Why must guys sit like their legs hate each other? On a subway no less.
I make it my civil duty to sit next to them hoping they hurt something.
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I don't know what the hell is going on in the world right now. All I know is they have now replaced the letter M with B when referring to economical problems and my brain cannot grasp that amount of money. And now my bank is Chase? which really pisses me off because I specifically chose WaMu because I like saying it.
But the good news is I do have a Cafe du Monde coffee can to put the $12.83 I possess just in case we are transported back to the depression. The bad news, I don't have a yard to bury it in.
Exactly a year ago I was on a plane embarking on this new chapter of my life.
I don't even know that girl anymore.
My, how time flies and how much you can change in as little as one year.
One down, a few more to go before it's time to reaccess the situation.
I love my roommates?!
They were serious about the formal dinner and we are probably not eating until midnight.
And it's ok. That's how we roll.
But we are all drunk. I am in charge of reading the directions for the Baked Alaska dessert for my roommate but I can't read and she refuses to do what I tell her.
The living room has been rearranged. We have a table setting. We will all put formal wear on and be ready in 5 minutes and I am not sure how good of a plan it is to put the bridesmaids dress on.
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Posted by .Nicotine.Queen. at 10:07 PM
I ZIPPED THE DRESS!
Now I can't breathe. I could feel my ribs becoming one with the material. But it zips, that's all that matters. The pills were a success, but I'm going to quit taking them until next week, they were making me a little crazy. I haven't slept right all week.
Last night, I watched the entire Season Premier of Grey's Anatomy (did anyone else think it was a little over the top? I mean a karmatic icicle? come on!) with it on in the hopes that if I continue to put it on, I will stretch the fabric (I need to fit a bra in there because I do not want to go down the Duck tape route.)
So tonight, the roomies and I have decided we are going to eat dinner in formal wear. Aren't they sweet? Even their friend visiting from Oklahoma is going to wear a sports coat. How much fun!
I just read the bottle properly. It says one pill is equal to 1-2 cups of coffee. And I've been taking them religiously every 4 hours on the hour. No wonder I couldn't go to bed last night and I woke up A GODDAMN HOUR late this morning. I think I'm one pill away from singing "I'm so excited" Jessie Spano style.
And even in the midst of all the freaking out, I still played "How am I going to get away with wearing a T-shirt to work?" and I think I pulled it off nicely if I do say so myself.
East Village Idiot makes me want a pet. They sell Chinese Fighting Fish at a store in my neighborhood. I used to have a slue of them in college. Maybe I can keep this one alive longer than the last. I don't know if I'm up for that kind of commitment though. My attention span is a shortcoming I have just come to accept and it seems to be diminishing with every pill I take.
(Thanks, Traci Anne. I am obsessed with Kate Nash now. Foundations is on repeat.)
I think I am going to designate Wednesdays as Wacky Wednesdays where I wear whatever I grab in the dark and the less it matches the better. Today I have on Red and Yellow. It's Fabulous. Plus, I have decided I'm going to randomly choose No-Chi days, where I go out of the house without my hair straightened and see how many people I can scare. I might have to try a little harder, seeing as this is New York City, but no worries. I will think of something to entertain myself.
And these water pills have a warning not to consume as much caffeine while taking them, but I just read that and I've already had 3 cups. No wonder I'm dancing around with a ruler and there is a pain in my chest. We will just call this an experiment and I'll be back later to let you know if I survived.
This is how random my life is. I'm at some concert for a band Cut Copy? Never heard of them, a co worker threw the tickets at me. I was planning on going to see Tyler Read, who is from Shreveport, LA- or planning on sleeping or going to the gym.
But now I'm spending money I shouldn't and consuming alcohol I shouldn't. But it's Bacardi and Diet- that's lo cal according to the commercial. I just won't eat tomorrow.
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Posted by .Nicotine.Queen. at 1:29 PM
freddie: Are you done being crazy for today?
me: its too early in the morning to commit to something
freddie: Fear of commitment. That's your issue.
me: you think I'm afraid of committing myself?! I would
gladly in a heartbeat if I could convince the people with the whitejackets I really am crazy not just neurotic
I planned my wedding on the train this morning. I have all the songs we are going to dance to at the reception and the father/ daughter dance is going to be really cute.
It's going to be fabulous!
I'm thinking some time in 2020?
Hope yall can make it!
I hope I can still dance the 1st dance with my husband and I'm not in a walker.
No, I haven't found husband material yet, hence the date, but that's the only detail I haven't nailed down yet.
I just got called out for saying "You Guys" instead of "Y'all".
I think that is the most depressing thing ever.
Now I must go have a Come to Jesus meeting with the mirror. Please tell me you know what a Come to Jesus meeting is, but if you don't know that's ok. At least I still have that part of the south instilled in me. I do conduct a damn good Come to Jesus meeting if I do say so myself.
I have come to the conclusion that I cannot work overtime every night this week and go to the gym. It is just not going to happen. And I'm ok with that.
