual office and over that last few months I have really made an effort to wear some of my nicer clothes to work saving my jeans & docs for Fridays. I went so far this morning as to put on makeup for work. Thanks to the genes my mother, the raving portugue, has blessed me with I can leave the house without makeup & totally pull it off. My makeup bag consists of primarily eye makeup and RARELY if ever to I wear foundation or blush. To me wearing make-up to work seems like a waste of some really good product and I just can't justify it.

Per usual I am straying from my actual point. Ask anyone who knows me this happens all the time. So there I was sitting in my car (which I had to climb into thru the way back cause all the doors were frozen shut! Effing winter!) Wearing makeup & big girl clothes driving to work and then it happened, this song came on the radio:

I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness
For once I'm at peace with myself
I have been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long
I'm movin' on

I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong
I'm movin' on

I'm movin' on
At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone
There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone

I sold what I could and packed what I couldn't
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town
I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't
I had to lose everything to find out
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road
I'm movin' on

I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on

And I cried. I came into work looking like a raccoon playing dress-up that got run over by a trash truck. I hate it when that happens. I hate it even more that he can make me feel this way.

M-

For those that are interested the song is Rascal Flatts, I'm Movin' On.

Play it again Sam

2006-01-13T10:04:00.000-05:00

For some reason my life frequently sounds like a CD that is stuck. If I were to write my life story it would read like an urban legend. “Dude they found her car three days after the wreck and Stairway to Heaven was still playing.” My story of course being the song that never ends it just plays over and over.

Most times I find comfort in making the same mistakes at the same haunts. Part of me is so freaking petrified of change that is why I think I live my life on repeat. There is this other part of me that is just well stupid and I will never learn. And when I say stupid I mean a special kind of stupid.

That being said I went out to dinner last night with an old friend or ex whatever. He has a name but Erica & I were well drunk one night & she dubbed him Stapler Boy. The name it has kind of stuck. I should have cut off any and all communication with Stapler Boy as he was well an ass once upon a time but being me I of course didn’t which is how I ended up going out last night.

I have to tell you upfront that Stapler Boy is a ton of fun. He is as sarcastic and cynical as myself or Erica; maybe even more so. We always have a great time and I mean always. This is a guy that drove an hour and a half to hang out on my couch with me when I was in the throes of a migraine. He is also the guy that told me he was going to be really busy for the summer but he would get back in touch with me in October. It was right around then that Erica and I went out and she told me (and him) that she wanted to staple things to his head. Go figure!

Anyways back to me living my life on repeat. Last night I went out with Stapler Boy and I was less than hopeful. I was an absolute shit (with good reason) to him the last time we got together and our night was less than enjoyable. I can honestly tell you last night was different. Dinner was great and once we got settled the conversation was too. Honestly sometime over the course of our meal I was reminded of why I liked him so much in the first place.

After dinner we went to his new place so I could check it out and I was impressed. It was not at all what I was used to from him nor was it what I expected. It blew me away. And then he told me “I am only going to let you down again.”

So what is the point of this babbling nonsense you ask?

I like Stapler Boy but I am petrified of putting myself out there and once again being let down. His intentions are good and I do think he has a good heart. His priorities are his job, his job and oh yeah his job. I guess when he meets the right person he will be willing to change all that. In the meantime do I continue on the path I am on and hope that I am the right one and risk getting hurt again? Or do I cut and run now?

Truly that is more of a rhetorical question than anything. I know I need to cut and run now but for me part of the reason I live my life on repeat is because I have such a hard time letting go and saying goodbye. This time I really dont want to say goodbye, not yet.

M-

Work, work, work

2006-01-11T19:46:00.000-05:00

Things at the new job are going really well. I've been there about 6 weeks, and so far, I've not had one nervous breakdown.

This is an accomplishment, believe me.

I called my mom from work the other day, and she immediately thought something was wrong. I told her that no, nothing was wrong, I was just calling to ask her a question. She said, "oh my god, you have NO idea how nice it is to get a call from you in the middle of the day when you're not sobbing hysterically."

So yes. Things are vastly improved over the majority of my previous jobs. (And if they weren't, I'm not going to complain out loud, because no one wants to hear it from me anymore.)

Right now, I'm in the throes of my first program and working 1o hour days. Everything is going really smoothly, I'm just tired as hell. But it's a good tired.

Interestingly enough, the entire group is from Mexico. I? Took 5 years of french. It's not helpful at all.

Today, one of the women (a Senator) came over to ask me a question. She asked if I spoke spanish, and I said, "I know about three words." She asked me what three words I knew, and I smiled and said, "none I'm willing to repeat to a Senator." She laughed.

It's so nice to be happy at work. I'd totally forgotten what that's like.

E-

23 questions

2005-12-22T15:27:00.000-05:00

1. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? El D

2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be? Rod Stewart

3. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? Do I have to pick just one person? Fine, El D for a non-famous person, Oprah for a celebrity.

4. What is your favorite cheese? Cheddar

5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal....What sandwich would you want? Roast beef & cheddar

6. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie-celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once (they will never call you back). Who is it? Colin Farrell (I know, I surprised myself with that one, frankly. But I think it’s because I’d be too worried about catching something if I went back for more.)

7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Same rules as above. Who is it? Oh god, this is worse than Sophie’s Choice. Hmmm… Trent Reznor.

8. Now that you've slept with two different people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy crap, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it? Shoe money tonight! (I miss Sports Night)

9. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you going? Cancun

10. Upon arrival to the aforementioned location, you get off the plane and discover another hundred-dollar bill. Shit! What do you do with this one? Spend some quality time with Mr. Cuervo

11. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. "Be brand-specific" it says. Oh man, I guess Stoli Rasberry

12. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there?
I'm seeing a big lottery win...

13. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? No skinny biatches allowed!

14. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and what's the premise? Ooh, we did this already! Either “Keys” (the homeless person game), or “Bachelorettes on Hungry Hill”

15. What is your favorite expletive? Fuck (duh)

16. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren't really doing anything, they're just standing around your bed. What do you do? Freak the fuck out yo.

17. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don't worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what's the one thing you're going to save from that blazing inferno? Photos (but not the incriminating ones)

18. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be? The ability to read minds.

19. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit... you can move to anywhere else in the world! Bitchin'! What country are you going to live in now? France

20. This question still counts, even for those of you who are under age. Check it out. You have been eternally banned from every single bar in the world except for ONE. Which one is it gonna be? Oh man, I guess the Black Rose in Boston. But only if the hot bartender works there forever.

21. Hopefully you didn't mention this in the super-powers question.... If you did, then we'll just expand on that. Check it out... Suddenly, you have gained the ability to FLOAT!!! Whose house are you going to float to first, and be like "Dude check it out I can fucking FLOAT!"? M's house

22. The constant absorption of magical moonbeams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier have given you the ability to resurrect the dead famous-person of your choice. So which late celebrity will you bring back to life? Hmm, either Jeff Buckley or James Dean. I guess JB.

23. What's your theme song? "Welcome to the Jungle"

E-

A Very Moose-y Christmas

2005-12-16T20:12:00.000-05:00

My landlords have this moose skull on the garage. Whatever. It's weird, but harmless. Much like the landlords themselves. Yesterday, when I got home from work, I saw that they had put Christmas lights on the tree in the front yard, and had put a Christmas tree with colored lights near the porch. Cute, right? And I kind of giggled to myself about how amusing it would be if they strung lights from the moose antlers.

Tonight, I was walking up the driveway, when I saw it: They put. a green. light bulb. behind. the skull.

It glows. It's radioactive.

I totally stopped in my tracks. It's simultaneously the most awesome and terrifying thing I've ever seen in my life. It's awe-inspiring. I just thank christ that I can't see it from my window, because it would give me nightmares. Shit, I may STILL have nightmares about the damn thing.

I got to the top of my driveway and into my car, and I dialed M immediately. I was laughing so hard, I couldn't get the words out. I was all "moose...glowing...green...can't breathe." When I finally got out the entire story, she lost her shit. "giiirrrrrrl," she said, "you are living with rednecks. Seriously. I live in west bumblefuck, and there are no glowing mooseheads here." I'm totally going to have to invite everyone I know over to see this, because words cannot do it justice.

Radioactive. Moosehead.

Unreal.

E-

The Saga Continues. . .

2005-12-14T14:20:00.000-05:00

If you haven't read E's post about Friday night scroll down and begin the saga there.
All Set? Good.
Continue. . .

After I spent 3 effing hours YES THREE HOURS in my car fast & furiously text messaging Stapler Boy for what is normally a 45 minute drive I was pretty much all done as E explains so eloquently. Why did a 45 minute drive take me 3 hours you ask? Cause Mother Nature is a hormonal bitch that HATES me. That bitch dumped a foot of snow on Massachusetts & then for shits and giggles pounded us with winds like something out of a Discovery Channel special set on K2.

An aside to the asshat whom tried to pass me on the left when I was in the left hand lane & made me get out of my car to give him a talking to. Next time I am totally going to kick your ass! Seriously Lord Fuckwad I had someplace I needed to be to. So unless you have a dying relative you are rushing to see before they go or have some sort of medical emergency yourself. . . Wait in line dick smack! To answer your question, Yes, I got out of my car & said this to the unsuspecting man that was clearly raised by wolves.

After picking up E and promising her I would drive her home after the show, I proceeded to check into my hotel. This would be where the front desk clerk tells me "you have to talk to her" and points to some other poor unsuspecting girl. Then the first clerk walks away to make a personal fucking phone call! Leaving me literally holding a bag & looking like a dim wit. Since I work in customer service few things irritate me as much as horrible service. Needless to say this did not help my mood at all.

After arriving to the Garden by way of Jersey and the verbal war that ensued in the cab ride it was determined we were both far too stressed out to appropriately enjoy a Bon Jovi show. What did we do? We decided to hit a bar before hand for A DRINK. At least that was before some brain child (read me) decided we needed a shot. 2 shots & 2 mixed drinks later we headed to the show. As soon as we entered the venue we got food which cancelled out the booze we had just consumed. Don't believe me you do the math: booze + food= NO BUZZ. We then went up, up, up & away to our seats which E has already explained to y'all.

Once you read E's entry you will fully understand why we needed to leave the show early. Basically it sucked and we wanted our wasted youth back. Since we left the show early we (I) decided that we should hit a second bar & have a few more adult beverages to recover from the evening. We entered our second bar of the evening and behind the bar in the back that is where we found him.

He said his name was Eric. He is totally adorable in that I am 22 and a bartender sort of way. E & I ordered a round of drinks and a round of shots which seemed like a good idea at the time. We began to talk to Eric in that way E & I like to talk to our neighborhood friendly bartenders. Before long we knew he was single, wasn't really fond of blonds with big boobs because of the one who broke his heart. This however did not stop us from plotting to bring J back there & introduce her to Eric. We learned that he is in a 5 year program at a decent University in the Boston area and as if that wasn't enough. . .He totally knows my Uncle Larry. (Uncle Larry is a topic for many many more entries & is like a second father to me.)

While all of the talking was going on much was being drunk and it all contained a fair amount of booze. Keep in mind I had to get up at 6:00 AM to go to a dog show & show Jamaica. As E kept trying to remind me of this fact I kept repeating "I show Jamaica better hung over anyway." At around Midnight I decided I had had enough, primarily because I couldn't feel my tounge.

Remember how I mentioned previously I PROMISED E I would drive her home? I totally lied & handed her cab fare & then let her take the first cab we hailed.

About 30 minutes later my drunk ass was able to hail a cab for myself to get home in. Actually I wasn't the one who hailed the cab, that was the handiwork of the cute tourist couple who took pity on the drunk girl. If they hadn't let me take that cab I was totally going back to the bar to drink more. That? would not have been pretty.

I got back to my hotel at around 12:45 amazingly I did not wake up my mother whom I was staying with or anyone else in the hotel. When I got up at 6:00 AM I immediately began swilling Pepto followed by a ginger ale chaser. I managed to survive my day. Hell, I even managed to win with Jamaica; apparently I do show her better hungover.

Have a Nice Day…now kiss my ass!

2005-12-13T21:55:00.000-05:00

Friday night, M and I had tickets for the Bon Jovi concert in Boston. M and I are big Bon Jovi fans, however uncool that makes us. We’d been looking forward to the show for months.

Friday morning, we wake up to a snowstorm. No biggie, right? I mean, we live in New England, we’re only supposed to get 5 inches or so in Boston, we can handle it. M and I agreed that I would head home from work, grab my car, meet her at the hotel she was staying at, and we’d head in. It all sounds so simple, doesn’t it? And it would’ve been really, if it hadn’t all fallen spectacularly to shit.

So I get out of work a little before 5 and head over to the bus stop. And I wait. And I wait. And I wait some more. An HOUR later, a bus finally shows up. Because the entire world has been waiting, we are crowded onto this bus and feeling as though it’s the train to Auschwitz. Instead of 20 minutes, it takes me a forever to get home, where I find…

So much snow. Mother f*cking snow. My car was buried. The driveway was covered. And there was no way I could get my car out without shoveling the entire (very long, very steep, very cracked) driveway. I call M and tell her the situation. She tells me not to worry, because in the TWO HOURS she’s been in her car, she STILL hasn’t made it to the outskirts of Boston. (Normally, it’s about a 45-minute drive.) She tells me to take my time. I head upstairs, change into my shoveling gear, and head outside.

15 minutes later, I’ve cleaned off exactly one side of my car. At some point during the day, the snow turned to rain, which made everything 16,000 times heavier than it would’ve been. I am tired. I am frustrated. I am all freaking set. I call M, who is still inching her way to the Weston tolls, and tell her eff it, I’m staying home. Pick up the tickets and find someone else. She refuses, and tells me she’s picking my ass up, we’re going to the concert, and we are getting drunk. Drunk, drunk, drunk. I argue, she argues, ultimately, she wins.

After a very, very long journey, we finally get to the concert. (Know that there was some hi-larity involving hotel check-in clerks, taxis, Boston-by-way-of-New Jersey, and a contest to see who could run out of synonyms for the word “slut” first.) I had bought the tickets during the pre-sale, but hadn’t actually checked to see where our seats were. So we finally make our way up to the balcony (because unemployed girl ordered the cheap seats), and the very nice usher tells us that our seats are (excuse the all caps) IN THE VERY LAST ROW OF THE ENTIRE BUILDING. The seats that I bought during the pre-sale, roughly 14 minutes after they were available. I was PISSED. Seriously. Not like I wasn’t in a bad enough mood already. So I spent the first few minutes crushing heads and playing “nobody’s home” a la the Kids in the Hall.

Which was pretty much the most fun I had, because the show sucked. SUCKED! Jon and I are officially broken. Up. The band looked and sounded like shit. Jon and Richie did a duet on “I’ll Be There for You” (one of my all time favorite Bon Jovi songs), and they were singing two different versions. Off-tempo, off-key, and just bad, bad, bad. Every old song was bastardized beyond recognition, and as I haven’t bought a new Bon Jovi cd in at least a decade, I didn’t know a majority of the songs because at least half the set list was new. And in one of the songs? There's a reference to Dr. Phil. Dr. Phil, people!

Believe me when I tell you that I was entirely too sober for that.

We made it through until the encore, but when the first song was off the new cd, I’d had enough. M looked at me and knew I was done. So we proceeded across the street to get drunk. Drunk, drunk, drunk. And bemoaned our lost youth.

I’ve never felt so old in my entire life. Sigh.

E-

This and that

2005-12-03T10:03:00.000-05:00

Things have been fairly busy of late. As M mentioned, I landed myself a fancy new job. I started on Monday, and I spent the week trying to learn my way around the building. I got lost trying to find my office three or four times the first day, but I think I've got it down now. I've left fundraising behind, and I'm doing something completely different. And - so far - I'm loving it. The people are great, the opportunities are vast, and there's no shortage of things to learn and see. Right now, I'm not very busy, but I know in a few weeks I'll be crazy busy and working long, weird hours. Oddly enough, I'm looking forward to it.

I had dinnner w/J last night, and she was filling me in on things at the old job. It seems they're (finally) close to replacing me there, and she was telling me how they're going to re-work the job descriptions. As she was telling me about her new duties, I realized there wasn't one thing that appealed to me about any of them. And I knew for sure that I'd done the right thing.

Being optimistic is a whole new thing for me. I kind of like it.

Things with BWBMH came to a head recently. We had it out a couple of weeks ago, and it seems as though things are finally resolved on that front. Around that time, I had my last disasterous e-Harmony date (think Tobias Funke from Arrested Development). As a result, I'm taking a break from the dating world. It's been a rough year, and I need to put my energy into my new job and figuring out what makes me happy. I haven't been truly happy in ages, and I think it's about time I am.

E-

Stuff & More Stuff

2005-11-18T11:45:00.000-05:00

First, of all congrats to E on the new job. I knew you could do it. Remember you promised 2nd paycheck = road trip to the new Ikea. Hopefully by then you will forgive my asshattedness.

Now, a question: Is it OK that I decided he was a keeper when he pushed over to make room for the dog on the bed?

M-

Not really one of the good ones

2005-10-31T12:47:00.000-05:00

Every once in a while I sit around & bitch about how I can not find a nice, normal, remotely attractive guy to have a relationship with. I wonder where in the hell are all the good guys? When I meet one of the good ones who is married or taken I wonder if their wives or girlfriends truly appreciate them. If they dont? I totally want to kick thier asses casue that shit aint right.

Then it happened one day out of the blue. I met one of the good ones! Or so it seemed. I was blown away by the fact that he was gainfully employed & he really enjoyed what he did. He was polite, attractive and for the most part seemed like one of the good ones.

Since he lived a good distance away we began to talk on the phone. Actually let me rephrase that, I began to talk on the phone & he sat there in silence. No lie, SILENCE! It was so bad I found myself constantly asking "Are you there?" Thinking that perhaps my cell had dropped the call. There was no interaction on his part. NONE! I would tell him a story and for some reason I FOOLISHLY expected some acknowledgement of what I had just said. An "Oh My God" here or a "I hate it when that happens" there or even a "Are you serious" thrown in for good measure. But not in this case OH NO! Instead I got NOTHING! ZERO! ZILCH!! ZIPPO! NADA!
Everyone kept telling me things like "Maybe he is nervous" or "Maybe he isn't good on the phone." So, I kept trying. I swear to you I gave it my all. Still I felt like I was the one doing most of the talking. Which I was. Thus making me feel like an un-funny comic on open mike nite. Delivering my joke expecting the crowd to go wild & hear only silence. This only managed to make me ramble on and on about NOTHING. I decided to ask him some interviewing type questions.
My first attempt went something like this:
Me: "Tell me something I don't know about you?"
Him: "I was electrocuted once."
Me: "Oh My God!! What happened?"
Him: "I was working for the fire department and I got electrocuted. It is pretty Common."
Me: "Really? I had no idea."
CUE THE SILENCE

I SWEAR to each and every one of you I tried & tried but to be honest after a few failed attempts it became tiring. Thus, I began doing the grown up thing & not answering his calls. I still had one small problem left. He was going to be in town this past weekend and we had made plans to go out to dinner for Friday evening.

Since I hadn't heard from him in a few days I figured I was gonna get off scott free until he called me on Thursday evening. Now, Thursday was my actual birthday & my roommate got me tickets to go to the Bruins and took me out to dinner. He called me at 10:35 and was SURPRISED I DIDN'T answer the phone!!! He them left me a 4 1/2 minute long message during which he RAMBLED about NOTHING.
His message went something like this: Hi Mel****! Its J---- just calling to um let you um know that I am ummmm on my way. It is approximately 10:35 on Thursday evening and umm I am driving. I am surprised I ummmmm haven't ummmm talked to you today but I guess you are busy. So ummmm I hope you are having a good birthday and ummmmmm I will try to touch base with you tomorrow. But you ummmm can call me tonight as I am in my vehicle. If you call me I may not answer as ummm there are areas where my reception is poor and I can not pick up the phone. But I hope I can talk to you tonight so we can set something up for tomorrow.

At that point I pressed option 5 on my phone so I could know just how long this nonsensical rambling went on for before I deleted the damn message. According to Rosie the Robot of Verizon Wireless fame it was for 4 minutes and 28 seconds! Now for those that do not know me well I HATE checking my voice mail. Furthermore if you leave me a message longer than "Hey it's me. Call me." with out good reason I will not call you back for days as you have annoyed & upset me and I need time to recover.

Few things that bothered me about his message:
1) The length
2) NO ONE and I mean NO ONE but bill collectors & my parents call me by my full name. I have explained this repeatedly and he simply says my given name is a perfectly fine name & I should use it more often.
3) 10:35 is NOT an approximate, it is an exact!
4) The fact that he sounded shocked I was too busy on my birthday to answer his call.
5) That he said I am in my vehicle. Who talks like that?
6) The RAMBLING.
7) The length. At 4 1/2 minutes it deserves to be mentioned twice!

