Showing posts from August, 2009

High School Hang-ups

Admit it, you still have them. We all do to a degree. I was talking to a co-worker this week who just attended his 30th (or maybe 40th--somewhere up there) reunion and said there was a girl they used to torture in middle school who came to every reunion just to prove how well she turned out. Still. Thirty years later. Amazing how easily yet unknowingly capable we are of wounding one another...for life.

I haven't been to any of my high school reunions. Not for lack of interest, I just haven't been invited. I hope it's because they can't find me. Or maybe they are still intimidated.

Of course, with Facebook, every day is a high school reunion. There are people on Facebook I have not spoken to in 15 years, and the first words between us are something related to what is happening today--a comment on a photo, a comment on a status update. How bizarre. No, "holy shit, long time, how ya been!" This is what would happen if you met on the street. But online, you can …


I slept very soundly last night for 9 hours straight. I got back to my hotel room around 8pm, which in a normal world would be an early night. But having got up at 4am that morning for a 6:30 flight, 8pm was two hours past my bedtime. Did I mention I don't miss traveling? The Delta "it's time to check in" message gives me hives.

I barely noticed my surroundings and just crashed--ear plugs in, eye mask on, the noise of NYC completely shut out. Take that.

This morning, I got up to shower. Turned on the faucet in the tub to get the water warmed up, then pulled up the little whatever you call it to make the water come out of the shower head and promptly got shot in the face. I somehow missed the 8 bars attached to the side of my HANDICAPPED tub, and proceeded to wrestle with the midget-sized shower head (not thinking to turn the water OFF). By the time I figured it out I no longer needed to shower and did housekeeping's job of mopping the floor as well.

I sure hop…

Waking up at Lake Lanier

Looks like this (although my blackberry camera can't do justice to the sun's play on the water) Looking forward to a relaxing day of sun,  boating, and reading. Right after coffee and delicious homemade breakfast.

Sweet Dreams

I can't remember the last time we woke up at the condo on a Saturday. We've been at the lake pretty much every weekend this summer if not in some other city. Immediately my mind turns to all the wonderful breakfast eateries we could enjoy, and then I look down at Buddha and remember I so can't go there.
I'm in a great mood today--Robert Downey, Jr wanted to sleep with me. In my dreams. For real, in my dreams. It was so odd. I chose my boyfriend, imagine that.
Dreams are strange. It's amazing how the oddest circumstances, people and places present themselves in seemingly completely normal situations. I'm fascinated with the dream world, and love when I sleep hard enough to visit.
Have you ever woken up and been so emotionally affected by the events in your dream that it determines the mood for your day? It can be awful--to hate someone because of something they actually didn't do yet feels so real? Once, I had a dream my boyfriend "had relations" w…

Calling it Like it Is

I shut down at 5pm sharp today to get my nails did--was looking like my thumbs were my last meal (and they were).

For 1 1/2 hours I was the center of attention. But being who I am, I of course felt guilty about it so I was overly nice, as usual, to Kim (my FAVE manicurist) and the newbie doing my toes. Also got my man brows waxed. I was fully relaxed, enjoying my treatment.

Half way through my pampering, two girls (will not call them women) of the sort that make me proud I was born in New Jersey and have retained some of my roots walked in. Once she screamed at the "just enough to get me by English" speaking owner "do you have BALLERINA SLIPPERS" (not deaf!) I immediately called judgement. And I of course was right.

If you live in Atlanta, you might know what I'm talking about (hell, you might be one). They exaggerate all their words with "lazy language", smile at you and spit in your hair when you turn around, and say "bless your heart" whe…


Right after I published my post, Google served me an ad..."Get the Kim Kardashian New Look!"


Today I'm going to let it fly. Kind of like when my new year's resolution was to speak my mind (doh).

Kourtney Kardashian--hell, any Kardashian. I do not get it. Not. At. All.

