Friends. The family god forgot to give you.

Just in case I haven't made it clear enough:
I have been unbelievably blessed in the friends department. I have no idea how I managed to surround myself with such amazing people (let's be honest, it's by probably gunpoint) but I will forever be grateful to all of them (and you) for the love and support. You have no idea how much it is appreciated and I can't wait to have a chance to try and reciprocate.
It means so much more than I could ever express and I love you all.

wedding stealers.

You know what really pisses me off?

When someone has the exact wedding that I want down to the colors (well, close enough). 

(This would be the place that I make cracks about the neighborhood they are from and how he's probably cheating on her, etc. etc. . . but I'm classier than that.)

Douchebags. 

;-)

. . . is a fan of yellow

Yes, Facebook, I am making fun of you. I'm also a fan of the sky, my left elbow and breathing. Do you have a recockulous app for that? I bet you do.

I have decided I am a fan of yellow. Where this comes from? I have no idea. All I know is I walked past a Hallmark that had Vera Bradley in the window and I fell in love with the Bali Gold collection. It was just so bright and vibrant, it made me smile. I'm crushing on the Super Tote. The Purple Punch collection seems like my normal taste when it comes to V Bradley.

But back to yellow. I'm even considering this ring:

Damn you, Yellow. I'm trying to save for Europe.

Dear keeper of the Universe,

Let's have a little chat, shall we? Step into my outside office (because I have a feeling this might take awhile and I'm going to get a little heated, so a few smokes are in order).

Originally, my opening was going to be "You owe me one" but after the recent incidents in my life, I think it's safe to say that one ain't even close to covering it. One million might be a better way to even beginning negotiations of being even. Taking away my favorite person in the world would qualify you as being pretty fucking shitty, wouldn't you say? (please don't agree with me, it will only piss me off worse. Let's just "shhh". It's my turn to talk)

So, how about we start off with the handful of requests I have? Let's make those happen. In comparison to the devastating blow you knocked me out with, I think they are pretty small favors to ask in return.

I am also highly aware of the fact that although I am a strong female, you trump me every time (being the Universe and all) but I am also quite certain you are aware that I don't take lightly to things like this fucking up my bubble. Neither of us are forces to be reckoned with really, so let's just put this past us and agree to never bumps heads again? or at the very least, not for another 20-30 years. It should take about that long to make up for this one.

xoxo


can you tell I'm in the anger stage of grief?

Living alone might not be for me

I proceeded to lock myself out of my apartment. No cell phone. No one's numbers I knew by heart. In slippers and a dress.
I had to find a ladder in the basement and crawl through fire escapes and windows. Have I mentioned I was in a dress and I'm afraid of heights?
Fun morning, let me tell ya.
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What a pretty day.

Hanging out in a hidden park I had no idea existed looking at the G Washington bridge to Jersey judging guys as they play football.
Fabulous.
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Only in New Orleans

would they allow a 7 pointed leaf plant (there is only one plant with 7 points. Think about it) adorn their interstate walls.
Le bon temps rouler!
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National Do-What-I-Say Day.

I need you to get on your phone, your email or smoke signals for all I care and contact your favorite relative to tell them you love them. Tell them how much you care about them, how much they mean to you and how grateful you are to have them in your life. I don't care if you talk to them everyday or once in a blue moon.

Do it now.

You never know when you won't be able to do it. 

You have been judged through the internets.

Has anyone else noticed the new feature on myspace? It tells you how many times your photos have been viewed. I'm kind of creeped out by this. Why? Well, when I went looking through my pictures, I noticed this one has been viewed 94 times.


NINETY-FOUR TIMES. Do I even have 94 people who look at my pictures? And why THIS picture? All my other photos have a significantly less amount of people looking. My boobs aren't showing, no one has anything in their teeth and the background is just of Time Square (I do live in New York City after all).

Is it just me or is someone(s) a little obsessed with this very attractive looking couple? We are both tagged in it, so I'm not sure if it's an upset girl or boy (or both!) or if it's just the sheer shock/ excitement that there is a straight male in the picture and we look genuinely happy.

Anyway, I feel a little creeped that this picture has basically been judged 94 times but at the same time it's a little thrilling (but not in the psycho-ex-girlfriend I'm-going- to kill you in your sleep kind of way. Luckily, none of our exes are anywhere near us). And all I have to say about that is Eat your heart out, bitches. kisses!

This is not a toilet

Then wtf is it?
And I'm a little concerned as to why they had to post that sign.
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Stressed OUT.

Stress. It's that little flame that lights a fire under your ass. (borrowed from Avenue Q; swapped "purpose" for "stress" because that is exactly what stress is doing to me).