Next thing I knew it was Friday early afternoon and I commenced stressing out over what to do about my "date" that evening. I had made up my mind that I didn't want to go, I knew this. However, the general consensus was I should at least go & have dinner with the worlds most boring man. Everyone seemed to think I owed him that (with the exception of Mardonis & Mr Boombasted who felt I owed Mr. Boring NOTHING).

With the help of E & others I decided I would take the following course of action: go to dinner and explain that I am just not ready to be in a relationship right now. So I called Mr. Boring and told him that I would met him at the restaurant at 7:30. When he asked me what was wrong I simply stated "I am really tired." Believe it or not he actually asked me WHY I WAS TIRED!!!!!! Hmmm Let me think. . . .I have spent the last 2 nights in a drunken stupor celebrating my pre-birthday followed by my birthday and haven't exactly been getting 8 hours of sleep that my body so desperately needs. JACKASS!

After work I made my friend J came over to my house to offer moral support as I prepared for what was sure to be the most boring dinner ever. What did we do? Shots. Thats what we did. It is true what they say. Tequila makes everything so much better.

After much hemming & hawing I left the house and headed to the restaurant. Lucky for me I got there early enough to pound a razberry stoli and sprite and pray to god for a quick exit. While I was waiting I had several phone conversations with J. One went something like this:
Me: "I should totally tip the waitress to get me outta here quickly."
J: "Do It! Do It!!!"
Me: "I will call you back in a little bit."
Since my date still hadn't materialized I flagged over my waitress and explained to her that I was meeting someone there for dinner and I really needed her help. I needed her to do everything in her power to make dinner go by as quickly as possible. When I finished explaining I slipped her a $20. She tried to give it back but I explained to her that if she upheld her end of the bargain it would be worth EVERY PENNY.

The lovely Amelia, my saving grace and new best friend wanted to know if the person I was meeting was mean. I explained to her that it was much worse; he was dull. Shortly after that he arrived. Wearing his pleated khaki pants and a pressed blue dress shirt like your mom used to buy for your dad but doesn't anymore cause they went out of style in 1990. He no sooner sat down that did my NBF Amelia swoop in like a hawk chasing her prey and ask him if he would like a drink. When he ordered a Bud Light Draft she walked by me muttering "Bud Light Draft. That's real different." I think I fell in love with Amelia at that moment.

She out did herself by continually asking if we were ready to order to which we finally were able to reply yes. When I ordered my absolute favorite dish of chicken pot pie stew in a bread bowl he told me how that is his least favorite thing in the world. Which in my mind was an even bigger indicator that this was just NOT going to work.

I continually TRIED to pry a conversation out of him but he sat there dead silent just like he does on the phone. When asked what have you been up to he replies "work." The longest sentence I got out of him was the one when he ordered his chicken tender dinner buffalo style and he went on to explain that he used to get that "all the time." When the check came & he made a face of utter shock over the total I did not scream "listen dick smack I ordered one drink and a soup!!!!" like I wanted to. Instead, I forced a smile and began to wind down the dinner conversation.

Mr. Boring walked me to my car and that folks was all she wrote. I went home grabbed a crazy straw out of the basket of goodies sent to me by the working girl and sipped razberry stoli & sprite all night long like it was my job! And realized that money can truly buy you happiness.

2005-10-27T08:14:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Mel!

Here's to another year of bartenders, boys (good ones only- all others need not apply), and friendship!

E

Thursday Nights. . .

2005-10-21T15:38:00.000-05:00

Last night I was fortunate enough to be able to go see Bruce Springsteen whom I LOVE. (Kudos to Tim for his mad on-line ticket acquiring skills) That said the concert was phenomenal. I was awe-struck. The Boss sounded great acoustic & although the majority of what he played were lesser known songs he still knocked my socks off.
After the show we went to a little local Irish bar for a few. Well after Jenn and I had had a few she decided to convince the group that we needed to go to one of the cheesiest dance clubs around. I am sad to admit that it really did not take much convincing, honest to God the pitch of her voice started to go up & we all agreed before her voice got all shrill.
Thus we enter what can only be described as the fifth ring of hell and not because it was like a freaking sauna in there. Walking in I noticed several things: 1) we were the OLDEST people in the place 2) Lingerie should not be worn outside. Let alone outside in New England in late October the night of the first frost. 3) Most of the girls thought they were there with their friends but, they weren't. You see if you were truly here with your friend she would not have allowed you to dress like a hooker. 4) I still do not understand why men MUST wear shirts that appear to be made out of an old fabric shower curtain. 5) Where I come from, when we go out dancing, we actually dance. We are not out on the dance floor auditioning for a spot on "I Wanna Be A Porn Star." 6) My cute top from Casual Corner made me look like a soccer mom.
All in all, we had a blast. We danced and drank and peed in a parking lot. Really a good time was had by all. We left the fifth ring of hell and moved on to the more adult cheesy bar up the street. The only difference, we were not the oldest people in the bar.

Stupid Things I Have Done. . .Part 1

2005-10-20T10:17:00.000-05:00

In college I dated this guy Allan although he changed his name to Kyle only he spelled it Kyl(e). I realize I could end this entry there but I will continue for I am REALLY stupid. Actually I am biblically stupid.

Enter Valentines Day. What does my love get me? Roses? Chocolate? A cute Cuddly Stuffed Bear? NO! NO! And No! My love goes out & buys me handcuffs and lingerie. SWEAR TO GOD! And yes I thought it was the best thing ever. Like I stated above, I am BIBLICALLY stupid.

So one thing leads to another & lingerie comes off and the next thing you know there I was handcuffed to my futon. Things were shall we say progressing and going pretty well. Until it happened. It was not anything you could ever imagine. It was worse than that. It was the unmistakable sound of a fire alarm going off in my dorm.

Kyle jumps up and throws on a pair of boxers and looks at me his eyes dancing in horror like a deer in headlights. Simultaneously we both yell "KEYS!" Kyle turns to the hook I have for keys by my door only to discover his keys including the key to the aforementioned handcuffs were gone!! As in missing. As in someone took them.

At this point I was completely useless what with being handcuffed to my futon and all. Suddenly light dawned on marblehead and we realized that I had left my door unlocked when Kyle and I had gone down the hall to visit his sister. This left my room open and fair game for looters AKA my neighbor & alleged friend who I will refer to as "The Duck Girl."

Here is some background; I went to an all womens college. I know everything you can possibly think of to say so save it. Now at this said institution of higher learning in the dorms we had what were called parietals. Parietal hours meant that men were only allowed in the dorms from 8:00AM-Midnite Sunday-Thurday and 8:00AM-2:00AM Friday & Saturday. When a guest arrived they had to be buzzed into our dorms and they had to be signed in & leave their drivers license at the front desk. When a guest was signed out their license was returned and all was right with the world.

Parietals were in fact the biggest joke at this institution of higher education as on any given night there were almost as many men in the dorms as their were women. Honest to god. My junior year, my boyfriend was snuck in & stayed over every night. The only time I ever got busted trying to sneak someone in was when I tried to sneak in my dogs Olivia & Jackson my sophomore year. By the way, later that same evening I was successful getting them into my room.

Apparently, the duck girl thought it would be hysterical if she took Kyle's keys and hid them so that when parietals were over we would be scrambling to get him out the door on time. This was something she did often to this day, no one knows why. A few seconds after realizing the keys were gone we realized that once again we had fallen victim to the duck girl. Kyle flew out the door to get into the duck girls room to get the keys.

At this point you are probably thinking that is a good thing. One slight problem; Kyle left the door to my room open. As girls are walking past in an orderly fashion to leave the building during the fire drill and I? Am NAKED & HANDCUFFED TO MY FUTON!! I did manage to pseudo cover up my naked form with a blanket. THANK GOD!

What seemed like an eternity later Kyle returned keys in hand & freed me from the futon. I threw on a pair of shorts & a t-shirt & we ran downstairs. When we reached the front doors we were greeted by the clapping and cheering of the girls in the dorm as well the local fire department. As if that wasn't enough, I looked down & realized I was wearing Kyle's clothes.

Would anyone else like to tell me about a stupid potentially humiliating thing they have done?
Please?
Mel

Open letter to an a**hole

2005-10-20T08:23:00.000-05:00

Dear Jerkass (aka BWBMH),

You and I? We’re done. And I mean it this time.

I’ve spent months making excuses for you and your bad behavior. I’ve let you live in my head and heart longer than was good for either of us. I was there for you when you had a bad day, when you needed someone to talk to, or when the Girl wouldn’t give you what you need. And – for some unknown reason – I was content with the scraps you threw my way. I guess somehow I thought if I were patient enough, you’d figure it out.

But this latest BS you’ve pulled has woken me from my stupor. There’ll be no more excuses, no more patronizing, and no more feeling sorry for you. Not only was it a dick move, you don’t even think enough of me to give me the common courtesy of APOLOGIZING. I understand that your work is erratic. I get that you sometimes have to stay late for projects when there’s a deadline. But here’s the thing…so do you. And you not only knew we had tickets for the show last night (since YOU bought them two months ago), you also knew there was a chance that you were going to have to miss out. So why wait until 12 hours before the show to drop that on me? And then, when I tell you I can’t find anyone to go with, suggest that I go alone? Not once did you say “I’m sorry,” or “I feel badly.” At first I couldn’t figure it out, because I would've been apologizing all over the place if the situation were reversed. But after a night's sleep and a couple of glasses of wine, I get it: You don’t feel. You don’t think. And you certainly don’t care.

I know that if the Girl were the one you’d made plans with, you would’ve bent over backwards to be there. You would’ve gone to work at 4 in the morning just to be sure you could make it. But I don’t even rate common courtesy from you. You take it for granted that I’ll always be around, that there’ll always be a next time. Well this time? Was the last time.

I tried so hard to stay friends with you, but you’ve made it impossible. You take advantage of me and of our "friendship." Let’s see how well you do when it’s gone.

E-

Random Thoughts

2005-10-19T09:37:00.000-05:00

1. I REFUSE to turn the heat on in my house until the VERY last moment. Sunday night it was windy as hell and the house was a little cool; I put the dog on the bed & made her stay there until it was warm.
2. When discussing my birthday & my roommate told me that she would like to take me out to dinner that night. I agreed but then wondered what bar we would be going to as I want to drink my dinner.
3. Then I wondered if it was a bartender E & I already know.
4. I work with a woman who when she laughs it sounds like Gob doing his chicken dance.
5. The only thing that can make me laugh harder than someone laughing like a chicken is a grown man attempting to chain smoke & lighting his crotch on fire in the process.
6. During a conversation with my brother the other night on the phone I asked him "Are you drunk?" his answer "Nah I am just stoned."
7. Not knowing if he was serious or not.
8. I really need a vacation.
9. And lots of pretty things for my birthday.

That folks is my exciting life. So please comment away & let me know your random thoughts.

Mel

Cuteness!!!

2005-10-04T13:35:00.000-05:00

I have just spent 10 minutes watching the baby Panda sleep.

I'm supposed to running lists and doing, you know, WORK. Instead, I am watching the cutest. Thing. EVER! do absolutely nothing.

I think I may have to talk my friend into going to see them in person when I'm in DC next week. Although, I may just burst from all that... cute!

Weirdness

2005-10-02T10:55:00.000-05:00

I've come to realize that the universe has a weird sense of humor. In an odd twist of fate, I find myself working for my alma mater. Again. This would be the campus I spent four years swearing I'd never set foot on once I graduated. And yet, it was the place that gave me the opportunity to move to Boston a little over two years ago, and now it's giving me the opportunity to do other things. Like pay rent, put gas in my car, and - if I'm lucky - maybe even buy groceries.

It's a temporary gig, and I hope to keep it that way. Unfortunately, the dozens of resumes I've sent out seem to be generating absolutely no interest. I'm starting to think it may be time to go here. My brother is also looking for a full-time job, so we're going to see if we can get some sort of discount if we both sign up.

And in other weirdness, I seem to have allowed myself to become BWBMH's pseudo-girlfriend. The Girl had been balking about being together, and since she lives in NYC anyway, it seemed as though things were falling apart. And, in typical fashion, he started asking me to do things with him - movies, concerts, comedy shows. And, also in typical fashion, I've said yes. But reality dealt me a cold, harsh bitchslap this week in the form of a desk he spent two months and two hundred dollars on restoring/refurbishing for her. I spent the entire day crying at my desk, and then came home and had a bottle of wine for dinner. (Fortunately, my awesome roommate came home three glasses in and insisted we get pizza. Otherwise, I would've spent the rest of the evening bowing to the porcelain gods.) I woke up the next day and felt...better. I hit rock bottom (again), and I'm slowly pulling myself up. It's going to take time, but I'll get there.

And besides, I'm fairly certain we could never be together anyway, since my friends hate him too much at this point. J is coming with us to a comedy show this week, and I'm going to have to keep her away from the vodka. Who knows WHAT she'll say if she has too much to drink.

I'm trying to keep positive during all of this, and remind myself that things will work out eventually. I just hope it's sooner rather than later.

E-

Out of Touch

2005-09-30T11:31:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, I am a very, very bad friend. I've developed a deep, abiding hatred for the phone over the last couple of years, so I don't call my friends as often as I should. And even my emailing has dropped off significantly (aside from a couple of people, of course, with whom I have almost-daily conversations). But I didn't realize how bad I'd gotten until I got an e-card from a friend. Apparently the last time I'd spoken to her, I was starting at my last job, because the card said, "hope the new(ish) job is going well!"
Oh man. She's waaaay out of the loop. So much has happened in the last 10 months, and she has no idea. She's not someone that I spoke with daily or weekly any more, but the fact that she has no clue what's been going on in my life (or vice versa, for that matter), is just strange.
Stranger still is when I think of my ex-best friend. We DID talk daily - sometimes multiple times in one day. When I was in college, she lived in Boston, and I basically lived at her apartment my senior year (at least on weekends). She was a part of my family - my mom was a second mom to her (sometimes even a first mom, since her own mother is batshit crazy), and she was like another sister to my brother. When her parents threw her out of the house on Christmas Eve, we took her in. It started her tradition of coming to midnight mass with us (where she would ultimately be completely and totally embarrassed by the fact that my brother & I were incapable of behaving once we entered the church doors), which only stopped when she got married and became pregnant.
We fell out of touch for a bit while she was pregnant. She even got married and didn't tell me. They eloped, but it still stung when she called me two months later looking to make peace. But I was happy for her, and I understood that with all the craziness going on (it wasn't an easy pregnancy), I wasn't high on her list of priorities. Plus, it was somewhat of a pattern. There were times we'd fall out of touch, but ultimately she'd get in touch with me after a couple of months.
After her daughter was born, she & I were close again. We talked several times a week, and I thought of her daughter as my own niece, and her husband as my brother-in-law.
It'll be three years since I spoke with her this Christmas. I can't explain what happened - she just stopped calling. For once, I was the one with the insanity going on in my life - I'd just lost my job, and I was a mess. I called her a couple of times over the next couple of months, but stopped when all of my calls were unreturned. And then I moved to Boston, without even calling to let her know. I figured that if she ever wanted to get in touch with me, she could. She still had my mother's phone number, which hasn't changed in at least 30 years. But she never did.
My friends' mom bumped into her at the grocery store a while back. And when she said, "aren't you E's friend?", she just said, "yeah, I know E." Ouch.
It's unfathomable to me that this person to whom I was so close could say something like that. I don't even know if she knows that I live in Boston. She definitely doesn't know all about BWBMH, El D, or about the other cast of characters and events that I've been through over the last three years. And I have no idea how big her daughter is, whether her husband still drives her nuts, or if she ever reconciled with her parents.
I found a picture of us the other day -there are very few of them, since neither of us could ever stand to be photographed. It's probably 10 years old, and in it, we're laughing and posing with a cow. I know how much I've changed in those 10 years, and it's strange to think that I have no idea how much she's changed. Or hasn't, for that matter. And I wonder sometimes if she thinks about me, or wonders how I am. I deleted her number from my cell phone only recently - I guess I was still waiting for her to call. Or maybe I was still thinking about calling her. But - stubborn as it seems - this isn't my move to make. She's the one who backed off, and I am simply respecting her decision.
It remains to be seen if we'll ever talk to each other again. But I hope she's happy and well. And I'd like to think she wishes the same for me.

E-

Guilty!

2005-09-25T10:57:00.000-05:00

Since M wrote about her guilty pleasures a couple of weeks ago, I thought I'd share some of mine as well. Fair's fair, right?

* Laguna Beach- I know, I know. I hate almost everyone on this show with every fiber of my being, yet I can't not watch it. And I am waiting for the day I have an opportunity to bust out with "fine, go be with a whore" a la Taylor on someone. (BWBMH, I'm looking at you...)
* Shoes- that's well documented
* Kelly Clarkson
*cookie dough
* dirty punk rock boys - hel-lo Tommy Lee!
* So bad they're good made-for-tv movies - the Kellie Martin/Tori Spelling movie, Shannen Doherty's masterpiece "Friends til the End," and that one where Courtney Thorne-Smith is the cow princess and kills Carol Seaver come immediately to mind
* flavored vodka - rasberry and orange, in particular
* boys with accents - be they from Boston, Ireland, or the South, I'm a sucker for a boy who talks "funny"
* My Super Sweet 16 on MTV
* Overboard with Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn - if this is on, I can't not watch it. Same goes for...
* Dirty Dancing - one time, this was on opposite Overboard, and I nearly lost my mind trying to watch both of them
* Bartenders - I am beginning to think it's physically impossible for M & I to not make friends with the bartenders when we go out. On the plus side? Heavy-on-the-alcohol drinks. On the minus side? Heavy-on-the-alcohol drinks.
* The Cheesecake Factory
* Military men - I've known enough of them to know they're nothing but trouble, but one look at a man in uniform, and I am in serious lust
* 80's music - I drove back to Boston from my mom's last night, and sang (loudly, and off-key) to not only The Escape Club (Wild, Wild West), Def Leppard (Love Bites) , and INXS (Never Tear Us Apart), but also Stacey Q's "Two of Hearts." And I may or may not have remembered all of the words, ahem.

There are more, I know. But I think I've embarrassed myself sufficiently for one day.

E-

Why does it take me so long to update?

2005-09-21T15:28:00.000-05:00

Because I am lazy that’s why!!!

Honest to God I think that is why I haven’t posted in so long. Seriously, I am a lazy blogger and I know I suck. If my admission wasn’t enough go ahead & post a comment to let me know your opinion.

Plus I think E’s posts are much better only cause she has the BWBMH, El D, the Job hunt, a harem of gay men at her beck and call. The girl has all the material in the world. She understands the finer points of things like punctuation.

Honestly there is not too much to post about in my life these days. I spent this past weekend with my family and no one needed to get bailed out which is huge; and no one got drunk which is even bigger! My family is not what you call close nor is it huge. Each and every one of us is stubborn and holds a grudge, sometimes for decades. Family gatherings don’t happen often and typically require some type of chemical to make it through.

This time it was my grandfather’s 80th birthday party. When he realized that I was there along with my 11 year old nephew, his great grandson I don’t think a bigger smile could have been found. I love my Pa to pieces and unfortunately have not seen nearly enough of him as I should be. He has not seen B in probably a year if not longer. Since B doesn’t really talk phone calls don’t really work.

My nephew B is a great kid and is truly special. B, as I mentioned above is 11 years old and was diagnosed with CP when he was an infant. All things considered B is a pretty lucky kid; he is mobile, and can do a fair amount of things on his own. His motions are a little stiff so that limits him and he is pretty much non verbal. But, he can get dressed by himself, put on his own shoes, throw a ball for the dog. These are things that although they sound trivial are the things parents of kids with CP dream about their kids ever being able to do.

B can say some pretty basic words and is gradually getting better with his sign. The CP makes the sign difficult as he does not have the dexterity in his hands that some signs require. Trust me when I tell you he knows how to sign for a cheeseburger & french fries. He can tell you when he needs a drink and his favorite word is “stink” Everything including my car “stinks” I love the way his little voice sounds when he says “stink” so I make him repeat it all the time.

What amazed me this weekend is how B can enter a room & light it up. For a kid that really can’t talk his actions speak volumes. He seems to know with in a matter of minutes that the older woman sitting on the couch needs a hug, that the guy standing by the food table needs a high 5. He also figures out within minutes that if he sucks up to his great-auntie you are golden and can pretty much get whatever you want.

At some point in the evening I just sat back & watched this kid work the room. It was time for presents he made sure he handed every single one to my grandfather along with a hug. When it was time for cake he charges the table to be sure he was the one who blew out the candles with Pa. When he was hungry & signed that he was he had plates coming at him from every direction. When he decided that the food at the party “stinks” he had grown men RUNNING to go and get him a cheeseburger.

Then I watched every person that spent time with B at the party. I watched the smiles spread like wildfire across the room. I heard the laughter get louder and louder. And at that point it hit me that he had given us all a gift that night. He did the only thing he can do without fail. He opened his heart to everyone in that room and loved us with all he had. Once he did that he reminded us all what family is supposed to be and why sometimes home is the best place to be.