I can barely squeeze my fat ass into a bridesmaid's dress that I need to wear in about 3 weeks (fyi: if you are ever cursed into being one of these and the bride hates you and makes you go through David's Bridal: always make them take your measurements. Do not rely on that floor sample. Do you know how many people squeeze into those daily?! People who know their actual sizes and know better. I swear the size 6 would fit a size 16! I know b/c I ordered the 6. j/k. j/k. ) and I'm ok with that. I will just have to resort to the old fashioned college diet and water pills.
It's really boring when you're the only one in the office, btw.
I think it is safe to state I am a hot mess today.
Someone had to have added caffeine to the coffee I've been drinking because I am jittery and bouncing off of the walls. And speaking of bouncing balls, I have just been dribbling a rubber band ball up and down the cubicles. Hopefully I made a dent in annoying the construction workers downstairs the way they have been annoying me. But sadly, I think it's only convinced my coworkers they want to ring my neck more than usual.
and the heel of my shoe broke off.
I need to focus.
And why did white people ever stop dancing?
oh. that's why.
and I have every fucking shade of it on.
No lie. I went crazy in the pink department this morning. I was a little concerned about walking out of the house looking like a giant piece of bubble gum, but hey this is New York City. Kermit the Frog walks around Broadway daily (this woman is literally head to toe in green- including her hair. Now that I think about it she might be a Ninja Turtle. She always has this green backpack on. I would try to get a picture for proof, but you will just have to trust me. I can't be that tacky. Who am I to mock self expression?) So I did it- and no one took a double take, except I'm sure to see who the hell the Glamazon was (wearing heels today, too!). Of course I run into a co-worker as I'm smoking my morning cigarette who came over just to tell me how much my outfit brightened his day.
In other news, even if I am having trouble being patient and focusing, at least I can say meditation has helped out during the morning commute.
The subway was recockulously packed this fabulous morning. MTA blamed there sparse availability on a sick passenger but I'm blaming it on incompetent conductors. The car was so packed I was becoming close friends with some chick's really bad dye job (and I think I drank a few strands in my morning coffee- gross I know but I needed to prove my point). I closed my eyes and imagined I was one with the pole, swaying in the wind on some desolate island, instead of swaying with the subway car bumping into people. I focused on my breathing- particularly my mouth breathing (for the love of all that is holy what the fuck do some of these people roll around in?!). I was trying to channel a serious sinus attack, imitating a greasy Guido in a really cheesy club- anything to help me breathe normally through my mouth. I messed up a few times and those small whiffs were enough to bring tears to my eyes. It was a very long and painful commute this morning to say the least.
It's really interesting how once you give up being angry, the world around you is quite amusing.
Posted by .Nicotine.Queen. at 10:53 PM
Come visit me and I'll show you! But next time we're totally taking the elevator.
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Posted by .Nicotine.Queen. at 11:06 PM
For the record, I am a terrible judge of character (which suddenly explains the long list of douchebag ex-boyfriends). This is something I have just recently learned and hate admitting. But since I have come to this conclusion, a lot of things have finally been brought to light. I might not be a masochist after all. I might just be a terribly misguided unfortunate soul.
I have set up camp on the couch. Have you even looked at your TV guide today?
Best. Movie. Day. Ever!
If I was still 8 I would totally set up an actual tent and never leave. Well, that might still happen, if I can find enough pillows and blankets.
The Princess Bride is coming on in 20 minutes. Have I mentioned that's my favorite movie ever?
Even if I wasn't waiting for the stupor to come fix the continual running toilet, I still don't think I would be moving from the couch.
There is a Nancy Drew TV show on ABC Family AND I just saw a commercial for Pizza Hut Pizzones- does New York even have Pizza Hut?? Holy Shit, Grey's Anatomy 2 hour season premier Sept. 25th. . . TV were have you been all my life?!
If you would only listenYou might just realize what you're missingYou're missing meBubbletoes- Jack Johnson
I nearly chocked on my coffee at this one.
There is French Roast coffee in the kitchen.
But don't tell anyone because if you do, I will be forced to kill you. If I have to drink Mocha Nut Fudge ever again, I will cry.
I almost forgot to tell yall!
If you haven't noticed my new favorite derogatory term is douche. douchebag. DB. D-bag. (which reminds me of when I was a kid and I called my Uncle that because that's what my dad called him while they watched Sunday football. He laughed and told me to call him a dirtbag instead)
Back on point, I was introduced to the female version of this. What a Tuesday.
(Are you familiar with acronyms? C U Next Tuesday.)
I can't take credit for it. A friend of my friend's mother introduced us to it because like many females, she does not like using that word but will call your Grandma a Tuesday.
In other news, it is now almost Wednesday and I still haven't recovered from Saturday night's marathon, my lower back is killing me and for the past 2 days I have been living off of carbs, pizza, chips, chocolate and ice cream and the after effects are not the same as every sleepover party I attended between the ages of 10 and 14. At least this time my bra didn't end up in the freezer.