Is it the big ass and boobs? The fact that Bruce Jenner was crazy enough to marry the woman that birthed you nasty, ignorant whores?

I could CARE LESS about your baby daddy drama, and I'm sorry you agonized about your unplanned pregnancy with a loser, but really I don't care. By simply acknowledging this event I realize I am doing exactly what these non-celebrities want--any publicity is good publicity---but I simply cannot help it. Who ARE you? And why do you haunt my iGoogle news feeds?!

The boyfriend (aka Nostradamus) keeps telling me the media--and it's piss poor judgement of quality news like the a-morale KK crap--is a good indication of the socioeconomic turmoil to come. If that's the case, strap in people because the apocalypse is surely on the horizon.

I'm done.

P.S. You spell…

Karma Police

As one would expect, vacation is a distant memory. Cliche of course, but it was still entirely worth turning it off for a week. As my punishment (because there is always consequence) I get to hit up NY, Chicago and LA within 8 days for work. You are so jealous.

I used to be a traveling fool, it's how I started blogging (too much on my mind and too much time in airport lounges). I've been ill practiced this year with the exception of a monthly trip, but there will be no coming back gracefully. Grab your sneaks and let the airport aerobics begin.

I might have just one too many balls in the air right now. Punishment for my post on August 3.

I am master of losing my f'ing mind right now and not much else.

Vacation Day 2: I Think this Post is Actually About Food

I have not looked at my Blackberry once. Except to note that in one day I amassed 79 emails (on a Monday for the love of God). None of which have been acknowledged. Because I am on vacation. This is significant for me. Very. I usually have to leave the country for this to happen.

At some point we all just need to let it go, so I put it to bed for six glorious days to enjoy, what else, the Jersey Shore.

Jersey gets a bad rep--it's those housewives I tell you. For all it's annoying loud gold chain big hair obnoxious nails nasal faults, the Jersey Shore is a little slice of paradise in the Garden State (yes, it is in fact the Garden State and there are tomatoes to prove it). I grew up here as a kid--driving down for the day or renting houses for a week--just 1 1/2 hours from my Bucks County home (more on that ridiculously beautifully place I took for granted my entire life later). Once I left for college my Dad thought it would be an awesome idea to buy a beach house now that I was…

Plan B

Throughout my life, I have always had a Plan B. No, not the "morning after" pill, but an actual plan that states if A does not happen, I will do B. Frequently there is also a C and a D, but that is purely Neurotically Over Thinking Options (NOTO).

Plan B's have been on the large scale--if I can't have children, I'll go Angelina--and the not so large scale--if I lose my job I'll b) sell my eggs, c) work at Starbucks, d) write a book and pray to God I am the 1% (told you about C & D).

Which brings me to my point. I am officially TOO OLD to sell my eggs. I heard it on the radio--regular radio, as I recently lost my XM where they don't talk about this kind of thing. I suppose this also means I'm too old to be stripper (this was plan E).

Which leads me to my next point (welcome to the way my mind works). If I'm too old to sell my eggs does that also mean I am getting too old to have a baby and all that crap about you're fine until you're 40…

Master of the Tasks

I am ridiculously efficient. Really. I have to space out my to do list to make sure I have enough to do each week. Not something I should likely be admitting publically, but then why should I be punshied because I work smarter? And by smarter, I mean efficient (and I am smarter, much).

Did I mention while also managing a household, a dog and an unorganized (by product of brilliance) boyfriend?

Put it on a list, and consider it done. With one minor exception that my long time voyeurs will recall from my Thirty One Pursuits.

Master of Tasks in Action: We are going on vacation to pick up our boat (yes, boat) this week...I have exactly four days and counting before we take off. I (really, truly) am not going to work this vacation, thus I have a list of must do's before I leave--one for the personal side of life too. I have accomplished over half of both lists at this point. Something will certainly creep up, but I will be prepared.

Seriously, I need to find a way to make money off this ta…