2005-09-12T19:18:00.000-05:00

So I'm still job-hunting. And yes, it still sucks. I took August off to recover from El D, and I started temping a couple of weeks ago. I did get to work for a local beer company for a week, and on Friday, there was free beer & cake. People, this was like Christmas to me. Better than Christmas, in fact, because I didn't have to buy anyone anything, or spend quality time with family. I love beer. I love cake. I tell you, if they had been giving away shoes, I might never have left.

I got a call from J the other day. Apparently, El D asked her to ask me whether or not I'd consider coming back on a per diem basis if they still haven't hired anyone in a few weeks. And I laughed.

And laughed.

And then I laughed some more.

In fact, I'm still giggling. But I'm considering it. El D aside, I do care about that place. But you can bet your ass if I do go back, it'll be on my terms. And for a good chunk of money. I'm not stupid.

I'm broke as hell, but not stupid.

E-

Random thoughts while watching the MTV Music Awards

2005-09-05T15:08:00.000-05:00

In no particular order:

*Oh man, I am old. These MTV awards suuuuck! I have no effing clue who half these people are. And P-Shiddy needs to shut. Up!

* Ooh, Brandon Flowers is pretty!

* Shut! UP! Shiddy!!

* Haha! John Norris is wearing his little sister's shirt! And something died on top of his head!!

* So. BORED! Where is Britney? Or Justin? I miss the boy bands. This show BLOWS!

* Oh man, didn't Biggie die like 20 years ago? MOVE ON PUFF SHIDDY!!!

* Ha ha, Kirsten Dunst is wrecked!!!

* Did Jessica Simpson get mugged by a dairy princess while on the way to a Pussycat Dolls show?

*Oh shit! Kelly Clarkson is totally gonna get electrocuted.

and because it never gets old..

SHUT! UP! SHIDDY!!!

E-

2005-09-03T16:11:00.000-05:00

I wasn't going to write about Katrina. I mean, what can I possibly say that hasn't been said a thousand million times before, and probably better? My friend D lives in Houston, but grew up in New Orleans and still considers it his hometown. Fortunately, his family made it out of NO in one piece, but they aren't sure what's left of their homes. Or their lives.

Several years ago, D added me to an email group of his friends. It tends to be a lot of politcal discussions, with some levity thrown in occasionally. One of the group, Tom, sent an email this morning telling us about his friends experience in New Orleans. I ddn't want to believe it was as bad as it really is, but I have no choice. With his permission, I'm posting excerpts:

Earlier this morning I tracked down a couple of close friends from New Orleans, Carl & Sandy. They evacuated only yesterday. Sandy works for Tenet Memorial Hospital in Public Relations, but that's a misleading title. She works very closely with the medical staff, and during this catastrophe has been in disaster-response mode, working to get patients' needs met.

During the evacuation, their "security guy" and their Director of Services came face-to-face with looters whose firepower exceeded that of the security staff. The looters were told, "you can have anything you want, just let us upstairs to finish getting patients out." During the evacuation, Sandy and Carl were accompanied by a reporter from the Dallas Morning News, Sudeep Reddy. He arrived home in Dallas at 3:00 am this morning, and after 2 hours of sleep is writing up a story for tomorrow's (Sun, 9/4) paper.

Carl & Sandy made it to the New Orleans airport yesterday morning, and from 8:00 am until 1:00 pm queued from one end of the airport to the other. According to Sandy, it was chaos. The San Antonio Border Patrol was organizing the evacuation, but had no bullhorns for crowd control - a fact that Sandy repeated 4 or 5 times. It was an exceedingly frightening situation. She really wants to get the word out that they don't have the resources they need to do their jobs.

Sandy reports that the field hospital there at the airport is overwhelmed. Many, many patients in serious condition are not being treated. Sandy said that the medical staff from her hospital were offering their services and were turned away.

Carl and Sandy were airlifted to San Antonio. On the flight, FEMA cameramen videotaped the passengers. Sandy believes they will be trying to show how orderly and successful the evacuation was. She repeated, 3 or 4 times: "WHATEVER THE GOVERNMENT SAYS, DON'T BELIEVE IT. IT'S A LIE! I NEED TO GET THE STORY OUT. IT WAS CHAOS."

Sandy broke down twice as we spoke. Carl's voice is shakier than I have ever heard it. He said they have not slept well in days, and and when they have slept, have woken up from nightmares. My impression is that they are suffering from severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Tom and his wife will be putting Carl and Sandy up at their home in Houston for the time being.

I can't begin to fathom what Carl and Sandy and every one else in that area are going through right now, or will be for years to come. And I really don't understand how the phenomenally massive clusterf*ck of mismanagement and miscommunication happened to get it to this point. I am so incredibly, hugely disappointed in my government right now, but I am constantly amazed and proud by people's overwhelingly generous response to this tragedy - everywhere you turn, people are asking "what can I do?" "how can I help?" And that has to be a good thing. But I keep hearing this play over and over in my head when I watch the news:

Across the field you see the sky ripped open
and the rain all through a gaping wound
Pounding on the women and children
pounding the woman and children
Who run.......who run
Into the arms......of America

Just seems so eerily appropriate right now.

E-

Admitting I have a problem is the first step. . .

2005-08-26T13:57:00.000-05:00

Since the first step in overcoming a problem is admitting you have one I have complied a list of my guilty pleasures. Without further ado and in no particular order:

Stoli Rasberry Vodka
Neil Diamond
Ghost Stories
Dressing Up- Be it a little black dress or a Halloween costume
Shopping
Sale Shopping
Sephora
Buying Cards
Country Music
My Work Husband- Even though we have never met I can assure you he is adorable. A Mardonis if you will and yes he came up with that nickname on his own.
Napping
Tanning
Sleeping in on Sundays
Thunderstorms
The smell of clean laundry
Puppy breath
Making funny faces at people when you are stuck in traffic
Making funny faces at people in bars
When someone asks “what do you do?” reply “I’m a fluffer”
ABC Family Movies- I am not alone ladies I know you all watched Lucky 7’s & See Jane Date!!!!
Bad Pre-teen & teenage movies like Crossroads, Cinderella Story & First Daughter
Haagen Dazs Dulce De Leche Ice Cream
Pedicures
The Ocean
Smoking- be it a class A filtered cigarette or an herbal mood enhancer.
I know this is not a complete list. I do have to keep some air of mystery about myself!! I am sure I will be updating from time to time. And I am positive that E will add a few of her own at my expense. For now however; Hi! My name is Mel & I have a problem. . .

You and me and 5 bucks

2005-08-22T13:23:00.000-05:00

BWBMH and I are in the midst of this strategic dance, where I move my feelings for him from Love-with-a-capital-L to love-as-in-friendship, and he...well, things for him are pretty much status quo. It's strange, and it's awkward, and who knows how it will turn out. Hopefully, we'll stay friends, because there are very few people on earth I'd rather spend time with. We can talk about everything and nothing, and still have a great time together.

Last night, we went to dinner & a movie, and while we were sitting in the movie lobby waiting to go into the theater itself, talking nonsense, I had a flashback. There's a scene in Reality Bites (one of my guilty pleasure movies) where Troy and Lalaina are walking around the city talking, right after she got fired for sabatoging Frasier's dad on-air. Troy tells Lalaina how successful she'll be one day, and ends the conversation with "See Lainy, this is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You and me and five bucks."

Of course, then he kissed her, but whatever. That's irrelevant. The point of the conversation is that you need someone who knows you better than you know yourself, who believes in you, who listens to (and calls you on) your bullshit, and who imbibes addictive substances with you. And for whom you can do the same. And that you shouldn't take that sort of friendship for granted, because it's rare.

So while BWBMH and I may not end up happily ever after together, Hollywood style, we do have something very special. And that? Is definitely worth more than 5 bucks.

E-

It's just me y'all

2005-08-08T19:25:00.000-05:00

People, I have a new obsession. Being Bobby Brown.

Ironically, it's like crack. Watching Whitney (or Crackney) and Bobbaay! do their thing is completely and totally trainwreck tv. From the theme song (which is just awesome), to the closing credits, I am hooked.

On the one hand, it's kind of tragic, because Whitney used to be so awesome. And Bobby was awesome - like Pop Brown says, "Roni was my jam!" Together you'd think they'd form some sort of awesome Wonder Twin-like couple.

Instead? B3 shows they are some ghetto fabulous version of their former public selves.

At their core, Bobbaay! and Crackney are a really cute couple who seem to love each other a whole hell of a lot (as evidenced in the ep where they go camping, and Whitney asks Bobbaay! to take her behind a tree and work her over). But they are dysfunctional as hell. And I bet Bobbaay! is pissed that Whitney gets all of the best lines, from "The forest is OVAH!" to "I'm about to take a real one" to "I'm not doin' this wit' y'all todaaaay!!"

That last one? Comes in real handy. And the forest is OVAH? Completely adaptable to any situation. Yesterday I was at the mall with a friend of mine, and I literally had to bite my tongue to keep from shouting, "The mall is OVAH!" when we were leaving.

Of course, the instant classic was her "ah hell no!" which, when she's really pissed, turns into the even more brilliant "ahh HELLLLL to the NAAAW!"

Somehow, I'm one of the only people in my group of friends who is in love with this show. But there are others out there, right? Right??

***cue crickets chirping***

Ah, HELL no! This entry is OVAH!

Unsent

2005-08-07T20:44:00.000-05:00

Dear BWBMH,
I realize that I encouraged you to get back together with L. And really, I know it's for the best. And that in the long run, you and I will both be happier.
However, in the interim? Could you kindly refrain from keeping me updated on your relationship? It's not so easy to be happy for you what with that knife twisting in my back. I'm going to have to seriously re-think this whole "staying friends" thing if you keep it up.
Less delusionally but still not-quite-sanely,
E

Dear Friends who just read that and want to kick me,
I know. Believe me, I know.
Stupidly,
E

Dear Stomach,
Do you have a tapeworm? Because I feed you enough that this rumbling is uncalled for. And I'm pretty sure that if there was a tapeworm involved, I would not be so damn fat. So knock it off.
Repeat after me: I am not hungry.
Annoyed,
E

Dear Ad Wizards,
That Target commercial that bastardizes Sir Mix-a-Lot's song? The one where they like back...packs? Yeah, I hope you enjoy hot weather, because you're going to burn in hell.
Sending you the NAMBLA membership forms,
E

Dear New Job,
I'm waaaaiting. Any time now. Seriously. I promise I will love you lots and lots (with candy dots if necessarily).
Broke-ly,
E

Dear Next Boy,
Please be less of an asshat than any of the other boys I've known (gay harem excluded, of course). Oh, and hurry the eff up. I've got beer...
Tired of waiting,
E

Dear Boredom,
Eff off and die.
Restless,
E

Dear Roommate,
While I don't wholeheartedly encourage you to keep seeing the non-boyfriend? I do enjoy that it basically gives me the apartment to myself. So be careful, but be gone.
Kisses,
E

Dear Harpoon Summer Ale,
Marry me? I'm going to be so sad when you leave.
Intoxicated,
E

Dear Surgeons,
You best be sure my grandfather's surgery goes smoothly this week. I am bored, angry, and I got a lot of frustration to take out on someone. Eff this up, and you will feel my wrath.
Polishing my steel-toes,
E

A letter to a friend. . .

2005-08-06T21:47:00.000-05:00

Background:
I have a close friend, N, that I have not spoken to in 8 months. For some reason tonight I thought I would post a letter here so maybe just maybe she could begin to understand.

Dear N-
I know it has been some time since we last spoke and I also know it was me who made that decision & not you. I have wanted to explain it to you since the beginning but have never seemed to find the right words.

I know in your mind you are thinking that it all boils down to the fact that I was jealous because you took "the boy" home on New Years Eve. Jealousy my friend has nothing to do with it; he is still calling me. What hit me when you did make your move on ‘the boy’ was that I felt like shit and it wasn’t the first time that it happened. He was not the first boy you knew I was interested in & made a move for. Nor was he the first boy that I was interested in that you took home.
That night was not the first night we had been out drinking & you ended up being obnoxious. It was just the first night we went out together & I decided not to accept it. It was also the first time in our 13 year friendship that I did not make excuses for it or justify it.

New Years eve for me was a turning point, one that had nothing to do with resolutions that would not last 24 hours. It was dramatically different from other turning points; new jobs, old flames or first kisses. New Years Eve for me was the moment when I realized just how one-sided and selfish you could be. Everything & I mean everything came back to me in a wave hitting me so hard & dragging me under I felt like I could not breathe.

I remembered all those times you told me your secrets & to this day I have kept them. I remembered all the times your heart was broken and you called on me to help you heal. I remembered all those times you hurt the ones closest to you & I made excuses for you. Be it you were too drunk to know better or you had no idea your behavior was even hurtful.

Then I remembered all of the secrets I told you that you shared with others. I remembered the times my heart was broken and you were too busy to help me heal or you were the reason why it was broken to begin with. I remembered all those times I had to justify your behavior and even take the blame for your actions to smooth things over. I remembered the friendships I lost & realationships I destroyed all so I could still call you my friend. I also realized just how much all this hurt me.

I am not saying that I do not want you in my life anymore I just hope you can understand that after this past New Years Eve I needed a break. I needed a chance to heal my heart & my head before I could allow you back in my life again. I needed to get to a place where I knew I would be OK.

I know you are out there and I am not entirely sure if you read this blog or not, you might. Hopefully you read this & can look at your own heart and see that there are people such as myself that love you & care for you but sometimes you make it hard for us to do that.

My friend, tonight I need to tell you that I have a wish for you. My wish for you is simple; I wish that you find happiness and you hold onto it with all you’ve got. I know that you have a lot of positives in your life right now and I hope that this is just the beginning.

Tonight I am raising my glass & toasting you & the times we have shared & hopefully the ones we will share in days to come. Here's to life little friend, here's to life.
Mel

Just another typical night out

2005-07-30T15:33:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my last day of work. To celebrate, a bunch of us went out for drinks, and M met up with us a little later. Three margaritas in, I got up from the table to call M to see where she was on her trek, and NGB grabbed my arm.

NGB: It's still light out.
E: Yeah, and?
NGB: It's STILL. LIGHT. OUT.
E: Ohhh...and we're drunk. Is that what you're saying?
NGB: Mmmhmmm.
E & NGB start laughing hysterically.

I looked at my watch, it was 6:15. And yeah, it was that kind of night.

M showed up a little after 7, and it was down to me, NGB, and J. And the three of us were TRASHED. NGB & I had four margaritas each (neither of us had ever had more than 2, so we figured we'd see what happened). J was working on her second, and since she doesn't drink often or excessively, she was a mess. We had to stumble back to my (now former) office to pick up my stuff. M & I had a very good time for ourselves picking out and trying on some of the costume stuff hanging around in the hallway. We thought of a few minor pranks to pull, but refrained.

We were good. I swear.

I bid goodbye to hell, and M, NGB, J & I headed back to my house to drop my stuff off. Then we headed into Boston for more debauchery. On the way, we heard Bell Biv Devoe's Poison, and NGB sang along. I told him that I would pay him 20 dollars if he would walk up to a group of guys, point to some chick and say stonefaced, "yeah, me and the crew used to do her." (He didn't, though, which was the tragedy of the night.)

While M got parking advice from the dude at the lot, these two massively made-up chicks pulled up next to us. J said, "Can I be one of them?" and NGB busts out with "I think I am already." So then we headed to the bar, and along the way we passed a homeless person sleeping on a bench. NGB looked at me and said, "ahh, poor El D." And we lost our shit.

Once we got into the bar, NGB asked us to explain why straight men behave the way they do in bars. "They all wear the same shirts, and they dance around like chickens, and they're only concerned with entertaining each other. And they wonder why they're alone."

We heart him.

J & NGB left after a couple of drinks, and M & I decided to hike on over to the Black Rose, so that we could ogle the hot bartender with the perfect ass. While sitting at the bar, we played a couple of rounds of Death Is Not An Option, and then adapted the game to Cuba Is Not An Option. (Cuba being code word for hooking up in a bathroom, dating back to our college days.) The basic concept of the game was whether or not you would hook up with a certain person while in plain sight. For example, if the Hot Bartender with the perfect ass were to say, "it's either on the floor of this bar or nothing at all" would you go for it? (The answer by the way, was a resounding yes.)

It sounds much less amusing than it was, I swear.

We passed the rest of the evening playing Not an Option games and mocking the ... interesting people at the bar last night, including the girl who apparently took tips on hairstyling products from There's Something About Mary. Around 1:30, M declared the night officially over when she came back from the bathroom and announced that "Mary" had decided to use the sink in the bathroom instead of waiting for a stall. And really, after M explained that she had seen the girl's Brazillian, there was nowhere for the evening to go.

Seemed like a fitting end to the evening, really.

E-

Whose bright idea was it to go out on a Monday?

2005-07-29T14:31:00.000-05:00

Oh that’s right it was mine! Cause I? Am apparently an ass of biblical proportions! See this is how it happened: I had some friends in from out of town to participate in a golf tournament. They had spent the weekend (drunk) at my house and left on Sunday evening to spend 1 night with family. They were spending the following evening in Boston where we decided to get together for A drink. As in ONE drink.

So Monday night rolls around and E has opted to join me along with my roommate R for the trip into the city to meet The House Boy & The Working Girl. E, R & I arrived at one of my favorite bars to find that my hot tattooed bartender boyfriend was not working. But since we were there, we had a few drinks anyway while we waited for THB & TWG. After a few drinks, we were bored & it was time to mosey so we could find people to mock. So down the eighty gazillion steps of City Hall Plaza into Faneuil Hall we went.

R was the only one of us who had not eaten so we settled in at The Salty Dog & sat up at the bar. Well originally they seated us at a table that smelled like vomit so we moved to the bar. It was there that E met her new favorite bartender who is not to be confused with her HOT bartender boyfriend who has a PERFECT ASS. Russ, our bartender was a kind hearted soul even if The Salty Dog ran out of Sam Summer.

We then sat at the bar and began to drink and drink and drink. Then we began to heckle the crowd. LOUDLY. The three of us were in rare form to say the very least. For the poor girl who must have suffered from narcolepsy that fell asleep at the table (ala the narcoleptic in Deuce Bigelow Male Gigolo) to the HOT English boy wearing the "I will eat you so much" T-Shirt. EVERYONE was victimized.
Some of my favorites:
Why do woman feel the need to test just how far you can stretch cotton?
What is up with wearing a bandana as a shirt?
Oh wait, is that the tapestry I had on my wall in college?
Does she think I want to see her hoo-ha? Cause really I don’t!
My favorite. . .Mel Screaming "You can see that girl's ass!"

Russ put on his best Bruce impersonation for Erica & she her best Courtney Cox for him. Have I mentioned yet that we were DRUNK!?! On a Monday!!?!! Cause we were. The other patrons sitting at the bar must have been horrified. From the man with the ridiculously small handwriting who just keep writing and writing (and, btw Note-taker, R is a lawyer and she's totally checking into likeness rights as I type, so you best be prepared to share the profits you reap from our stories) all the way down to the Asian Hooker (no lie) that when asked if she liked beer, held her hand to her mouth, chuckled (as in "Tee Hee") and said "I no know." This, of course, became the catch phrase and gesture of the week. Hell it may even be the catch phrase of the year.

When they closed The Salty Dog we meandered up the street to Hennessey’s. At least, I think that was the name of the place, but one can never be too certain. We stayed at Hennessey’s "I no know"ing til last call. While there we were entertained by a group of Canadians who were believe it or not drunker than we were. The most loaded of the lot was finally asked to leave when he fell off his bar stool backwards. It was graceful let me tell you!

There was music at Hennessey’s but the Canadians were not happy cause ,well it wasn’t Ben Harper. Apparently one of neighbors from the north struck up a conversation with Erica &THB about how you can never have enough Ben Harper. They asked roughly 400 times in 2 minutes if Erica & THB knew Ben Harper. On roughly the 401st time, Erica turned to THB and said, "Wasn't he in your 7th grade gym class?"

Dude, I no know. I was plastered.

Last call came a little too soon for all of us. In typical Mel style, I managed to sneak out THB's Jack & Coke. Over the course of the weekend I "borrowed" a set of 3 glasses from my local watering hole. It really doesn’t matter cause it is not there anymore. . . I drank it. However I digress. We will cover my habit of borrowing barware in another entry.

At last call, we went outside and watched the Canadians tried to hail a cab. It doesn’t sound too funny, but when they left the really drunk one propped up on a parking meter, believe me. It was hilarious. Then when they told him they had a cab & he fell ass over teakettle AGAIN, this time in the middle of the street, the shit was funny. When the homeless man asked TWG for change and she put her arm around him and said "Like the billboard says, Panhandling is not the solution" and offered to buy him McDonalds? That shit was funny. Me calling R's boyfriend and leaving a voicemail message that went something like this "Hey bitch. . .(hysterical laughter). . .where the fuck are you . . .(more hysterical laughter). . . why are you not here. . .(high pitched shrieking followed by hysterical laughter.)"? Also funny.

There were other drunk dials as well; further evidence the E & I should not be allowed near phones when drunk . . . EVER!! Then we began our climb back up the steps of City Hall Plaza. At the time it seemed like a great idea; the next morning the shin splints we were suffering from indicated the contrary.