This morning on the way to the subway (please note before I had a sip of my morning coffee) I was bombarded by a politician asking for my vote. I didn't even know it was election time? I don't know. Something about primaries? I don't even know where my polling place is in my neighborhood and I just filled out the form for change of address (Can't wait for Jury Duty!- note, there is no sarcasm there) like 2 weeks ago. I don't think I can vote yet, right? I'm so far behind on this crap, I'm a terrible American.
Anywho, I got to work this morning and I got this email. Maybe I should check into voting after all?
WHY WOMEN SHOULD VOTE.
This is the story of our Grandmothers and Great-grandmothers; they lived only 90 years ago. Remember, it was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote. The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote. And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of 'obstructing sidewalk traffic.'
They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.
They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.
Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917,
when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms.
When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.
So, refresh my memory. Some women won't vote this year because-
-why, exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work?
Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining?
Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's new movie 'Iron Jawed Angels.' It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. I am ashamed to say we need the reminder.
All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more routine. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege. Sometimes it was inconvenient.
My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women's history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked angry. She was--with herself. 'One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie,' she said. 'What would those women think of the way I use, or don't use, my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.' The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her 'all over again.'
HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum I want it shown on Bunco night, too, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.
It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy.
The doctor admonished the men: 'Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.'
Please, if you are so inclined, pass this on to all the women you know.
We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party - remember to vote.
History is being made.
and I'm already bored with Gossip Girl this season. Granted, I didn't watch last week's eppy, but I don't think it matters much.
All I know is One Tree Hill better rock my socks (even though I missed last week's eppy as well.)
Is it just me or is this season not as exciting?
On this plus side, I have eaten garlic pizza again for dinner. I have a feeling it will be seeping out of my pours tomorrow. YaY for the person sitting next to me on the train in the morning.
Have you ever heard of something so insane?
I think this is a North vs. South thing, because all I've ever known to put on my pizza is a butt load of parmesan cheese (after I pat it dry of all the grease. . .which seems to be a staple of New York Pizza). I don't even recall garlic being an option in the South. . . or am I wrong?
I was first introduced to this phenomenon on my weekend trip to Jersey. We went to an Italian Bistro and split a pizza. The waitress asked if we would like "fixins" and I said sure. She brought out 3 bottles, none of which were cheese. That's when I decided, when in Rome. . . .
now I'm addicted.
I had to have it for lunch- another craving from the drunken night out. The last time I tried to reenact how good it was in Jersey, I accidentally put plain salt- that was fabulous. Now I stink to high heaven, but at least if I run into a vampire I will be safe (except Edward Cullen. . . ) but for making out? Not so much.
And for the record, I never understood the raving over New York pizza. It tasted like pizza to me, nothing special. Then I tired to eat pizza somewhere else. . .looks like I'm ruined forever.
Because it keeps your tolerance up and therefore when someone throws a sick party, you can party like you are still 20. You will be able to drink and dance and stay up until 6am without breaking a sweat over it. You will not make rookie mistakes, like drinking too fast, flirting with the wrong guys and drunk dialing. You will be fabulous.
But if you don't drink regularly, you will feel the after effects for days including, but not limited to, a sore body (or in my case, a sore thigh muscle- for which I have no idea why), overly tiredness, irritability and the unknown reason to eat everything in sight from the comfort of your own bed, which you will only leave to pee and smoke (or in my case to do laundry, which was a must and to go to Chipotle to eat everything on the menu). You will also most likely sleep through plans you were looking forward to the next day (i.e. football games at a bar full of other Saints fans, majority I'm going to assume would be hot available men).
So remember kiddies, drinking on a regular basis is a good thing, not just a symptom of being an alcoholic.
And to those bitches doing their make up in Sephora for Friday night festivities slowing me down from getting the hell out of midtown:
You. Are. Tacky.
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Posted by .Nicotine.Queen. at 6:14 PM
It seems the only thing that gets me through the day is talking to friends on AIM and the majority are either still evacuated, without power or off of work for this week. Gustav, you suck ass.
And we all know when left to my own devices to entertain myself, it gets interesting.
I might actually have to resort to. . . . working. ewwwww. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.
My bangs need to be trimmed. Maybe I will do that.
Or maybe it does.
I was fine in Jersey surrounded by others with family down south. It was ok. We reminisced, we made sure everyone we knew was safe (even though half my idiot friends stayed and no matter how much begging would convince them not to). We were glad we were relocated to an area that doesn't deal with this.
Now I'm home and the world continues to revolve. I hate being away from my family during this again. I wasn't with them for Katrina either but at least I was with my two best friends. I hate that such catastrophic events stay with you. I feel like a war veteran experiencing post tramatic stress.
Anyone have a Valium?
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Posted by .Nicotine.Queen. at 11:05 PM