There is so much going on in my life right now, it's amazing I remember my own head sometimes (especially with all the medicine I am pumping myself with). So, I have broken down and become a big girl. I officially have a calendar with events on it. Aren't you proud? I'm slowly inching my way into adulthood. It's not so bad. Kind of like chasing medicine with sugar or a Jager shot with beer. Not ready to pull the band aid off quite yet, but I'm itching it.

Oh for it to be mid-May. Things will slow down a bit, long enough for me to catch my breath then off to the next 2 year(ish) marathon. Some people may like all this excitement and being kept on their toes. I am not one of those people. I like schedules. I like routines. I like boring life with a splash of excitement every once in a while, on my own terms. I'm a control freak, it's not my fault. What a cruel joke life is playing on me right now.

Not funny, Baby Jesus. I'm sorry I ate meat on Good Friday. Jeeez.


ps- anyone need a place to live in May? You can have a first hand look as I lose my freaking mind!

The only good thing about not having any sick days

I'm guaranteed to eat (which was not the case this weekend)
and
if I die, someone will call 911 (possibly) before I start to smell.

I'm really close to crying I feel so terrible and it won't go away.

Baby Jesus is upset with my karma.

I think Baby Jesus is mad at me for purposely eating meat today (yes, I purposely eat meat on all the days I'm not supposed to. It's my way of sticking it to organized religions and trust me there is a lot more holding me back from the Pearly whites than just that).

I cannot breathe because I am suffering from the worst sinus infection ever (which I highly believe has everything to do with the construction going on in my office. And yes, I will continue to walk around with my pashmina around my nose and mouth. Thank you. Why is it the construction workers are all walking around with masks on? A little suspicious if you ask me.) and now I feel nauseated with all that diet coke and meat.

Thank God it's almost over. I feel one step away from the grave right now.
ugh.

Something as bad as a teenager? believe it.

I think the only thing that comes close to my hatred for teenagers is my hatred for 21 year olds/ recent college grads. Their naivety makes me want to scream. Their negativity towards the world because the real world isn't all hearts and goddamn flowers makes me want to slap them. And their inability to take the trash out makes me want to slap their mother.

I'm really sorry society has lead you to believe right out of college you are going to get this fabulous job with amazing pay (working your way up? Oh. That only happens to other people) and when it doesn't it's the end of your world (News fucking flash: The definition of an intern is a gopher b/c even a gopher can do it. The point of it is not to see how well you can make coffee or fix the copy machine- and if you believe that, maybe you should switch career paths. It's to observe the industry you spent the last 4 years of your life deciding you want to be apart of. You're not going to be the VP tomorrow and if you believe that, you truly are deserving of your gopher title). I have already been there and I'm not in the mood for a round 2 of Post-College Roller coaster Ride Fun. My ride is close to the gate and I'm a second away from jumping off (hopefully) so forgive me if I don't feel sympathy for your gut wrenching drops or gravity defying highs or even the long waiting periods as you climb the steep hills.

Grow the fuck up already. Or go see a therapist. That's what they are there for. And for godsake, take the fucking trash out once in awhile.

Yes. I am highly aware of how hypocritical this must sound. Believe me, If I could go back and slap 21 year old me, I would.

No Candy from Strangers.

Apparently, leaving your phone at home for the day leads people to believe you are dead. Or mad at them. Or dead. 

It's not my fault. A rogue Kleenex was hiding it. I believe it might be a magical ninja.

In other news, am I a bad person for wanting to read Stories from Candyland? I mean, is their personal family affairs my business? really? Well, I guess it is if they are going to publish things like that they don't mind. I'm still standing behind my Team Tori, though.

An email exchange

MXBF: Let me know if this sucks so I can quit writing it
if it does.
Me: love it. that simple.
MXBF: Really? I'm like really digging it and I didn’t know
if it was just cause I wrote it.
Me: I like it a lot. . . and I wouldn't lie to you. Still
waiting on that song about me. . . . .
MXBF: I’ll come up with one. It will be called “Why won't
you be my booty call?”
Me: can I sing backup? "BECAUSE YOU'RE MARRIED" "BECAUSE
YOU'RE MARRIED" "BECAUSE YOU'RE MMMAAAAAAAARRRRRRRIIIIIIEEEEDDDD"

You are so damn hot when you are furious.

It's been awhile since we've seen the likes of this man. And to be honest, I didn't know I was missing him until I went to go see Fast and Furious this weekend. The testosterone dripped off of the screen, so much, I forgot that it really was a somewhat crappy movie. But no matter. Anytime I get to watch arms like that for 2 hours. . . Im a happy camper.

o.m.g. his arms.

Too Old.

So, I was over at the Jungle and Jen has compiled a list of things she's too old for. In true Jen fashion, it is quite humorous but oh so accurate. I'm thinking about making a list of my own and the first one will start:

I am too damn old to be sleeping my weekends away.
plus, it makes my back hurt.
Did I mention I found a gray hair?
Yea.
Too. Damn. Old.