I got home sometime around 2:30/3:00 in the morning and had to be up at 6:00 so needless to say Tuesday was less than productive. E's alarm went off at 7, but she was still drunk so she went back to bed. She & I emailed throughout the day comparing hangovers & assigning blame. Clearly none of the events of the previous night were either of our faults!

And that my friends is why you do not go out drinking on a Monday if you are no longer in college!

M-

Apparently the "harmony" portion is optional

2005-07-27T20:15:00.000-05:00

I'd started a post earlier detailing the ridiculous debauchery M & I got into the other night, but it's been postponed, because this shit takes precedent.

Confession - I've registered for eHarmony.

A friend of mine met her boyfriend on there and raved about it. She also knows several other couples who have met that way. With all the bs surrounding BWBMH, I decided to give it a shot.

I had my first eHarmony "date" tonight, and let me just state for the record that Neil Clark Warren (founder of eHarmony) can kiss my fat ass.

We arranged to meet in Boston at a bar near Faneuil Hall at 7. I decided to drive in because it would be a big fat pain in the arse to take the T. Keep in mind that it took me about 20 minutes to drive there, and another 10 to find a parking spot (metered, even, right in front). I put in enough quarters to last an hour, and headed in.

I'll give him credit - he at least used a recent picture, because I was able to spot him immediately, and I was afraid that I wouldn't find him. However, he forgot to put in his profile that he was one ofthe rudest bastards on the face of the planet. Somehow, that failed to register on any of the however many of the 29 levels of compatibility that we matched on.

He had gotten there early and had dinner, which I knew would be the case. When I sat down, I made polite conversation (or at least attempted to). He watched the tail-end of the Sox game. The phrase "pulling teeth" comes to mind. When the waitress finally came over, I ordered a drink, and he asked for the check.

Always a good sign when your "date" is looking for an out 5 minutes in, right?

So I try to make the best of it. I ask him questions, he answers, but doesn't reciprocate. I mean, jee-zus. You're 34 years old - how have you gotten this far with no social skills? And maybe you were expecting Cindy Crawford to walk in, but you should know by now that CC or her lookalikes aren't going to be on eHarmony. And while I'm no supermodel by any means, a)I never claimed to be, 2)he's hardly Brad Pitt, and c)I DID leave my second head at home. It would kill you to be social for an hour?

The waitress brings the check. I ask if my beer was put on his tab, he says yes. So I get out my wallet, and realize that I only have a 10. I hand it to him. He says, "you don't have a 5?" No, Einstein, I don't. Do you really think I would've given you a 10 if I could've gotten this over with sooner? Believe me, I'm in agony over here myself, but at least I can suck it up for a bit.

And, while I'm not one of those girls who EXPECTS the guy to pay for everything at all times, it would've killed him to pay the $4 my beer cost? Puh-leeze. He could've at least brought SOMETHING to the table.

The waitress comes back, and he asks her to get change. I roll my eyes. I'm not even half-way through with my beer. She comes back a couple of minutes later, and a minute or two after that, he says he's going to the bathroom.

I actually, no lie, contemplated leaving. Seriously. What the hell was the point? Homeslice was playing the role of the deaf-mute, and I had a couch and the finale of Average Joe to watch. But I decided that I would stick it out - at the very least, the horror show could be an entertaining story someday.

He comes back from the bathroom, grabs the paper and his sunglasses that he'd left on the table, and says, "well, I'm going to take off. It was nice meeting you, take care." Shakes my hand, and he's out the door. I still have beer in my glass (and I tend to drink my drinks pretty quickly.) I look down at my watch.

It's 7:21. No word of a lie.

What. the F*CK?

Who has a 21 minute date? Oh, right - me. I went to the bathroom and started laughing. I was that girl who got ditched 21 minutes into her date and went nuts in the bathroom. I thought about saddling on up to the bar and having another drink, but I decided to haul my unappealing ass home. On the way, I called everyone I knew and told them the story. And then I came home and wrote it up, because really, it's entertaining. And all of you at home can take comfort in the fact that it didn't happen to you.

The best part of all this is that I just got an email from him. It said, "Thanks for coming out to meet me. Good luck with your job search."

Dude. I bet it took him more than 21 minutes to compose that masterpiece.

I thought about writing back, "great to meet you - good luck with your personality search," but I decided to be more mature about it and take the high road.

And quite possibly sign his ass up for every obnoxious email list I can find in 21 minutes.

E-

Letting go

2005-07-21T22:11:00.000-05:00

Tonight I went out for drinks with BWBMH, (breaking my own rules, no less), and I did something I never thought I would ever be able to do: I encouraged him to be with someone else.

He has it in his head that the NY girl is going to make him happy, and I told him to go for it. I think it's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but I didn't see the alternative. Me telling him that I'm in love with him would do nothing but complicate things, and I want nothing more than for him to be happy. I don't ever want him to feel as badly as I do right now. So I told him that he & L need to try it. To see if it works. That people die without ever feeling that way about someone, so if he feels that way about her, then he needs either to make it happen or - at the very least - know that he did all he could to make it happen. I said that it may be something fabulous, and that I would hate for him to miss out because he was afraid of getting hurt. He said, "what if it turns to shit?" And I told him that he won't know unlesss he tried, and that even if it does turn to shit, at least he won't have to sit around and wonder, "what if?"

So here I sit. Heartbroken - again. Crying - again. But I know I did the right thing. And once I stop crying and feeling sorry for myself, I can try to take comfort in that.

Mete once told me that it's better to cry over something awful happening than nothing at all happening. And I believe that. And believe me, this is one of the most awful things that can happen. Realizing that the person you love is truly, crazy, deeply in love with someone else is gut-wrenching. But I looked into his eyes tonight, and I saw how much he loves L. I can't begrudge someone from feeling that way. As much as I want to hate him, I can't. What he feels for her right now is the stuff of which sonnets are made, the stuff for which people die and kill. I don't know that it'll work out for them, but I hope it does.

And I hope that I find it for myself someday. But for now, I know for sure that it won't be with him. So I can stop trying to make it happen. I can pick up my marbles and move onto another game. But first? I'm going to cry it out.

And then I'm probably going to get some cake, because cake really does make everything better.

E-

An enigma wrapped in a riddle

2005-07-20T16:45:00.000-05:00

Today, I was wearing a really cute skirt, and a really cute girly top, and cute sandals. And on the bus ride home, I was reading Fight Club.

And then tonight, I plan to have one of those Smart Ones frozen dinners, and then haul my fat behind on over to Friendly's for a Reeses pieces sundae.

Oh yeah, I'm a walking dichotomy. But that's just because I'm a rock goddess.

E-

Hear You Me

2005-07-18T20:19:00.000-05:00

***warning – this is not the happy-go-lucky post one expects from SBTH. Don’t say I didn’t warn you- E***

Kristen and I first met during freshmen orientation. We were placed into the same orientation group, which meant that we got to do awesome teambuilding exercises together. Trust falls. Crossing through the spider web. And…well, I’m not really sure what the rest of the exercises were, because I skipped out after lunch to explore Boston. Kristen, in her dutiful way, stayed, determined to make the most of the experience.

On the first day of classes, we found ourselves in the same Effective Writing course. I remembered her from orientation, and we sat next to each other. She was going to be a psychology major; at the time, so was I. We became friends pretty quickly.

Kristen was quiet, but smart. She was outwardly kind, and I was not. (My sarcastic and snarky tendencies, though not yet fully developed, were being honed.) She never had a mean word to say about anyone, not even the physically handicapped girl who knocked on her door constantly. And I do mean constantly. (Before you get mad at me for being cruel to the handicapped, please know that this girl was a straight-up bitch. She expected everything to be handed to her, but wanted to be treated “normally.” When she didn’t get her way, she’d pout and complain and shut down.) The worst Kristen would ever do was lock her door and pretend to be out. Or asleep. Anything to make the knocking stop. Especially if Unsolved Mysteries was on.

Once, we took all of her things and moved them to the guest room next door to her room. We lined up everything – her slippers, her posters, her clothing – exactly the way it was in her own room. When she came home from class, and unlocked her door, she was shocked. She couldn’t figure out where her stuff was. Our friend L explained that Kristen’s roommate had decided she couldn’t live with her anymore, and had moved her stuff. Kristen’s big brown eyes filled with tears – she couldn’t bear the thought of someone not liking her. When the “joke” was revealed, she was so relieved that her roommate didn’t hate her that she wasn’t even mad at us.

We got an assignment one day in Effective Writing. We had to write the life story of someone in the class. Kristen and I partnered up. I, fancying myself rather clever, made my first question, “what will your obituary say?” Kristen didn’t hesitate to answer my incredibly weird question, and said, “Kristen, psychologist, wife, and mother died after living a life full of peace and happiness.” There were no Nobel Prizes, no novels published, no grand gestures. Kristen saw herself just living out her days happily and peacefully; that was what was most important to her.

At the end of our freshmen year, Kristen and I decided we’d room together. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses, with the promise that we’d chat soon to plan our room.

In July, my family and I went on a short vacation. I realized that I hadn’t talked to Kristen all summer. I’d been busy with work and friends and life. On the way home from the Cape, I decided to call her as soon as I got in.

When we were unloading the car, our phone rang. It was B, a girl I had been friends with for a time, but we’d had a falling out. Though we’d formed a tentative truce by the end of the year, I could not for the life of me figure out why she was calling me.

“Did you get the letter?” she said. We got mail every. Single. Day during the summer from our college, so I had no idea which letter she was talking about. I asked her, snidely, “which one?”

“The one about Kristen – she’s dead.” And B started sobbing.

I don’t remember how, but the next thing I knew I was sitting on the floor, listening to B read the letter to me. It didn’t say what happened, just that Kristen had passed away, and gave the date and time of the wake and funeral. She asked if I was going to the services, and I said I didn’t know.

It took some time to find out the details, such as they were. Kristen had gotten up one morning to go to work. She’d showered and gone back to her room to get dressed. Her mother, a nurse, heard her cry out, and then heard a crash. By the time she’d gotten to the room, Kristen was gone. The first autopsy was inconclusive, as were subsequent ones. The only thing we knew for sure was that Kristen was gone. She had just turned 19, and her heart had just stopped. She was an only child, and an only grandchild on both sides.

Going to the wake was one of the worst experiences in my entire life. I had decided not to tell her parents that I was supposed to room with Kristen in a few short weeks. I didn’t see the point. As I made my way up the receiving line, I introduced myself by first name only. Her mother looked at me and said, “oh, you were going to be her roommate! She was so excited about living with you! She’d found some curtains she loved last week…” at this, her mother’s voice broke, and I started to cry.

I didn’t go to the funeral. The wake had taken every ounce of energy from me. Instead, I sat in my house and worried. For weeks after her death, I would have horrible nightmares. I would dream of going to a friend’s funeral, but I didn’t know who I was grieving for, or what had happened. Every time I said goodbye to my friends, I thought, “what if this is it? what if I never see them again?”

When I went back to school the next semester, I was faced with an empty room. Every time I walked in the door and saw the empty bed, my heart broke a little more. It was like finding out she was gone over and over and over again.

I made it through the semester, and then the year. Mutual friends and I bonded over our loss, and we tried to make up for her. We’d laugh a little louder, cry a little harder, and spend more time with each other than we probably would have otherwise.

Gradually, we got through the rest of our college years, and it came time for Baccalaureate. The mass fell on Kristen’s birthday and was dedicated to her memory. Her parents came, and after the ceremony I found them and hugged them. They were so strong, and so proud of us, but there was a hole. I introduced her parents to my mother, who began crying as soon as we walked away from them. She felt guilty, she said, standing there with her daughter in a cap and gown while their daughter was gone.

Tuesday is the 11th anniversary of Kristen’s death. I always get melancholy this time of year. It’s been a lifetime in some ways, but in others it feels like yesterday. I can still see her laughing and smiling, telling us to be nicer. I wonder if we’d still be friends, if she’d still put up with my crap after all these years. In many ways, I wish I was more like her- strong, smart, kind. I wonder whether she’d be married, or have children by now. I think of her parents and wonder how they managed without her.

Earlier, I was listening to a Jimmy Eat World cd, and I put “Hear You Me” on repeat. I let myself cry for Kristen, and hope that I’m the sort of person she’d still want to know. This verse in particular got me;

And if you were with me tonight
I'd sing to you just one more time
A song for a heart so big
God wouldn't let it live

Because I can’t sing a note, I decided to write for her. To let her know, somehow, that she’s not forgotten. That - despite sounding like a cliché - I really am a better person for having known her.

E-

Gone to the Dogs

2005-07-14T11:16:00.000-05:00

I know my second post in as many days. Please, try to contain your excitement. I have decided to share with you all the one area of my life which brings me some peace and has always remained constant. I, Mel of Small Bus to Hell fame raise & show golden retrievers & long-haired dachshunds. Some of you are going "What?" others are thinking "DORK!!" and trust me I have heard it all.

Some of my very first memories are of bringing home our first Golden, Rebecca Lee. Becky was an awesome dog and she began a journey that I have been on ever since that day in February of 1977 we brought her home. My life, such as it is has always been filled with some sort of drama the one thing that always remained is my love for my dogs & their love & ability to accept me for me. No matter what.

At the moment I have 8 dogs. Yes 8! They range in age from 13 years to 7 months and each one of them holds a place in my heart. Olivia is 13 and is the dog I grew up with. If she could talk the amount of money she could extort out of me would result in my selling a kidney. From there we have Austin, 11, Trump, 8, Jamaica, 3, Perri, 2, Romeo 1, and then the babies Laz & Victoria, 7 month old littermates.

Over the course of the years I have supplemented my income house-sitting for other breeders, training dogs for other breeders or in some cases traveling with other peoples dogs. Since I love dogs & shopping & humor & pretty pretty things I am a fan of Miss Doxie. Her latest entry (check it out http://www.missdoxie.com/) has brought back a memory that I have not even told E about! And I thought I would share it with you all.

Here goes:

Several years ago I was paid to fly to Mexico with a client’s dog for the International Dog Show in Mexico City. Since not only was I being paid to go on vacation I was also being sent first class I jumped at the chance. My only duties while there were to take care of Patriot & get him groomed & ready to be shown for his handler. I figured NO PROBLEM.

Patriot was a dog I had cared for on multiple occasions so I knew he was a good traveler and an easy keeper. Our first 2 days in Mexico were great no problems to speak of, no issues, everything was just fine. My only complaint; the International Dog Show attracted record breaking crowds. There were so many spectators in the convention center you could not move. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. The exhibitors were treated like Rock Gods. Crowds were help back by police in riot gear so we could board our shuttle buses! Like I said it was insane!!

On or third morning in Mexico I was quite enjoying being a Rock God. Patriot on the other hand was experiencing a touch of cabin fever. Keeping that in mind I decided to take Patriot of a nice walk to a park near our hotel. In the park I kept Patriot on a retractable leash and let him chase after a ball & act like a big goof for a little bit.

Patriot was then & remains to be an absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous Golden. Needless to say the American girl with the pretty dog had attracted quite a crowd. So we did what all Rock Gods do; we totally hammed it up for the gathering crowd. Patriot would run out grab the ball throw it in the air catch it again & bring it back to me. He would leap in the air practically jumping over my head trying to steal the ball back. Trust me a good time was being had by all.

Then it happened! On one of his returns to me Patriot performed one of the above mentioned leaps just as I was raising my arm & getting ready to throw the ball. He did not succeed in stealing the ball. He did however on his way back down to the ground manage to PULL MY PANTS DOWN! There I stood BARE ASSED, in the middle of a park. In Mexico! A half naked Rock God surrounded by strangers speaking a language I do not. And then the crowd that had gathered began clapping as if this was all part of an act!

Once the shock wore off I did manage to pull my shorts back up. It seemed like FOREVER. Then I did what any Rock God would do I ran back to my hotel! With a dog that had no idea why I stopped letting him have fun with his new friends. People I have not been back to Mexico since nor have I played ball with Patriot again. Two days later we arrived back at Logan and never in my life have I been happier to return a dog to its owner.

Are you there readers? It's me, Mel!

2005-07-13T13:31:00.000-05:00

Finally. I know I know you have all been devastated by my absence. Distraught even. I know that many a sleepless night has been had because I, cofounder & co-author of Small Bus to Hell have been MIA. My dear sweet & faithful readers I do apologize but my life right now is in a word: IN-FUCKING-SANE.
No, I have not been driven from my home due to black mold or really bitchy roommates. And no, I have not been forced from my job by an insecure bitch with an identity crisis that also happens to be on a power trip. Basically most everyone I know is falling apart.

Lets everyone get in the way back machine & go on a trip. Everyone in? OK! Seatbelts fastened? Good! Here we go. First stop June 5th. I get a phone call from my mother who tells me that my niece just left the emergency room where she was treated for a dog bite which was somehow my fault. Then lets got to June 6th where my Uncle you know, the one with terminal cancer falls getting out of one of Smilin' Jim's (that's my Daddy) classic cars & gets brought to the emergency room for what turned out to be 2nd degree burns on his hands.

OK everyone back on the bus cause we are going to June 8th I get an EMAIL that my Aunt has had a heart attack & she is enroute to a major medical center in the area & leaving Podunk Hospital. Why an email? Cause the FUNT in my office that answered the phone WOULD NOT come to my desk & tell me I had an emergency call. Yes dear readers I do have a direct line on my desk but I was on a conference call so my line was busy. There is a back up emergency number we can give out to our family's for emergencies so that is the number my mother called. Next Stop June 10th, Sorry for the alarm folks it was not a heart attack! Insert HUGE sigh of relief.

Once again, everyone back on the bus. Let’s fast forward 10 days. On June 20th my brother was attacked. During the attack he suffered what they call an orbital blowout fracture, a broken nose and a few other broken things. The orbital fracture shattered all of the bones around his eye & behind his eye and severed his optical nerve. So yeah my 36 year old brother, father of 2 children with special needs, self employed decent guy trying to turn his life around; yeah, he is now blind in one eye. Why? Because another alleged grown-up didn't know how to play nice in this sandbox we call life. My proudest moment in all of this: the fact that my brother did not lose his temper and did the right thing. The worst part other than that it even happened: My 2 special needs nephews saw the entire thing.

Had enough yet? Good me either! Lets get back on the bus and go thru a week of he is having surgery, no wait not this week but maybe someday and stop on June 24th. This would bring you the weekend following the incident involving my brother & I being the kind hearted sister I am went home to help out. I find my mother so sick she can hardly stand, totally dehydrated & find out she has not been able to keep fluids down pretty much since Tuesday. I ended up taking her to the hospital for fluids & treatment. The cause a really bad intestinal infection she is still battling.

Guess what kids? I am not done!! Seatbelts Please.

Now we are going all the way to Monday July 11th. I got a phone call from my friend B when I answered she sounded strange & then I lost the call. Since I had talked to her earlier in the day & found out that her father had suffered another stroke & not doing well I figured that is why she sounded strange. Come to find out she was in her car driving southbound some dummy was in his car fighting with his girlfriend driving northbound & not paying attention. He crossed the yellow line and hit B head on no warning nothing. B she is pretty lucky considering. Bruises like I have never seen. And her kneecap? Yeah it is not there anymore it was shattered into a bunch of itsy bitsy pieces.

The guy that hit her walked away as did his girlfriends 10 year old. The girlfriend was the only one involved in the accident not wearing her seatbelt & she was taken from the scene via Life Flight and the last we heard her condition was considered serious. Like I said considering B was very lucky. Bruises & breaks heal with time and cars can be replaced.

So that dear readers is why you have not heard from me for weeks on end. I have had a whole lot of drama in a short amount of time. In the scheme of things this blog was simply not a priority. Please accept my apologies & lets all hope it doesn't happen again!

*Funt- is a combination of 2 words 1) fucking and 2) *unt = Funt. When you are just so angry you can not think of what to call someone call them a funt. Trust me you will feel better.

Peace out

2005-07-12T17:50:00.000-05:00

I don't think I've ever mentioned my celebrity boy-toy harem. Well, I have one. And possibly at some point, I will discuss all of them with you. But for right now, I'm going to talk about my rock star boyfriend, Rivers Cuomo. (Not to be confused with my rock star boyfriends Eddie Vedder, Jon Bon Jovi, Larry Mullen Jr., or Dave Navarro, of course.)

I love me some Weezer. And yes, the Blue Album and Pinkerton are my favorites, but I have a soft spot for the Green Album. (Maladroit is fine, but it wouldn't be on my top 10 desert island discs.) And, despite the fact that I am not an underage Asian girl (which, I hear through the grapevine is Rivers type, sadly), I am completely convinced that when he is back at Harvard next year, he and I will bump into each other on campus and we'll fall madly in love.

(Ok, fine. I'm not "convinced." I mean, I'm not 10 years old. But I can't guarantee I wouldn't turn into a 12 year old fangirl, as uncool as that may be.)

So the new album. It's good. Really good. I like it a lot. And there's one particular song that I've been playing over and over, called Peace. This part

All these problems on my mind,
make it hard for me to think.
There is no way I can stop,
my poor my brain is gonna pop.

And I don't have a purpose
scattered on the surface,
I need to find some peace.

seemed pretty appropriate, considering what's been going on. It's like Rivers was living in my head when he wrote that song.

Today, I took a step toward finding some peace: I handed in my resignation. No, I don't have another job lined up, though I do have some interviews.

It's either the bravest or the stupidest thing I've ever done, but I did it. And it feels right. It feels as though a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders. And now, I can separate myself from all of the negativity and focus my energy on finding a better position.

And I know that in the end, it'll work out. But that middle part, man. What a bitch.

E-

Frankly my dear...

2005-07-09T10:24:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it feels as though my life is permanently on pause, while my friends move in fast forward. Yet another of my friends is moving forward in a relationship while I...well, I stupidly go out for drinks with BWBMH and wonder why he's so effing stupid.

The condensed (I swear) version of our saga is this: we met through friends (M, actually - though I don't hold that against her). We spent the first several months of our "friendship" emailing snide/sarcastic comments back and forth to break up the monotony of yet another work day. Gradually, we got closer and started having actual conversations, and I found myself thinking about him more and more. We never went out alone, though, there was always some sort of buffer. Sometimes we'd end up alone, the last two to leave or the first to arrive, but we never planned it that way. We never called each other up and made plans. Then, a few months ago, after knowing each other for a pretty long time, we went out for dinner and drinks. We talked - really talked. We traded stories about our effed up families, and told each other things about ourselves few people know. It was such a great night. He drove me home, kissed me on the cheek, and told me he'd had a good time. And then? He drew a happy face in the snow for me. When I asked what the hell he was doing, he said, "I'm drawing a happy face - I had fun. And tomorrow, when you get up and look out your window, you'll see it and think of me."

By this point, I'd realized that I had definite feelings for him, but didn't know what to do with them. He was going through a lot at the time - relatives were dying left and right, and he was working a gazillion hours a week, stressed out and closed off. I decided to wait until things calmed down for him.

But then came that infamous night, the night he broke my heart and didn't even know he'd done it. There was this girl he'd dated, a long time ago, and she was The Girl. I knew they were still close, but I ignored it because I didn't want to see it - she lives in NY, it was so long ago, he said he was over her, blahblahblah. Selective blindness.

That night, four of us went out for drinks. He and I got some private time, and I asked what he had planned for his birthday the next week. He said he wasn't sure. I asked if L (the ex) was going to come and visit. He said he wasn't sure. Then he said, "she was talking about moving back here when she graduates next month." I said, "oh?" and felt my heart stop for a second. And then it got worse...

Him: Yeah, she was talking about it, even though she hates New England, especially Massachusetts. I guess she's just drawn to me.
Me: Oh.
Him: But her professor talked her into taking a job in either VA or NY, instead.
Me: Reeeeaaally.
Him: Yeah. I figure I can always quit my job and move there. I mean, I probably won't, but I tell myself it's an option.
Me: (silence)

And I knew she'd won. And always would. And I died a little inside.

It had been a long time since I'd felt that strongly for anyone. I spent most of my 20s closed off and keeping people at bay. I opened up and fell for him, though, and it hurt like hell to think it was for nothing.

And then everything at work fell apart. And keeps getting worse. I've felt defeated and beat up on every level for the last two months.

This morning, I flipped on the tv and found Gone With the Wind. I love this movie. I know I shouldn't, but I do. As many faults as she has, (and there are many), I can't help but love Scarlett. And I love the ending. Modern Hollywood would have Scarlett and Rhett riding off into the sunset together, or Ashley showing up to propose as soon as Rhett walks out the door. Surely to god, a woman can't take care of herself and make it on her own!

Of course, Modern Hollywood would also have cast Keira Knightly or whatever hot-young-thing of the moment as Scarlett and some WB boy as Rhett. Scarlett would fall down a lot and probably get a makeover (i.e. take off her glasses and brush her hair). Idiots.

I know - this entry is all over the place. But I'm getting to the point, I swear.

And it's this: if Scarlett (in all her fictitious glory) can be ok, well, then so can I. Ok, so my heart got broken and my job sucks. So what? There are other boys and other jobs. BWBMH showed me that I can let someone in and care about them. My job...well, my job has showed me that I have considerable inner strength, as evidenced by the fact that I had yet to stab El D in the head with a pen.

Deep down, I know I'll be all right. After all, tomorrow is another day.

(I know, I know- but I had to do it. Sorry.)

E-

Six degrees of terror

2005-06-28T12:45:00.000-05:00

J just told me that she's afraid of Kevin Bacon. He scares her. She thinks he's weird and creepy.

I don't get it. I mean, some celebrities definitely qualify as weird and creepy. Rod Stewart? Hell yeah. John Malkovich? Sure. Even Christopher Walken could be described as such. But Kevin Bacon? Really?

I mean, Kevin Bacon was in Footloose fighting the man! He was that bike riding guy in Quicksilver! He cried in She's Having a Baby! And ummm... you know, lots of other non-scary roles. Ok, so he did that movie last year where he was like a pedophile or a killer or something - I didn't see it, so I don't know. But her fear goes back forever, to way before that movie came out. And she doesn't get how completely irrational it is.

I'm totally going to hop on Ebay and find some awesome Kevin Bacon posters to decorate our office with.

2005-06-22T11:05:00.000-05:00

I've been busting my ass trying to make things at work bearable. But El D won't give an inch. I've had two meetings with her this week, and I'm pretty sure the fact that I haven't stabbed her in the head with a pen (yet) says a lot about me. I had no idea I had this much will power, frankly. I was sure that at least one of us would be either dead or in jail by now.

Yesterday afternoon she came in and shat all over me. Again. I had to go outside to pull myself together, because I was pretty sure I was going to do something drastic. When I got downstairs, I realized that my shoe was broken. My favorite shoes - they go with everything: pants, skirts, capris, shorts. It's incredibly difficult to find an all-purpose shoe when you're a girl. (Or at least, I find it is.)

Oh man, it was the last straw. I just started crying. One of the production guys was outside having a smoke, and he came over to see what was wrong. I told him what was up (not the shoe thing though), and he was shocked, much like everyone when they hear what’s happening. I told him I’m screwed – she wants me gone, that’s it. He got this evil look on his face and said, “not necessarily – there’s always that sexual harassment claim you can file.”

I’m going to miss him when I’m gone.

(And yes, El D is a lesbian. And yes, she brings it up every chance she gets. She’s also Jewish, and she brings that up all the time, too. It’s annoying- I don’t feel the need to bring up the fact that I’m a straight recovering-Catholic all the time, so why should I care if she’s a Jewish lesbian? Really, the only thing that matters to me is that she’s a bitch. Whatever.)

So last night I went out and bought new shoes. I spent $50 on them, which is totally responsible of me what with my impending unemployment. I don’t love them as much as my old shoes, but they’ll serve the purpose.

Then I spent another 50 bucks or so on random things. And I felt better.

When I got home, I remembered that a friend of mine had asked me weeks ago to count how many pairs of shoes I own. (Her friend’s husband thought it was unreasonable that his wife owned 23 pairs of shoes, until he found out his own mother – who by his own account is not wasteful or excessive - owns 22 pairs.) I figured it was as good a time as any to start counting.

27. I own 27 pairs of shoes. That I found. I’m willing to bet there are a couple of pairs stashed at my mom’s house as well, and there may even still be a pair or two in my car, since I haven’t finished taking everything upstairs yet. And that doesn’t include the 10 or so pairs I threw out before I moved.

Hi, my name is Erica, and I’m a shoe addict.

But I’ve figured out what it is. Shoes are the great equalizer. Not everyone can wear a miniskirt or a tube top, but anyone can wear hot shoes. Feet are ugly to begin with, so everyone starts off with an equal playing field. When I’m feeling down or when I try on clothes that make me feel fat & gross, the first place I head to is the shoe department. I may not buy any, but I definitely get a little charge out of trying them on.

There are definitely some shoes in that pile that I don’t wear any more, and that I should get rid of. But you know what that means – I get to go shopping again. I mean, OBVIOUSLY I’ll have to replace them. Duh.

Clearly I need help.

E-

2005-06-17T13:31:00.000-05:00

So a couple of weeks ago I wrote about how I hoped to have an interesting and scandalous entry. I thought maybe it would revolve around my birthday festivities last weekend but (loud, inappropriate outbursts aside), things were relatively tame. A bunch of us went out to dinner on Saturday, then went to the bar for drinks. It was pretty low-key, and just a nice way to spend an evening. You never know how people from different parts of your life will react when they get together. Some of the people in that room had known me for roughly forever, some for a slightly shorter period of time. The good news is that everyone got along - quite possibly because they could all band together and mock me. But that's ok, because I'd expect nothing less from any of them. It's why I love all of them, in fact.

Monday was my actual birthday, and I managed to duck out early and get a massage. Then I did a little shopping w/a friend, and then she & I grabbed some dinner w/another mutual friend of ours. Great.

Tuesday passed without incident. Wednesday, however, was unbelieveable.

I got an email from my boss, El D around 1:30. She wants to know if we can meet at 330. Immediately, I'm on alert. So I respond saying that 330 is fine, should I bring anything specific? She answers back "nope." Now, I'm not a stupid person, and I've worked with her long enough to know that she's playing one of her passive-aggressive bullshit games with me. So I respond again, and ask her if there's an agenda for the meeting or if it's just a rescheduling of a weekly meeting. Instead of answering me, she heads to lunch. (God bless outlook, btw, and that little "read receipt" button.) So I'm fuming. I HATE this sort of behavior. If you have an issue and you want to talk to me, then you freaking tell me what you want to talk to me about. Lie if you must, but give me something. She came back from lunch at 3, and emailed me back. Apparently, she wanted to talk about "where we are" and her "feedback to me."

Great. It's another "you suck and I hate you" meeting. Rock on.

330 rolls around and I head to El D's office. She informs me that we're going to go down the hall to the Artistic Director's office, because it's "quieter." My fat ass. Whatever. I cheerily head down the hall feigning ignorance. Bad sign #2 - throwing someone out of his office so that we can have privacy. As we're waiting for the Artistic Director to leave his office, Bad Sign #3 shows up in the form of the HR guy.

People, it's never good when the HR guy shows up for a meeting. I know my goose is cooked. But I also know that since I'm well past my 90 days, she can't just fire me. So while I'm freaked out, I also know that I will walk out of there still holding my job- no matter how temporarily.

And so we shut the door, and it starts. I don't take initiative. I don't communicate with her, or anyone. I don't seem enthusiastic about working here. I don't help out with events. I don't... I don't...I don't. I sat there, stunned. Every example was from at least 2 months ago. Nothing she cited was new, aside from when she told me I don't have any sort of relationship with other staffers. (which, btw, is complete and total bullshit. While I'm not buddy-buddy with everyone on a personal level, I certainly have a good professional relationship with everyone here. And that's all that matters.)

She summed it all up by telling me I have 30 days to change, or I'm out. I just sat there. I didn't know what to say. I'd just been blindsided. Every single thing she's charged me with is purely subjective. There's nothing that can be quantified by anyone other than her. So basically, unless she gets a personality transplant in the next 28 days, I'm effed. Completely and totally. She wants me out, she's figured out a way to do it, and nothing will stand in her way.

My colleagues are furious. They're furious that this is being done at all, and even more furious that she didn't discuss it with them. But that's because she doesn't want to hear anything positive about me and doesn't want anyone to go up against her on this. She's made up her mind, that's it, thank you, and goodnight.

So I have roughly 30 days to find something else. I don't even care what at this point, just something to get me by. I sent three resumes today (from work, because I'm nothing if not dedicated to my job) and plan to send several more this weekend. And while the prospect of being unemployed for a week or so is kind of nice (it'd be great to sleep in and catch up on some daytime tv), I know from experience that anything longer than a week is too long.

So yeah. I don't even know anymore. I'm pissed and annoyed and freaked the eff out. I'm going to take the weekend to get my head together, and then first thing Monday morning I'm going to waltz my fat ass down the the HR guy and make my case. First thing on the agenda? The fact that El D has given me 30 days to improve, but she'll be out of the office for 2 weeks of those 30 days. How can you judge my performance when you're not. Here.

Sometimes being a grown up sucks ass.

It's on bitches!

2005-06-10T11:41:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, Mete is heading to Boston for a big birfday celebration. She turned 30 last month, and Monday is the big day for me. I'm ok with it. I think.

(Ask me again on Monday.)

This morning, however, I got an email from my former boss, who is a lunatic (but in the good way). It said,

This is your last weekend to be a 20-something whatever (actress, axe murderer, etc.), so live it up! I've already started the collection for your bail, so let the DCO begin!"

In case you're wondering, DCO is drinkin' and carryin' on. I plan to take her words to heart (though most likely not the ax murderer part) and drink myself silly this weekend. Tomorrow night, a bunch of us are going out for dinner/drinks.

Ideally, this will not involve
a) puking on myself, a la St. Patrick's day
b) going to the wrong hotel room (because Mete & I are livin' it up and staying in a fancy hotel)
c) falling down and/or breaking any bones (I still have my bruises from the U2 concert, btw - they're quite lovely and fetching)

Everyone light a candle and say a prayer.

E-

Adventures in Moving

2005-06-07T10:57:00.000-05:00

So the big move happened over the weekend. Most of my stuff is now in my new apartment, albeit in boxes and complete and utter chaos. It’s amazing how much stuff you can accumulate without even realizing it.

I think I mentioned that my new apartment is on the third floor of an old Victorian house. And once you get up to it, it’s quite lovely. But the getting up to it is a killer. As much as I hate him, BWBMH was a rock star this weekend. He and my brother (who is a saint) got everything heavy up those steps in record time.

And in what had to be record-breaking heat. Because this is June in New England, you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get weather wise. Two days before the move, I was digging out sweaters because it was in the forties. On Saturday? Summer hit, full-force. It was 80+ degrees and humid.

Did I mention I live on the third floor? And that the air conditoner is not yet in?

Oh, BWBMH and my brother were HATING me. Everything I own was bigger and heavier than it would’ve been had I moved in say April. And I, because I am stupid, broke the cardinal rule of moving and completely forgot to buy beer for them.

They’re saints, I tell you.

I tried to help, but did I mention how hot it was? Or how heavy everything suddenly got? I think the phrase “you’re such a girl” was uttered by each of them at least 20 times that afternoon. It was usually followed by either “give me that” or “get out of the way.” Usually I’m all rah-rah girl power, but that day I was really content to play the girl card. (And I’m much less ashamed than I should be to admit that, btw.)

The big fun came when they had to pull the box spring up from the porch because it wouldn’t fit up the wonky, crooked stairs. I stood on the porch and tossed down the rope while they stood on the ground and gift wrapped my box spring. Then BWBMH came upstairs and he and I pulled it up. (Well, he pulled it – I made a good show of things.) He turned to me and said, “you ever think of getting a futon?” I reminded him that he really, truly, deep down loves me and that he’s awesome. I don’t think he bought it, but he also refrained from dropping my box spring to the ground and going home.

He loves me.

Almost as much as my brother, who got the added pleasure of putting together the dresser I purchased. I asked him if he’d rather me get an unfinished, pre-assembled one, or if he wanted to put one together. He decided it would be easier to bring it up in pieces and assemble it than to lug another piece of furniture up the stairs, so off to Tar-zhay we went.

Two and a half hours later, I had a new dresser. And a really, really pissed off brother. But he’ll forgive me. Eventually.

Hopefully before I have to move again.

E-

Umm, yeah...

2005-05-29T12:42:00.000-05:00

Someone (http://indecisivegirl.blogspot.com) very nicely (or, you know, not so nicely) pointed out last night that M & I hadn't updated in a while. So without further ado, here's the scoop from my side of life. (Because I know you've all been waiting with baited breath.)

The apartment gods smiled on me, and I found a place that is a)convenient, and b)affordable. It's a great, great space, but highly impractical. (Third floor of an old Victorian house, no washer/dryer, very little storage space.) And I don't care. I love it. It's got a loft-like feel, and only one roommate who is barely home. I move on Saturday, which means I have two years worth of crap to pack, clean, and/or purge in the next 6 days. I've started, but barely. I've got a long way to go.

Last week, M & I went to see U2, and it was (for me) a religious experience. I've loved them for years, and I had been looking forward to the show since we got tickets a million months ago. It was worth it. Two solid hours of great music and the added bonus of my boyfriend Larry Mullen Jr. Can't go wrong.

I've been on vacation for the last few days, and I've not given one thought to work. It's been great, but I know that by the time tomorrow night rolls around, I'll be back to hating things. But now that the apartment thing is settled, I can focus my energy on finding a new job.

The Boy Who Broke My Heart (BWBMH) is still in the picture - we were and still are friends. For now. He's offered to help me move, and I figure it's the least he can do, all things considered. He doesn't know officially that he's the boy, but he has an inkling. I saw him a few days ago and things were relatively normal between us. I hope to stay friends with him, because he's an amazing person, but we'll see what happens.

And that, as they say, is that. I hope to have something much more scandalous/interesting next time around. :-)

E-

How to win friends and influence co-workers

2005-05-19T10:01:00.000-05:00

Last night was opening night for the new play. We always have a big reception before for donors/board members/VIPs, which is the responsibility of our office to plan and orchestrate. It's a HUGE pain in the ass. Last night, we had about 200 people, which is way more than usual (we usually have about 120 max), and it was insane.

After cleaning up (because my job is oh-so-glamorous), my New Gay Boyfriend (NGB) drags me over to the leftover food (because we get the scraps) and pours me a glass of wine. Then he pours me another, and then another. Quite possibly there was a fourth, but I'm not sure. I do remember there was also a cape codder involved. (Very small cups, though, I swear - we're not talking keg cups, just the little 8 ounce cups, thankfully.)

It's also entirely possible that I may or may not have:
1) asked the marketing director to hit my boss with a blunt object (his response: "how hard?")

2) promised NGB that at some point before my birthday next month I will dance on a table, and that if it doesn't happen prior to our joint birthday celebration, he & I will dance on a table together

3) told a bunch of people I barely know the teabagging story (which involves one of the gross students here and a 70-something actor)

4) told NGB all of our awful nicknames for the people we work with

Poor J did not know what to make of it all. NGB and I were out of control - shit talking with the production people, drinking and carrying on like it was our job. There was actually a post-show party as well, but there was a slim-to-none chance that I'd have made it home alive if I'd stayed. NGB would only let me go when I promised to stay for the next post-party. Frankly, I'm a bit worried about how that's all going to turn out. I have visions of sleeping in my office that night.

But the good news in all of this is that despite it all, I was not the Drunk Girl. That honor goes to the props manager, who was shoused before I even had a sip. She & her drunk gross husband were hysterical, but also more than a little frightening.

My head is KILLING me this morning - I've already taken about a half a bottle of Advil. Here's hoping I don't find out anything too embarrassing when everyone finally rolls in here around noon.

The joys of working for a theatre.

E-

2005-05-11T15:42:00.000-05:00

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I can usually find the words I need to express myself. Sometimes only a big, fancy, 2-dollar word will do. But right now there's only one thing I can say to my friends (aka "the most fabulous people on the face of the earth"): Thanks.

It's such a small word, but there's so much love and gratitude behind it that I should write it in 525 point font, bolded and italicized for all the world to see. I'd hire a skywriter but (unfortunately) while my gratitude knows no bounds, my wallet does.

The last week has been such a roller coaster of emotions, and I finally feel as though I'm coming out of the dark. That's due, in large part, to the fact that I have surrounded myself with some of the most awesome, fabulous, caring, and supportive people in the world. Anytime I've fallen apart, they've been there to help me put the pieces back together. I feel so incredibly fortunate to have them in my life.

So to all of you, thank you, thank you, thank you. And right back atcha.

E-

Tag! We're It!

2005-05-11T15:22:00.000-05:00

First & foremost many thanks to the one & only Amazing Amy for tagging us. Girl if you are ever in Boston we are so going out for tequila shots!
Without further ado:

Choose five of these professions and finish the sentence...
If I could be a scientist... If I could be a farmer... If I could be a musician... If I could be a doctor... If I could be a painter... If I could be a gardener... If I could be a missionary... If I could be a chef... If I could be an architect... If I could be a linguist... If I could be a psychologist... If I could be a librarian... If I could be an athlete... If I could be a lawyer... If I could be an innkeeper... If I could be a professor... If I could be a writer... If I could be a backup dancer...
If I could be a llama-rider... If I could be a bonnie pirate...If I could be a midget stripper... If I could be a proctologist...If I could be a TV-Chat Show host... If I could be an actor...
If I could be a judge... If I could be a Jedi...If I could be a mob boss... If I could be a backup singer...If I could be a CEO... If I could be a movie reviewer...

Choose five people to pass it onto when you are finished.

If I could be a Farmer. . .
M said: I would finally have a set up where I could have a horse on the property and be able to let my dogs race and run outside all day with me. Plus I would make sure that there was a cowboy type that lived on said farm. . .

E said: I would kill myself. Seriously. Waking up before the sun rises, cleaning up after smelly animals, manual labor - my personal idea of hell. No thank you. And not even a hot cowboy type could make me change my mind.

If I could be an Innkeeper. . .
M said: I would run the hippest inn this side of the Mississippi! There would be a tons and tons of delicious food, good conversation and copius amounts of alcohol. Dogs would be just a welcome as their owners and have every ammenity a puppy dog could dream of.

E said: It'd be somewhere near the ocean, with good food, good conversation, and the most comfy beds in the world.

If I could be a CEO. . .
M said: I would finally be able to set my own hours and work from home! I could bring the dog to work with me if I wanted. I would finally be able to run a business with heart - one that understands that compassion & understanding can sometimes increase productivy more than threats & discipline.

E said: I'd learn from all the shit bosses I've had over the years and do the exact opposite. Oh, and health care for everyone!!!

If I could be a Mob Boss. . .
M said: Tony Soprano watch out! I would be the badest bad ass around. I would fancy myself a Robin Hood-esque mob boss type.

E said: I'd rather be a mob wife. I've always dreamed of being a kept woman, heh.

If I could be a TV Chat Show Host. . .
M said: I would have the best show in the history of Talk type shows. I would have sit-down tell-all type interviews with the authors people REALLY wanted to talk to. Music each episode, and a veiwer would be my right hand Ed McMahon asking the types of things I as a viewer always want to know but the shows just dont go far enough.

E said: I'd have two segments - Celebrities I Love/Want to Shag, and Celebrities I want to Beat the Ever-Loving Snot Out of. I'd reserve the right not to tell them in advance which segment I'm booking them for.

To My Friend

2005-05-09T09:10:00.000-05:00

This past week one of my closest friends had her heart broken. . .bad. Nothing can leave you standing around dumbfounded and uncomfortable than a friend revealing to you that this has happened. With the exception of that friend trying to go through it alone because she did not want to upset you. Now that I know my poor friend is hurting I have a few things that need to be said.

E-

I really do not know what to tell you right now that probably has not already been said. I know your heart is broken and you are hurting. My words no matter how thoughtful, caring, simple or complex can not take the hurt away. Regardless of how much I want to I can not wave a magic wand and make your pain go away. For that I am sorry.

You know better than most that I have been right where you are because no matter how far down I went you jumped right in after me and pulled me back up again. I may not be able to take away the pain you are feeling now but I do have a wish for you. This is a wish I have had for you for a long time; because of who you are and everything you have done for me.

May you find your big love. The one who appreciates you for everything you are and everything you are going to become.
May you land you dream job. The job where you can prove to everyone including yourself that you are an incredibly intelligent and gifted woman. A woman who knows her mind and is not afraid to say it.
May you realize just how strong you are. I know you there is not anything that you can not accomplish. Your physical strength has helped me move out of bad apartments & worse relationships. Your emotional strength has carried me through those moves.
May happiness find you again & be part of your life.
I know you have your own wishes & your own dreams. I want each of those for you as well. May each of your dreams come true, along with your wishes.

I like to think that in some ways my words no matter how simple have helped ease the pain you are feeling. I know that time is the only thing that can make that pain fade. Remember I am here if ever you need anything just call.

Your Friend Always,
M

2005-05-06T19:03:00.000-05:00

So this week sucked. Out loud and on toast. It stunk on ice. Within 48 hours, I lost the apartment I'd been counting on, my job fell apart (though I still have it, which may be the most unfortunate part), and I got my heart broken. Badly.

This morning, I was tired and hung over and still crying over the aforementioned heartbreak. I actually stopped to get breakfast at a different Dunkin Donuts because the very nice people at the DD near my work know me, (and my order), and they always ask how I'm doing and make polite conversation, and I just couldn't handle it. I could not face simple human kindness this morning; it would've been too much. So even though it felt like cheating, I got my coffee on my way to the T instead of when I got to work.

In case you're wondering what might be worse than riding the train to work in the morning while tired, hung-over, and heartbroken, I have an answer for you: Riding the train to work in the morning while tired, hung-over, and heartbroken with two effing clowns. Actual clowns, not just the marooons you usually find on the train. We're talking colorful clothing, rubber noses, and kazoos, which they were blowing. On the train. At 8 in the morning. As they danced around and practiced their clown routine. And ignored the death stares everyone was giving them. (I wish I was making this up, honestly.)

I actually contemplated throwing my coffee at them, but since there were two of them and they were kind of far away, I didn't. I definitely would've missed at least one of them, quite possibly both, because I have no aim, and I couldn't take that chance.

I hate clowns. Hate them! They serve zero purpose in life, except to scare small children and annoy adults. And for them to walk into my living nightmare this morning makes me wonder what sort of sick sense of humor god has.

As for the rest of it? Well, I'm hoping the big bottle of wine I'm about to drink will at least let me sleep tonight. And we'll see how it goes from there.

E-

Getting in touch with Nature

2005-05-04T15:03:00.000-05:00

I am so freaking tired today I am hallucinating. I like any good adult have set a bed time for myself; failure to go to bed by a certain time leads to trouble. In my case if I am not on my way to Dreamland by the conclusion of the 11 o'clock news the next day I am going to be a useless whiney pile of bitch. Seriously imagine a sleep deprived 3 year old trapped in a 30 year olds body. That is me without enough sleep.

Last night I was in bed at my regular 11:30 time and sure enough drifted off to sleep without much of a problem until I heard this noise. This odd noise was not a typical noise my house makes at night so I was slightly concerned. It wasn't terribly loud it was simply terribly annoying. I got up from bed tried to wake the ferocious rottweiler sleeping next to me (with no success I might add) and turned on the light. When I turned on the light the noise it stopped!! So off with the light and back to bed I went.

Then just as I was about to drift off to sleep the noise it was back. Again, Credence was of NO use. Damn dog was in such a deep sleep my house could have been burgled and she wouldn't have woke up. Once again I get up from bed turn on the light & the noise it stops. Back to bed I go. This ridiculous cycle lasted until sometime in the wee hours of the morning when I finally decided I had enough and went to sleep in the guest bedroom/office.

I get up this morning and begin my routine. Let Victoria out first then wake up Credence and get her out of bed. Throughout my routine I never once heard the annoying noise so I was starting to think that maybe we had Casper's cousin, Angus the Annoying Ghost living with us. Right before I was walking out the door for work I decided to open up a few windows and that is when I discovered the source. In between the glass window and the screen, stuck to the screen was a flipping cricket. As I am cranking open the window the bastard was looking at me like "Bitch I am trying to sleep!"

Now let me clarify by saying that I am FULLY aware that when you live west of nowhere critters are something you get used to. We have deer, raccoons, skunks, snakes, coyotes, rabbits hell 3 weeks ago I had a hawk fly into the front door & then sit on the hood of my car while he recovered. Bugs I normally have no problem with but this little bastard he took away my precious sleep. I thought about squishing him but that was too mean even for me. I flicked his ass off my screen and he landed in a birds nest. I love getting in touch with nature!

More Later-
M

Gross

2005-04-29T19:03:00.000-05:00

I can't possibly be the only one repulsed by this -

http://u.dailybulletin.com/Stories/0,1413,212~23477~2843364,00.html

And WHO, in their right mind, says they are "more than enamored" with someone? Way to prove you really are as big of a tool as we think you are, Tommy.

Blech.

E-

Consider This Your Final Warning

2005-04-29T13:20:00.000-05:00

Everyday I try really really hard to not think mean thoughts & wish for bad things to happen to people who annoy me. This usually last for all of 5 minutes & then I want to poke someone's eyeballs out with toothpicks! Great visual, I know.

Without further ado here is the list of people that can consider themselves warned:

To the LOUD talker who sits next to me. . .SHUT UP all ready. Oh and TMI. Thanks for ruining my lunch with your phone call to your husband.
To the close talker. . . Stay the hell out of my dance space.
To the chick that is still wearing maternity clothes. . .Your baby is 3 move on!
To the annoying skinny girl who got the promotion I deserved. . .first of all bulimia is so not in fashion so EAT SOMETHING! Oh and thanks for taking my job! Biatch!
To the person in line in front of me at the bank drive up window. . .What part of a 3 transaction limit do you not understand?
To the driver of the HUGE SUV that can not park it. . .If you can not park it between the lines you don't deserve to own it!
To the mailman. . .I don't know your name however I try to be a good postal patron but please stop putting everyone else's mail in my box!
To the bitchy Fed-Ex lady. . .If you came out of the closet I bet you would feel better.
To the old person I got stuck behind last night. . .Please turn in your license you really should not be driving.
To the new bartender. . .Seriously I checked with Stoli they are going to keep making the Rasberry. NOW can you put more than a drop in my drink?
To the old bartender. . .Why did you leave me? Was it something I said? Please come back I promise to be a better tipper.
To the girl with all the makeup. . .Trust me when I tell you it doesn't help. At all.
To the Telemarketer that disturbed my nap. . .When you do finally end up in Hell, may you be surrounded by ringing phones!
Really I do try every single day to be nice but somedays it is just not possible, now you know why! So tell me . . .Who do you want to warn? Come on leave a comment let me know.
More Later!
M-

It's not even Festivus

2005-04-20T10:26:00.000-05:00

And yet? It's time, once again, for the airing of grievances. Today's entry is dedicated to commuting woes.

To the Idiots who park at the commuter lot:
How is it that you are surprised every. Single. Day. by the fact that you have to take a ticket to enter the garage? Is it too much to ask that you roll down your window as you're pulling up to the ticket machine, instead of stopping at said machine, parking, then rolling down your window? And could you maybe roll your window up as you drive AWAY from the machine, instead of remaining parked in front of it? Way to hold up everyone behind you who is just trying to go to work. You're driving a brand new SUV, I'm willing to bet it comes with power windows. My little Cavalier comes with windows I have to manually roll up (the horror!), yet I am somehow able to multi-task and not keep the world waiting. Go figure.

And while we're on the topic of "surprises" at the parking garage - why, for the love of all that is holy, are you surprised that you have to pay to leave said garage? This isn't a new concept. Could you maybe take out your money BEFORE you pull up to the booth? Or, at least, before you give your ticket to the very nice people who work in the booth. Again, you're holding up EVERYONE BEHIND YOU who just wants to go HOME at the end of the day and not wait while you search for cash.

To the people who drive the Mass Pike
Your license plate says Massachusetts, which means you have no excuse for not knowing that the Pike is a toll road. That means you have to PAY to use it. So why is it that every single time I've driven on the Pike for the last month or so, I get stuck behind the idiot who doesn't understand that concept? Get on outside of Boston, and you even get a ticket that tells you how much the toll is going to be. Amazing, isn't it? Maybe you could, oh, I don't know CHECK the ticket before you reach the toll booth and maybe have some money ready. Take some initiative people - don't wait for Toll Booth Willie to tell you how much you owe.

To the people who ride the T:
Deodorant, people. Look into it.
Also, while I know the Boston Globe is fascinating reading, could you maybe not open it up all the way when you're crowded between people? You're in my dance space.

Bishes, man. Bishes.

E-

It's always something

2005-04-11T19:16:00.000-05:00

So because I am crazy and possibly masochistic, today I decided that I need to look for a new job. Again. In addition to the new apartment I need to find. Because heck, if you're going to change things, might as well do it all at once, right?

It all came about thanks to conversation I had with my boss today. She called me down to her office and wanted to know "what's going on" with me. Being the consummate professional that I am, I didn't immediately answer, "you're crazy and I hate you." (Gold star for me.) Instead, I asked her what she meant by it. And she proceeded to tell me she knows I'm smart, but that she doesn't feel as though she's getting anything from me. So I explain that there's obviously a breakdown in communication, because I often feel as though I'm not understanding what more she wants from me. Then she told me I was re-active instead of pro-active. So I very nicely (and much more calmly than I felt) explained that it's very difficult for me to be pro-active with her because there have been many times (read: every time) that I felt as though she immediately dismissed any of my suggestions/ideas. And that it made me very reluctant to suggest anything, because I was certain she'd shut it down. Her response? "Yeah, I do do that."

And that was it. I'm supposed to change my work style completely - she wants me to tell her when I've completed a task (even if it's as simple as putting in a check request), she wants us to meet at least weekly so she knows what I'm working on, and - quite possibly - she wants to know that I wash my hands after going to the bathroom (I always do, btw - just putting that out there). And I can't work like that. I'm used to having bosses give me a project and let me work on it. I'm used to independence, and I can't work with someone who is breathing down my neck every second of every day. The kicker is that she supposedly hired me because I'm smart and competent, but now she's either threatened by it or second guessing it. And, even though it's only 4 months in, I can't take it anymore.

So I'll suck it up and start looking. Or, you know, just start playing the lottery.

Being a grown-up sucks. A lot.

E-

Call me Don Quixote

2005-04-06T10:27:00.000-05:00

That is right strike me down & call me Don Quixote because I dare to dream the impossible dream. This past Sunday I was a woman on a mission. I need to find a stylish, non-soccer mom looking pair of jeans for fat girls (apparently a size 10-12 is no longer average but fat) that FIT! Shopping for jeans is probably one of the most frustrating things ever. But, like Don Quixote sings it "this is my quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far."

Here are the facts:
I am not a Barbie doll nor am I built like Britney. On the other hand I am heavier than I (and most men) would prefer but I am not in plus sizes. I have an ass, I have thighs, I do not have a flat stomach and sadly I have a short torso. Add all of this up and for the most part I am a size 12 sometimes a 10 and sometimes a 14. And truly I am OK with all of this.

Previous Quests

Adventures in Old Navy:
Before I decided to give up an entire afternoon in the mall I did what any normal average 30 year old would do when they need casual clothing. I went to my local Old Navy. Once upon a time, I was in love with Old Navy. Old Navy was my own personal shopping Mecca. And then the inevitable happened. . .Old Navy betrayed me.

You see, I had several pairs of Old Navy Stretch Low Rise Boot Cut size 12's that fit perfect. When my last pair finally kicked the bucket I immediately hopped in my chariot & went to Old Navy. Because I have broken up with other stores (Damn you Gap) when I have gone back to get something I already have & then the shit doesnt fit or they dont make it any more. I went to the fitting room to try on my jeans. Only to discover that the pair of 10's look like I sprayed them on my body with an airbrush & the 12's look like I had a kid 4 months ago but am still wearing maternity pants!!! WTF????

What did I do? I was desperate & settled for the size 12’s that look like I am wearing maternity pants. It is true beggars can not be choosers.

My Hero, TJ Maxx:
On my next quest I ventured into the wilds of TJ Maxx. Here, I found a pair of jeans from Express that I LOVE LOVE LOVE. Have I told you how much I love these jeans? I would wear them every single day cause for the most part they fit.

My Unreachable Star:
On Sunday I entered the mall thru the food court & head straight for Express. Why is it when you need the annoying size 2 sales girl who is worried if her BFFL & her BF are hooking up while she is totally working hard at the mall you can NOT find one?

After wandering the store aimlessly I finally happened upon above mentioned sales clerk texting her BFFL behind an end cap of clearance merchandise. I immediately asked her for a pair of size 10 of the Ciene style jeans. “Oh really? I am sorry but we like don’t make those anymore.” They changed their styles & the one I like no longer exists. Betrayed once more. I, "scorned and covered with scars, still strove with my last ounce of courage."

I went to The Limited and while the jeans fit OK they didn’t look great. Tried The Gap which was just painful. Lastly but not leastly I went to Filenes where I tried on no word of a lie 15 pairs of Jeans. I tried Polo, DKNY, Tommy, Mavi, Calvin etc. Finally, the last pair I tried on (go flipping figure) were exactly what I had been searching for. Low Rise, Boot Cut, fit thru the waist but not too tight on my fat arse or thighs, they had a darker broken in wash. They were in a word HEAVEN. Seriously I was thinking "that my heart will lie peaceful and calm, when I'm laid to my rest, and the world will be better for this."

I was praising the Gods & Goddesses of Denim thanking them for the designers at Lucky Brand! At that point I decided I would take them along with a pair of Tommy's that fit pretty well but were a heavier material than I wanted. When I left the fitting room I was on such a high after finding 2 pairs of Jeans I decided I would take the REALLY UBER ADORABLE Lucky Brand Sweatpants with these old school tattoos on them too!!!

I get up to the register and hand the girl the spoils of my quest and realize the jeans I once thought were "HEAVEN" betrayed me with a $90 price tag!!!!! Freaking $90!!!!!!!! The fun? it didn’t stop there the UBER ADORABLE sweatpants. . . $70!!!!!!!!! That? Is effing insane!! Even I have my limits. I had to put them both pairs of Lucky Brand pants back. And no I have not stopped crying!

And because I have no shame I am accepting donations. Please contact me if you are able to contribute. If you do, I promise no more horrible Broadway quotes.

More Later,
M

Reason #548 million why people suck

2005-04-05T14:09:00.000-05:00

Things at my apartment have been ugly for the last few days. On Saturday, roommate #1 finally got fed up and told roommate #2 that enough was enough, and the fiance was not allowed to stay all the time. Fiance threw a major hissy fit when he heard, and he stormed out, vowing never to come back if we thought he was such an ahole.

10 minutes later the doorbell rang. Fiance had come back because he has NOWHERE TO GO! Because he is a HOMELESS SQUATTER with no friends. He and Roommate #2 spent the entire weekend either squirrelled away in her room, or out of the apartment.

Fast forward to yesterday. Come home, and Roommates 1 & 2 are both home, albeit on opposite sides of the apartment. I get changed and book it out of there.

Come home a couple of hours later, and after Roommate #2 goes to bed, I ask Roommate #1 if they're speaking. She tells me "barely," and that apparently Fiance had stopped by earlier but refused to come into the house since Roommate #1 is there. Mature, no? (He's 32, people. 32!!) So she tells me she wants to talk to me about what's going to happen when they actually move out. Seems her business partner (whom I not-so-affectionately refer to as "Bitchface") wants in. Roommate #1 and Bitchface have apparently spent the last several weeks discussing this, and they have both decided it's the best idea since new Coke. (Or maybe that was just my spin on things.) Since the very thought of living with Bitchface causes me to a)throw up a little in my mouth, and b)want to scream and throw things, I know it's not an option. Roommate #1 knows it's not really an option, but has to play like she gives a damn. So she asks me what I was thinking of doing. I told her I'd honestly not given it much thought, because I was working under the assumption that things wouldn't need to be decided for a couple more months, and that I'd been leaning towards staying because I wanted to get a new car and our rent is reasonable enough for me to do that. I ask when Roommate #2 is moving, or if we have a lease (because it's sort of blurry), and what the deal is. Seems Roommate #2 is moving out for June 1st, which is when Bitchface would like to move in.

Living with them means not only living with someone I hate, but also their business (photography). It means strangers (sorry, "potential clients") traipsing into my home to see their work, it means them constantly on the computer photoshopping images to an inch of their lives, and it means lots and lots of arguments about their artistry.

So even though I have no other option than to get the hell out, I tell Roommate #2 that if she's looking for an answer from me at that very moment, she can't have one. I tell her that she's clearly had more time than I have to process things, and I've had it all dumped on me.

Bishes, man. Bishes.

And now, the cursed apartment hunt begins. I had flashbacks last night to when I was looking for a place the first time, almost 2 years ago. I shit you not, there were ads for apartments where people live with actual monkeys. And while I'm of the opinion that a monkey can make any situation funnier, I'm not so sure I want to live with one full time.

So if anyone knows of any nice, reasonably priced, monkey-free apartments in the Boston area, let me know. Otherwise, I'm buying a tent and camping in the Public Gardens.

E-

Confession #324

2005-04-03T18:33:00.000-05:00

I am a book snob. Complete and total. I love books, and I am always in the middle of at least 1 book, usually more like 2 or 3. But I have rules, and I stick to them. For example, if they make a book into a movie, I will do everything in my power to hunt down a copy that doesn't have the movie poster as a cover. I also don't buy anything that's Oprah-approved (my Oprah hate is a topic for another day, btw), unless the Oprah sticker can be peeled off. (And even at that, I'll only order it online because I don't want the people who work at BN or Borders to think I'm only buying it because Oprah said so.)

So here's the thing. On the one hand, I think that anything that gets people to read more is good. My brother and his friends won't read a book if there's a movie version. And, in fact, my own brother hates To Kill a Mockingbird. (If I ever needed proof that we were adopted - which we truly were, btw - there it is. That book is a masterpiece - my favorite of all time. And he hates it. Clearly he has no soul.) So anytime anyone who wouldn't normally read finds something they enjoy, I should be happy right?

And I am, with one exception: Dan Brown. Oh, how I hate Dan Brown. I'm convinced that The DaVinci Code has subliminal messages in it, brainwashing people into thinking it's great literature. People, it's not. It's the literary equivalent of Chinese food: you're pretty satisfied while you're eating it, but an hour later you realize you're ravenous and unfulfilled. It's not groundbreaking, and it's not original. It's utterly offensive. Not because of the religious context (which, btw, gets a big fat what-ever from me), but because it's crap. (And I know my friend Mete is reading this, shaking her head because she's heard this from me before, but I don't care. It's crap.) If someone talks about how fabulous and life-altering (no lie, someone said this on the T one day) TDVC is, I know to never trust their judgement on anything. Ever. I know it makes me close-minded and bitchy, but I don't care.

TDVC is not meant to be taken literally. It shouldn't even be taken as literature. It's a light, fluffy read that you leave on the airplane for someone else to enjoy during a cross-country flight. Except don't do that. Because the cult of Dan Brown must be stopped.

E-

Dear Robert Fulghum- Please Go Away!

2005-03-31T11:13:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I spent close to four hours in the dentists chair being shot with novocaine, poked with scary metal instruments and apparently he was trying to strike oil in my molars cause he just kept drilling! Now I know why all of this took place and I accept that because I have been lax about going in for regular cleanings & I drink soda excessively I have to pay the price.

But here is my first question: If I am in a reclining dental chair with my head touching the ground and a bright light shining in my eyes all the while being poked and prodded and DRILLED how are the inspirational posters you have on the ceiling supposed to make me feel better? Seriously, All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten or Life's Little Instructions are not helping me feel any better right now!

There I am looking up at the ceiling thinking what would make someone say "I want to be a dentist." Without singing the score of Little Shop of Horrors or accidentally calling Dr. Tooth "Herbie." Right then & there I do not need to be told "Always buy a car with a sunroof." Likewise at this very moment I do not want to be told "Don't Hit People" or "Put things back where you found them."

Now, my appointment began at 8:30 for a cleaning and then from 9:30 - 12:30 the above mentioned drilling began. I hate needles and it took approximately 8 that is correct 8 shots of novocaine to numb the half of my mouth where Dr. Tooth was prospecting oil. Keeping all of this in mind it was a long ass morning and afternoon.

All I wanted to do when I left the Dr. Tooths was take some pain killers & then oddly enough, eat something. Seriously I was freakishly hungry. Hungry to the point where I was hallucinating. Why was I so freakishly hungry? Because they had the food network on the TV the entire time I was there. Have you ever tried to eat something after 8 shots of novocaine it is A) not pretty B) so damn frustrating and C) not possible!!!

My day of fun & frolic did not end there. . .oh no. I work for a huge corporation that does not give sick days or personal days. In order to go to a Doctors appointment I have to use my vacation time. With this in mind I figure if I have to go to the dentists I may as well get all of my other Doctors appointments out of the way in the same day. So, I leave Dr. Tooths office and head to Dr. Clean Bill of Health's office. I walk in the door and my face is still numb & contorted from the novocaine makes me look like Sloth from "The Goonies." Apparently I looked absolutely terrible. So bad the secretary & most of the small children in the office were frightened. Why do I think this? Because I didn't even have to wait to be seen.

I get shown to the exam room & change into the highly fashionable gown. After the usual height, weight, ears, nose, throat type stuff the inevitable happens. . . I lay back on the table look up at the ceiling and WHAM!!!! "Don't hit people." and "Put things back where you found them." WHAT THE F**K??? Are these damn posters a prerequisite for the ceilings of medical offices everywhere?

At that point I began cursing Robert Fulghum and the popularity of that damn essay! Shut Up and stay out of my Doctors office already!

More Later-
M-

Define Irony

2005-03-29T08:58:00.000-05:00

This morning while working to work I saw a car with the following bumper stickers:

No Discrimination in the Constitution
Celebrate Diversity
Practice Random Acts of Kindness...
Yankees Suck!

I guess you should love everybody, as long as they're not Yankee fans.

E-

IT'S ALIVE!

2005-03-23T09:59:00.000-05:00

Yeah I am here and no I was not suddenly rendered unable to type in some freak industrial accident or anything like that. I simply have been way too damn busy and tired and well hung over.

As E highlighted in her post where she explained that she is Karmas bitch I will add on a few tidbits. First off folks don't take a vacation to Boston cause it is no longer there we drank it. Fanuiel Hall, The Freedom Trail, The Pru yup they are ALL GONE. We drank them & then E horked them into the toilet of some Irish Bar. Although I think a little of the Fenway Park landed on her boot but that is another story for another time.

Although we were slightly drunk & stupid we were not as unfortunate as the poor girl who passed out in the bar. And people her friends?!? The ones who suck!?! They left her!!! All By Herself!! On a bench ALONE so that random drunk people could whip out their camera phones & take pictures. Even better the mean random drunk people could throw limes at her & try to get them stuck in her cleavage. Bonus points if you wake her up!

We left the bar once Erica made her donation to the National Trust and we had to walk to the car. For all I know I flew to the damn car cause I do not remember taking a single step! Then I lost the damn ticket! YUP I LOST THE TICKET! So I had to pay a hefty ransom to get my roommates car released from the concrete prison it was being held in. I honestly have no idea how much I paid or what plate number I put on the 3 page form I had to fill out or what I put down for a drivers license number. I wasn't driving but apparently is was good clean fun to send the drunk girl in to yell "LET ME OUT!"

Once the ransom was paid and the parking gods were happy there was the small issue of yours truly PASSING OUT in the car. I mean full out, down for the count, mouth wide open snoring PASSED OUT! While my roommate drove around in circles. Seriously it was one of those "Look Kids Big Ben, Parliment" moments. She asked me where she was several times I either laughed or snorted I am not sure which. Perhaps it was both.

Eventually we made our way out of the concrete jungle and I made it home to my bed. The damage to my bank account has been assessed and is not so significant that I wont recover. And that was just my St Patrick's Day!

More later. . .
M

We've got the funk

2005-03-21T19:07:00.000-05:00

Today was definitely one of those days. Even though it was the first day of spring, everyone I ran into was in a bad mood (myself included). At about 4:30, the Marketing director said to me, "I'm going home - I hate everyone and everything here, and none of this is at home."

So in honor of the funk that's going around, I'm going to quote some Smiths. Admittedly, these lyrics are (probably) tongue-in-cheek, but they seem to fit the mood today.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I'm miserable now

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I'm miserable now

In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die ?

Two lovers entwined pass me by
And heaven knows I'm miserable now
...

In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I'd much rather kick in the eye ?
...

I love The Smiths.

E-

Instant Karma's gonna get you

2005-03-18T16:17:00.000-05:00

So just a few weeks ago I was bragging about how grown up I am. Apparently, the karma police stumbled across that entry and decided to teach me a lesson. Yesterday, I got bitchslapped but good.

First, I call my mom (Carol) at work. She informs me that my cousin (who I haven't seen in forever, and isn't so much my cousin as my mother's cousin's daughter) is getting married in May, which I sort of knew. Carol also tells me that "we" got the invitation to the shower. I said, "they invited me?" She said, "apparently - it was addressed to Carol 'and daughter.'" I said, "are you fucking kidding me?" (Note: If there's one thing Carol hates, it's when I drop the eff-bomb. Carol doesn't use language like that, and she doesn't like her children to either. So I use it sparingly with her, and limit it to when I am good and truly pissed.) She says she is absolutely not kidding. I went apeshit. People, this is family. I've known them since birth. I used to sleep-over at their house when we were all younger. I have not, in any of my 29 years on earth, changed my name and not told anyone, so what the fuck makes them write "daughter" on the invitation??? I am not some 5 year old whose mommy has to bring her to things because she can't find a babysitter. I told Carol to send the rsvp back saying "Carol will attend, but DAUGHTER is unable to. Also, DAUGHTER would have sent a fucking present, but since you don't know her name, she feels zero obligation to your stupid asses."

So then I hopped online to check my bank balance. You know how I said I choose not to balance my checkbook? Oh, it bit me in the ass. Hard. I somehow, somewhere, screwed up and didn't write in something, because all of a sudden I had negative $20.89 in my account. Negative! Not only did I have no money, I had LESS than no money. How is that possible? On top of that, the very very mean people at the bank decided to charge me $28, so I now had -48.89 in my account (I'm not even going to put the dollar sign there, because clearly that's not money). If I have less than no money in my account, how does the bank think I'm going to pay their Stupidity Fee? (Oh sure, they call it an "overdraft fee", but we all know it's the stupidity fee. They laugh their asses off whenever they get to profit off of their customers' idiocy.)

So that would've been fine & well & good (well, not really - less of an issue, I guess), except that I had plans to go out last night. It was St. Patrick's day, and I had today off. I was going to get shitfaced. Except the less-than-no-money thing made that impossible. So I cancelled my plans with M, who very very kindly insisted that she cover my broke ass for the night and forced me to go out. (Thanks, M!)

I am almost 30 - I have a job, a car, and an apartment. I have a bachelors degree. And I had to rely on the kindness of former strangers to get my drink on. That would've been humbling enough, but karma wasn't done yet. What does karma do?

Karma makes me puke. And all over myself, no less. Thankfully, karma let me make it to the bathroom before I horked, but still. I think I may have flushed one of my lungs down the toilet last night. It wasn't. Not. funny! (tm- Tami, RW:LA)

Someday, perhaps in the near future, I will learn that I am pushing 30, not 20, and that the phrase 'drink like a rock star' no longer applies. Reportedly, even SLASH has stopped drinking that much. My body hates me today. Right now, every body part is trying to figure out how to stage a revolt. And when they do? I have no doubt it'll be spectacular.

E-

You're not the boss of me! Oh, wait...you are

2005-03-17T14:44:00.000-05:00

Over the years, I’ve had some real winners for bosses. There was the boss who spoke so esoterically, you need a dictionary and a thesaurus on hand at all times to figure out what the hell he was talking about. There was the boss who would email me (even though my office was right next door) to ask me to look up a phone number for her.

My new boss, however, is a whole different ilk. She’s passive-aggressive (not so much what you want in a development director), and seems to resent the fact that I know how to do my job. The very job she hired me for, btw, precisely because I know what I’m doing. It’s been three months, and I’m already ready to run out the door.

I know I'm not alone in having terrible bosses - it's a part of life. But here are a couple of issues that I need to address.

Prioritizing. I’m more than happy to switch gears and projects as needed, and I'm ok with having you tell me something is a priority. However, when you don’t tell me that I’m supposed to be switching the priority level on a project? It’s considered bad form for you to complain that I’m not spending enough time on said project, (especially when you told me from the beginning that my role would be peripheral at best). Telling me that you feel “lonely” because I am focused on doing my actual job (the one you hired me for, remember?) does not make me want to help you run the event you’re supposed to be running. It actually makes me want to punch you in the face.

Office Hours. When you hired me, you told me this job was 9-5, with some expectation of late nights/weekend work. It’s pretty much understood that development work means staying late, and I’m more than happy to stay and finish up my work on any given day. However, I am not responsible for your work load. Don’t complain to me if you are unable to finish your projects in a 7 or 8 hour day. That is not. My. Problem. If you feel I’m behind on projects and not getting my work done in a timely fashion, then you should approach me. But do not tell me that you hate that I leave “on-time” when a)I come in early every day, b)I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve left right at 5, c)I’ve just come of a hellish week where I worked the equivalent of three days in two, and d)nothing has fallen through the cracks (even when you made me stop working on what I needed to be working on). And speaking of my work…

Don’t demean what I do. You hired me to do a job. I’m doing it. Don’t come in here and make snide comments about what I’m working on when I have yet to see you do anything other than go to meetings, talk on the phone, and send emails. Not one penny that’s come in since you’ve been here can be attributed to your efforts. Can’t say the same about me, can you?

Sadly, I've learned in my very short tenure here that directly addressing these things with my manager results in more work for me and more resentment from her. I'm trying to learn which battles are worth fighting, and where I have to work around her stupid ass.

Let's just hope she either quits or gets fired before I lose it completely and cause her physical harm.

E-

To Whom It May Concern

2005-03-11T10:45:00.000-05:00

I’ve come to realize that in a lot of ways, I’ll never be That Girl. I’ll never be That Girl that you walk across a crowded room to meet. More than likely, I’m That Other Girl – The Girl Sitting Next to That Girl. I’m the girl with the girl you want to meet. I’m the girl you’re nice to because you think it’ll win you points with That Girl. I’m the girl you flatter and say nice things to because you figure I’ll get in your way if you don’t. Newsflash, smart guy: it ain’t working. I’m not stupid, I’m not impressed, and 9 times out of 10, That Girl? Ain’t going home with you. And it's got nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the fact that you're being an asshole.

I’ll also never be That Girl who giggles and flirts and acts stupid just to impress you. I’m pretty straightforward and upfront about who I am. I’m (relatively) smart, (relatively) funny, and (ridiculously) sarcastic. If you want the dumb blonde (or brunette or redhead) who’s going to flip her hair and be surprised to learn that, like, you need oxygen to survive? Keep walking.

But I’ll also never be That Girl who treats you like shit: the one who ignores you when her friends are there; the one who spends all of your time together talking about how she broke a nail, all the while ignoring the fact that you just had the worst day of your life. I’m That Girl who’s not afraid to admit how stupid she can be and who can laugh at her own expense. I’m That Girl who will encourage you to spend time with your friends because I know they’re important to you, and who won’t get tired of hearing that story about how you and Johnny did this ridiculous thing one night, because Johnny and Joey and Bobby and Katie are the people who helped you become the person you are. I’m That Girl who remembers not only your birthday, but the fact that you take 3 sugars in your coffee, that you hate chocolate, and that the mere mention of Jay Leno makes you break out in hives.

So here’s what I need from you: I need you to be That Guy. You know the one. That Guy who will hug me when I’ve had a bad day and tell me I’m pretty when I’m crying hysterically and covered in snot, or that I’m smart when I’ve just had a blonde moment and cracked up my car at the drive-up ATM. I need you to be That Guy who’s brave enough to be with me, (despite the fact that it scares you shitless), and who won’t use his past to dictate our future. I need you to be That Guy who’s willing to make something remarkable together, despite an unremarkable beginning.

So what do you say?

E-

Dance Space & other issues

2005-03-10T14:57:00.000-05:00

I have this problem. No it is not what you are thinking but that's for the free advice. I work in a larger office which is PLAGUED by so pretty basic etiquette issues. I know most offices have the same problems & I also know that not all of the kids can get along in the sandbox. Save me the Dear Abby bullshit. I am thinking it is time for some tough love.

My first issue to deal with: close talkers. Y'all know what I am talking about; the people that feel the need to have you examine their tonsils as they talk to you about the latest project. I have tried everything bobbing, weaving, hiding, you name it. Seriously, there isn't much I haven't tried. Would it really be bad form if I turned to them and pulled a Patrick Swayze? "This is my dance space. This is your dance space."

Not only do I have to deal with the close talkers but I also am inundated with these poor unsuspecting fools claim that they are "projecting their voices." Call it what you bitches but seriously I call it yelling. I am a healthy 30 year old individual who has yet to lose any of my hearing I can hear you. Plus the fact that I am sitting RIGHT NEXT TO YOU. . .that helps too. I tend to talk very softly in the presence of the loud talkers hoping that they will get the hint and it almost NEVER works.

While we are talking about serious breaches in etiquette can we talk about the reading whatever is on your computer screen over your shoulder annoying type people? In my office these people swarm like locusts. They come out of nowhere & whoosh next thing I know there is a pack of them at my desk looking at whatever it is that I am working on. Back off and go do your own work demon spawn! As for my personal emails you so desperately want to read. . .They are not all that interesting. Trust me I would know!

So I am turning these issues over to the internet & the few readers we have here on the Small Bus. What do you do with the close talker, the loud talker & the reading over the shoulder people? I want opinions so please let me have 'em. Leave a comment or 2.

Tori Amos is the devil

2005-03-09T14:54:00.000-05:00

Ok, not actually, but damn her to hades for making that effing Professional Widow song. M mentioned it in her "Get Out of My Head" post, but I've been happily Tori free for almost a week. Though the eee-vil friend who got it in my head originally did start singing it the other day, I was able to kill it with the Smiths There's a light... (BTW, singing about getting hit by a double decker bus is way more work-appropriate than singing about your daddy being a starfucker and selling his babies, in case you were wondering.)

Today? It's back. It won't die. The Smiths, U2, even J's nonsense songs (which she makes up as she's working) won't kill it. And now it's melding with all of the other songs in my head, preying upon my weak and tired brain and making one big uber-evil unstoppable entity.

Someone better come up with some Eternal Sunshine-type science that can erase evil songs from your memory and make you immune to their powers.

Get on that, will you people-who-are-smarter-than-me?

Girlfriend in a coma

2005-03-09T10:05:00.000-05:00

So we had a major event the other night - THE major fundraising event for our organization. It went pretty smoothly, thank christ, and we all survived. But for about the last week or so, I've been completely brain-dead. Ask me a question and I will stare at you for a good 10 seconds or so while I process what you're asking. It can be as simple as "do you want lunch,?" and I can't figure out what the hell you're talking about. "Lunch? Hmm, I have a vague recollection of what that means...I think I might even have enjoyed lunch at some point." I tell you, it's no way to live.

This morning they asked me to go to a planned giving seminar. I don't know if anyone reading this has any financial capabilities, but I have none. I can barely balance my checkbook. (Ok, fine. I choose not to balance my checkbook. I have an idea of what's in there, and every now and then an additional 40 bucks or so appears , and if it's there for more than a few weeks, I figure its free money. Thankfully, it hasn't gone the other way. Yet.) And I had to listen to an hour and a half of financial speak. All about high-yield whatevers and mutual funds and a whole lot of abbreviations. My head? She is a-hurtin'.

I'm hoping for my brain to be back to normal soon, but in the interim, I had to share this little tidbit. Yesterday, J and I were discussing how drunk the students were at the event the other night. (They were shitfaced. Hammered. Blitzed. Fully in and around the bag.) J, in her sweet way, said something about how completely inapproriate it was (which was true), and how they should know better than to behave like that (also true - these are young adults getting their MFAs, not 18 year old college freshman). Then she says, "jeez, listen to me - I sound like I'm 25 years old."

Because, you know, 25 is ancient. Which I guess it is, when you're 22.

And as I was typing this, the real (by which I mean "not the Lenny Kravitz POS remake") of American Woman came on our radio. J says, "is this Lenny Kravitz?" I said, "no, it's the original." J- "There was an original?"

Sigh.

You damn kids better keep it down - grandma needs a nap.

E-

NOT about Male Strippers

2005-03-04T11:58:00.000-05:00

Since this site is new I should warn everyone that I (M) am the crazy dog lady. I have a bunch of dogs (more than 2 & less than 12) and for the most part they are well behaved & won't be mentioned. However from time to time I just need to vent! I promise to not overwhelm you with the crazy dog lady entries but in this case I couldn't help myself. I would like to apologize to E and everyone else out there but seriously this week the animals are driving me to drink!

To my Darling Animals,

In light of current events Momma (that would be me) felt the need to review a few house rules. I would appreciate it if you all read these rules and began adhering to them.

First to my darling Fatty Kitty, you know I love you to pieces but really you are out of control. I would like to remind you that if you discover one of the numerous water bowls empty at 3AM it is BAD FORM to bash said bowl off the walls. While we are on the topic of disturbing Momma's beauty sleep, those things you seem to think are evil creatures that you need to kill under the covers on my bed? Yeah, those are my feet! Leave them alone! Speaking of my bed, your fat ass weighs approximately 20 pounds. Pouncing on my bed from the highest built in bookshelf frightens me & I think that Massachusetts is experiencing an earthquake so please stop doing that.

To my lovely canines who think Fatty Kitty is the only one deserving of a talking to you are all sooooo wrong! While I am on the topic of Fatty Kitty; from today forward the new game you invented is banned. Yes, BANNED! You will no longer play "Kill the Kitty" I realize you all think it is fun to chase Mikey down the halls & then pounce on him but that is only because you are not Mikey. Plus Mikey AKA Fatty Kitty is very fat. Because of that he can't run fast. Please stop picking on the fat kid!

Creep, I love you to bits but please stop puking in my room every night at 2AM. It is just plain old gross. Plus it interferes with the beauty sleep that Momma already talked about. Speaking of sleeping; don't think you are getting away with sleeping on the couch during the day. I know you do it! How? The black hairs all over the beige couch you are not allowed on? Dead giveaway!

Mouse, sometimes you are such a good baby girl and then other times a demon. I understand that you feel as if any food anywhere belongs to you and that would be true if it were in your BOWL. If not? Leave it alone! It's Mine!

Now you may not know this but those dog toys I buy you? Contrary to popular opinion they are not cheap. Please I beg of you STOP shredding them!!! Not only does it make it look as if it has snowed inside the house it also sets off a chain of events that I would prefer to avoid.

First, I have to go on-line & buy more toys. Then since I am on line & have my Visa handy I figure that I may as well buy a few things for myself. Finally, I have to hide from the MEAN UPS woman when she comes to deliver them. She yells at Momma for buying so much stuff on the internet. The UPS woman is mean mean mean and makes Momma cry. OK maybe she doesn't exactly make me cry but she scares the ever loving shit out of me. . .I saw Monster & I see the resemblance!

Romes, I love you with all my heart but Momma is begging you STOP playing in the poop!! I know that you wait for the girls to go & then stomp in the poop so you track it in the house. Yes, I know your dirty little secret because I have to bathe you daily then wash the damn floor! I REFUSE to be the mother of the smelly kid!

Also, what have you done with all of Momma's shoes? I have several single sneakers but not a single pair. I have a feeling that when the snow melts I am going to discover that you have been stocking the shelves of the shoe store in the woods. Please stop, the squirrels don't need sneakers; they are quite comfortable with all of my sandals you sold them in the fall!

Victoria, my itty bitty baby girl you are the sweetest cutest creature on the face of the earth stay that way! I only ask that you obey one small rule. I know I have a fat ass that makes for a good target but it is NOT acceptable to bite Momma in the ass EVER!! Especially not after you wake me up at 4AM to go outside and potty. That is not nice! Plus your itty bitty baby puppy teeth hurt!

If your name was not mentioned in this letter it does not mean you are exempt from the rules! It just means that you have been very sneaky and not gotten caught doing anything bad. . .YET! These new rules go into effect immediately. Failure to abide by the house rules will result in the loss of privileges. Remember what Gramma tells you If Momma Aint Happy. . .Aint Nobody Happy!

Love & Kisses,
Momma

M-

More proof that I have no shame

2005-03-02T15:36:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I got an email from a friend of mine suggesting a good old fashioned girls night. Her only stipulation? No nudie bars, as she doesn't like "boobies or pee pees" to interfere with her night out. So I share this amusing anecdote with my assistant, J. It leads, as it should, to a discussion about strip clubs, which led to this exchange (please keep in mind we're at work, btw, and that people are in and out of our office all day long):

J: have you ever been to a male strip club
E: No, have you?
J: Nope. (Pause) Do you think the male strippers have erections?
E: You mean when they're stripping or, like, in general?
J: When they're on-stage. I mean, on the one hand they wouldn't want people to think they're small, so they'd want to have something going on. But on the other, it'd be really weird if they were in full-on erection mode.
E: Yeah, it would be weird if they were all "hey, what's up, here's my hard-on." Plus? Those women who go to see them are nuts -they'd think the stripper was in love with them or something, and stalk them.
J: Exactly!

We then spent the next 15 minutes trying to figure out who we could ask. Because, you know, we're Catholic girls, (albeit recovering Catholic in my case) and you're supposed to keep that shit covered up. At least until you know their last name (and no, "Thundercock" doesn't count.) Since we work in theater, there are plenty of gay men around who would know, but we haven't worked here long enough to be comfortable with asking such things (again, the Catholic girl factor). So I'm putting it out there. I promise not to judge you for knowing. Just because I am sweet and innocent and pure (HA!) doesn't mean I look down on people who aren't.

And really, knowledge is power.

E-

Oops!

2005-03-02T11:02:00.000-05:00

Last night I was over a friends house for dinner and when I went to go out to my car to leave realized I locked my keys in my car. Please allow me to explain. I NEVER lock my car. Typically I leave my keys in the spare change cup located in the center console of my car. To all the car thieves who just read that, the car isn't that nice nor is the rottweiler that can be found sleeping on the backseat.

In light of my predicament I called the auto club and asked for roadside assistance since that is what I pay them for every year. The very nice lady who answered the phone was understanding of my situation but informed me it was a 4 HOUR WAIT!! 4 HOURS!!!! So I asked if she could please ask them to get there sooner if at all possible because I had a baby PUPPY in the car. What happened next can only be described hysterical.

What the auto club rep heard was the word BABY but not the PUPPY part. She sprang into action and paged to tow truck company who promised to be there with in 30 minutes. Since this was going to get me to bed well before 3 AM on a school night I didn't bother to correct the nice lady. And after all Victoria (AKA Baby Puppy) is only 13 weeks old! Granted she was sound asleep in her crate complete with a HUGE fleece blanket but I digress.

At this point it was very cold outside so D poured me a tall adult beverage & I sat down ready to gab while I waited for the tow truck. Next thing I know I see flashing lights. LOTS of flashing lights!! Then I loked outside as not 1 but 2 police cars pull up complete with an ambulance & 2 firetrucks. I get up & rush outside while men in uniform are shining flashlights in my car looking for a BABY that I dont have! I am immediatley thinking I am gonna get arrested & holy shit who am I gonna call for bail money. My mind was racing and all I could think was fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. . .jail. . .shitshitshitshitshit. . .Hi Mom? What do you mean you won't bail me out? fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. . .jail.

I explained to the officer that my baby PUPPY was in the car & I had asked if they could let the tow truck driver know that. The Fire Department guys laughed said all they heard was "baby" not the "puppy" and sprang into action. They let me into my car within seconds and Victoria? She never even woke up. Me? Well I went in the house and did not allow D to answer her phone when the auto club called her house nor would I answer my cell phone for fear of getting arrested.

Crazy I know. Welcome to my life!

M-

All grows up

2005-03-01T19:48:00.000-05:00

So today I had some errands to run for work, one of which included picking up an auction item at a place where I interned in college. I had nothing but good memories of this particular place, so I was eager to stop by and see if it had changed. It hadn't, of course (aside from the ladies room needing some paint), but it made me stop and think about how much I've changed since then.

In some ways, I'm pretty sure my 21-year old self would be horrified. For one thing, I no longer love the mall. When I was younger, I would happily go to the mall several times a week (sometimes more than once in a day). Now? I actually loathe the mall. I cannot think of a worse way to spend a Saturday afternoon (or any other time, for that matter) than in a confined, crowded place with lots and lots of screaming children and obnoxious teeny-boppers yelling into their cell phones.

And while we're on the subject, I hate talking the phone. Back in the day, I could spend hours on the phone with someone I'd seen 20 minutes before, analyzing the way so-and-so looked in his blue shirt and khakis (the standard uniform for boys in my high school), or how whatsherface was such. A. Bitch. These days, if I'm on the phone more than 10 minutes or if I can't multitask while I'm talking, I get a bad case of the I-gotta-gos.

But the most drastic change seems to have come out of nowhere: I have an actual bedtime. Even as a kid, my parents never imposed a set-in-stone bedtime on me. Remember in college when you could stay up til 6 am on a Tuesday and still make it to your morning class? Try doing that now with a job. I haven't seen an episode of Conan or Letterman in about 5 years. If I can make it til the end of Law & Order on Tuesday night, it's a freaking miracle. And remember how the weekend started on Thursday night and went right on through til Monday? Ha! Nowadays, I'm in my pajamas the minute I get home from work on Friday night and most of the time I'm asleep by 10 (at the latest).

So here I am: turning 30 in a few months, single, and cranky. But I wouldn't change anything. (Well, maybe I'd put off turning 30 for a few extra months.) I have great friends, a (relatively) good job, and may- finally - be moving towards realizing what I actually want to do with my life. I moved away from home and made a life for myself. I'm independent and (surpise, surprise), I actually enjoy spending time alone.

That's not to say I don't occasionally play the what if game, or wish I was thinner/prettier/taller. I mean, I'd love to wake up one morning and look like Kate Winslet, but the odds of that happen fall squarely between slim and none. (I'd also love to have Kiefer Sutherland, Jon Stewart, and Colin Firth as my personal beck-and-call-boys, so if anyone knows how to make that happen, let me know.) But when it comes right down to it, I'm comfortable with who I am and who I'm becoming.

And I'm pretty sure that wherever she is, my 21 year old self is ok with it, too.

E-

Get of my head. . .PLEASE!

2005-03-01T15:08:00.000-05:00

Thru the years both E and myself have suffered from the stuck song affliction. Y'all know what I am talking about you hear a song and WHAM that shit is stuck in your head for DAYS. There you are walking around singing the chorus of what you once believed was an innocent song.

For example, wandering through the supermarket grooving to the Muzak and your poor unsuspecting ears hear Heart and WHAM next thing you know you are in frozen foods singing along reaching for your Mama Celeste Pizza. The song ends & you are at the checkout when the cashier asks if you have a savings card all you can reply is "I said please please understand. I'm in love with another man. . ." So you are standing there and the 15 year old cashier is going "That's great! Go with that!" By the time you reach your car the kid picking up the shopping carts is thinking he is gonna get lucky as you belt out "All I wanna do is make love to you." And yes, this did happen to me but it was a long time ago. OK fine it was Saturday.

Heart is not the worst stuck song to have. Trust me there are worse songs to get stuck in your head for DAYS. For example, this summer back in the days of the functional car stereo I was getting out of the car & caught the refrain of Jamies Cryin'. That? was all she wrote for WEEKS. My mother would call and ask me how I was doing and all I could think was "Oh, whoa, whoa, Jamie's cryin' Oh, whoa, whoa, Jamie's cryin." Sitting at work on a conference call I get asked for my opinion "Oh, whoa, whoa, Jamie's cryin' Oh, whoa, whoa, Jamie's cryin." It was awful. Just plain awful. And I like Van Halen!

E had a bad bout with the stuck song disease a week or so ago apparently all she heard for days was "Starfucker just like my daddy Just like my daddy selling his baby." Seriously, she was tortured by this song. You would call her and she would answer the phone "Starfucker" instead of Hello. It was just sad. I on the other hand was Mr. Brightside. "Now I'm falling asleep And she's calling a cab While he's having a smoke And she's taking a drag." Again,I know that is not the worst song to ever has stuck in your head but seriously can I have my brain back for just a little while?

All of this has prompted me take a poll of the worst song ever to get stuck in your head. So in the comments section please enlighten us. . .in your opinion what is the worst song you have ever had stuck in your head? Or the longest you have ever had a song stuck in your head for?

the airing of grievances

2005-02-27T18:45:00.000-05:00

dear girls in the bar friday night,
please note that proper bar etiquette dictates that you not scream so loudly the bartender tells you to shut up, nor should your screams be so high-pitched that dogs in maine are barking. we're happy you are all so glad to see each other, but 20 minutes of yelling "OMG!" and shrieking at the top of your lungs is not ok. got it?
hating you,
the girls with the bleeding eardrums
ps - new england weather dictates that you wear a freaking SHIRT when it's 20 below. put the halters and lingerie away until at least april.

dear people in the movie theater today,
see all those empty seats not in front of me? next time, sit there. thanks.
uncomfortably,
e

dear winter,
will you just go already? and take snow with you.
tired of being cold,
e

dear boss,
how about dialing down the crazy from an 11 to about an 8? there are drugs to help with that, you know.
getting ready to bring in a straight jacket,
e

How can I miss you when you won't go away?

2005-02-26T13:28:00.000-05:00

I should start this off by saying that I like my roommates. Really. For someone who used the internet to find an apartment, I really lucked out. My apartment is lovely and convenient to almost everything, and my roommates and I actually get along and enjoy each other's company.

So Roommate #2 came home yesterday from visiting her sister & nephew in Atlanta. She had a great time I'm sure, and Roommate #1 (she of the VH1 hating) and I also had a great time while she was gone. Not because we don't like her, but because Roommate #2 being here means that her fiance is also here. Constantly. Get up in the morning, he's there. Get home from work, he's there. Go to bed, he's there. I've been this close to giving him the "we need space" talk, and I'm not even dating him.

Roommate #1 and I relished our time without him. We could walk around the apartment braless. We didn't have to watch him eat his mountains of food and not use a napkin, (which btw? Just ew. You're 32! Use a freaking napkin not your pants! And definitely not our furniture.) We even got to watch tv when we wanted without having to listen to him talk through the entire program. And now? He's back.

It's not that we don't like him, because we do. He's a great guy, and he really, really loves Roommate #2 (which is good, I guess, since they're getting married and all). But we just don't get why he needs to stay here all the time. He had an apt, which she refused to stay at because (according to her), it was the equivalent of a frat house the morning after a bender. He gave that up to save money for the wedding and moved back to his dad's. When he had the apartment, we could look forward to at least one or two nights per week (never weekends, though, god forbid) without him. Since he gave up the apt., however? I think he's stayed at his dad's twice. At most.

Roommate #1 and I have actually started wishing for boyfriends of our own. Not because we're lonely or jealous, just so we can set an example. "Look, Jim-Bob sleeps at his place some nights!"and "Don't wait up for me, I'll be at John-Boy's tonight."

Today's lesson: If your boyfriend/girlfriend is staying at your apartment every. Single. Night? Your roommates are not happy. So show some consideration for the people who actually pay the rent, and take a couple of nights off from each other during the week. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder - particularly for those living with your relationship.

E-

BE GONE Baby Bob!!!

2005-02-25T16:02:00.000-05:00

On any given day if you ask me if I think babies are cute I would say, "Of course babies are cute." However that was before the phenomenon that is Baby Bob. Yup y'all read it correctly Baby Bob, the freakish CGI animated talking mascot for Quiznos. He? freaks my shit out completely. Have you not watched his little baby head turn at odd angles and his features tweak & twitch so much that if he were a real child you would be going "Sweet Suffering Jesus PLEASE Stop!" Then you would call your local church and ask if they can pop on over & perform an exorcism.
Now if anything were going to make me go "Damn I want a Sub!" It would not, I repeat **WOULD NOT** be a freakishly animated baby. Hunger might, a hangover most definitely, but freaky talking baby? Not so much. If anything, freaky talking baby is gonna make me stay away for fear that there is something amiss with the food they are serving. Seriously. It would be like an evil remake of Love Potion No.9, but without Sandra Bullock.
As if freaky talking baby on my TV was not bad enough, what do I get as an email today from a misguided friend that needs either a hobby or a new therapist? A FLIPPING TALKING BABY BOB EMAIL!!! If you have not experienced this phenomenon it is an e-card with the freaky talking baby as the primary subject wishing me a "Happy St. Patrick's Day!" Now whichever brainchild at Quiznos took Baby Bob a step further and decided they should turn him into an e-card is the Devil. That's right, El Diablo!
After I came to terms with the fact that I will never ever be able to sleep with the lights off for fear of freaky talking baby under my bed, guess what I did next?!?!? I sent a Talking Baby Bob e-mail to almost everyone I know, and a few people I don't. Why should I be the only one losing sleep at night?
M-

Evil Electronics & 80's music

2005-02-24T08:49:00.000-05:00

Y'all, I have a problem. The radio in my car does not work. Again, THE RADIO IN MY CAR DOES NOT WORK!!! Yeah Yeah Yeah, I know. Big deal. Shut Up and go buy a new radio already, whiny bitch! See here is the problem: sometimes? If it is above 30 degrees Fahrenheit and the planets are aligned? It works, happily playing CD's or allowing me to turn the volume up and down or - better yet - letting me listen to the radio station of my choice. Other days it is evil!!

You really like that radio station programmed on button number 2? Well then, bitch hit button number one, shut up and wait! What was that? You like that song? Go ahead turn the volume up, I dare you! Cause once you do I am going to be searching all of the possible radio stations I can find, and you cant stop me!

My only saving grace is the fact that it will still play tapes. Yeah, shamefully I still have all of my tapes I bought pre CD. Some of them were given to me after I had already begun the conversion to CD's, but they were free & I was in college so I took them. Have you ever taken a three hour car ride and your only choice for music are random mix tapes left over from college or the leftovers from the 80's & early 90's? Not because you wanted to but because you don't have any other choice? Didn't think so!

I mean imagine being stuck in traffic rockin' with Dokken, driving home at 3AM singing all about "After the Rain" with Gunnar & Matthew Nelson, pulling into your friends driveway blasting "Runaway" by Bon Jovi. I am so outta the loop I don't even know what the kids are listening to these days!

But here is the real kick in the ass. I kinda like my temperamental radio. I like being forced to listen to music the kids used to think was cool. Sometimes I sit there and wonder, "WTF was I thinking?" or "I must have been stoned when I bought this." (Sorry Mom for making you cry again.) Other times the music takes me back to a time or a place that was a defining moment or at least a memorable one.

Now while I may be enjoying my stroll down memory lane alongside Kip Winger, Sebastian Bach, Vince Neil, Brett Michaels and friends; the passengers in my car are losing their patience. Sadly, some people have no clue who some of these bands are! THE HORROR!! Where did they grow up? Others play along with the game and make requests prior to getting in the vehicle with the evil electronics.

Music has been a huge part of my life for so long I couldn't imagine a day without it, no matter what it might be. Keeping that in mind, I have made the plunge and my car will be getting a new radio next week. I honestly have to tell you I am going to miss my evil radio. Long car rides and road trips wont be the same without it.
M-

Why E & her roommate hate VH1

2005-02-23T13:57:00.000-05:00

I am addicted to VH1 and their stupid list shows. I'll watch anything and everything they put on there - I am VH1's bitch. But last night? They crossed the line.
Y'all, they dissed Lionel Richie. Lionel Effing Richie! That is SO not cool!
My roommate and I had flipped on their "40 Most Awesomely Bad Love Songs" list and were eagerly awaiting number 1.

Me: I bet it's "Open Arms" by Journey.
Her: Anything by Journey is just awesomely bad - they suck.
Me: What?? Did you just shit on Journey?
Her: I can't help it - Steve Perry is just so ugly, and anytime I hear them I think of the "Oh Sherry" video, and his big nose and his ugly face, and I just, ugh.
Me: Point taken. Ooh! I bet it's "Honestly Love You" by Olivia Newton John, cause that shit is just baaaad.
Her: I don't know that song.
Me: Yes you do!
Her: I do not...ooh! It's back, shh!

Just then, the opening notes to Lionel Richie's "Truly" came on, and we looked at each other, horrified.

Her: Wait, did they just say "Truly" is bad? Because that song rules!
Me: They just dissed Lionel Richie - Lionel Effing Richie! WTF???
Her: This song is awesome, and not awesomely bad! What the hell is wrong with them??
Me: Totally, it's like, the perfect wedding song.
Her: Yeah! I'm going to play this at my wedding. Eff you VH1!
Me: No joke, me too. And? I'm going to write VH1 when I get married and tell them, because they suck. I am *SO* breaking up with VH1

Are we the only ones who remember that when Vh1 started, ALL they played was Lionel Richie songs? But now I guess they're just too cool for Lionel.

Whatever. Lionel, we still love you. Truly.

Why Me?!?!?!???

2005-02-23T09:36:00.000-05:00

It is apparently a bad thing to hit enter before you are ready when you are composing a post. Since E enlightened us with the story of her assistant today, I felt like I had to contribute something. Only I don't have an assistant for I am lowly and my job is not nearly as important as E's. Basically I suck, only not really.

So E and I had big plans for Friday night to go see an 80's cover band, for we are cool & love the cheese factor and we are still going! However this is what I have to look forward to:
From my inbox this AM

Hi,
Just a reminder to everyone that Cheesy 80's cover band* is playing at TBA* on Friday night. S and I will be there along with a few others, and we hope you'll show up for a few beers and some good Axle (sic) Rose impressions too! It should shape up to be a pretty good time.
Hope to see you there.
Excessively Bubbly Girl*

*names changed to protect the innocent or the stupid - you choose

Here is a little background for you, S and I had what one would call a relationship things were going along smoothly until Excessively Bubbly came along. Homegirl moved in on S and then next thing I know they were moving in together. Oh wait it gets better, the guy I had been seeing before S? Yeah she went there too.

Now I have no intentions of changing my plans or being rude or anything else on Friday because I am a grown-up and way too cool for that. However, I do plan on having my favorite Bartender Coleman shut them off I may be cool but I am also evil. Also, I do believe I am going to give her a spelling lesson: it is Axl not Axle! Dumb Ass!

An actual conversation with my assistant, J

2005-02-22T20:48:00.000-05:00

E: That guy is messed. Up. He's totally going to end up like one of the Coreys.
J: The who?
E: The Coreys, you know. License to Drive, The Lost Boys, Dream a Little Dream - THE COREYs, woman!
J: Yeah, I don't know what you're talking about.
E: OMG, how do you not know the Corey's?? They were the shiznit in the 80's! Everyone was in love with one of them - I was a Haim girl myself, but apparently Feldman had his supporters. Then there was Corey Hart, but he wasn't so much a main Corey. More peripheral than anything.
J: I was born in '83 -I don't know what you're talking about.
E: ...

If you'll excuse me, I'll be in my rocking chair in the corner, knitting a shawl, mumbling to myself, and shaking my fist at the damn kids on my lawn.

Test Drive

2005-02-22T09:22:00.000-05:00

The idea for this site came about through a stoli induced haze that can only be described as typical. See there we sat at the bar snarking on poor unsuspecting souls who think that we are all quiet and shite. Yeah Hi. This is us, and not so much!
We are two single girls living & working in suburban Boston. So far our lives sound fun & exciting, I know. Having met in college a few years ago, we forged a bond over sarcasm, cheap booze & classic TV. (All right, fine. And pot. Happy? Now you've made our moms cry.) Our friendship continued to grow through bad jobs, worse boyfriends, hangovers, and so much more. We seem to have fun no matter where we go or what we see; even if it is at one another's expense.
We hope that you will enjoy the tales of our exploits no matter what they may be: the time(s) I fell down, alley sex, (not ours, don't worry), Jesus watching, and KEYS. You name it, we will share cause we know we are going straight to hell. . .only we are riding the small bus!